good dirt | arya stark

five: sworn to the tyrells

   THE PAST

She didn't know that it would be her last time holding a conversation that mattered with her closest friend Sansa Stark, and if she did, she would have treasured the moment as every other young girl would have. She would have cried for an hour, maybe been sad for two. But then, she would've been right back talking to Petyr or planning something to help herself and her family.

Irene and Sansa sat in the chairs of the garden, the garden that couldn't compare to her home. They two girls weren't looking at each other or talking, but they knew how they were feeling. They were just two girls sitting in the comfort of each other.

Until Sansa spoke. "Your sister is marrying Joffrey in days," the red haired beauty pointed out. "Are you excited?"

"Sansa," Irene said, pulling her chair to angle toward her. "You know what I am."

Sansa winced. She knew first hand, probably better than anyone, about how horrid Joffrey was. No matter how much she was able to manipulate him, Margaery wasn't going to be happy. And if Joffrey wasn't happy with her anymore, he would discard her, or kill her. Beat her and rape her, because that was the type of person Joffrey was.

    "It will all come out in the wash," Irene said diligently, her mind not exactly there. "There aren't many flowers in the North, are there?"

The question was random, but it at least made Sansa forget about the terrors Joffrey had inflicted upon her. "Not really. Bushes and shrubs and trees, but those grow almost anywhere. There are no flowers like I'm sure you've seen in your lifetime."

"Probably not, but there's nothing like Highgarden." Irene sighed almost dreamily. "It would be unfair to compare anything to it."

  "The beauty of snow is something only the ones with the heart of the North appreciate," Sansa pointed out. "We should go North together."

   "I have no doubt that one day, we will."

Sansa smiled, a sign that her little-girl-heart was still there inside of her. That's something Irene loved about her. No matter how much turmoil she went through, there was still the Old Sansa in her. She saw it in her when she was supposed to be Loras's intended, and she saw it every time they spoke of the North, or leaving Kings Landing together.

"You think we'll go on a carriage ride to the North together? No way," Sansa said, her voice so obviously hopeful. But Sansa knew that as long as she was the last known Stark, she would remain in Kings Landing. "That would be the best, though."

Irene leaned in towards Sansa, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't think you'll ever leave here, do you?" Sansa's smile left her face. "You will, Sansa."

"How do you know?"

She couldn't confirm anything then. "I just know, Sansa."

She stopped looking happy altogether. "Yes, but how do you know?"

Irene stopped with her, looking at the girl who was only a little older than her, but still looked so much younger than her in the moment. She looked vulnerable to the smallest of wounds, and it was then that she knew that Sansa was getting out of Kings Landing for sure. She knew it before, but now she would do anything for it.

"Sansa, let's talk." She placed her hand over the Stark girl's, and she began talking. "As you know, I love certain things."

"Hm," Sansa mused, wanting to get to the point but indulging the younger girl. She always would. "Men, women, flowers, money, powe-"

"Right," Irene cut off. "Those last two are the most important to me. That was what I thought, after all. I never made a relationship that didn't have something to do with business. I used to love them even more than my family, I used to be all work and no play."