A/N: Just to make a few things clear ;) This is a Modern AU - a sort of retelling of Arya's adventures at the side of a certain Faceless Assassin we all know and love. Many major characters, including Bran and Rickon, are nonexistent. I hope the story makes sense to you guys, questions and corrections are always welcome. English is not my native language, therefore I apologise for any spellings or grammar mistakes.

"Over and over I'm here again

Far beyond the bruising

Something underneath

Feel me in the aftermath when

You learn the world has teeth"

Chapter 1: An Empty Cup

Tears. One by one drop they were tracing their way down the girl's cheeks and one by one they were falling to the ground, splashing against the wooden flooring not louder than the ticking of a clock. Her whole body was trembling, taken over by convulsive bursts of sorrow, which she desperately tried to suppress. Her hand covering her mouth. Teeth biting the knuckles so hard, she almost started to bleed. She didn't even notice the pain. And if she had, she wouldn't care. No physical pain could be compared to what she was feeling right now. Nothing could.

"Lorch, what the fuck?" The voices were muffled, but she could still hear them. She wished she hadn't. She wished she could end them. "He's dead, you idiot. Just leave him." Her tears tasted bittersweet, shouldn't they be salty?

"Aye, but his face annoys me." She heard the broken glass crunch under the man's heavy boots. "A rich cunt's expression." Something sharp swished through the air. Her body pressed harder against the wall. This very wall protected her and divided the space between the girl and those two cutthroats. Their merciless features, as she imagined them, danced before her eyes when she closed them, though she's never seen the men. Only their voices. She was lucky they didn't bother to speak so loud, otherwise she wouldn't have enough time to hide. But oh, how she despised the two already. How her hands itched to close around their throats, how her eyes longed to see their blood spilled. She wanted to feel life leave their bodies; one, then the other, until they both fell to her feet like the empty-headed sacks of muscles they were. Pain and anger truly are a deadly combination when it comes to keeping common sense. But somehow, she didn't move. She knew she didn't stand a chance with any of them. Had the situation turned out differently, she might've tried to fight them without having her skull crashed into a hundred pieces, but not right now. Not now, while the bodies were still sprawled on the floor. She was not stupid.

"Who got the target?" Asked one of them.

"Ilyn." Replied the other.

"Payne?" He spat. "Lucky bastard. Always gets the best part. And do we do? Fucking sit here and wait till we die out of boredom. It's not our damned fault they missed one."

Ilyn Payne - the first name she needed to remember.

"Walder got in shooting every moving thing like a fuckin' maniac. They couldn't have missed her. She just wasn't here."

Walder

"I don't give a fuck where she was. It was their job to make sure everyone was inside. That's what you do before you make a hit."

"Either way, if she doesn't show up we're screwed. If we don't capture the brat, we'll die choking up on our own guts. Oh, for fuck's sake Amory, leave the boy's face!"

Amory Lorch - that's the man's full name then. Good.

Grocery shopping. That was all she needed to do to find herself here, with her heart shattered to pieces and blazing with fury. That was all she needed to do to become the last living Stark in this house. And it wasn't even her home.

Though her whole family, all except Jon, moved here four years ago, Arya never wanted King's Landing to be her home.

The youngest Stark girl was supposed to be back in about fifteen minutes with the products her mother needed for today's dinner, and she was back in fifteen minutes exactly, but forgot all about the dinner as soon as she laid eyes on the front door. They had already broken in.

The lock was pulled out of the door's frame, hanging loosely on one bolt. A freezing shiver ran down the girl's spine, and she clenched her teeth when the door opened silently under her touch. All was silent and so was she, holding her breath not to make a sound. Blood pounding vigorously in her veins. Arya saw bullet holes and cracks everywhere. In the mahogany paneling, in the furniture, curtains, windows or marking the floor. Almost all doors in the hall kicked out of their hinges, and red smudges on the carpet. Lots of red. Small, almost subtle drops, or stains, or huge, long smears of metallic scent. And Arya at the center of it all, with eyes and mouth open wide.

It had taken a couple loud thuds of her panicked little heart before the brain managed to process just what might've happened, and she still didn't want to believe it. She refused to believe. Until she heard something to her right. A man's voice coming from the living room.

Like a scared little rabbit, Arya jumped into the nearest room at the opposite side of the hall, and shut the door behind her, hoping it didn't alarm whoever that was. She abandoned the shopping bag somewhere along the way, she had no idea when or where. Her mind's been cleared out. Flooded with emotions but empty. Nothing but white noise.

And here she was, pressed against the wall, with the brutes who butchered her family under the same roof. Every nerve in her body tightened. There was a solid, heavy lump in her throat and blunt pain behind her eyes, but still, she stood firmly in place. Arya did not collapse yet. Not yet.

