11 Mummers and Brothels
After the midday meal, Sansa climbed the stairs past the guard on Arya's floor and the floor above, nodding graciously to his loud greeting. Lady Frey and those who came with her who wished to serve Arya behind her. Sansa had spoken with them each from time to time already, especially when the Lady of the Crossing had just arrived, learning of them. She'd left selecting the candidates to Lady Frey, who had earned her trust with quiet, diligent work; even the raven scrolls Lady Frey was sending on the side were of a nature to make her more trustworthy, rather than less, a rare thing after her experiences since leaving Winterfell. These selections she could rely on - it remained to be seen what the others who volunteered would be like.
Turning the sharp corner, she tilted her staff to avoid banging the stone with it. She mused that those little motions were second nature now, just as she could now recognize how the men who wore swords had always walked a certain way, shifted their weapons as they moved, turned, sat, stood.
Just as her father had with Ice, as Robb had, as Jon and Arya still did, she had that same habit now, too, as a Stark who fights. Poorly, true, but she can fight nonetheless, just as many of the women of the Free Folk could, and Dornish women, women of the mountain clans of the Vale, and, naturally, the women of Bear Island here in the North.
She'd been pleased at the change in the looks of respect from some while she was eating - she'd chosen correctly when she didn't try to cover up the bruise on her cheek from being thrown to the ground by a body-check. While she still had the respect due the Lady of Winterfell, the Red Wolf who had fed Ramsay to the dogs, she now had respect as a person willing to train hard, too. No longer was she a girl of summer.
Arya's little fiefdom within the castle was another new thing that had worked out well for them both. A section of a castle that was essentially under separate rule wasn't something that was common or well known in Westeros or even Essos, though Arya had told tales of similar things she'd heard of in Asshai. Sansa, however, knew she no longer cared about propriety for the sake of propriety. She did care about the actual effects on her bannermen, but in this case, it enhanced her sister's status as a leader, confirmed her power, and was a clear statement that the House of Black and White was in Westeros in a very real way and was quite separate from the government of the North, all of which was useful to her as Lady of Winterfell, and would be when she was likely crowned Queen in the North.
She smiled quietly to herself, letting just enough show to present herself as kind and approachable when she entered the large chambers she's selected for the session, the others behind her. There were two others present, both men, as she'd expected based on who and how she'd passed on the invitation, which was fine - all but one of the riverlanders were women, aside from Deranna, who hadn't flowered yet, and her twin brother Donovar.
Lady Frey and the others took the bundles they were carrying over to the tables set out in the various rooms here as Sansa moved over to the men, "Only two of you are here?"
The tall one answered, a veteran spearman in his mid-twenties who'd fought with Robb, "Yes, m'lady. Seven of us wanted to, but Korb here," he gestured to the other man, nearing forty with a bit of a paunch. Sansa could see with her newfound experience that he was still a dangerous man, "said we should make sure only to send the men best suited, and since she picked him to guard her workshop, we listened. We talked a bit, and only five of us were ready to drop everything and follow her anywhere, then Korb took us to the floor below this one, and one of them No Ones, the one with red and white hair, came out and picked the two of us, so here we are."
Sansa nodded, thinking that her job had just become much easier. The Faceless Man with the red and white hair had been wearing a hood, marking him a full priest. If a priest of Arya's god had picked these two men, she suspected they could pass her little tests. She would test them anyway, of course - her sister's life was not something to treat lightly.
"Thank you all for agreeing to come today. While I am neither an assassin nor a mummer, I do know that my sister will not remain in Winterfell forever. She has duties elsewhere, for the North and our allies, for our house, for her vengeance, and for the House of Black and White in Westeros. Sometimes she will be able to lead our banners as Jon does, with an army at her back. Sometimes she will not. During those times when she will not, I would like to know she has skilled and loyal people to do anything and everything she needs doing."
She watched them carefully, making sure to hide her inspection just enough to make it difficult to spot, noting that Korb noticed first, as expected of someone Arya chose to guard her area. The blonde girl, Mariya noticed just after, which surprised her - she was an attractive, if lowborn, maid from the Twins, not quite twenty.
"Lady Frey and Lady Cox will help with everyone's outfits - I've every faith in their skills as seamstresses," Sansa gestured the Lady of the Crossing and to Lady Emilee Cox, a very plain woman in her early thirties who had come with Lady Frey, and who disdained and hated to be called a Frey, despite having been married to one for twenty years. Sansa remembered her first encounter with Lady Mormont, where she too had claimed her maiden name was her true name; she had sympathy for poor Emilee, who had also had little choice in her husband or his name.
"Outfits?" asked the younger guard who'd spoken earlier, Connas Snow, a guard whose loyalty to Arya had been gained by her distinctive leadership in preparing for the wars they were in, and in how she's rearranged the guards for Winterfell to be an effective force.
Lady Frey pulled out a long golden dress, raising it up to hold it against the tall, wiry guard Connas, nodding to herself, "Outfits. This should fit you well - Lady Stark has decided to see how well you can all act as mummers and pretend to be someone else, as that's what she expects Lady Winter to need." She did not say that she had realized that Lady Winter had pretended to be, had actually been, her lord husband for many days, day in and day out, and she had never noticed any change at all in Walder. She knew very well they would need to learn to be other people, or they would be of no use to her.
Sansa motioned to the room across the hall, "Lady Cox and I will also be working on your makeup and changing your hair. As some of you may have heard, I myself had to become Alayne Stone and dye my hair black when I first came to the Vale to avoid attention. Lady Cox, would you mind introducing yourself to those you may be traveling with for some time?"
"I'm Lady Emilee Cox. I grew up in the Saltpans, and was married off to a Frey, a beast of a man. I spent years making myself uglier, bit by bit, so he'd turn his... attentions... elsewhere. Lady Winter killed him off. Good riddance, I say. I'm not as good at making people pretty, but Mariya here knows a bit about that."
The young maid winked at Connas, dipping into an unnecessarily deep curtsy that showed off her ample bosom to the young man, saying "I do like to be pretty! You like pretty girls, don't you?"
"Your outfit is in the chest in the corner. It's not very good, but it's the best we have on short notice. The sword, at least, is real enough. You'll be happy to know that this time, you still get to be pretty," said Sansa with inner amusement as the girl opened the chest, pulling out shiny tin pauldrons, a breastplate with molded designs, cloak, sword, and other accouterments.
One by one, outfits were assigned, makeup was put on, and lessons and questions were both handed out freely as Sansa evaluated each of them as best she could. She didn't know if Arya had much skill in mundane mummery, but she'd do the best she could.
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Ser Bradley strode into Littlefinger's brothel, brushing the beaded curtain out of the way with almost his usual flourish; he was moving a little faster than usual, his eyes darting back and forth until he spotted the brothel-keeper coming out of his office, heading over and giving a fancy bow, holding out a small pouch that clinked enticingly, "Darvin, my old friend! I've been on the road too long, and thus I desire the special! I can afford it, you see!"
