Young Writers Society

Arya had killed many people in her lifetime. Too many to count.

It was never her choice to do so; it was her job, her duty, her solemn promise to the clients who had saved her from a life of poverty or even premature death. She had been lifted off the streets and given a home, people to honor – even the ability to lead a double life to keep her from becoming anyone’s target, without anything to give back in return but her compliance. She had been blessed.

So, whenever she felt unsure of her tasks, whenever the look of fear on her victims' faces became too much to bear, she reminded herself that she easily could have been one of them.

She always tried to let them go easily, though. Unless they had committed a serious crime. In that case, she would return the pain they had caused. But often, her victims were the result of contempt, hatred, jealousy. Wealthy people trying to get back at other wealthy people, or sometimes a person in power trying to put down someone who had “stepped out of line.” In situations like that, she made sure the job went fast and smoothly, and she never once looked back.

I don’t know them, she told herself as she wiped the blood off her knives. I don’t know their stories. I shouldn’t care.

However, with the job she was being forced to take on now... Arya couldn’t tell herself those words at all.

She looked down at the forest green tiles, eyes narrowed. Her arms shook, and strangely, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. This feeling was foreign to her, but with the dull ache that had settled in her stomach, the sense of doom that had buried itself within her heart... she knew she never wanted to have to feel this way again.

The palace air felt as cold and stagnant as the gaze of her new client.

“Sir,” Arya took a sharp breath and forced her stare upwards. “Are- are you sure you have the right person? Because-”

“You dare question my judgement?” He interjected. His tone was icy. Unforgiving.

Arya quickly looked back down at her hands, wringing nervously in her lap. “No sir. I understand,” she said quietly.

The silver-bearded king leaned back in his velvet throne, eyeing his hired assassin from over his nose. The dim lighting supplied by the tall, gold-scaled windows lining the castle walls only served to make him look more threatening. His deep blue, bejeweled robe sparkled faintly in the shadows.

“Good, then,” he said, seemingly satisfied. “You are to ensure the girls execution in three days' time. If she is not reported dead to me by the morning of the fourth day...” He mimicked a throat slitting action with his left hand. She could’ve sworn she saw the ghost of a grin appear on his lips.

“Then you’re next.”

Arya felt goosebumps running down her tanned arms.

“Of course, if you do follow through with my orders… I’ll reward you generously.” He waved his hands as he spoke, shifting slightly in his seat. “I will provide that you are highly promoted within your clan, and you will be paid well. Obviously.”

But Arya barely heard that last bit. The words went through one ear and came out the other; they hardly registered in her mind. The only thing she could think of was the revelation of what she had been tasked to do, a thing she couldn’t even imagine attempting. Her mind retreated as she stood there – quite unprofessionally – in front of her most important client yet, stiff and unmoving. The castle walls seemed to fade from around her.

She was a professional assassin, level-headed and experienced; Arya had been training for this job ever since she was 8 and had finally gotten accepted as a professional at 16. That was 8 years of her life, devoted to learning the correct angles at which you should stab someone, and where the vulnerability points of the human body were, and how to tackle and blend in and walk quickly and silently. Her body was toned and strong from the training, and she had become hardened to gore and apathetic to the lives of her victims; although she wasn’t heartless enough to put them through too much pain unless they deserved it. She simply saw it as her job, no hard feelings. And she was devoted to it, because had she not been found that fateful night by the clan leader, she surely would have died before she had made it to her ninth birthday. This was her divine purpose; besides, she had to prove to other, older assassins that she wasn’t just some teenage girl who had gotten lucky. Because boy, were they always ready to mouth off on her when her kill took longer than five minutes to administer.

However, not once in her life had she ever been tasked to kill someone she was close to.

Now, Arya had prepared for this moment, intentionally or not. When she wasn’t on the job, she was just another girl in the village of Creola, sweeping the floors of the taverns for extra cash and attending school when she could. But not being around people your age for much of your life stunts your social skills no matter what, so she mostly found herself alone in her free time, not really eager to start conversation with anyone. (Both out of disinterest and fear, although she would never admit it) It wasn’t like she was scared she would spill her secret; it was more like she saw herself as separate, unable to connect normally with others due to her circumstances and personality. She was the type to let her eyes do all the work of collecting information, not her tongue. And she never knew what her clients would ask for, so she certainly did not want to get too close to anyone that she may end up having to hurt.

