Fic
Title: Twin Jewels
Rating: G
Warning: Slight spoilers for CoK and aSoS
Summary: What if Arya was born into House Tarth? Challenge at throneland
Twin Jewels
The sky was fire, diamonds, and blood. As the day met its end, sanguine streaks of light were shot across the sky like deathwounds. The water shimmered and sparkled with the glow of dying sunflame, and somewhere away, a gull screamed to hearken the end of the day. Arya beheld all this from her chamber up in the tower, decided that too was boring, and turned away from the window with a frustrated groan.
“Arya!” admonished the Septa, miles away and yet sitting across from her.
Oh, that’s right, she thought, I’m in the middle of a lesson.
“Is it House Greyjoy?” she inquired timidly, and this time, the Septa was the one to groan frustratedly.
“The question, if you can stretch your memory to the far reaches of a moment ago, was what is the motto of House Greyjoy, Arya. Try again.”
“Um…” she said, wrinkling her nose in concentration, a million mottos coursing through her brain. Hear me Roar? Squid arms reach far? Yes…that must be it. They’re squids, aren’t they?
“We Do Not Sow,” said a familiar voice from the threshold, before Arya could damn herself. When she saw who it was, stepping into the chamber, she brightened. The Septa scowled.
“You are wanted in the kitchens, Septa Enris,” said Brienne. She was carrying something wrapped in blue cloth.
“Oh!” exclaimed the Septa, instantly forgetting the lesson and vaulting to her feet. Arya smirked, noticing the woman checking her reflection in the mirror before bustling off. She had a sweetheart in the kitchens, and while she took her instructing duties seriously, the cook was sometimes a good way to end a lesson early. She beamed at her sister.
“You should know that,” Brienne admonished before settling into the seat that Septa Enris had abandoned. After taking a moment to adjust her awkward bulk in the little chair, she set the thing-wrapped-in-blue-cloth on the table. Arya noticed that she was still dressed in a tunic and breeches. She must have just returned from fencing practice. The realization made her envious. “Not that Septa Enris ever makes things easier, but Arya, that wasn’t a hard one.”
“These lessons are stupid,” Arya said bluntly. “I want to learn how to use a sword like you.”
Brienne smiled, and there was a hint of melancholy to its edges. “I leave for the Rainbow Guard on the morrow. You know what Father expects of you.”
She had voiced the very thing that Arya had been trying to avoid thinking about all day, and she bowed her head as if she could shield herself from having heard it by doing so. Brienne had Lord Selwyn’s leave to join King Renly, and being the only remaining daughter of Evenfall, she had to stay here in the Sapphire Isle and sew and be a lady. It was so stupid.
“I’m no good at sewing or having manners,” she protested. “I’ll go out of my mind without you. Please don’t go,” she said, knowing she sounded petulant and babyish, but not caring. It was true, after all. She didn’t want her sister to leave.
“Arya, you know that I have sworn to defend Lord Renly,” Brienne explained patiently, as she had a million times before. “I must not break my oath. I have a duty.”
Arya did not answer this, but instead scowled. She simply did not understand how her big sister could be so smart and yet so stupid. It wasn’t all for honour that she was doing this thing, or for glory or passion, though those were definitely supporting reasons. She loved Renly, this was obvious, and it saddened Arya to think that Brienne was settling to be his knight, instead. Weren’t there other men in the world? She just didn’t get it.
“Can’t I go with you, then?” she pleaded, knowing what the answer would be but half-hoping it wouldn’t be so. Brienne, tactfully, chose not to answer at all.
“You’ve been doing so well lately,” she said instead, “It pains me to have to leave without your making further progress.”
She was, of course, referring to the secret fencing lessons. Arya pouted, realizing they would end once Brienne got on the ship. Another thing she’d been trying not to think about.
“It doesn’t matter anyways,” she said sulkily. “Father says I must be a lady now.”
“So he did,” said Brienne, her blue eyes dancing mischievously. Her eyes were beautiful. Arya was not deaf, she knew what people said about her sister’s uncomeliness, but she never saw the flaws as flaws. Her sister was good and kind and clever, and it pained her that no one looked harder or tried to notice things like how pretty her eyes were.
Brienne lifted the thing-wrapped-in-blue-cloth.
“Now, Arya,” she said, untying the string around it, “You recall what to say if Father inquires about this?”
It was a well-rehearsed little ploy the two had thought up years ago. Usually, it worked with contraband. “Found it on the beach,” she said immediately, forgetting her melancholy, instantly excited. “What is it?” she asked, bouncing a little in her chair.
“Open it and see.”
The cloth was wound tight, she couldn’t get it off fast enough. When she saw what was underneath, she couldn’t contain her squeal of excitement.
“It’s so thin!” she said, brandishing the sword. “It’s perfect!”
“I had a word with the fencing master,” Brienne said, smiling at her. “We’ve concluded that the gardens are safest at midnight. Your first lesson is tomorrow, provided that you mind Father.”
Arya was not about to argue with that. She vaulted across the table and threw her arms around her sister.
“Mind the blade!” Brienne cried, then returned the embrace when she realized that she was in no immediate danger of having her eyes gouged out.
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it, her heart bursting with joy and pain and love.
“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t we put on those charming pink dresses Father had made for my farewell feast, and we’ll go down together.”
The dresses were ugly and too big, they both knew it. Arya laughed, and Brienne, the only one who understood her, laughed with her.
