good dirt | arya stark

seven: mockingbird

Irene spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to figure out how she could smoothly inherit all the money that was hers now. It wasn't an amount that she could just give up, she wanted it now.

Eris knocked twice before coming in the door. "The Starks would like to see you."

"Oh, without an audience this time?" She asked sarcastically before lifting herself off of the floor and standing, taking her flower bracelet and putting it on.

"Yes, without an audience, Lady Irene." A voice said, a piercing through her ears, her eyes looking up briefly to see a woman standing there, her feet shoulder length apart and her stance every bit alert and warrior like. By the short of her hair, Irene recognized her as Arya.

    "That's Lady Tyrell, Lady Arya." Eris corrected politely, asserting her authority. With her being the only Tyrell left, that meant that she was now the head of household and was named Tyrell. That was how it worked in the Reach.

  "That's quite alright, Ser Eris." She walked up to Arya, who was too caught up in the embroidery that was no doubt Sansa's on her dress to notice the weakness in her step. "Lead the way?"

  "I'm no tour guide." Arya said, walking ahead of her and leaving her to limp weakly behind her.

   "No, don't help me." Irene said to Ser Eris, catching Arya's ear from in front of her. She could hear the back leg dragging against the snow once they reach outside. Arya kept walking along, not seeming to feel an ounce of pity for the girl.

      When they arrived, Arya was already seated, on the right of Jon and so was Sansa, who was his left. She looked serious, regal, and Irene couldn't have been more proud. She resisted the urge to smile at her, and only did so when Sansa offered the quickest of smiles. She bowed to her new king, hearing Olenna swear at her in her subconscious.

   "Your Grace," She said, the words coming out of her mouth like nectar from the sweetest of flowers. She was so used to this that it was almost funny to her. How many people had she called that name? Cersei, Joffrey, Margaery, Tommen, now Jon Snow. How many had she truly meant? "I've been summoned?"

   "Yes, Lady Tyrell." He said. "It seems that my sister has immense trust in you."

   She smiled. "I would hope she does. I trust her with my life, myself." She looked at Sansa, who smiled back at her softly at her proclamation.

"I see that you've grown close together, how was that?" The King in the North asked curiously.

"We were in Kings Landing together," Irene started, honestly not preferring to go back to those times. "We were just two little girls in a bad place, and we linked. No one in Kings Landing actually liked the Starks, and lord knows that Cersei and Tywin were plotting against my family the whole time. The two of us were outcasts, and we clicked. I would do anything for Sansa, I really would."

"Oh, yes." Her whole body tensed up as her shoulders went up to her ears almost, her hands going limp at the extremely familiar purr. Eris stepped closer to her. "We are aware of that, Lady Irene."

"Thank you for attending, Lord Baelish." Sansa said, her business personality back as she nodded to him respectfully, obviously not in the know about what had happened between him and her best friend. "You'll be glad to see that our mutual friend Irene is alive and well."

   Irene heard his footsteps coming closer, and her breathing stopped as she tried not to faint from pure shock, anger, and terror. She couldn't feel Eris's hands on her arm, and she couldn't feel the stare if ever Stark except for Sansa, who was still focused on the sneaky lord in their presence. Irene's eyes rested on the ceiling as she attempted to control herself before doing something that could sentence her to death. She heard his steps stop, and she breathed out sharply.

He was much closer than expected, stopping right beside her so that she could see him from her peripheral. Everything the man did was on purpose, and this was clearly to antagonize her. His arms came up halfway as he looked at her face, her eyes coming down to look at his, which were boring into hers. There was something fake lurking beneath his eyes, something that she would have been frightened by a while ago, after what had happened. He had his signature smirk, an evil little smirk that belonged on rats and snakes, not on men.

   The two locked eyes for a moment, and he was slightly shocked by the fire that burned behind her once ambitious, greedy, and flowery eyes. Eyes that once mirrored his. He shrugged his shoulders slowly, eyes still connected with hers. "Oh, what a surprise."

  THE PAST

The night before Joffrey and Margaery wed was a night of unrest in the castle. Irene was just happy that it was about to be over. Joffrey's reign was short but far too long, and she was ready to see the son of a bitch die. She would put on a great big show like her grandmother told her to, but on the inside, she would cheer. If things went right, Sansa would be free of him, she would be free of him, the Seven Kingdoms would be free of him. Most importantly to her though, was her blood sister. She could only manipulate the little terror for so long before she was at the end of her crossbow. With Joffrey, she was never going to have a peaceful reign, or make the Kingdoms happy.

   Joffrey's death was something Olenna secured with Lord Baelish, but Sansa's escape was all on Irene. She felt dirty, disgusting, even though it was weeks ago that the incident happened. She had done it for Sansa and Margaery, and that's what she kept telling herself. She needed to feel like she sold herself for a reason, like she saved someone from a terrible fate. But really as she sat there, she realized that she had been played.

   Petyr Baelish never would have left Sansa in Kings Landing. Whether he was in love with Sansa Stark or Catelyn Stark, he would have brought her with him. There was no way the he would've gone to the Vale with Sansa's aunt there without bringing Lysa Arryn her niece, anyways. She got played, and she was just realizing it. The part that disgusted her the most was how much Meryn Trant payed Petyr before his departure, and how Littlefinger smiled and patted her head while she lay quiet from shock on top of the bed, her eyes blank and only able to see the still lustful eyes of Meryn Trant, and the evil smile of Lord Baelish. How did she ever admire this man? It was at that moment that she decided that she would never have another mentor, another friend, or another business partner. She would do it all on her own, by the Old Gods and the new.

   And she would never, ever, trust another knight that wasn't Loras.

     
                                          ****

poor baby can't find peace even where she thought she would, and she can't even find herself. is she still greedy and ambitious or has she grown out of it? she doesn't even know, my ladies and lords, my kings and queens! if you like this, please support it!