That was, until Saige came along.

They had met one evening at the tavern Arya always worked at. It was pouring down outside, the sky an angry shade of grey and covered to the brim with heavy rainclouds; a girl with dirty blonde hair and an admittedly attractive face had rushed into the building seeking refuge from the storm. The girl – not much older than Arya herself, if not her age – had apparently been out singing at a bar before she got kicked out for scam, or so the story went. The girl had been so animated when speaking to the tavern owner, her eyes bright and her clothes soaked, that it was hard not to be intrigued.

When Saige had spotted Arya standing in the corner quietly, she immediately came over. Like a magnet to metal. Arya couldn’t help but be a little shocked.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Saige had said with a grin. It was mischievous, just like the glint in her large brown eyes. “I thought I knew every girl in the village, but you... I don’t recognize. What’s your name?”

And with that blossomed the very first friendship Arya had ever had. At first, she had been cautious; nobody had ever just approached her like that, and she wasn’t sure whether she was ready to invite people into her life. But as soon as she came to terms with the idea of having a friend and convincing herself that just one friend wouldn’t hurt, they became inseparable. Saige visited the tavern often (always equipped with bits of gossip) and Arya found herself eager to see her; eventually they began meeting outside of that, and Arya started dedicating any bit of her time outside of work to be together. It was an opposites attract sort of thing. Saige’s energy and mischievousness balanced out Arya’s careful stoicism. It brought out the life from her, resting dormant under layers of protection.

Now, everything was crashing down at her feet. Because the person she had just been tasked to kill... was none other than Saige herself.

Arya’s hands curled into tight fists at her sides. She could feel the bandages wrapped around them bite into her skin. Why’d she have to go out and kill him? The thought pierced like the tip of a knife on a pressure point. She’s so reckless! We’ve talked about this!

The king was staring at her like she was a piece of horse manure on a silk scarf. “What are you standing there for?” He snapped. “I said you were dismissed.”

Arya didn’t answer. Her heart was jammed in her throat.

How the hell am I going to do this?

-----------

The walk back into the village was far too short. She wanted to walk backwards. She wanted to rewind time and keep Saige from going to that bar, from letting her far too lethal temper get the best of her. But of course, that wasn’t how life worked.

Arya lingered in front of her door before knocking, feet cemented to the grey cobblestone below her. The evening breeze gently rustled her long brown hair, far calmer and warmer than she felt at the moment. She was exhausted; all she wanted to do was crash onto her bed and forget any of this disaster ever happened. But she knew who she’d have to see once she opened that door, and Arya wasn’t ready for that-

“Arya! You’re back! God, it’s about time.”

Saige swung open the door, an utterly panicked look on her face. Her normally smooth hair was a mess, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept at all the night before; her skin was pale and her under-eyes dark. The creature of dread, born within Arya back in the palace, immediately began nibbling at her intestines. She fought the urge to collapse as Saige pulled her inside.

“I’m in so much trouble. So much trouble.” Saige wailed, still gripping Arya’s arm tightly. She locked the door behind them and pressed her back to it, chest heaving. Arya had never seen her so terrified. It made her feel icky. Saige was never the one who was scared.

“Now, I know you’ve heard this many times, but this time, I’m not joking. I did something awful, and I –” She stopped her rambling abruptly and looked around anxiously, as though somebody was watching them. Her breathing quickened. “They’re looking for me. They’re looking for me, right? Oh, of course they are, I killed someone! I didn’t really mean to kill him, he was just being so annoying but- oh, Arya. I’m screwed.”

Saige slipped onto the ground against the door, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her eyes welled up with tears. Arya just stood there. This all felt so wrong.

The creature took a huge bite into her heart.

Saige waved a pale hand in front of her face. “Arya!” she cried. “Snap out of it! Are you even listening?” The desperation in her voice broke Arya out of her trance. Right. Now she was Arya the village girl, not Arya the assassin. No need to let those two intertwine just yet, no matter what her job was. She’d figure that out later. Right? Yeah. There had to be another way.