Darvin smiled reassuringly, despite his worry. The events had put him on edge - it had been altogether too long since word flowed freely, and the rumors he had started to hear the last few hours were worrisome. Still, Ser Bradley was well known to him, both as a customer and as another in Lord Baelish's service. He opened the bag, glancing inside as he did with every bag of supposed gold, one finger stirring the coins to make sure there were no coppers dressed up as golds... and turning the paper hidden inside over, tilting the bag just enough to let some more candlelight in, as if to see coins.
Captured. Rescue.
All loyal to stables now.
"Very well, Ser Bradley, we'll give you a special room for a special night. Follow me," said the brothel-keeper, pointing at two of the girls, then calling an older woman over.
"Kiyana, find Tila and have her sent along to the back room with the special toys - the ones in the red box. Ser Bradley here has paid for a very special night, and won't want to be disturbed - the two adjacent rooms are to be kept empty."
"Of course, Darvin," said the matron who was, effectively, the woman who ran the brothel directly under him.
Once they were in the large back room, he jerked his chin at the window, which looked out on the back of the stables.
The third girl came in with the red box, assessed the faces she saw, then pulled out one device, crying out playfully, "Oh, no, not the gag! How could you mphgh," as she slid it into her mouth just long enough for the sound to be heard before handing another to each of the other two girls for them to replicate the performance and explain to anyone listening why the room would be so quiet. She then dumped the box out on the feather-bed so she could open the bottom, taking a slim dagger for herself.
"You're in good hands, Ser Bradley," said Darvin as he left, closing the door and locking it. The girl who was napping in the next room, he kicked out and sent off to the kitchens to work, locking the adjoining rooms. After instructing the girl he used as a second to keep all the girls away from the back room, he slipped out a side door and made his way to the stables, where a pair of horses were ready to pull a small carriage he'd kept ready.
The door opened, a dagger pointed at his eye for a moment before he was allowed to enter, squeezing in tight between the two unarmed girls, across from Ser Bradley and Tila. Ser Bradley took his hand off his sword and wrapped it around the dagger-wielding spy, fondling her casually, as the prostitutes knew well was his habit. The man was even less honorable inside the whorehouse than he was outside of it, after all. The coachman set off at a sedate pace, just as normal, as Darvin quietly asked, "What happened to Lord Baelish?"
The knight's sword was between his knees, a long dagger across his lap as he answered, "I'm not sure; I went to the Vale with Robert, Hugo, and Mandon, carrying the messages you gave me. When we returned, we were let in, but they were keeping everyone in, which is why we didn't hear anything on the way. We split up to try and figure out what was happening - I drew the lucky card, so I visited the tavern first, then got ready to come see the girls," he winked, "while the others went elsewhere. Hugo found out Lord Baelish ran afoul of some plot of the Stark girls, and he's in the eastern cells. Mandon got inside, found an invitation for a carriage in one of the secret passages from Lord Royce - it looks a little old, but there's no date on it, and the seal's good."
Darvin took the extended invitation; it was just as described. The paper wasn't crisp anymore, and when he held it up to a candle in the carriage, the ink was just starting to fade... but while the guards at Winterfell were unfortunately shaping up under the little Stark's eye, they were no forgers, nor were they going to spot the subtle signs when it had a high lord's seal and was carried by a knight, "Should work. Tila, hide that knife well, you two are just working girls here to brighten up the lives of some guards for a few coppers. I'm here to make sure Cira, here, is on her best behavior. Bradley, you can get us in through a secret passage close to were Lord Baelish is?"
"I can," said the knight.
The knife-wielding girl tilted her head so the knight couldn't see her eyes and glanced at the brothel-keeper, since Bradley's hands were, as expected, getting steadily bolder. At Darvin's nod, Tila giggled and leaned into him, ostensibly so she could tuck the knife and sheath down the small of her back where her cloak would cover it as long as she wouldn't bend over.
In line with their hopes, Darvin heard the Winterfell guards examine the invitation's seal and pass them through to an outer bailey turned stables where they were able to slip through another gate. The guards on the outer baileys were much more attentive than they had been a few months ago, but still were clearly not enough to stop some of Lord Baelish's best! They'd get him out and spirited away to the Eyrie where he was safe - the Starks were no match for the Boltons, and he'd been working for Lord Baelish since Lord Baelish raised him out of the alleys in the Fingers himself.
They slipped into a low passage, crawling along until they could climb up, pushing a floor stone aside and entering a lower room with a barred door. Ser Bradley crept to the edge of the bars, listening, while Darvin and Tila, who was the strongest of the girls, moved to put the floor stone back.
Darvin was bending over to grab it with her he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and heard a sickening crunch and a girl's scream from the girl in front of him. As he stood quickly, the pommel of a dagger hit him in the side of the head, sending him down in a heavy daze.
Ser Bradley turned back to Tila, his fist flashing out to hit her throat with the dagger's sheath carefully. He turned, foot slamming into into Cira's solar plexus without even looking, then striking forward to send his heavy boot into the side of the remaining girl's knee. Two stomps later, and each of those loyal to Baelish were permanently crippled.
He searched each of them extremely thoroughly, collecting everything of value or interest, taking a good feel of the girls as he did so, just as he usually did on his visits to the brothel. When he got to the coin pouch he'd handed the brothel-keeper, he chuckled and smacked Darvin on the shoulder, "Well, at least I got my coin back! I can buy a nice night with another set of whores with this."
He opened his own coin pouch, not caring that Darvin and Tila each got a glimpse of the previous contents as he added his reclaimed coins - Meereenese and Yunkish gold, the kind of gold, in fact, that Lord Varys would have access to now... and clearly did, since this very gold had belonged to one of his agents sent to recruit other spies earlier that same day.
The knight then shoved the floor stone partially over the hole, carefully squeezed down, and pulled the stone back. Once it was fully in place, three quick strikes with the dagger's steel pommel to the bottom of the stone rang out over the sobs and screams of the crippled spies.
In the tight passage, Arya tucked Ser Bradley's face away; these tunnels were much too tight for such a large body. She stayed for a moment, listening to make sure the Stark guards did as instructed and put them into separate cells without secret passages once they heard the noise of metal on stone, three times, and then went back down the passage.
They'd hopefully learn something from them when they talked to each other when they didn't think guards were present, especially under the influence of milk of the poppy. After that, well, they'd have to interrogate them properly. Regardless, escaping may not be all that hard for someone with the right skills, but even for a Faceless Man, escaping with a smashed knee was more difficult than it was easy.
She'd stashed her own clothes in the unused corner stall of that stable before leaving, so it was time for her to handle the coachman, check in with Sansa, eat something, catch a short nap, and then head out to White Harbor.
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Lady Winter strode towards the inner bailey where Sansa had left word she'd be. It was one of the most awkward and remote, stashed between two towers which had been built directly next to each other for a reason that had been lost thousands of years ago. She certainly had never seen anything like it - a bizarre, inwardly curved area that was just too small for any practical use, and without a through passage - a dead end. The towers should have been flanking a gatehouse, but no, some Stark after Brandon the Builder's time had decided that he liked towers right next to each other, as close as fingers on a fist.