The girl swallowed back her cries and ordered herself to be strong. Don't think about it. Don't think about them. Just don't think at all. Their bodies cold and motionless, drowning in pools of blood, the emptiness in their eyes...

Don't. Think.

As quietly as she could, Arya moved towards the closed door. She felt so numb, so hopelessly numb.

"So..." Amory went on. Every word that left his mouth sounded like a disgusted gurgle. "Ilyn got the old man, Walder, that asshole shot the lady and her cunt-faced son over here... What about the pretty red-head?"

Arya crouched, and ignoring all the warning sounds swirling in her mind she peeked through the key hole. She saw the living room, looking as if a tornado went through it, and two male silhouettes. She couldn't see much of their features, but Arya knew which one of them was Amory straight away. Large, pig-faced stout of a man. That son of a bitch was leaning over Robb... (don't think) over Robb... (don't. think.) over Robb's dead body with a clasp-knife in his hand. And she kept her gaze glued to him. If she focused on the corpse even for a split-second, it would break her.

"Clegane took care of her. Nearly pissed herself, that's how scared she was." The other man's low chuckle resounded through the hall. Arya's lips quivered. You're gonna pay for this you motherfuckers. "A man with Sandor's... looks is just made for strangling young girls."

Sandor Clegane - seems that the list will only grow.

"I pity her though." Arya's eyes finally darted to the second man. He was sprawled snugly on the sofa. It was a pity she couldn't have a closer look.

"Pity? Are you fucking kidding me?" Lorch stopped twisting the knife in Robb's livid cheek to look up at his partner. "I always knew you were a pussy, but you just can't be serious, Polly."

"Think about it. If the boss wanted her alive, what do you think will happen to her?" Alive! Sansa is alive! "Bet she'll be sent off to that prick, his grandson. And I'm telling you, slitting her throat before she gets there would be an act of mercy. Nothing is worse than one night with Joffrey."

Joffrey... Arya knew that name. She knew that name for sure, but couldn't place it yet.

"That kid's one sick fuck that's for sure." Amory shrugged. "But Eddard Stark has been warned. Should've played the game our way. There's no such thing as justice." The man stood up and walked over to the center of the room. "And I think we proved that to you, didn't we, Ned?" Arya gasped in terror as she saw him bend and harshly grab something up from the ground. It was a head. A head. Amory Lorch held it by the hair, and the girl hissed in utter shock. She turned away. Immediately. That was about all she could take. Her legs went limp like noodles and her chest grew too heavy for them to carry, making her fall to her knees.

Guessing by the hair's length, the head... the head was... her fathe- Don't think about it! Not here, not now! You can't let them have you, Arya Stark, you have to get away from here! You have to live!

She knew. She realized what's caused all this. As a lawyer's daughter she should've known better. Ned Stark never told her much about the cases he took. When the girl was just a child, the only thing she was aware of was that her father fought against bad men to bring justice to their victims. That he himself was a man of law, a good man, who defended the aggrieved and spoke for them at the court, before the judge. As Arya grew older, however, she learned things were far more complicated. That there were more unjust people than the just ones, and quite often they won.

At times, little Arya would (oh, so accidentally) hear the late night conversations between her mum and dad, and while the bits she heard were taken out of context, and, of course, she didn't understand all the fancy words related to the process of a trial, what she got out of it was that her patents were mainly talking about the thin line between being with the law and breaking it. How dad could do nothing even though his client's innocence was obvious. Or how unfair the sentences could be, letting a murderer be remanded on bail, while he should've stayed in prison for life.

Ned wouldn't ever talk about it while his children were around, for understandable reasons, but though his job brought him quite a fortune and also good renown, the cruelty and corruption he had to deal with on a daily basis was unbearable. He thought he's seen the worst... until his latest case. The case against Joffrey Baratheon. The juvenile sadist. A psychopath.

He should've known better. As a lawyer he should've known not to take this case. Eddard Stark thought justice would win this time. It didn't.

"How does she even look like, the kid?" Arya heard Amory's question echoing somewhere among the swirling storm of painful, sharp thoughts in her mind. "She anything like her sister?"

"Let's see..." Springs squeaked and then again that cracking sound could be heard. 'Polly' must've got his ass of the couch. "Some nice photos they've got here. There's the red-head, her prissy brother..." God, Arya was so glad her parents didn't keep any pictures of Jon. Not since he moved away. "You sure we're waiting for a girl, Lorch? 'Cause this little shit here does not fucking look like one to me." The man's laugh made Arya straighten up a bit. Her lips pressed together obstinately.

"You're bloody right, Polliver." Amory chuckled. "If not the hair I would've taken her for a boy. Hell, the boss won't be pleased with this horseface."

"Fuck that. We'll track her down if we have to."