Arya shook her head and knelt in front of her friend. “Why’d you have to kill him, Saige?” she asked quietly.

“I told you; he was getting on my nerves!” Saige sobbed, voice muffled by her stance. “He wouldn’t leave me alone! He kept following me around, and he couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself...I - I didn’t mean to, I just knocked him over and... and smashed a bottle over his head. That’s all! I didn’t even know he was one of the king’s advisors...”

“Saige...”

“I know! I’m sorry!”

Arya sighed, and the monster of dread she had been trying to bury deep inside resurfaced slightly. She noticed the hand she had put on Saige’s arm was shaking. How long will you be able to keep up this charade?

Saige then looked up with her chocolate brown eyes, wet and red-tinted from crying. “You have to help me.” she whispered. “I need to hide.”

“I’ll hide you in my basement.” Arya responded quickly, voice low and steady. She wanted to add that Saige would be safe, but she knew she couldn’t make that promise. The creature slunk into the pit of her stomach. She just swallowed thickly and kept her vision trained on the other girl, who seemed to relax slightly, although her shoulders were still tense and lifted.

“Are you sure?” she asked slowly, cocking her head. “What if they find us?”

Arya could no longer meet her friend’s eyes. “They won’t.”

-----------

And so it was decided. Saige would stay in Arya’s basement until the height of the commotion passed, and then they would sneak out of the village together and find a home someplace else, far away. Surely, they told themselves, the news wouldn’t spread to other kingdoms. Of course, the king wasn’t known for his kindness; Arya knew that personally. But Saige was just some girl. Surely he wouldn’t care that much.

Yeah. That’s what they’d do.

Right?

-----------

Saige sprawled out onto the dusty grey mattress, plopped down in one of the corners of the rectangular basement floor. “This feels great,” she said, smiling. “Thanks for hauling it down for me. You really didn’t have to, you know. It’s already enough that you're this okay with me staying here.”

Arya smiled too, although noticeably smaller than her friend. She fidgeted with her hands slightly behind her back but kept her face carefully still. Quit acting so weird. “It’s no problem. It’s about time it was used, and it wasn’t that hard to bring it down here. Just a few steps.” Arya looked around the small space, at its old beige painted walls and hard rock floor. She made a face as the cool air caused a chill to run down her back. “You can’t just sleep on the floor, anyway. Plus, its freezing. It’s literally the least I could do.”

Saige laughed quietly before sitting up, crossing her feet and putting her hands in her lap. “That’s sweet. But really...” she cocked her head slightly. “Why are you so... calm about this? Like, it’s not unlike you to be calm, but I honestly expected you would react more strongly to... this whole… situation. What if they find us? Then it would be over for us both.” The fear was clearly beginning to grip Saige again, and the dread crawled back into Arya’s stomach. Don’t think about that right now. There has to be another way.

Arya looked away again, focusing on the bit of floor beside the mattress. “Don’t worry about that. They won’t find us-”

“How could I not worry? Arya, are you hearing yourself?” Saige looked exasperated now, eyes wide. “It’s all my fault that we’re in this situation in the first place, and I’m putting you at risk...”

And yourself at risk too. Far more than you think.

Arya shook her head and looked her friend in the eyes. “Look, Saige. Panicking about this won’t help. For now, we’re fine, okay?” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “There isn’t even a bounty on you yet. We’ll just stay on the down low for now and hope for the best.”

Saige studied Arya for a moment before nodding. She laid back down on the mattress and curled up onto her side, facing away from the door. And her friend.

-----------

“There’s a bounty on me now, isn’t there.”

Arya nodded slowly, holding onto the doorframe to keep from collapsing onto the floor. Saige smashed her head against her pillow, lying face down onto the mattress, and screamed.

Arya had been out getting groceries for the two of them when she saw a flyer against the wall of the shop, up where they put all the news clippings and advertisements. There, on a pale orange sheet of paper, was Saige’s face. The word “WANTED” was scrawled across the page in huge, terrifying letters.