As she turned the final corner, she very nearly stopped dead in shock - only the well-trained reflex of continuing on in her current persona, of not betraying anything out of character kept her going as what was a bailey filled with the slightly nervous breathing of six people and the calm breathing of her sister and Kitty and one other revealed its contents to her. One of the nervous ones was breathing too shallowly for a reason that was now clear.
Arya watched the group in the middle spring to life as she strode in, her sister making the sign for you from the sidelines with a mix of pride and amusement hiding much deeper amusement showing on her face. Kitty was smiling, and Irresso was clearly trying not to laugh. The bravo's presence was easily explained - Korb was dressed up in a golden prince's outfit, sitting hunched over to try and hide his gut, rubbing the belly of a cat sprawled on his lap while murmuring quietly to 'Ser Pounce', his brown hair colored blond.
Across from them, Emilee was wearing a golden crown of thick antlers and a purple and gold tunic and pants, her plain face graced with a bushy beard and mustache, her hair now brown. She was arguing violently with Connas, whose long golden locks were clearly from a wig, and whose slender figure fit quite well into the golden dress he was wearing over his corset.
"I should wear the armor, and you the gown!" snarled a very cleanly shaved Connas in a squeaky falsetto.
The bearded lady's hand swung to crack into his cheek - she could tell that blow wasn't faked. He really would be wearing a bruise from it, though it'd be easy enough to claim it was from training, "Quiet, wench! All I ever wanted was Lyanna, and all I got was you! Go cover that up before the feast."
"I will wear this as a badge of honor," said Connas in as high a pitch as he could manage, turning and doing a very credible Lannister stalk as he left 'King Robert'.
Mariya stepped away from the wall, the sounds of her sword's sheath scraping the stone causing her to wince slightly as she chased after Connas, "Cersei! Sister!"
Arya tracked the fake twins as they hurried towards the actual twins; Donovar was also in a pretty golden dress, unable to hide his grumpiness at the dress and wig he was wearing, and the other dress he was admiring. Next to him, Deranna was dressed in a red leather tunic with golden embroidery.
She looked up at the approaching duo, quickly downing her wine and exclaiming, "I need more wine," as she grabbed the pitcher, pouring a generous portion and filling another cup with the last of what was in the pitcher. As the two appeared, she handed fake-Jamie the other cup, took a drink of her wine, and exclaimed, "Sweet sister, I'm afraid we're all out of wine!"
Mariya snuck a genuinely appreciative look at Connas, corset and all, and stroked his arm once, her voice as low as she could manage, "Come, sister; I know where you can get what you need."
Robert's cry of "Why am I surrounded by Lannisters!" marked the end of their little performance; the six then lined up as if receiving an important guest.
Arya looked between then, glanced at Sansa, who was smiling a genuine smile, and then broke out laughing in a way she hadn't since she and the Hound had heard his last plan, to sell her to Aunt Lysa, had fallen apart. She applauded as well to make sure they didn't take her laughter wrong, then asked her sister, "All right, Lady Stark, just what is your cunning plan now?"
"To make sure you don't go off alone when you do go off. Lady Frey and I vouch for the ladies and young Donovar, while your red and white haired associate has apparently vouched for the men. As you can see, with only a few hours to prepare, they're willing and able to follow you around like a troupe of mummers while you kill people."
Arya approached them. Mariya she knew well - she'd served as a maid alongside her at the Twins before taking Walder's face, and the maid had helped serve the Arbor Gold during the final feast for the Freys. Emilee, too, she recognized even without her 'warts'; Arya knew exactly where her loyalty had come from. The children, though... Arya rethought - they were a year older than she'd been when she was living in the alleys of King's Landing.
"Why do you two want to follow me, then... Tyrion? Myrcella?" asked Arya, keeping her voice quiet and comforting.
They looked at each other, the boy, Donovar, stood tall in his dress as he replied, "Lady Frey said you killed Black Walder. Not for us, no, but he liked to rape our mother. That's why we're Rivers, because we came from that. He beat her, too - a few years ago after he beat her, she took fever and died. A few months ago, he was lookin' at my sister like he was waitin' for her to flower so he could rape her, too... then you killed him. Killed them all. We're bastards, Lady Winter, and you avenged our mother. We'll follow you anywhere!"
The girl next to him nodded sharply, then took another sip of wine, clearly a little nervous... but determined, Arya could tell, all the same. Arya glanced at Sansa, who made the sign for you, then back at the twins. They, like Kitty, were almost painfully earnest. She nodded seriously at them both, "I'm sure you'll learn mummery and other skills quickly, and work hard. I'm pleased to have you in my service."
Deranna Rivers spoke up, "I cook well, Lady Winter, and my brother, he's good with horses and dogs and suchlike."
Arya gave them a smile to reassure them, and thought of the others. She'd taken Korb as one of her workshop's guards because he was skilled, and his sister had been raped and killed by a mixed Frey and Lannister force at their home in Palisade Village, because the Vale hadn't supported the Iron Throne, and that village was right next to the Riverlands.
Connas, she knew respected her leadership, but she'd never spoken with him casually. She turned to him, reaching out to straighten his dress slightly, "Stand up straighter - you're the Queen! Cersei was always, always very sure to make sure everyone knew. Connas, I know you're excellent with spears and pikes, but why are you willing to drop everything and follow me around the world?"
"Begging your pardon, m'l... Lady Winter, I don't have nothing else to do. I'm a Snow, and the Boltons flayed my whole family alive because they wouldn't tell where I was hiding. Lady Stark put paid to them, well, and the Free Folk and the Valemen like Korb. After that, though, we was kind of lost - King Jon did his best, but he weren't here long afore he went out after the dragonglass we need to fight the dead, and weren't anyone taking charge of the army till you did. I figure you're what gave us all a fightin' chance to live, so I'm gonna be whatever it takes to give you a better chance to live."
Arya made the sign for dog. She saw Sansa returning the sign for you, and she gave Sansa a clear smile and nod for all to see. That answered that; the dogsleds should have left that morning, but she'd heard no mention of them returning to White Harbor, and no mention of trouble.
Sansa spoke up, her voice warm, showing her care for her sister to those loyal to Arya, "I asked Skamund and his dogsled teams to wait for you to return before setting out, and he agreed. He'll be ready to move out with plenty of space for passengers and cargo as soon as you'd like - there's three sleds worth of dragonglass heads for arrows, spears, and siege engine bolts going back to White Harbor, and twenty of the oldest and grumpiest Northerners we have who can still work. The rest of the cargo sleds are empty."
"Thank you, Sansa. Even with garron using showshoes, I'll arrive... we'll arrive far sooner," said Arya. She raised her voice and changed her tone to the same tone she used to command troops, "All right, you lot, you're miserable royalty. Change out of that crap, get some food, and be ready to leave in two hours. We're going as fast as possible - you'll learn to keep up soon enough. Since we're going with Skamund, we've all got a priceless opportunity which we dare not lose. We're all Free Folk of the ice-river clans now, not Southron kneelers like those so-called 'Northerners' south of the Wall. Be at the gate dressed, armed, and acting like Free Folk in two hours. Go."
