Someone [ARYA STARK]

FIVE

"Do they have names?"

The young girl marvelled at the sight of all the blades strewn over the table.

She could tell that Will didn't judge her interest in blades which she particularly liked as everyone in Winterfell considered her to have to sit by the fire all day, cross stitch, try on dresses, recite boring poems in Valyrian and the seven gods knows what else a 'proper' lady was required to do.

Will hesitated for a quick second the composed himself. 

"Adere" he states, loosely gesturing to the largest one. "It means fast, smooth". Will stood and picked up the blade by its slim handle.

Here he said, tossing Arya's  sword to her. She grinned and received it with grace. She swiped at him which he elegantly dodged moving the blade at a high speed which stopped right before her neck.

Arya's breath hitched in her throat and she started at him wide-eyed. He looked stoic, like a machine. He suddenly grinned and stepped back, casually removing the blade from her neck. "It may be big but it's just as fast".

He slumped back down in his seat and picked a smaller sized dagger up. "Byre" he said mechanically, "means six" he looked towards Arya who had a confused expression on her face. "I was six when I killed my first man" he said.

She slowly nodded and Will felt glad and utterly relieved that she didn't look at him in disgust or fear.

Will looked upon the glinting surface of the metal. "I hate it".

Arya could see his eyes burning with rage. No not rage, sadness. "Why?" she asked carefully.

He looked towards her. "I can't bring myself to destroy it" he looked like he wanted to cry bit the tears never fell, "it's one of the only things I have left of my father".

He shook his head, breaking out of the emotional trance, Arya looked at him curiously but never said a word. 

"Twin daggers" said Will, gesturing loosely towards the matching blades which were glinting dangerously on the table.

"They're pretty" commented Arya, staring at the smooth and polished metal.

"Pretty yes" said Will, not taking his eyes off the dagger, "But just as deadly".

Arya stared for a few moments, taking in the intricacy of the blade. "Where did you get it?" she asked. "After I finished training with Syrio Forrel he gave me the blades, told me that I had talent and that these blades aren't wielded by simple swordsmen but by the most experienced"

Arya nodded, definitely impressed by the young boy's achievements. "I wish he had given me a weapon" she said longingly.

Will chuckled slightly, "I'm sure he would have" Will paused remembering the death of his former teacher. He noticed Arya sagging next to him, surely thinking the same thing.

"He was a great swordsman, and a great teacher" tried Will in an attempt to cheer Arya up.

"Yes"  remarked Arya sadly, "And he died because of me."