DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Arya II

The room was as Arya remembered, though messier than her last visit. The smell of sex hung in the air. It had been a pleasant one when it was between her and Gendry, but brothel sex was putrid, and Arya needed to get out.

Jon had left to practise warging into Ghost. Arya knew she needed to practise herself, it would be a useful skill. But she wasn't comfortable being exposed, out of control. However, she'd promised Jon she would, if only to help with communications between him and Sansa.

Arya needed to get away from the stench. She made her way downstairs and requested a litter take her to the Red Keep. This would be the first time she would use the mask with people who could catch her out. Sansa gave her extensive training of Littlefinger's traits. The way he would sometimes wiggle his head as he straightened his clothes, and when he would roll his shoulders. How he would speak, and when he would intervene. Arya knew almost everything about the man that could be learned. She understood his slippery methods and schemes.

As Arya's litter traversed the grand gates of the Red Keep, her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her. The castle, crafted from pale red stone, commanded a formidable presence atop the cliffs overlooking the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. Seven massive drum-towers, crowned with iron ramparts, soared into the sky, their imposing stature casting a shadow over the bustling courtyard below.

Curtain walls, towering and imposing, encircled the keep, adorned with nests and crenellations for archers to stand vigilant. Thick stone parapets, some reaching four feet in height, lined the outer edge of the wall ramparts, serving as both protection and a grim reminder of the castle's authority. Iron spikes, between the crenels at the gatehouse, bore the heads of traitors, a macabre display of the Red Keep's uncompromising justice under the reign of King Joffrey.

Bronze gates and portcullises stood sentinel at strategic points along the walls, with narrow postern doors nearby offering discreet passage. Large corner-forts loomed at each corner, their presence a testament to the castle's impregnability.

To her left, the barracks stood tall and imposing, banners of Lannister red with a golden lion, flapped proudly in the breeze. The clang of swords and the shouts of soldiers drilling, a reminder of the castle's constant state of readiness, concurrently, she felt a longing for Gendry, with whom she was still struggling to deal with.

Within the castle's confines, Arya knew a labyrinth of underground passages connected its various chambers and halls. Serpentine steps, winding and treacherous, led from the lower bailey to Maegor's Holdfast and beyond, their ascent a test of endurance.

Below the steps lay the heart of the keep: Maegor's Holdfast, the small council chambers, and the Tower of the Hand. Above, the Great Hall with its magnificent throne room overlooked the courtyard, while the godswood, the river walk, and other chambers dotted the upper levels.

All around the red banners, bearing the golden lion of house Lannister, flapped in the wind, reminding her at every turn, who was in charge. Not for much longer, Arya smiled inwardly. Jon will destroy all of you.

Arya was returning the ledgers to Tyrion, whose solar was in Maegor's Holdfast. She made her way through the halls as best she could remember.

Almost ten years had passed since Arya was last in the Red Keep. Despite her excellent memory, might not be enough for her to remember her way around. And getting lost in the body of Littlefinger was the last thing she needed to do. The secret passageways were an option, for she knew them better than Maegor's Holdfast, but her lack of familiarity with this part of the castle needed rectifying. That was the true purpose of her visit.

Sansa had provided Arya with a map of the Red Keep, down to the rooms each person slept in, which Arya had memorised, but it was not the same as seeing it in the flesh. The last thing Arya needed was to get caught out by such a stupid thing as getting lost.