For Want of a Better King

Discoveries

Discoveries

Arya

It was quite late when she reentered her room. But when she did she got a fright, there was someone already there. She heard sniffling and found a pretty young woman huddled in the corner, red eyed, face puffy from tears. Her face was very different due to the tears, but after a few moments, she recognized her. It was the redhead from earlier, the one with Littlefinger. As Arya approached, the girl flinched and visibly rolled herself tighter.

"It's alright. I won't hurt you." She tried to console her.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just..." Her voice sounded strange, her nostrils were obviously clogged affecting her cadence. Arya grabbed the top sheet from her bed and wrapped it around the girl, who tensed upon feeling the material on her skin. Arya backed away a bit, and the girl clasped the blanket tighter.

"It's alright. I'm Arya."

"I know. The Stark girl." Her voice was becoming stronger.

"And you are?"

"Ros. I'm one of Littlefinger's girls." One of his girls. She actually worked for him, not just...

"Oh. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She laughs, but there is no humor in it.

"I just. I just needed to hide for a little while. I'll leave, just..." She looks as if she's about to stand.

"No, it's fine. Don't worry." And she relaxes a bit at that.

"Thank you, My Lady."

"It's Arya." She gets up to pour a glass of water from a pitcher on the nightstand and hands it to the woman.

"Thank you, Arya." She says as she shakily drinks.

"What happened?" The woman doesn't answer, just continues to drink.

"Whom are you hiding from?" She tries instead. "Littlefinger?" The woman shakes her head, no.

"I saw you, ya know?" The woman says suddenly.

"Yes. I saw you too. Yesterday." She says calmly, as if speaking to a frightened child.

"No. I saw you outside the brothel, walking past covered in shit."

"Oh, yes, well."

"I didn't tell Littlefinger. I didn't tell anyone you had been there."

"Oh. Thank you." The woman only nods.

"Are you hurt?" Arya asks. "Because I can..."

"I just, I just need a moment."

"What happened? Tell me. Littlefinger may be the Master of Coin, but my father is The Hand. I'll protect you." She violently shakes her red curls.

"It's silly. I'm a whore, I've been hurt much worse, but..." She bites her lip and swallows. "The things he made me do. What he wanted. I feel sick." She finishes off the water. Arya is becoming increasingly alarmed.

"Who?" She asks again more sternly. She had no idea Littlefinger was capable of something like this.

She only shakes her head. And just like that, Arya feels sick herself. How many times had she passed by him? How many times had he smiled at her or kissed her hand?

"Let me see." Arya requests. Ros refuses. "I spent some time in The Sept of the Seven, I'm not squeamish around blood or women's issues. Let me see." And the woman nods. All along her body are bruises; fingerprint shaped, some still red, others already turning blue. There was a tiny sliver of blood on her throat, obviously from the edge of a blade pressed against the delicate flesh. And on her wrists were harsh rope burns. Arya did have to concentrate very hard on not vomiting, though more from intense anger, and perhaps some fear.