A Furious Thing

Tarth and the Narrow Sea

Arya was in Tarth for two years. Her fifteenth name day came with the news that her sister was now a married woman. Sansa was now the Lady of Starfall, and Robb was now twice a father. His oldest, a boy named Rodrick, was now the older brother of a little girl. It came from a smiling Renly. Her sixteenth birthday came with more news. Robb now had three children, and Sansa was pregnant with her own. Renly brought this news as well. She felt sorry, to be so disconnected from her family, getting her news from rumours brought to her by the ever-happy Renly Baratheon. But then, if she'd gone back to Winterfell, she'd be getting her news from letter anyway, and she'd be markedly less happy.

She found that even though the well-dressed man brought precious information about the Starks, Renly's visits, frequent as they were, were not her favorite parts of her life. She'd gotten quite adept with her larger sword, although she'd always prefer Needle, and the muscles in her arms were quite impressive. She once showed Kira, only half-japing, just how large they got when she flexed them. The maid had laughed until she cried.

And that wasn't the extent of her training either. She could now hit a moving target from horseback with her bow three times out of five, and Brienne had promised her a new bow when merchants next came to market, or they found themselves in Maidenpool. And the lady had trained her at the tilt. Arya was getting better and better with the quintain, though she still got clobbered every now and again.

She was a rather intimidating person now, and getting deadlier each day, but as the days past and she learned more and more, all she could feel was restless. It was maddening, knowing how to do all these things, being able to protect herself, and having no use for it, other than impressing Lady Brienne at the next lesson. Even Nymeria picked up on, taking to running off into the forest and coming back days later with blood in her mouth. The direwolf had never attacked cattle, but Brienne didn't like her running free like that. Arya didn't tie her up though, because she knew the feeling of being trapped, was feeling it now, and hated to lock Nymeria into her room for hours on end.

Brienne sensed this discontent- she had to- but she never did anything besides scold them both. It started feeling very much like being lectured by the Lady Stark, and Arya wondered if she was cursed to being a horrid disappointment. It was slightly over dramatic, she had to admit, and she tried over the next few weeks to shake the feeling off, but the arrival of Renly and his dreadful news did little to alleviate any negative feelings she had.

"Your father and the King got into quite an argument, you know," he said, at supper that night.

With other visits, Arya served, but when Renly was there, Brienne allowed her to sit with them. She'd reasoned at first that Renly could tell her what he'd learned any time during his visit, but the Lord of Storm's End spent most of his time wasting time with Loras Tyrell to update Arya on anything.

"About what?" she asked, suddenly anxious.

Renly had told her before about the King's temper, which Arya had certainly seen a bit of on the Kingsroad. She didn't trust her family's safety to him any more than she trusted the Queen.

"Daenerys Targaryen. The Spider's been whispering in my brother's ear. Supposedly she'd married one of the Dothraki horselords."

"So?" Brienne asked. "The Dothraki aren't sailors."

"I've never said Robert was smart. He's paranoid, so, he ordered the girl assassinated. Lord Stark...disagreed, rather loudly, and publicly. He threatened to step down as Hand."

"He did?" Arya gasped.

"Yes, but I doubt anything will come of it. That was months ago, and they've kissed and made up now," Renly told her. "Robert needed Ned's help in negotiations with Loras's family." He stopped them to take a long gulp of wine.