To their credit, they all took off at the same steady jog she used when she wanted to move around the castle and camps without wasting time, the same jog she'd taught the guards and commanders. A jerk of her head sent Irresso out as well. When it was just the sisters and Kitty left, Arya gave her sister a tight hug, then gave Kitty a brief hug too.
"Thank you, Sansa, Kitty. Once I get them into shape, I'll be able to wear many more faces when I need to, and have more options."
Sansa wrapped her left arm around Arya's shoulders, feeling the lack of give characteristic of her sister; no soft lady she. Conveniently, too, that Arya being left-handed meant neither of their weapon arms were tied up like this. A strange thing, Sansa thought, always being aware of whether her right arm was free, and maintaining an awareness of other people's sword arms, but it was something both Brienne and Arya had been teaching her.
"Your red and white haired priest apparently picked the men out - Korb said he'd narrowed them from seven to five, and then took them to the priest for the final selection. Kitty did the same for the girls. What you did to the Freys gained you a great deal of respect, you know," said Sansa, her voice warm as she made the sign for me.
"That wasn't why I did it," said Arya as they started moving towards the kitchens. She didn't have time for the production that dinner in the great hall would be.
Kitty spoke up in her soft voice from just behind the Starks, "We know, Lady Winter. The Tullys have not been good overlords to the Freys, and some of the other houses - Darrys, Rygers, Mootons, the others that fought with Rhaegar on the Trident. Still, they were not bad overlords, either. The Freys, too, harm little when they're in the castle... but when Walder was made Lord Paramount, and worked with the Lannisters even after what the Mountain has done to the Riverlands, that was bad for all the other houses of the Riverlands. What you did changed all that, Lady Winter. You helped the Riverlands wipe clean the stain and the same of all of us."
"Thank you, Kitty," said Arya. She hadn't spent much time considering that before - the Riverlands weren't a significant factor in any of the wars they were expecting just now, mainly canceling out a small portion of the Lannister forces. She'd slaughtered the Late Walder Frey and all his grown sons and grandsons because they'd betrayed, killed, and desecrated her family, because they'd broken guest right.
After japing briefly with the kitchen staff, Arya headed to her room, eating as she walked. Sansa had sent Lady Frey to prepare her solar for her next meeting, but had stayed with her. She swallowed her current bite of bread, then asked her sister, "Why are you sending the grumpy oldsters to White Harbor? Are they to be a gift for Daenerys, like my mummers troupe is a gift for me?"
Sansa smirked down at Arya, "In a manner of speaking. When you get to White Harbor, please arrange that whoever is likely to be at the docks if Daenerys arrives by ship is unlikely to tell her much of anything at all. I had Lady Frey and her girls find the grumpy ones - you know better than I, but those old men and women who care about nothing but the North and their own little section of it. She's inexperienced, but not an idiot. She'll have Varys and Tyrion trying to find out how the North feels about her, but all our reports say she's impatient. She'll want to get here quickly, even if she's already compromised speed by coming by sea, so they won't have long."
Arya laughed, then paused a moment to listen and feel the movements of the air and the stone before carefully opening the door to her chambers. As everything was as it should be, she invited Sansa in, closing and barring the door, "So, you're going to tempt her with a quick overland route - garron with snowshoes, or dogsleds, or both, and we make sure the people she and her people have easy access to in that limited time are all grumpy oldsters and children who have no wider cares. She gets the choice of splitting her people up, moving fast and not gathering useful intelligence, or missing the caravan and waiting around White Harbor."
Sansa smirked, reaching out to tear off a small chunk of Arya's bread, dipping it in the stew and eating it herself, "Yes."
"Hey! That was mine!"
"Not anymore. It's not like you're a growing girl anymore, you know, Arya."
"Yes, yes. Well, it's fine, you wouldn't want to be tempted by the food in the brothel, anyway - it'd make a bad example, the Lady of Winterfell gorging herself on fine food in private after making a public show of sharing the rationing everyone else has at normal meals," said Arya as she raised her bowl and slurped, her eyes watching Sansa's reaction. She wasn't able to do as much for Sansa as her sister was doing for her, but at least she could tease her. Better still, this would be followed up by her sister actually needing to go down into Winter Town and interact with the smallfolk in person more, which she needed.
"And why would I be in a position to gorge myself?"
"Because a terrible thing happened to our brothel. It seems the brothel-keeper, two whores, and one spy who doubled as a whore, all loyal to Littlefinger, were betrayed by their companion who sold out to Varys - well, probably, his coins looked like they were from Varys. They snuck past the guards and took a secret passage into the east cells before they were betrayed. It must have been awful for them... but now the brothel's in Kiyana's hands, and she reported only to Darvin, the previous brothel-keeper. No special loyalties to Baelish. You'll need to straighten them out and make sure they know about the discount and that it's to come out of our cut."
Sansa narrowed her eyes, "Your rush to leave seems very convenient all of a sudden. You go to town, enjoy yourself in our whorehouse, apparently enjoy yourself again in our dungeons, and then suddenly have to charge off on another set of travels while I have to go sort out the dirty business of Littlefinger's businesses?" She made the sign for lie.
Arya finished downing the stew, drank the water she'd brought, and then sat down on the floor, "Of course. You're Baelish's successor - you should have the fun of finding his books. It'll be safe enough now for you and a couple of your guards, Kitty or some of her ladies too if you want. There will be a few girls there that were forced - you can be the kind Lady who offers them places elsewhere, more to their liking," she said as she made the sign for truth.
Sansa's smile was small, but had a vicious edge to it as she replied, "I suppose I am the heir to Littlefinger's businesses and political intrigue... and Cersei's too. Joffrey never understood any of the balance between power and persona, while Tommen and Myrcella didn't want to. All right, sister, you have your revenge - I'll visit the whorehouse, and see the smallfolk, too. I know you want me to."
"Good. I'll see the Ladies at White Harbor - Leona, Wynafryd, and Wylla, I believe. You're welcome to stay, Sansa, but it might not be very interesting for you. I need to be with Death for a bit, then sleep," said Arya quietly before she closed her eyes and stilled completely.
"Correct - Leona was widowed at the Red Wedding and they all got on well with Wendel, so you should have a very warm reception," said Sansa quietly, watching her sister for a bit. Sansa couldn't even see her breathing, though she knew she was.
This wasn't something she understood, that Arya was, truly, a priestess, a priest, now, that she prayed regularly. Their mother would have considered religious orders a valid choice, if not as good as an advantageous marriage, of course, but she would have only thought of being a Septa or a Silent Sister. The Old Gods didn't have roles suitable for a highborn girl like Arya. Sansa supposed that Arya took care of the dead like a silent sister, but she also made people dead with great frequency, and mother would have only approved of some of them. Arya as the High Septon of Death in Westeros, their mother would not have even have imagined.
Their mother hadn't prayed to the Stranger that Sansa could ever remember. Arya was sitting as if a statue had taken her place, so Sansa set the plate of bread and the rest of the water on Arya's small table, then picked up the tray and set it outside. Turning back in, she took the smaller of the two door bars Arya had, very carefully balanced it atop the brackets as Arya had shown her once, then kept a hand on it as she exited, keeping it balanced as she withdrew her hand and pulled the door shut smoothly, steadily faster without upsetting the bar. The door slammed shut and she could hear that the bar fell into the brackets instead of onto the floor. Sansa used her key to lock the door, then left the tray for a maid to collect and headed for her solar. The merchants would be there soon.