Arya could've sworn a couple of people had stopped in front of the wall at the sight of the poster, murmuring words of disbelief, as Saige never let herself get in that much trouble for the king to be declaring a search with a reward for her. But then again, the story of what happened at the bar had gotten out, and Saige was never exactly known for her innocence. It was really just her pretty face and fun nature that got her out of things without too much of a consequence.

Well, this time, she had let her bad side get the best of her, and there was no getting out of it now.

Arya had run straight out of the shop and to her house, not stopping once. The sun beat down on her as she ran, reminding her of the time – noon. The village was currently bustling; everyone was out and about. Word would spread like wildfire about Saige’s bounty, and the whole population would be on their trails. Nobody here was wealthy, and enemies can be quickly made when there is a reason. Somebody in this village could have both of their heads on a stake by tomorrow morning if they so chose to get involved, and somebody surely would.

Her heart was in the pit of her stomach now, the dread filling her up completely like helium in a balloon. She couldn’t bury it anymore. It had consumed her.

In a way, Arya had seen this coming. The king loved to play games like this. He had probably known that the last person she wanted to kill was Saige, and that’s why he had chosen her to do it. Now, he was trying to pressure her into doing what he wanted, because Arya knew that if she didn’t do it… somebody else would. And they could hurt Saige even worse. This was the whole damn plan. He’s playing with me. He wants me to end her. He wants my hands to be covered in her blood.

And so she stood there, heaving in the doorway, while Saige sobbed her eyes out into the mattress. “It’s over, Arya,” she cried. “Everyone in this village knows we’re friends. Someone will come out for the money and they’ll – God, this is horrible. I’m so sorry, Arya. I’m so sorry.”

Normally, Arya would have also been wiping tears from her face, would have forced Saige to get up and fight, to stay strong, to trust her. But now Arya felt... numb. It was too much to handle. The bounty, her orders, the paper-thin line between her job and her life outside of it. Who was she, really? Was she the assassin who owed her life to her clan? Or was she the quiet village girl, best friends with the rowdy, popular one?

What even would be best for Saige? Betrayal, or a horrible death at the hands of someone else?

And what would truly be best for her?

Arya sunk to the floor. Her vision swam; her mind felt hazy. She could still hear Saige crying, but now the words she hadn’t registered before in the palace filled her head – I’ll reward you generously. I’ll provide that you will be highly promoted within your clan. Suddenly, those words were all she could hear, all she could think about. Her pulse filled her fingertips, and the dread that had gone numb within her suddenly turned into a jittery anxiety.

This… this was the best course of action. For both of them.

Saige would go easily. She wouldn’t be pursued by anyone and hopefully she wouldn’t even know what happened until it did. And Arya would live. She would be honored.

She didn’t recognize herself in her thoughts anymore. She felt like she had shifted into someone else entirely, someone with only one goal in mind, being controlled by the force of sheer will and nothing else.

Her voice came out of her, foreign and quiet. “You wait here and rest while I barricade the door. Try not to make a sound. Get some sleep, if you can. Don’t worry about anything, okay?”

Saige turned her head to face Arya, face still smushed against her pillow. It was red and tear-stained, but somehow calm. The trust in her eyes formed a small crack in Arya’s heart. The real one. If you don’t do it, someone else will. The words rung through her mind.

Gingerly, she moved out of the doorway and began walking up the stairs. Her feet felt heavy, like they were caked in cement. A soft buzz filled her mind. Part of her wanted to stop, to run back down the stairs and wrap her arms around Saige, crying and apologizing a million times for what she planned to do. But her body was moving on autopilot. It had gone into assassin mode, the way she curled her feet as she walked to prevent making noise and how she grazed one hand against the wall as she went, as she would if she had to work in the dark.

Arya could barely feel a thing.

She walked into the kitchen and opened one of the drawers, brushing her fingertips against the metallic cutlery. Gently, stuck in a trance, she picked up the sharpest knife she could see, closed the drawer, and turned on her heel. She pressed the knife close to her side as she walked, slowly, one foot in front of the other, eyes wide and face blank.

