good dirt | arya stark

nine: lady tyrell

Irene was cold, almost too cold. She felt like her fingers were going to freeze up and she was going to die, but she didn't. She knew she wouldn't, but still.

Eris was hovering over her like a mother hen, constantly worrying about her and bringing her things to eat and more blankets. He attempted to reassure her, saying over and over again that Winterfell was built on top of hot springs, so the heat should start kicking up at any time.

Irene was laying in bed when a knock came, eyes peeling open and her breath gushing out of her mouth. Her voice was croaky when she answered. "Come in,"

    Eris was at the door, a woman who Irene had to restrain her eyes from rolling at his side. She breathed out instead, willing her eyes not to narrow. "I bring you Arya Stark."

   "Sansa said that we have to get along." Arya stated bluntly, her eyes analyzing Irene deeply as she lay in the bed. "Why are you in bed?"

  "I'll take my leave, My Lady." Eris said, bowing to the technical Wardeness of the South.

   "Because I can be." Irene said, not even bothering to sit up. If she sat up, that would imply that she was bothered by the other woman's words. And she could never be bothered. 

  "It's late." Arya was still a ways away from her, standing in the background and crossing her arms. "Staying in bed all day isn't healthy."

  "I've never exactly been the prime example of healthy." She responded. "I'm sure you knew that."

   "I did." Arya confirmed. "What I don't know is why you're so upset. You don't seem like the type to cry over little things."

   "I'm not," Irene answered shortly. "But lots of large and rather tremendously terrible things have happened to me. So I cry."

  "About your family?" The coldness in Arya's voice was scary, almost as if she was attached entirely from her feelings. Arya seemed to be a slab of stone, and it scared Irene.

  She reminded Irene of her past. "What else?"

"You'll stop crying over it." Arya assured, her voice getting harder and her body barely releasing any tension. "Eventually."

"It's hard to move on when the woman who blew up your family sits on the Iron Throne. The throne that was meant to be my sister's, hell, your sister's at one point. She killed everyone I loved without remorse and I barely escaped. Pure luck."

  "Tragedies happen." Irene's eyes snapped her way. "But I'm sorry that happened to you."

  "No, you're not." Irene finally sat up, fire burning in her veins. "You're not. You would've never brought it up."

   The short girl shrugged. "I didn't know that you were still hurt over it."

  "Don't act like you're over what happened with your family." Irene said, shaking her head and gearing up to say some things. "Don't act like everyone hasn't heard of you, some girl who went off and trained to be a killer, revenge burning in her heart. You care if revenge burns in your heart, you care."

  "I've moved on."

"Then put down your sword." Irene chuckled without humor. "If you ever see the wretched woman who killed my family and orchestrated the death of yours, I dare you to let her pass you by, let her walk unscathed. You can't. I dare you to see a man who had anything to do with your father's murder, your brother and mother. You can't. Your fists are clenching now. You're not over it, you never will be."

  "But at least I've crossed some off of my list." Arya argued back. "What have you done?"

   "Why, I've made an alliance with the Starks. I've done something that my family would have never dreamed of, built and crossed bridges. And you've killed people. You see, life isn't all about killing people. You may leave."