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Turning the sharp corner, she tilted her staff to avoid banging the stone with it. She mused that those little motions were second nature now, just as she could now recognize how the men who wore swords had always walked a certain way, shifted their weapons as they moved, turned, sat, stood.
Just as her father had with Ice, as Robb had, as Jon and Arya still did, she had that same habit now, too, as a Stark who fights. Poorly, true, but she can fight nonetheless, just as many of the women of the Free Folk could, and Dornish women, women of the mountain clans of the Vale, and, naturally, the women of Bear Island here in the North.
She'd been pleased at the change in the looks of respect from some while she was eating - she'd chosen correctly when she didn't try to cover up the bruise on her cheek from being thrown to the ground by a body-check. While she still had the respect due the Lady of Winterfell, the Red Wolf who had fed Ramsay to the dogs, she now had respect as a person willing to train hard, too. No longer was she a girl of summer.
Arya's little fiefdom within the castle was another new thing that had worked out well for them both. A section of a castle that was essentially under separate rule wasn't something that was common or well known in Westeros or even Essos, though Arya had told tales of similar things she'd heard of in Asshai. Sansa, however, knew she no longer cared about propriety for the sake of propriety. She did care about the actual effects on her bannermen, but in this case, it enhanced her sister's status as a leader, confirmed her power, and was a clear statement that the House of Black and White was in Westeros in a very real way and was quite separate from the government of the North, all of which was useful to her as Lady of Winterfell, and would be when she was likely crowned Queen in the North.
She smiled quietly to herself, letting just enough show to present herself as kind and approachable when she entered the large chambers she's selected for the session, the others behind her. There were two others present, both men, as she'd expected based on who and how she'd passed on the invitation, which was fine - all but one of the riverlanders were women, aside from Deranna, who hadn't flowered yet, and her twin brother Donovar.
Lady Frey and the others took the bundles they were carrying over to the tables set out in the various rooms here as Sansa moved over to the men, "Only two of you are here?"
The tall one answered, a veteran spearman in his mid-twenties who'd fought with Robb, "Yes, m'lady. Seven of us wanted to, but Korb here," he gestured to the other man, nearing forty with a bit of a paunch. Sansa could see with her newfound experience that he was still a dangerous man, "said we should make sure only to send the men best suited, and since she picked him to guard her workshop, we listened. We talked a bit, and only five of us were ready to drop everything and follow her anywhere, then Korb took us to the floor below this one, and one of them No Ones, the one with red and white hair, came out and picked the two of us, so here we are."
Sansa nodded, thinking that her job had just become much easier. The Faceless Man with the red and white hair had been wearing a hood, marking him a full priest. If a priest of Arya's god had picked these two men, she suspected they could pass her little tests. She would test them anyway, of course - her sister's life was not something to treat lightly.
"Thank you all for agreeing to come today. While I am neither an assassin nor a mummer, I do know that my sister will not remain in Winterfell forever. She has duties elsewhere, for the North and our allies, for our house, for her vengeance, and for the House of Black and White in Westeros. Sometimes she will be able to lead our banners as Jon does, with an army at her back. Sometimes she will not. During those times when she will not, I would like to know she has skilled and loyal people to do anything and everything she needs doing."
She watched them carefully, making sure to hide her inspection just enough to make it difficult to spot, noting that Korb noticed first, as expected of someone Arya chose to guard her area. The blonde girl, Mariya noticed just after, which surprised her - she was an attractive, if lowborn, maid from the Twins, not quite twenty.
"Lady Frey and Lady Cox will help with everyone's outfits - I've every faith in their skills as seamstresses," Sansa gestured the Lady of the Crossing and to Lady Emilee Cox, a very plain woman in her early thirties who had come with Lady Frey, and who disdained and hated to be called a Frey, despite having been married to one for twenty years. Sansa remembered her first encounter with Lady Mormont, where she too had claimed her maiden name was her true name; she had sympathy for poor Emilee, who had also had little choice in her husband or his name.
"Outfits?" asked the younger guard who'd spoken earlier, Connas Snow, a guard whose loyalty to Arya had been gained by her distinctive leadership in preparing for the wars they were in, and in how she's rearranged the guards for Winterfell to be an effective force.
Lady Frey pulled out a long golden dress, raising it up to hold it against the tall, wiry guard Connas, nodding to herself, "Outfits. This should fit you well - Lady Stark has decided to see how well you can all act as mummers and pretend to be someone else, as that's what she expects Lady Winter to need." She did not say that she had realized that Lady Winter had pretended to be, had actually been, her lord husband for many days, day in and day out, and she had never noticed any change at all in Walder. She knew very well they would need to learn to be other people, or they would be of no use to her.
Sansa motioned to the room across the hall, "Lady Cox and I will also be working on your makeup and changing your hair. As some of you may have heard, I myself had to become Alayne Stone and dye my hair black when I first came to the Vale to avoid attention. Lady Cox, would you mind introducing yourself to those you may be traveling with for some time?"
"I'm Lady Emilee Cox. I grew up in the Saltpans, and was married off to a Frey, a beast of a man. I spent years making myself uglier, bit by bit, so he'd turn his... attentions... elsewhere. Lady Winter killed him off. Good riddance, I say. I'm not as good at making people pretty, but Mariya here knows a bit about that."
The young maid winked at Connas, dipping into an unnecessarily deep curtsy that showed off her ample bosom to the young man, saying "I do like to be pretty! You like pretty girls, don't you?"
"Your outfit is in the chest in the corner. It's not very good, but it's the best we have on short notice. The sword, at least, is real enough. You'll be happy to know that this time, you still get to be pretty," said Sansa with inner amusement as the girl opened the chest, pulling out shiny tin pauldrons, a breastplate with molded designs, cloak, sword, and other accouterments.
One by one, outfits were assigned, makeup was put on, and lessons and questions were both handed out freely as Sansa evaluated each of them as best she could. She didn't know if Arya had much skill in mundane mummery, but she'd do the best she could.
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Ser Bradley strode into Littlefinger's brothel, brushing the beaded curtain out of the way with almost his usual flourish; he was moving a little faster than usual, his eyes darting back and forth until he spotted the brothel-keeper coming out of his office, heading over and giving a fancy bow, holding out a small pouch that clinked enticingly, "Darvin, my old friend! I've been on the road too long, and thus I desire the special! I can afford it, you see!"
Darvin smiled reassuringly, despite his worry. The events had put him on edge - it had been altogether too long since word flowed freely, and the rumors he had started to hear the last few hours were worrisome. Still, Ser Bradley was well known to him, both as a customer and as another in Lord Baelish's service. He opened the bag, glancing inside as he did with every bag of supposed gold, one finger stirring the coins to make sure there were no coppers dressed up as golds... and turning the paper hidden inside over, tilting the bag just enough to let some more candlelight in, as if to see coins.
