Arya

It would be just my luck to die here. The ship was swaying relentlessly in the storm, as the rain seemed to crash on the deck above like a waterfall. Arya might have been nervous, if she cared enough to be. After everything that happened recently and over the years, she could only find the idea of dying at sea slightly ironic, if not tragic. After finally making the decision to go back to Westeros, to go home. Calling it a decision would be generous though, after the path she'd carved for herself, she'd been left with few choices. In fact, stealing away on this damned ship might have been her only choice, if you could even call that a choice. But there was no going back, and no use looking back, only forward.

The other men, some women and children, were terrified the boat would sink and be lost at sea, never to be seen or heard of again. A small boy of only around nine was crying, while his mother quietly tried to comfort him at the edge of the gloomy room, somewhere she could hear another baby crying too. It was a large room, but you wouldn't know it if you didn't look hard enough, because below deck it was a cluttered mess. There were barrels small and large everywhere, full of foods or wines for trade. In the middle of the room and on some parts of the walls; cots stuck out crookedly, with many different kinds of people sleeping on them. Not a single bed was left to spare.

She herself didn't have a cot to sleep on, the captain had offered her his cabin after she had handed him her infamous iron coin, and said the words "Valar Morghulis" but she declined, her goal was to stay as undetected as possible. She smiled slightly remembering that night a few days past.

. Even in darkness the man's expression was clearly frightened by the coin, he had denied her passage at first practically growling at her, "Tis no room on tis boat! Not even for no scrawny girl, now gets out of here! I have tisngs' tis need attending to" he'd told her.

Once she had said the words and shown him the coin though...he started singing a different tune. He wasn't a Braavosi that was for sure, and she guessed he was from Pentos by his accent. But even so, many traders from many cities and cultures knew the coin's meaning.

He had told Arya his name as well, after she had declined the cabin, "Valdor Dallaeron, that's my name" Before going below deck she told him not to tell anyone she was there, or she might forget his name. His expression was enough for her to believe he would stay silent, but she did notice a red haired girl giving her a strange look; she had clearly over heard the conversation. But it wasn't Arya's false face she was looking at; it was her hand.

Arya had been able to hide her injury from the clueless captain but her right hand had been bleeding profusely since that afternoon, and the blood dripped down, soaking her sleeve in crimson. Arya had just kept walking, and headed below deck hoping the ginger would leave her be and keep her mouth shut.

Later that evening it proved to be too much to hope for though. Arya had noticed the girl constantly glancing at her from the other side of the room, after the ship had set sail. Whispering in the ear of some familiar man who looked as though he could be the same age as Jon Snow would be by now, but he looked nothing like him. In the dark she could still see he was very fat with a round face, dark hair, and his eyes always seemed to keep landing on her.

Finally the man walked over, but the red haired girl stayed with who Arya assumed was their child. It wasn't until he got closer she realized she knew him. It was the boy from the Nights Watch, Samwell Tarly. She recalled saving him one evening and then giving him the last of her clams when she had been Cat of the Canals. Gods that felt like a life time ago. And in a way it was. He wasn't dressed in black this time, and Arya knew he wouldn't recognize the face she wore.

"Ah…I don't mean to bother you or anything…" he started.

"Then don't" she was irritated by the pain in her hand and didn't feel like risking getting to know anyone.

Sam cleared his throat "I'm Samwell...I'm on my way back from Oldtown, my friend Gilly" he waved a hand behind him, "she told me you had a…ah injury on your arm…" he paused for a moment looking like he regretted his decision to talk to her entirely. She silently told herself to be more polite.

"I've learned more than a few things in healing…I could take a look, if you like." Arya was reluctant to let him help her at first, but common sense won out. She had wrapped her hand several times in different cloths that day, but the blood always soaked through.

She nodded silently, shifted her body on the barrel she was sitting on toward Sam, and rolled up her sleeve. The beige cloth she had used to cover the wound earlier wasn't beige at all now, and when she opened the palm of her hand she could feel the blood trickling downward, tickling the sides of her hand despite the constant burning from the wound.

Arya gritted her teeth as she unravelled the blood soaked cloth, revealing the knife wound that had went right through her hand. She had endured plenty of painful cuts and bruises, not to mention emotional pain, but the cut still burned like wildfire all the same. Sam pulled out a cloth of his own, a white one, he knelt down and pressed it on both sides of her hand gently, she drew in a sharp breath of pain. "Sorry" he muttered not looking up.

It hurt again when he pulled the red stained cloth away, "oh, it goes right through...I'm going to need to stitch it" before she could say anything, he had jumped up and walked faster than she expected he could, back to the ginger and his baby, wandering back over a moment later with a leather bag.

He opened her palm again "This is going to hurt" he looked up at her with apologetic eyes. "I'm going to have to wash it and sew the skin together…I don't have any milk of the poppy either" he said while picking up a container of fresh water.

"Just do it" she said allowing herself to bite her lip, something she hadn't done in a long time.

Sam started washing her hand with the water and a new cloth but paused for a second.

