[Flash Back]
The chamber was quiet, lit only by the faint glow of a single candle. Arya paced near the door, her little sword Needle clutched in her hand. Sansa sat on the edge of the bed, twisting her fingers together nervously, her face pale.
"Thor should have been back by now," Arya muttered, restless. "Something's wrong. I should go out and look for him."
"No!" Sansa snapped, her voice shaky but firm. "You can't just run out there. The whole castle is crawling with guards. If you step outside, they'll catch you." She was absolutely shaken after what she had heard from Thor about her father.
She had been praying to the Seven ever since to protect her father and Thor. Her eyes were red; this was the first time the girl had faced something like this in her life.
Arya scowled. "And sitting here, doing nothing, will save us? I can fight them, save Father, and get out of here."
Sansa's eyes glistened with worry. "Fight? You'll get yourself killed! You think swinging that little sword makes you safe? You don't know what you're saying!"
Arya's temper flared. "I do know! I'm not helpless like you, always crying and waiting for someone else to save you. If Father's in trouble, if Thor's in trouble, then I should—"
"Stop it!" Sansa shouted, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Do you think I don't care about Father? Do you think I'm not worried about Thor? But running out there won't help them, Arya. It'll just… it'll just lose us too."
Arya froze at that. She wanted to argue more, but deep down, she knew Sansa was right. Her grip on Needle tightened.
Before either of them could speak again, a loud rattle shook the door. The sisters froze, eyes wide. Someone was outside.
"Thor?" Sansa whispered hopefully, rising to her feet. She stepped toward the door, reaching for the handle.
But Arya darted forward, grabbing her arm. "No! Don't. That's not him."
Sansa's lips trembled. "How do you know?"
Arya's instincts screamed. She shook her head fiercely. "I just know. Hide!"
Thor would have called for them, not just knocked.
The door rattled again, harder this time, and then came the sound of fists pounding on the wood. The sisters scrambled behind a chest and curtain, holding their breath.
Then, with a thunderous crash, the door burst open. Several armored Lannister men stormed inside, swords drawn.
"Get the Stark girls, they should be here somewhere," one growled.
Sansa pressed her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Arya crouched low, her heart hammering, Needle trembling in her grip.
Both hid in the limited space of their quarters.
The men searched the room, flipping over blankets, kicking open trunks. "Come out, where are you?" another sneered. His tone was mocking, almost joyous.
"The king wants them alive," a man reminded, stopping any darker thoughts from rising in the others.
One of the soldiers stepped too close to Arya's hiding place. She didn't think—she acted. She lunged from the shadows and drove Needle straight into his belly. The man let out a sharp gasp, staggering back, blood spilling as he collapsed.
Sansa's horrified gasp broke the silence. "Arya!"
The soldiers whipped around at the sound, their eyes locking on the sisters. "There! Grab them!"
Arya pulled her sword free, ready to fight, but she knew she couldn't take them all. The men advanced, grinning cruelly.
And then, out of nowhere, a figure stepped into the room with the grace of a cat. A thin sword flashed in his hand, faster than the eye could follow. One guard fell, then another, their weapons clattering to the floor.
It was Syrio Forel.
"Quick, Arya boy!" Syrio called, his Braavosi accent thick, his movements sharp as water flowing over stone. "Run! Run now!"
Sansa hesitated, frozen in shock, but Arya grabbed her arm and pulled. "Come on!"
The sisters bolted for the door while Syrio danced between the guards, his blade striking with precision, his body moving like a shadow.
Sansa looked back once, wide-eyed, watching the man who had trained her sister hold back armored knights with nothing but his speed and skill.
Arya tugged harder. "Don't stop! We have to go!"
And so they ran, their footsteps echoing down the dark halls of the Red Keep, their hearts pounding, knowing they had only barely escaped.
Arya hurried along, pulling Sansa with her. She had wandered this place many times before, sneaking away from Septa Mordane's lessons and slipping through every crack and hidden stair she could find. That was why she knew this way, why she knew the shadows here would hide them better than any chamber in the Red Keep above.
Their footsteps echoed faintly until Arya finally stopped, dragging Sansa behind the massive dragon skull that loomed in the dark.
Sansa, like everyone who saw the dragon skull for the first time, was stunned. It was Arya who pulled her forcefully behind it; otherwise, she would have remained there, frozen, and gotten caught by those Lannister guards for sure.
Its gaping jaws stretched wide, as though ready to swallow them whole. Dust and cobwebs clung to its teeth, but it was cover, and Arya shoved Sansa down behind it with her.
The sound of armored boots clattered faintly behind them, but after a few tense moments, it faded. They were alone.
Sansa collapsed against the stone, her hands trembling as she clutched her skirts. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts. "Gods… gods, Arya, we could've been killed. We should have been caught. They'll never stop looking for us. Never!"
Arya, panting from the run, gripped Needle tighter. Her first instinct was to go back out there, to find Father, to find Thor, to fight if she had to. But looking at Sansa—her sister's pale face streaked with tears, her body shaking like a leaf—she couldn't just leave her. She swallowed her impatience.
"We're not dead yet, and remember there is only one response we give to death. Not today," Arya muttered, trying to sound braver than she felt.
Sansa shook her head, tears spilling freely now. "I can't… I can't do this, Arya. I'm not like you. I can't kill men, I can't fight. I just want to go home."
Arya's chest tightened. For a moment, she wanted to snap, to tell her sister to stop crying, that crying wouldn't save anyone. But instead, she sighed and sat beside her. "I'll stay here with you. Just until Thor finds us. Or until the guards get tired and leave. Then we'll move."
Sansa leaned into her without thinking, clinging to the only steady thing she had left. For a while, the sisters just stayed like that, hiding in the shadows of long-dead dragons.
But Arya grew restless. Her legs bounced, her fingers drummed against Needle's hilt. Every sound of dripping water, every faint creak of the castle above, made her tense. She was just about to get up and peek out when footsteps echoed down the passage.
Her heart leapt. She shoved Sansa lower behind the skull. "Quiet!" she whispered.
The steps drew closer, slow and heavy. A voice called softly, "Arya? Sansa?"
Both sisters froze. The voice was familiar.
Arya's eyes widened. Sansa gasped, and before Arya could stop her, Sansa darted out from behind the skull.
"Thor!" she cried, her voice cracking.
Thor paused, a little baffled, blinking in surprise as Sansa rushed to him and threw herself into his arms.
For a moment, Thor was stiff, taken aback by the girl clinging to him like a drowning child. But then he softened, resting a hand gently on her head. "You're safe," he said quietly. "Don't worry."
He coaxed her gently, slowly ruffling her hair to calm her down.
Sansa pressed her face into his chest, sobbing quietly, letting herself feel safe for the first time in hours. Thor stood still, letting her calm, his sharp gaze already scanning the shadows. He knew they couldn't linger.
"We have to move," he said finally, his voice steady. "It's not safe here."
Arya stepped out from behind the dragon skull, relief flickering in her eyes, though she tried to hide it. But then she looked around, her face—relieved a moment ago—distorting somewhat.
"Where's Father?"
"Shit…" Thor winced. Now convincing this girl to go with him would be harder than conquering the Nine Realms.
xxx
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