DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Arya X

This chapter is not for the fainthearted. If you are squeamish, skip to the third section.

This chapter is not for the fainthearted. If you are squeamish, skip to the third section.

The trial was over, and it was time for Arya to leave King's Landing. She still had a few loose ends to tie up, regarding rescuing Tyrion at Eastwatch. The finer points needed to be worked out with Bran, which was why she was sitting in Littlefinger's brothel, wearing his face, and having a conversation with the bird while she packed Littlefinger's large travel chest.

"He will be sailing north on a ship called the Storm Crow," she told Bran, placing several jewels into one of the smaller chests. "I need him to disappear after he has landed at Eastwatch. It will be announced that his body has been found, killed by rogue Freefolk. She hoped Mance could arrange for some of his men to escort Tyrion to Queenscrown. Once he's there, send a raven to Winterfell and see what Jon and Sansa want to do with him."

"Quork, corn," Bran replied, confirming he understood.

"Will you be in Queenscrown when I return to Winterfell?" she asked, folding one of Littlefinger's tunics and concealing a dagger inside.

"Yes," Bran quorked as Arya pulled some corn from her pocket and gave it to the bird.

"Will you escort me to the Vale?" Arya had asked Bran this question before; she knew the answer but needed the reassurance of her family.

"Yes," Bran replied, then he flew off.

Arya closed the chest and sighed. She was lonely, and her life seemed destined to remain that way. Once upon a time, in her previous life, she had welcomed the idea of the Faceless Men, believing them to be a family. But now Arya knew better. Going back in time had reminded her of what family meant, and she didn't want to leave it behind. However, her course was set, and the Faceless Men had watched her and would continue to do so until it was time to rejoin their ranks.

A knock on the door disturbed her from her morose mood. "Come in," she called out.

Olyvar, the one she was leaving in charge of the brothel, entered the room. "Lord Baelish," the blond-haired man nodded his head.

Arya sat and crossed her legs, giving Olyvar a pensive look. "How can I help?" she asked.

"One of the clients is asking for a certain type of girl, Lord Baelish," Olyvar replied.

"And?" Arya asked, thinking that was the point of a whorehouse.

"We don't have anyone he would find acceptable," Olyvar explained.

Arya stood up. "We cater to every taste. Anything can be supplied, for the right price. Is our client... wealthy?" she asked.

"He's a Kingsguard," Olyvar replied. "Ser Meryn Trant."

Arya's ears pricked up. She had wanted to kill him since she arrived in King's Landing but had not yet had the opportunity. A sly smile crossed her lips. "I have just the girl. I procured her this morning, just in case such a time would arise."

"How do you know what Ser Meryn wants?" Olyvar was puzzled.

Arya stood and picked up her doublet. "If you want to run a successful establishment, then you need to understand your clientele. Ser Meryn has particular... tastes. I am just about to leave, but I will send her to you. Her name is Mercy. She will be with him in about ten minutes."

Olyvar smiled. "Of course, Lord Baelish."

"Has my litter arrived?" she asked.

"It is waiting for you outside, Lord Baelish," the new brothel-keeper replied.