i haven’t arrived anywhere, arya thought, keeping her distance and her
silence ever since lord beric had fought the hound. they weren’t her friends,
not a single one of them. not even harwin. not even any of the women and
children who watched her with wary, baleful eyes in the dark. maybe that
was better, if she had nothing to do with any of them – if no one was
watching her, that meant she was free to watch them as much as she
pleased, and learn what she could. swineherds, tanners, masons, all
just men, and yet they held her, captive, like something to be bought
and sold. worth a bag of gold and nothing else. she knew they needed
the coin, and she knew people took highborn captives all the time, that
was what you did in wars, but it didn’t seem right – she wasn’t a person,
not to them. not for true. she’d stop being a person the moment they didn’t
have to talk to her anymore. the words were empty. m’lady was empty.
besides, might be they were right. might be she wasn’t worth anything
outside the sum of her uses – coin, or steel, or blood. and what good
was any of that, if robb didn’t even want to ransom her? what good was
any of that, if he didn’t even want her back anyway? his war would need
coin, too, and surely that was more important than one stupid little dead
girl, bloody hands and bloody teeth and filthy hair. kings were supposed
to put the realm before their sisters, everyone knew that.
still, no, she hadn’t arrived anywhere. they’d taken her. taken,
like she was some thing to be stolen away, a purse or a sword.
taken, like she was a dog gone feral needed putting down.
if she was truly a wolf, though, or even a rabid dog, she could tear
all their throats out – her dreams were still thick with the hot splash
of blood in her throat, the tearing of flesh under her teeth.
when she awoke, she was only a stupid little girl again, and she
hated it. hated them. hated herself. and yet, there was nowhere
to go. no coin, no horse – she could run on her own two feet, that
was true enough, but they’d only drag her back again.
arya drew herself up taut at elias’ approach, eyes hard and mistrustful,
verging onto cold ; shoulders fenced in toward her chest and skinny,
half-starved thighs tensed at the muscle and bone, as though ready
to run, or fight, whichever came first. the others had spoken friendly
enough to her, that was true, but she didn’t know elias. didn’t know
what he might want, and most like, if he was trying to be kind to her,
he wanted something. that was what people did. that was what men
did. might be he wouldn’t harm her, if only because she’d be worth
less if she was hurt or broken or spoiled, but …
‘ i’m not hungry. ’ it was a lie, a stubborn lie, and not even
a good one ; the quiet rumbling of her stomach would give
her away easy, if he could hear it over the snapping of the
flames and the rumble of voices. ‘ what d’you want? ’
sounds of the crackling fire filled the air. a mix of hushed tones along with the savage art of simply dining the Brotherhood had perfected in a way elias had never seen, were playing echoes along the cave’s walls. he was never much for their antics, his sole purpose in joining such a cause was only to defend the NORTH. t’was the only home he had known & he had vowed to do his part in protecting it. though to most, it was just land. to elias, it was everything. ( it was the only thing )
his thoughts played back various scenes :: silent, foreboding flashes of memories intertwined with what lie ahead. he had always known he would have to make his own decisions & for a time, elias had thought the Brotherhood was a good choice. a well-balanced mark on his record that spoke of his selflessness & bravery. but the more he lingered, the more he realized how much they were like bandits. although elias was not opposed to the notion, the deception was what drove him mad. the lies & deceit & the overabundance of beliefs no one in the party truly held dear ... until, of course, the many resurrections of lord beric. he had seen it time & time again. now, it seemed nothing more than an elaborate display -- something to prove their authority.
elias could not blame arya stark for hating them -- for hating him. though he gave her no personal reason, it was his association with the men that sat by the fire, drinking themselves into supposed transcendence that fueled her hatred of every soul within five meters of her.
he dare not attempt to know her mind. arya’s gaze was far & away from this horrid place. possibly a place where her family was still together. elias could not know her pain, for family was never a word that held bearing in his life. it was merely a word.
gaze softening at her harsh tone, elias would have put money on the fact that this girl was capable of taking down any number of these so-called brothers. but that was a wager for another day.
❛ you’re a dreadful liar, ❜ he mused, stealing a glance at the plate. ❛ they’ve no intention of letting you starve. whether you like it or not. ❜ he was not charged with caring for the girl, & yet, he felt an unwarranted sense of responsibility for her. ❛ i don’t want anything, m’lady. only to see you well. not everyone here has forgotten why we are at war in the first place. ❜
( your father was a shining example in the depths of a hell he could not escape )
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