Captured. Rescue.
All loyal to stables now.
"Very well, Ser Bradley, we'll give you a special room for a special night. Follow me," said the brothel-keeper, pointing at two of the girls, then calling an older woman over.
"Kiyana, find Tila and have her sent along to the back room with the special toys - the ones in the red box. Ser Bradley here has paid for a very special night, and won't want to be disturbed - the two adjacent rooms are to be kept empty."
"Of course, Darvin," said the matron who was, effectively, the woman who ran the brothel directly under him.
Once they were in the large back room, he jerked his chin at the window, which looked out on the back of the stables.
The third girl came in with the red box, assessed the faces she saw, then pulled out one device, crying out playfully, "Oh, no, not the gag! How could you mphgh," as she slid it into her mouth just long enough for the sound to be heard before handing another to each of the other two girls for them to replicate the performance and explain to anyone listening why the room would be so quiet. She then dumped the box out on the feather-bed so she could open the bottom, taking a slim dagger for herself.
"You're in good hands, Ser Bradley," said Darvin as he left, closing the door and locking it. The girl who was napping in the next room, he kicked out and sent off to the kitchens to work, locking the adjoining rooms. After instructing the girl he used as a second to keep all the girls away from the back room, he slipped out a side door and made his way to the stables, where a pair of horses were ready to pull a small carriage he'd kept ready.
The door opened, a dagger pointed at his eye for a moment before he was allowed to enter, squeezing in tight between the two unarmed girls, across from Ser Bradley and Tila. Ser Bradley took his hand off his sword and wrapped it around the dagger-wielding spy, fondling her casually, as the prostitutes knew well was his habit. The man was even less honorable inside the whorehouse than he was outside of it, after all. The coachman set off at a sedate pace, just as normal, as Darvin quietly asked, "What happened to Lord Baelish?"
The knight's sword was between his knees, a long dagger across his lap as he answered, "I'm not sure; I went to the Vale with Robert, Hugo, and Mandon, carrying the messages you gave me. When we returned, we were let in, but they were keeping everyone in, which is why we didn't hear anything on the way. We split up to try and figure out what was happening - I drew the lucky card, so I visited the tavern first, then got ready to come see the girls," he winked, "while the others went elsewhere. Hugo found out Lord Baelish ran afoul of some plot of the Stark girls, and he's in the eastern cells. Mandon got inside, found an invitation for a carriage in one of the secret passages from Lord Royce - it looks a little old, but there's no date on it, and the seal's good."
Darvin took the extended invitation; it was just as described. The paper wasn't crisp anymore, and when he held it up to a candle in the carriage, the ink was just starting to fade... but while the guards at Winterfell were unfortunately shaping up under the little Stark's eye, they were no forgers, nor were they going to spot the subtle signs when it had a high lord's seal and was carried by a knight, "Should work. Tila, hide that knife well, you two are just working girls here to brighten up the lives of some guards for a few coppers. I'm here to make sure Cira, here, is on her best behavior. Bradley, you can get us in through a secret passage close to were Lord Baelish is?"
"I can," said the knight.
The knife-wielding girl tilted her head so the knight couldn't see her eyes and glanced at the brothel-keeper, since Bradley's hands were, as expected, getting steadily bolder. At Darvin's nod, Tila giggled and leaned into him, ostensibly so she could tuck the knife and sheath down the small of her back where her cloak would cover it as long as she wouldn't bend over.
In line with their hopes, Darvin heard the Winterfell guards examine the invitation's seal and pass them through to an outer bailey turned stables where they were able to slip through another gate. The guards on the outer baileys were much more attentive than they had been a few months ago, but still were clearly not enough to stop some of Lord Baelish's best! They'd get him out and spirited away to the Eyrie where he was safe - the Starks were no match for the Boltons, and he'd been working for Lord Baelish since Lord Baelish raised him out of the alleys in the Fingers himself.
They slipped into a low passage, crawling along until they could climb up, pushing a floor stone aside and entering a lower room with a barred door. Ser Bradley crept to the edge of the bars, listening, while Darvin and Tila, who was the strongest of the girls, moved to put the floor stone back.
Darvin was bending over to grab it with her he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and heard a sickening crunch and a girl's scream from the girl in front of him. As he stood quickly, the pommel of a dagger hit him in the side of the head, sending him down in a heavy daze.
Ser Bradley turned back to Tila, his fist flashing out to hit her throat with the dagger's sheath carefully. He turned, foot slamming into into Cira's solar plexus without even looking, then striking forward to send his heavy boot into the side of the remaining girl's knee. Two stomps later, and each of those loyal to Baelish were permanently crippled.
He searched each of them extremely thoroughly, collecting everything of value or interest, taking a good feel of the girls as he did so, just as he usually did on his visits to the brothel. When he got to the coin pouch he'd handed the brothel-keeper, he chuckled and smacked Darvin on the shoulder, "Well, at least I got my coin back! I can buy a nice night with another set of whores with this."
He opened his own coin pouch, not caring that Darvin and Tila each got a glimpse of the previous contents as he added his reclaimed coins - Meereenese and Yunkish gold, the kind of gold, in fact, that Lord Varys would have access to now... and clearly did, since this very gold had belonged to one of his agents sent to recruit other spies earlier that same day.
The knight then shoved the floor stone partially over the hole, carefully squeezed down, and pulled the stone back. Once it was fully in place, three quick strikes with the dagger's steel pommel to the bottom of the stone rang out over the sobs and screams of the crippled spies.
In the tight passage, Arya tucked Ser Bradley's face away; these tunnels were much too tight for such a large body. She stayed for a moment, listening to make sure the Stark guards did as instructed and put them into separate cells without secret passages once they heard the noise of metal on stone, three times, and then went back down the passage.
They'd hopefully learn something from them when they talked to each other when they didn't think guards were present, especially under the influence of milk of the poppy. After that, well, they'd have to interrogate them properly. Regardless, escaping may not be all that hard for someone with the right skills, but even for a Faceless Man, escaping with a smashed knee was more difficult than it was easy.
She'd stashed her own clothes in the unused corner stall of that stable before leaving, so it was time for her to handle the coachman, check in with Sansa, eat something, catch a short nap, and then head out to White Harbor.
************************
Lady Winter strode towards the inner bailey where Sansa had left word she'd be. It was one of the most awkward and remote, stashed between two towers which had been built directly next to each other for a reason that had been lost thousands of years ago. She certainly had never seen anything like it - a bizarre, inwardly curved area that was just too small for any practical use, and without a through passage - a dead end. The towers should have been flanking a gatehouse, but no, some Stark after Brandon the Builder's time had decided that he liked towers right next to each other, as close as fingers on a fist.
As she turned the final corner, she very nearly stopped dead in shock - only the well-trained reflex of continuing on in her current persona, of not betraying anything out of character kept her going as what was a bailey filled with the slightly nervous breathing of six people and the calm breathing of her sister and Kitty and one other revealed its contents to her. One of the nervous ones was breathing too shallowly for a reason that was now clear.
