good dirt | arya stark

thirteen: the three eyed raven

There was word that the King of the North was returning North, and this time with a queen. A Dragon Queen. A woman with hair woven from the stars and from a long line of questionable yet ferocious leaders. She was Daenerys Targaryen, the threat that was not so across the sea anymore.

The Winter War, the White Walkers, the Long Night or whatever the hell they called it was coming, apparently just as fast as the monarchs were. The threat of freezing to death and becoming evil skeletons and cold meat with no blood and no soul was making everyone sluggish with fright, yet so alert. The North was ready for anything, it seemed. It was all they could think about.

All Irene could focus on was Petyr Baelish and his death. Every night, he plagued her sleep. She suffered in silence, not saying a word to anyone yet looking worse by the day. Eris knew what was happening, even if he was constantly having sex with a mason's daughter and barely in Irene's presence anymore. She sat more and more gaunt looking on her bed, the covers in a pile at her feet. Her enemy was gone, but so was she. So was her purpose.

There was a knock on her door and barely any hesitation before a flash of red was blessing Irene's eyes. "Irene, you have to get out of bed."

"Sansa," Irene mocked back playfully. "I'm sick."

"Are you faking being sick, or do you really feel bad?" Sansa questioned, even though she already knew the answer. She walked over to Irene's bed and sat down slowly, as if not to startle her. "We should talk."

"If this is about Lord Baelish, I don't want to."

"I'm not going to call you foolish, no matter how much I want to." Irene scowled at Sansa's words, her defense already bubbling at the back of her throat. "You were just a girl. You were smart for your age, but he had been living a lot longer than we had."

"I know. I shouldn't have trusted him." She sighed out. "I was just trying to get you out of there. You would have been executed you stayed, no doubt."

"And I thank you. I truly do." Sansa said, taking her hand in a gentle manner. Her eyes were connecting with Irene's in a familial manner. "I wish you would have told me. Not then, but when you arrived here. All of your hardships, you keep to yourself. You have barely spoken of your family."

"I don't want to relive the way I saw the sept blow up." She said quickly, begging to change the subject. "I can't relive it." She did, all the time. It plagued her, and it would never go away. The green explosion would never stop haunting her, filling her mind like the fire and smoke and toxins that killed them all.

"I put the burden of my emotions onto you. I always have, and for that I am sorry." Sansa breathed out, finally looking down, this time in shame. "You can always do the same to me. You're like a sister to me. Please don't think otherwise."

"I've always thought the same about you, Lady Sansa." Irene responded, her lips breaking into a small smile, the first smile she had made in a while.

"Speaking of sister, mine is oddly concerned about you." Irene perked up at that, her face scrunching into confusion. "She said she hasn't seen you in the place where you meet."

"We don't meet there intentionally," she said immediately. Even if Arya wasn't there, Irene felt the need to defend herself. "Concerned? Arya feels?"

"Yes, Arya feels. She may be a little rough around the edges and hard on some people, but Arya feels." Sansa rolled her eyes. The continuation of her short 'Arya Feels' speech was quiet, yet more certain. "Even if it seems like Arya doesn't have emotions, she does."

   "I don't see why she would be concerned with the likes of me." Irene shrugged. "I just sit here. With the shape my body is in up here, the bed is probably safest for me."