"And what about the new guy? The convict. Wasn't he supposed to be the one for this kind of job? Boss didn't free his sorry ass for no reason, I hope."

That was about all Arya could take. She wouldn't get any more information without her chest being pierced again and again by an invisible blade.

Ilyn Payne

Amory Lorch

Walder

Sandor Clegane

Polliver

Joffrey Baratheon

That's enough for now. For now.

And Sansa was alive. That was something to hold onto. Do it for her Arya, you must save her. You must. Funny, that right now the girl couldn't bring back a single memory of Sansa being mean to her. The sisters didn't get along well, everybody knew that, but...

Arya closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled deliberately, trying to make her hands stop shaking so restlessly.

Ilyn Payne

Amory Lorch

Walder

Sandor Clegane

Polliver

Joffrey Baratheon

Her mind was made up. After Arya had escaped through an open window, she made sure no one was following her. How ironic, those two morons were far too dense and self-centered to notice her at all. The girl sneaked out through the garden in the back yard, with eyes and ears wide open. Let the adrenaline take over her for that little while.

And she was right. No One followed her. With a smirk on his lips.

Yoren's been walking in circles around the kitchen table for about twenty minutes now, hissing and cursing and darting his gaze in multiple directions (occasionally returning it to Arya). His hands kept on clenching into fists, then stretching out repetitively, while a troublesome expression weighted heavy on his bleak features.

Knowing the man as her father's loyal friend, Yoren was the one who she'd turned to, considering he lived in the same neighborhood. She'd told him everything, or at least tried to do so, in between her spasmodic cries, her voice cracking up constantly. And as she'd went on with her story, Yoren's mouth went wider and wider agape until it closed, and the man turned back to properly lock the front door and rolled down the blinds of every window.

"Are you sure that's exactly what happened? Did anyone follow you? Are you sure they didn't see you? Are you sure..? Are you sure..?" He'd asked countless times. Eventually Arya just stopped answering and only sat there, at the kitchen table, wrapped up in a blanket Yoren'd given her, a mug of hot tea warming up her cold, torpid palms, and a blank expression. Fear. Anger. Hurt. Sorrow. For the past couple hours all the most dire emotions have been filling her in, like a foul liquid fills a cup, but now it all has spilled. The girl was an empty little cup. Dry and fallen. No tears left to then finally something changed. The agonizing rhythm of Yoren's nervous marching ceased. He stood in place, staring down at Arya. After a moment she flatly raised her eyes to meet his stern look. He sighed, easing up a little and crouched in front of the girl to get to her eye level. She suddenly seemed so tiny, in comparison to Yoren.

"Okay, I know... No, I mean I can imagine, I-" Whatever it was he tried to say just wouldn't form into a proper sentence. "Shit, I can't..." His gaze dropped and he clenched his jaws. The Stark girl's hollow stare was truly hard to hold. And when he looked up again Arya focused on all the crinkles marking the man's face. Some were deep, some shallow, but all perfectly visible. Though there was not a single strand of gray in his hair, Yoren was getting old. His eyes were tired.

"I can't even imagine how tough this must be for you. But if you want to live you need to be even tougher than that. Do you understand me, Arya?"

A single nod was her reply.

"Good. Now I want you to listen to me carefully. Here's what we're gonna do."

Kill the bastards one by one

Save Sansa from the criminals behind all this

Make them pay for what they did

Make them beg for their own death

"We're going to take you to Jon's."

"What?" Arya gulped at the man. Finally, something had drawn her attention.

"That's right. He lives far up North and besides, he was never a Stark so there's a bigger possibility that Tywin's people won't search for you there, since it's been made clear your whole family is the target."

"But Jon is my brother!" Her whole face reddened, which only emphasized the hopelessness in her eyes.

"By heart, I believe he is, but not by name nor law." Yoren spoke in a deep, serious tone. "Family names can mean a great deal in such situations, trust me."

Arya opened her mouth to counter, but then closed it again and lowered her head. It took her a while to admit to herself that there really was no point in opposing Yoren right now. His help was the only thing she could rely on. Plus, if they were to travel all the way to Castle Black, maybe they could stop off at Winterfell. Maybe she could stay there... That probably would be the best option, because the last thing Arya wanted to do was put her brother's life at risk for the sake of her own. She wouldn't dare to take a single action that would put him in danger. Not after what she's seen today...

But she had to flee King's landing, that was certain. So be it.

"Tywin's people you said. Who's Tywin?" Her voice was still dry.

"This is not the best time for explanation. The less you know, the better, and I think you're too young to-"

"This is the only time we'll have." Arya harshly interrupted him. Her hands squeezed the mug tightly. "I want to know. I need to know."