Arya watched the group in the middle spring to life as she strode in, her sister making the sign for you from the sidelines with a mix of pride and amusement hiding much deeper amusement showing on her face. Kitty was smiling, and Irresso was clearly trying not to laugh. The bravo's presence was easily explained - Korb was dressed up in a golden prince's outfit, sitting hunched over to try and hide his gut, rubbing the belly of a cat sprawled on his lap while murmuring quietly to 'Ser Pounce', his brown hair colored blond.
Across from them, Emilee was wearing a golden crown of thick antlers and a purple and gold tunic and pants, her plain face graced with a bushy beard and mustache, her hair now brown. She was arguing violently with Connas, whose long golden locks were clearly from a wig, and whose slender figure fit quite well into the golden dress he was wearing over his corset.
"I should wear the armor, and you the gown!" snarled a very cleanly shaved Connas in a squeaky falsetto.
The bearded lady's hand swung to crack into his cheek - she could tell that blow wasn't faked. He really would be wearing a bruise from it, though it'd be easy enough to claim it was from training, "Quiet, wench! All I ever wanted was Lyanna, and all I got was you! Go cover that up before the feast."
"I will wear this as a badge of honor," said Connas in as high a pitch as he could manage, turning and doing a very credible Lannister stalk as he left 'King Robert'.
Mariya stepped away from the wall, the sounds of her sword's sheath scraping the stone causing her to wince slightly as she chased after Connas, "Cersei! Sister!"
Arya tracked the fake twins as they hurried towards the actual twins; Donovar was also in a pretty golden dress, unable to hide his grumpiness at the dress and wig he was wearing, and the other dress he was admiring. Next to him, Deranna was dressed in a red leather tunic with golden embroidery.
She looked up at the approaching duo, quickly downing her wine and exclaiming, "I need more wine," as she grabbed the pitcher, pouring a generous portion and filling another cup with the last of what was in the pitcher. As the two appeared, she handed fake-Jamie the other cup, took a drink of her wine, and exclaimed, "Sweet sister, I'm afraid we're all out of wine!"
Mariya snuck a genuinely appreciative look at Connas, corset and all, and stroked his arm once, her voice as low as she could manage, "Come, sister; I know where you can get what you need."
Robert's cry of "Why am I surrounded by Lannisters!" marked the end of their little performance; the six then lined up as if receiving an important guest.
Arya looked between then, glanced at Sansa, who was smiling a genuine smile, and then broke out laughing in a way she hadn't since she and the Hound had heard his last plan, to sell her to Aunt Lysa, had fallen apart. She applauded as well to make sure they didn't take her laughter wrong, then asked her sister, "All right, Lady Stark, just what is your cunning plan now?"
"To make sure you don't go off alone when you do go off. Lady Frey and I vouch for the ladies and young Donovar, while your red and white haired associate has apparently vouched for the men. As you can see, with only a few hours to prepare, they're willing and able to follow you around like a troupe of mummers while you kill people."
Arya approached them. Mariya she knew well - she'd served as a maid alongside her at the Twins before taking Walder's face, and the maid had helped serve the Arbor Gold during the final feast for the Freys. Emilee, too, she recognized even without her 'warts'; Arya knew exactly where her loyalty had come from. The children, though... Arya rethought - they were a year older than she'd been when she was living in the alleys of King's Landing.
"Why do you two want to follow me, then... Tyrion? Myrcella?" asked Arya, keeping her voice quiet and comforting.
They looked at each other, the boy, Donovar, stood tall in his dress as he replied, "Lady Frey said you killed Black Walder. Not for us, no, but he liked to rape our mother. That's why we're Rivers, because we came from that. He beat her, too - a few years ago after he beat her, she took fever and died. A few months ago, he was lookin' at my sister like he was waitin' for her to flower so he could rape her, too... then you killed him. Killed them all. We're bastards, Lady Winter, and you avenged our mother. We'll follow you anywhere!"
The girl next to him nodded sharply, then took another sip of wine, clearly a little nervous... but determined, Arya could tell, all the same. Arya glanced at Sansa, who made the sign for you, then back at the twins. They, like Kitty, were almost painfully earnest. She nodded seriously at them both, "I'm sure you'll learn mummery and other skills quickly, and work hard. I'm pleased to have you in my service."
Deranna Rivers spoke up, "I cook well, Lady Winter, and my brother, he's good with horses and dogs and suchlike."
Arya gave them a smile to reassure them, and thought of the others. She'd taken Korb as one of her workshop's guards because he was skilled, and his sister had been raped and killed by a mixed Frey and Lannister force at their home in Palisade Village, because the Vale hadn't supported the Iron Throne, and that village was right next to the Riverlands.
Connas, she knew respected her leadership, but she'd never spoken with him casually. She turned to him, reaching out to straighten his dress slightly, "Stand up straighter - you're the Queen! Cersei was always, always very sure to make sure everyone knew. Connas, I know you're excellent with spears and pikes, but why are you willing to drop everything and follow me around the world?"
"Begging your pardon, m'l... Lady Winter, I don't have nothing else to do. I'm a Snow, and the Boltons flayed my whole family alive because they wouldn't tell where I was hiding. Lady Stark put paid to them, well, and the Free Folk and the Valemen like Korb. After that, though, we was kind of lost - King Jon did his best, but he weren't here long afore he went out after the dragonglass we need to fight the dead, and weren't anyone taking charge of the army till you did. I figure you're what gave us all a fightin' chance to live, so I'm gonna be whatever it takes to give you a better chance to live."
Arya made the sign for dog. She saw Sansa returning the sign for you, and she gave Sansa a clear smile and nod for all to see. That answered that; the dogsleds should have left that morning, but she'd heard no mention of them returning to White Harbor, and no mention of trouble.
Sansa spoke up, her voice warm, showing her care for her sister to those loyal to Arya, "I asked Skamund and his dogsled teams to wait for you to return before setting out, and he agreed. He'll be ready to move out with plenty of space for passengers and cargo as soon as you'd like - there's three sleds worth of dragonglass heads for arrows, spears, and siege engine bolts going back to White Harbor, and twenty of the oldest and grumpiest Northerners we have who can still work. The rest of the cargo sleds are empty."
"Thank you, Sansa. Even with garron using showshoes, I'll arrive... we'll arrive far sooner," said Arya. She raised her voice and changed her tone to the same tone she used to command troops, "All right, you lot, you're miserable royalty. Change out of that crap, get some food, and be ready to leave in two hours. We're going as fast as possible - you'll learn to keep up soon enough. Since we're going with Skamund, we've all got a priceless opportunity which we dare not lose. We're all Free Folk of the ice-river clans now, not Southron kneelers like those so-called 'Northerners' south of the Wall. Be at the gate dressed, armed, and acting like Free Folk in two hours. Go."
To their credit, they all took off at the same steady jog she used when she wanted to move around the castle and camps without wasting time, the same jog she'd taught the guards and commanders. A jerk of her head sent Irresso out as well. When it was just the sisters and Kitty left, Arya gave her sister a tight hug, then gave Kitty a brief hug too.
"Thank you, Sansa, Kitty. Once I get them into shape, I'll be able to wear many more faces when I need to, and have more options."
