Game of Thrones: Fanfic: Survival instincts

[m_findlow]

Title: Survival instincts
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Arya, The Hound
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 812 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, I just want it more than them" at fic_promptly
Summary: Arya learns the true key to survival

The small fire was finally beginning to crackle as Arya huddled close to it. Just as the weariness from her day's ride west was starting to lull her to sleep, there was a thump, and two rabbits were dropped at her feet.

'Skin these,' The Hound said.

She scowled at him. 'I'm not your maid.'

'You ought to be fucking grateful for the food,' he said, easing himself down into a small boulder.

She let out a mirth filled chuckle. 'That's all you're good for killing these days. Harmless little rabbits.'

'A girl stabs one unarmed stable boy and she thinks she's better than everyone.'

'I am,' she said, staring fiercely at him.

'Hmph. What do you know about fighting?'

'Syrio Forel told me that men are made of water and that when you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die. A true fighter dances over the water of his enemies.'

'A load of horseshit,' he said, reaching down to grab one of the rabbits, skinning it himself. 'You know why I’m a better fighter than most?'

'Honour,' she replied deadpan, knowing The Hound had no such concept.

'Honour,' he mused. 'Ha!' he laughed, though it sounded more like a bark. 'Who gives a fuck about honour? Honor never helped any of those stupid little cunts I killed, did it? Honour never helped Ned Stark avoid getting his head lopped off.'

'You were Joffrey's Kings Guard,' she said, as if that was meant suggest he'd once had some honour.

'I was Joffrey's dog long before he was king. He got what was coming to him.'

Arya frowned. 'But you must have done it for a reason.'

'I did it because the Lannisters paid me a shit load of gold to kill people for a living. It didn’t keep me alive any more than some common sellsword.'

'Strength,' Arya said. 'That’s the reason no one has ever defeated your brother The Mountain, because he’s the strongest man in all of Westeros.'

'Except when that twat-faced prince from Highgarden at the Hand's Tourney who knocked him on his arse. He’d have been dogmeat if I hadn’t saved him from my brother.'

Arya remembered that day, seated up in the King's box, bored to tears whilst Sansa and Jeyne mooned over their stupid Knight of Flowers. 'Why did you save him?'

'Because Gregor Clegane is mine to destroy,' he said, tugging hard on the skin, hearing the satisfying pop as the head of the rabbit came away from the body. 'And I would have.'

'But you didn’t. You didn’t have the courage to take revenge when you had the chance.'

'You want to sit there and talk to me about fucking courage? You had your chance to kill me. Beric fucking Dondarrion had the chance to kill me and I put my sword through him. Not my fault that twat Thoros brought him back. Bloody unfortunate if you ask me. I’d have done the same to you if your tried it.' He imagined it as he shoved the stick straight through the rabbit, setting it over then fire.

Arya slumped, pulling her knees up to her chin. 'So you’re saying it’s not strength that makes you a better fighter.'

He swigged on his water skin and gazed up at the murky grey clouds overhead. 'You want to know why I’m the best fighter in Westeros?'

'No,' she replied, but wanting to know the answer despite the lie.

'It’s because I like living.'

Arya laughed. 'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Everyone likes living. That's doesn't make you a better fighter.'

'Oh, doesn't it? Then why do all these idiots end up dead? They ate and drank and whored themselves into their own graves, they loved living so much. Robert fucking Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, impaled by a fucking boar.'

Arya kicked the heel of her boot into the ground. 'At least he got to eat and drunk and whore. What have you got? A stupid little girl you can't manage to sell off because every time you get close enough, someone goes and kills them. If that makes you a better fighter, I'd rather be with the idiots.'

'Oh, they lived all right, but I just want it more than them. I'll put a sword through anyone who gets in my way. That's what living is all about. Making sure you stick them before they stick you. When you come to finally learn that no one gives a fuck about you, you'll do whatever it takes to make sure you come out alive.'

Arya grinned inwardly at the statement. She already knew that. She'd already done whatever it took to save her own skin. All she had to do was cross The Hound off her list. Then she'd be the best fighter in all the Seven Kingdoms.