Arya sat silently in front of the locked entrance door for about half an hour, watching for potential attackers and counting down the minutes until she felt that Saige would be asleep. Her hands trembled as she waited, but her mind was quiet. This all felt surreal, like some twisted fever dream. The trees outside her window swayed serenely in the breeze, and the bright orange sun was beginning to sink deeper in the sky. She pressed the tip of the smooth knife into her thigh, pushing down slightly. She just wanted to feel something. What is wrong with me?

After what felt like eternity passed, Arya rose from her seat and began making her way to the basement. She walked down the short flight of stairs, the hallway dark and colder than ever. She twirled the knife anxiously in her hands; her assassin training had suddenly left her completely. Every bit of the confidence and apathy she had previously been running on fizzled into thin air. She was quivering in front of the door, obscured by shadows, looming and terrifying. It taunted her. You can always turn back. But you shouldn’t.

Right?

She shook her head quickly, grit her teeth, and pushed open the door.

There, as Arya had expected, Saige was curled up on the mattress, her navy-blue blanket covering her up to the shoulder. Her blonde hair fell to her side softly, her gentle breaths filling the room. She was asleep.

Tears pricked Arya’s eyes, but she blinked them away, tightening her grip on the knife.

She stepped forward. Just stab her in the back of the neck. She’ll go quickly. It shouldn’t hurt at all if you make it fast.

Another step forward. If you don’t do it, someone else will.

She kneeled in front of the mattress, angling the knife for the nape of Saige’s neck. She watched her friend’s chest rise and fall peacefully. Arya’s breathing quickened, her own chest heaving. Her hands shook madly. Stop screwing things up! She cussed herself under her breath, but her cheeks were wet. The tears were streaming down her face.

She couldn’t do it.

Arya retracted her arm slightly and sniffled, running her free hand through her hair. She wiped her nose with the back of her still-shaking hand harshly. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-”

Saige’s eyes fluttered open.

“Arya?”

She turned around, confusion flashing across her face. She furrowed her brow and looked over at Arya, who was sobbing, kneeled over, and... clutching a knife?

“W-what..” her eyes darted between the two, her body growing stiffer by the minute. Absolute terror had overtaken her face as she slowly put two and two together and focused back on Arya, who had stopped breathing completely. She was inching backwards towards the doorway as Saige leaned forward, her face morphing into something... different. Furious. Blazing. Lethal.

The last thing Arya properly saw was Saige’s horrifying snarl as she was tackled to the ground.

“What are you doing?!” Saige screamed, gripping the collar of Arya’s shirt. Her whole face had gone red; her body was trembling madly, just as Arya’s was. Fat, salty tears cluttered her eyes, but the tightness at which she held her jaw kept them from falling. “Are you seriously trying to kill me, Arya? You too, huh?” She grasped her collar even tighter, the muscles in her arm contracting under the tension. “Answer me!”

Arya’s throat was completely closed up now, her vision blurry and obscured. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe between sobs. “I’m sorry! I never wanted to do this!” She cried, screwing her eyes shut. “I- it's-”

“I can’t believe you!” Saige screamed again, silky blonde hair sticking to her face from the tears and perspiration. She yanked the shirt collar towards her and shook Arya violently, the impact of the girl’s back against the floor echoing throughout the room. Arya flinched and let out a small yelp, jerking her head back. She no longer struggled under her friend; she just lay there, limp, taking the shaking and the screaming. Saige was completely blinded by her rage, and Arya knew it. Her eyes were full of nothing but deep betrayal and sheer, volatile anger.

Arya had never once imagined she would witness Saige’s infamous wrath towards her.

“I can’t trust you! Hell, could I ever trust you?!” The girl in question shut her eyes and yanked Arya’s collar again, with more force than ever before, slamming her to the ground. She let out a sob before drawing back her left arm and taking a massive swing at Arya’s face. “You traitor!”

Arya just lay there. Quietly, sniffling, cheek swelling up from the hit. “I’m sorry, Saige.” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

But the girl couldn’t hear a word. All she saw was red. Blinding, gristly, insatiable red.

With one swift motion, she seized the knife from off the cold, dusty floor...

And stabbed Arya in the heart.