Sansa wrapped her left arm around Arya's shoulders, feeling the lack of give characteristic of her sister; no soft lady she. Conveniently, too, that Arya being left-handed meant neither of their weapon arms were tied up like this. A strange thing, Sansa thought, always being aware of whether her right arm was free, and maintaining an awareness of other people's sword arms, but it was something both Brienne and Arya had been teaching her.
"Your red and white haired priest apparently picked the men out - Korb said he'd narrowed them from seven to five, and then took them to the priest for the final selection. Kitty did the same for the girls. What you did to the Freys gained you a great deal of respect, you know," said Sansa, her voice warm as she made the sign for me.
"That wasn't why I did it," said Arya as they started moving towards the kitchens. She didn't have time for the production that dinner in the great hall would be.
Kitty spoke up in her soft voice from just behind the Starks, "We know, Lady Winter. The Tullys have not been good overlords to the Freys, and some of the other houses - Darrys, Rygers, Mootons, the others that fought with Rhaegar on the Trident. Still, they were not bad overlords, either. The Freys, too, harm little when they're in the castle... but when Walder was made Lord Paramount, and worked with the Lannisters even after what the Mountain has done to the Riverlands, that was bad for all the other houses of the Riverlands. What you did changed all that, Lady Winter. You helped the Riverlands wipe clean the stain and the same of all of us."
"Thank you, Kitty," said Arya. She hadn't spent much time considering that before - the Riverlands weren't a significant factor in any of the wars they were expecting just now, mainly canceling out a small portion of the Lannister forces. She'd slaughtered the Late Walder Frey and all his grown sons and grandsons because they'd betrayed, killed, and desecrated her family, because they'd broken guest right.
After japing briefly with the kitchen staff, Arya headed to her room, eating as she walked. Sansa had sent Lady Frey to prepare her solar for her next meeting, but had stayed with her. She swallowed her current bite of bread, then asked her sister, "Why are you sending the grumpy oldsters to White Harbor? Are they to be a gift for Daenerys, like my mummers troupe is a gift for me?"
Sansa smirked down at Arya, "In a manner of speaking. When you get to White Harbor, please arrange that whoever is likely to be at the docks if Daenerys arrives by ship is unlikely to tell her much of anything at all. I had Lady Frey and her girls find the grumpy ones - you know better than I, but those old men and women who care about nothing but the North and their own little section of it. She's inexperienced, but not an idiot. She'll have Varys and Tyrion trying to find out how the North feels about her, but all our reports say she's impatient. She'll want to get here quickly, even if she's already compromised speed by coming by sea, so they won't have long."
Arya laughed, then paused a moment to listen and feel the movements of the air and the stone before carefully opening the door to her chambers. As everything was as it should be, she invited Sansa in, closing and barring the door, "So, you're going to tempt her with a quick overland route - garron with snowshoes, or dogsleds, or both, and we make sure the people she and her people have easy access to in that limited time are all grumpy oldsters and children who have no wider cares. She gets the choice of splitting her people up, moving fast and not gathering useful intelligence, or missing the caravan and waiting around White Harbor."
Sansa smirked, reaching out to tear off a small chunk of Arya's bread, dipping it in the stew and eating it herself, "Yes."
"Hey! That was mine!"
"Not anymore. It's not like you're a growing girl anymore, you know, Arya."
"Yes, yes. Well, it's fine, you wouldn't want to be tempted by the food in the brothel, anyway - it'd make a bad example, the Lady of Winterfell gorging herself on fine food in private after making a public show of sharing the rationing everyone else has at normal meals," said Arya as she raised her bowl and slurped, her eyes watching Sansa's reaction. She wasn't able to do as much for Sansa as her sister was doing for her, but at least she could tease her. Better still, this would be followed up by her sister actually needing to go down into Winter Town and interact with the smallfolk in person more, which she needed.
"And why would I be in a position to gorge myself?"
"Because a terrible thing happened to our brothel. It seems the brothel-keeper, two whores, and one spy who doubled as a whore, all loyal to Littlefinger, were betrayed by their companion who sold out to Varys - well, probably, his coins looked like they were from Varys. They snuck past the guards and took a secret passage into the east cells before they were betrayed. It must have been awful for them... but now the brothel's in Kiyana's hands, and she reported only to Darvin, the previous brothel-keeper. No special loyalties to Baelish. You'll need to straighten them out and make sure they know about the discount and that it's to come out of our cut."
Sansa narrowed her eyes, "Your rush to leave seems very convenient all of a sudden. You go to town, enjoy yourself in our whorehouse, apparently enjoy yourself again in our dungeons, and then suddenly have to charge off on another set of travels while I have to go sort out the dirty business of Littlefinger's businesses?" She made the sign for lie.
Arya finished downing the stew, drank the water she'd brought, and then sat down on the floor, "Of course. You're Baelish's successor - you should have the fun of finding his books. It'll be safe enough now for you and a couple of your guards, Kitty or some of her ladies too if you want. There will be a few girls there that were forced - you can be the kind Lady who offers them places elsewhere, more to their liking," she said as she made the sign for truth.
Sansa's smile was small, but had a vicious edge to it as she replied, "I suppose I am the heir to Littlefinger's businesses and political intrigue... and Cersei's too. Joffrey never understood any of the balance between power and persona, while Tommen and Myrcella didn't want to. All right, sister, you have your revenge - I'll visit the whorehouse, and see the smallfolk, too. I know you want me to."
"Good. I'll see the Ladies at White Harbor - Leona, Wynafryd, and Wylla, I believe. You're welcome to stay, Sansa, but it might not be very interesting for you. I need to be with Death for a bit, then sleep," said Arya quietly before she closed her eyes and stilled completely.
"Correct - Leona was widowed at the Red Wedding and they all got on well with Wendel, so you should have a very warm reception," said Sansa quietly, watching her sister for a bit. Sansa couldn't even see her breathing, though she knew she was.
This wasn't something she understood, that Arya was, truly, a priestess, a priest, now, that she prayed regularly. Their mother would have considered religious orders a valid choice, if not as good as an advantageous marriage, of course, but she would have only thought of being a Septa or a Silent Sister. The Old Gods didn't have roles suitable for a highborn girl like Arya. Sansa supposed that Arya took care of the dead like a silent sister, but she also made people dead with great frequency, and mother would have only approved of some of them. Arya as the High Septon of Death in Westeros, their mother would not have even have imagined.
Their mother hadn't prayed to the Stranger that Sansa could ever remember. Arya was sitting as if a statue had taken her place, so Sansa set the plate of bread and the rest of the water on Arya's small table, then picked up the tray and set it outside. Turning back in, she took the smaller of the two door bars Arya had, very carefully balanced it atop the brackets as Arya had shown her once, then kept a hand on it as she exited, keeping it balanced as she withdrew her hand and pulled the door shut smoothly, steadily faster without upsetting the bar. The door slammed shut and she could hear that the bar fell into the brackets instead of onto the floor. Sansa used her key to lock the door, then left the tray for a maid to collect and headed for her solar. The merchants would be there soon.
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