Rating: G
Warning: Slight spoilers for CoK and aSoS
Summary: What if Arya was born into House Tarth? Challenge at throneland
Twin Jewels
The sky was fire, diamonds, and blood. As the day met its end, sanguine streaks of light were shot across the sky like deathwounds. The water shimmered and sparkled with the glow of dying sunflame, and somewhere away, a gull screamed to hearken the end of the day. Arya beheld all this from her chamber up in the tower, decided that too was boring, and turned away from the window with a frustrated groan.
“Arya!” admonished the Septa, miles away and yet sitting across from her.
Oh, that’s right, she thought, I’m in the middle of a lesson.
“Is it House Greyjoy?” she inquired timidly, and this time, the Septa was the one to groan frustratedly.
“The question, if you can stretch your memory to the far reaches of a moment ago, was what is the motto of House Greyjoy, Arya. Try again.”
“Um…” she said, wrinkling her nose in concentration, a million mottos coursing through her brain. Hear me Roar? Squid arms reach far? Yes…that must be it. They’re squids, aren’t they?
“We Do Not Sow,” said a familiar voice from the threshold, before Arya could damn herself. When she saw who it was, stepping into the chamber, she brightened. The Septa scowled.
“You are wanted in the kitchens, Septa Enris,” said Brienne. She was carrying something wrapped in blue cloth.
“Oh!” exclaimed the Septa, instantly forgetting the lesson and vaulting to her feet. Arya smirked, noticing the woman checking her reflection in the mirror before bustling off. She had a sweetheart in the kitchens, and while she took her instructing duties seriously, the cook was sometimes a good way to end a lesson early. She beamed at her sister.
“You should know that,” Brienne admonished before settling into the seat that Septa Enris had abandoned. After taking a moment to adjust her awkward bulk in the little chair, she set the thing-wrapped-in-blue-cloth on the table. Arya noticed that she was still dressed in a tunic and breeches. She must have just returned from fencing practice. The realization made her envious. “Not that Septa Enris ever makes things easier, but Arya, that wasn’t a hard one.”
“These lessons are stupid,” Arya said bluntly. “I want to learn how to use a sword like you.”
Brienne smiled, and there was a hint of melancholy to its edges. “I leave for the Rainbow Guard on the morrow. You know what Father expects of you.”
She had voiced the very thing that Arya had been trying to avoid thinking about all day, and she bowed her head as if she could shield herself from having heard it by doing so. Brienne had Lord Selwyn’s leave to join King Renly, and being the only remaining daughter of Evenfall, she had to stay here in the Sapphire Isle and sew and be a lady. It was so stupid.
“I’m no good at sewing or having manners,” she protested. “I’ll go out of my mind without you. Please don’t go,” she said, knowing she sounded petulant and babyish, but not caring. It was true, after all. She didn’t want her sister to leave.
“Arya, you know that I have sworn to defend Lord Renly,” Brienne explained patiently, as she had a million times before. “I must not break my oath. I have a duty.”
Arya did not answer this, but instead scowled. She simply did not understand how her big sister could be so smart and yet so stupid. It wasn’t all for honour that she was doing this thing, or for glory or passion, though those were definitely supporting reasons. She loved Renly, this was obvious, and it saddened Arya to think that Brienne was settling to be his knight, instead. Weren’t there other men in the world? She just didn’t get it.
“Can’t I go with you, then?” she pleaded, knowing what the answer would be but half-hoping it wouldn’t be so. Brienne, tactfully, chose not to answer at all.
“You’ve been doing so well lately,” she said instead, “It pains me to have to leave without your making further progress.”
She was, of course, referring to the secret fencing lessons. Arya pouted, realizing they would end once Brienne got on the ship. Another thing she’d been trying not to think about.
“It doesn’t matter anyways,” she said sulkily. “Father says I must be a lady now.”
“So he did,” said Brienne, her blue eyes dancing mischievously. Her eyes were beautiful. Arya was not deaf, she knew what people said about her sister’s uncomeliness, but she never saw the flaws as flaws. Her sister was good and kind and clever, and it pained her that no one looked harder or tried to notice things like how pretty her eyes were.
Brienne lifted the thing-wrapped-in-blue-cloth.
“Now, Arya,” she said, untying the string around it, “You recall what to say if Father inquires about this?”
It was a well-rehearsed little ploy the two had thought up years ago. Usually, it worked with contraband. “Found it on the beach,” she said immediately, forgetting her melancholy, instantly excited. “What is it?” she asked, bouncing a little in her chair.
“Open it and see.”
The cloth was wound tight, she couldn’t get it off fast enough. When she saw what was underneath, she couldn’t contain her squeal of excitement.
“It’s so thin!” she said, brandishing the sword. “It’s perfect!”
“I had a word with the fencing master,” Brienne said, smiling at her. “We’ve concluded that the gardens are safest at midnight. Your first lesson is tomorrow, provided that you mind Father.”
Arya was not about to argue with that. She vaulted across the table and threw her arms around her sister.
“Mind the blade!” Brienne cried, then returned the embrace when she realized that she was in no immediate danger of having her eyes gouged out.
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it, her heart bursting with joy and pain and love.
“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t we put on those charming pink dresses Father had made for my farewell feast, and we’ll go down together.”
The dresses were ugly and too big, they both knew it. Arya laughed, and Brienne, the only one who understood her, laughed with her.