A Vow Without Honor

The Confession

"Is what true?"

"That you can't read or write?"

Gendry opened an eye, looking down at her on the floor. "Course it is. Not all of us were born in castles. Reading is rich people's business."

She hadn't thought about that before. For some reason, she'd always assumed everyone could read. It didn't make sense, but that was how she had viewed the world. She had watched people fight to kill pigeons and rats to stay alive, but somehow, she thought they could read too.

"I could teach you."

He laughed. She smacked him.

"I mean it! I could do it!"

"Arya, teaching requires patience and kindness."

"I can be kind!" she shouted as he laughed again. Syrio Forel hadn't been kind. Well, not in the way most people thought of, but she supposed water dancing was a little different from reading. "I'm serious. I could do it!"

"I've made it this far in life without needing it. I'll be fine."

She fell quiet, looking back at the fire. It hadn't been much, but teaching him was one more thing to get her through the nightmare she found herself in. At least back home, she'd had her brothers, and her father, and they'd let her get away with anything. What did she have here? What price was she paying to finally be safe?

She hated this place.

Behind her, Gendry sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll give it a go. But if you hit me, I'm quitting."

Arya bolted upright, grabbing her friend's hand and yanking him completely off the bench.

"What are you doing?!"

"Getting parchment and ink! I can pick the lock on Maester Coleman's door!"

"Oh, of course you can."

. . .

Sometimes, she visited the sky cells. The gaoler, Mord, was a dumb brute, but a coin or two got him to keep quiet. They hadn't managed to take all her money from her yet. They'd gotten Needle, but she would find it again. If she could get it back after running through a war, she could find it in this stupid castle.

The Hound was always sitting in the same corner when she arrived. Maybe he never moved. Even with the winds howling about him, she could still smell the stench on his body.

"Aren't you scared?" she asked, standing on a stool so she could see through the small bars on the door.

"No," had been his bored reply.

"Why not?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Their conversations often went that way: questions with short, blunt answers. He never sound interested in her being there, but he never told her to go away either.

She didn't know what made her think of it, but Arya was seized by a curiosity one night.

"Before you left King's Landing, did you see my sister at all? Sansa. She has red hair and-"

"I know who she is, girl," the Hound barked. It was the biggest reaction she'd gotten from him the entire time they'd been in the Eyrie. "Your sister was playing at being a commoner. Found her running around Flea Bottom."

"Is she still there?"

"No."

Arya grasped the little bars, pushing her face as far in as she could. "Where is she then? Did Joffrey capture her? Is she dead?"