Seconds as long as eternities passed, with deep silence as an accompaniment to Yoren and Arya's little stare battle. The girl would not lose this one, oh no. She was definitely not too young to know. He wanted her to play tough, she'll play tough. At last, the old man sighed, frustrated, and stood up with both hands on his hips.

"Fine. The man responsible for... what happened today is Tywin Lannister, seven hells take me if I'm wrong. The most dangerous man you could ever get to know. I won't get into the details of the corrupted business he runs, don't blame me on that, I don't know much myself. The point is, he's a criminal. And he's got his people all around Westeros. Robbers. Murderers. Hitmen. Most of them he got out of prison by bribery or force... You recall Joffrey Baratheon, don't you? Well, he happened to be his grandson."

Arya tried to stay focused and didn't dare to intrude. And so, the man went on.

"And for Lannisters, the family has the biggest value. Nothing is more important. If Joffrey was to be proved guilty, which he was, what would happen to his persecutor was obvious. Let alone the witnesses speaking against him, and even the judge. I knew that. Your father knew that." Those last words made Arya shrug. Yoren's voice was trembling. "And yet he didn't restrain." There was a fair dose of admiration in the man's words, she was perfectly aware of that. "Ned fought for justice. But his way of fighting was not enough to defeat the Lannisters. Tywin's had his revenge, and I'm sure Joffrey hasn't spent one day in a cell."

These two names kept reverberating in Arya's mind.

Joffrey Baratheon

Tywin Lannister

But the girl said nothing, and still sat there silent as a grave. She wanted to feel angry, she really did. Anger would suit her just right, bringing the determination required to carry on. But there was only emptiness.

"How do you know all this?" She asked Yoren, her tone drained out of emotion.

"Because he's told me himself." The man admitted, seeming lost in thought for a moment. "But enough of that now. We've already wasted plenty of time. Come." He extended his hand to her, and the girl obediently took it, then followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What are we gonna do now?"

Yoren was leading her towards the bathroom.

"First, we need to get rid of this ragged mess on your head."

Not once in her entire life has Arya thought her rather unladylike behavior or her way of clothing would be of use, but so now it seemed that it was. What is more, it could even be considered as beneficial, in her position. She didn't even need to borrow any clothes from Yoren, aside from a hoodie (which was more than oversized anyway). The cut of her jeans was far from the super-skinny type and it definitely did not flatter her silhouette. Same goes to her maroon t-shirt, which left her chest flat and waist covered. And with her hair cut short.

"No, Yoren, stop! What are you doing?!" She squealed as she tried to scramble away from the man, but his grip on her was strong. Not painful, but firm, keeping her in place. The scissors' blade glistened in the small, round mirror.

"I'm helping you to survive, now listen to me, boy." He spoke peremptorily, each word pronounced loud and clear, making sure she got the message. "From this day on your name is Arry, do you understand me, boy?"

(snip) A large, auburn curl fell from her shoulders, and brushed against her feet. (snip, snip) Another two.

And one by one, they continued to fall.

Like tears.

At first, there was only confusion running through her mind, but then she stopped tussling, as finally, she understood.

...Oh.

from afar, she did really look like a boy. Small and scraggy, but a boy nonetheless. She was now standing on a platform, acting as casual as she could, waiting for her train to arrive. The traveling bag slung over her shoulder was filled with her belongings, which didn't belong to her at all. Food, clothes (too big, but she would put them on, if desperate.) even some money; all from Yoren. It was a temporary baggage, but it had to be enough since it was all she had. If she were to be honest, Arya felt kind of guilty for being such a burden. This man was not related to her in any way, she didn't even know him that well, and yet he did everything to help her. Her situation was not his concern and yet, he was putting his own life at risk for her safety. It all must've been because of the man's immense respect for her father. It surely must have.

And where was Yoren right now? Standing good forty feet away from the girl, as he insisted they shouldn't be seen together, just in case. But of course he was going with her. He wouldn't let a young girl (boy) wander alone like that, especially while quite a journey was awaiting her, and from what he'd seen, her mental state was questionable. Meaning she was shattered to pieces.

But Arya was strong. Tremendously strong. And smart. She could make it. That's what Yoren'd told himself and that's what he believed in with all his heart, but was it true?

After a while the train arrived along with a cacophony of huffs and clunks, and Arya got on it without even a brief look back. King's Landing was the most beautiful and exciting city she's ever experienced. Lively, overflowed with sunlight, and rotten to the core. Stunning architecture and blood dripping from the walls, streaming down the sidewalks. That's how Arya'd remember it. A City of Murderers. She walked ahead with her chin lifted up.

I'm not weak. I am a fighter. I'm not broken. I am tough. The old Arya is gone. My name is Arry.

She focused on those thoughts.

And No One was already there.

Focusing on her.

Waiting.