"Wait, I forgot" he smiled and almost laughed "I didn't get your name"

She took a second to think, she couldn't use Cat again and she wondered sadly if she'd ever get the chance to use her real name again, and for no reason Arya could name her mind went to her father. She could picture his long solemn face and greys eyes, so kind and real, but for only a second before he faded away. "Lyanna" she said softly.

"That's a pretty name" he replied, smiling again while he finished washing the wound, "How'd you manage to cut your hand so deep Lyanna? And why didn't you get someone to look at it before?" he sounded more confused than nosy.

When someone's trying to murder you, you don't stick around. But she thought of a simpler excuse instead of the truth. "It was stupid, truly" she sighed "A man accused me of stealing his money, I didn't, but he didn't believe me. I never realized how bad it was, and didn't want to miss the ship." She figured she was convincing enough, Sam seemed to believe her story. He muttered something about how terrible people could be and then he continued to ask her more questions, while he sewed her hand. She suspected he was trying to distract her from the pain, but coming up with a back story was more troublesome when someone was sticking you with a needle over and over again. "Why are you going to Westeros?" He'd ask, "Are you travelling alone? Where's your family? Are you from Braavos? You speak the common tongue well."

Arya had told him some truths and some lies, told him her parents had sailed away to get medicine for her sick older brother, but their ship had never came back and her brother had died anyway. She told him she was originally from Westeros and wanted to go back because it had been years since she'd seen her home.

She'd become quite good at lying, she thought when she was done telling "her story". The Kindly Man might have been able to tell when she was lying, but it was starting to seem that everyone else was blind to her lies, as she'd once been to the world. It used to be a strange feeling, as she got better at seeing the truth. After spending so much time with professional liars, it was like everyone else were shouting their own emotions at her the rest of the time, with their faces and their eyes, instead of words.

Three days had passed since meeting Sam and the ginger whose name was Gilly. They were sitting together, and she noticed the baby that was crying, was Gilly's baby boy Little Sam. Arya had learned Samwell Tarly wasn't the father but he was going to be. According to Sam he was on his way back to The Wall, and was going to bring Gilly to his home at Hornhill. Sam insisted he wouldn't risk bringing Gilly back to The Wall, not with The Others on their way.

That in itself had been a shocking revelation, The Others. It made her worry about her last surviving brother Jon Snow, who last she heard; was Lord Commander of The Nights Watch. She was so proud of him, but so worried it made her stomach twist in unforgiving knots. She hadn't even heard any news of him in over a year, but if she could make it to Westeros, somehow make her way to The Wall...she'd be home again.

Old Nan used to tell her, Bran and Rickion stories about the Others and about the Long Night. It was hard to remember the details, it truly felt like another life, it was another life, you're Lyanna now...for now. As much as she pretended to be someone else, to be anyone else, she felt a punch in her gut when she thought of Bran, which led her to think of Rickion. Her poor little brothers who had been killed before they had a chance to live. Arya heard once that it had been Theon Greyjoy himself who'd done it, who killed them and burned them along with Winterfell. She thought that was mad at first, and didn't want to believe it, but once she'd heard he'd betrayed Robb too, and from so many different people...she couldn't deny it any longer. If I ever see that traitor again, I'll slit his throat.

The ship jolted from the storm and Arya's head hit the wall behind her, the sound of barrels falling and rolling on the floor beside her. A few people let out screams of shock and cried out in pain as they were thrown from their beds, she only cursed and rubbed her hand over the tender new bump. Arya got up and walked toward a window and looked outside, it was black as pitch, but in the darkness a single flame glowed in the distance, seeming to rock back and forth on the waves; like a mother would her baby. It was another ship, she wondered where it was going and if they were managing any better in the storm than they were. She decided it didn't matter then, and started walking over to an edge of the room where she could lay down without worrying about a barrel of wine falling on her face while she slept.

She passed by Sam and Gilly, giving them a courtesy smile then settling down with a rag someone had generously named a blanket. There was no use in getting close to him, being his friend. Any friend she'd made had left or, more often than not, died. She closed her eyes and her hand instinctively went to Needle, it felt a little queer to have the sword by her side again, but it felt right. When she fell asleep she saw the grey eyes of the boy who'd given it to her, his sweet smile. But the sweetness ended quickly to be replaced by a nightmare, where dead men made of ice butchered the living.

But not for long, because after she was engulfed into a different world, full of strong scents of deer and other wolves, a forest that was far from the salt sea. She had four legs instead of two and felt more powerful than she ever did when she was awake. She lifted her head to try and figure out where the deer was, but something in the air made her pause. Most of her cousins wandered off following the deer scent but she found herself drawn by a different kind of prey.

After tracking silently in the dark woods lit by a half-moon, the glimmer of a fire dancing in-between trees caught her eye. When she reached the edge of the woods she could see four men sitting by fire, no...three men, and a very large women. Unlike most of her cousins she enjoyed the taste of men and did not fear them, but even if her cousins were afraid, they'd follow her to their graves if she told them to. After all she was their alpha, their Queen.

"After everything I've taught you and you still can't skin a rabbit Pod?" the women was teasing the smallest of the men.

"I'm sorry mi'lady" the boy sounded ashamed, clearly missing the jape.

"And did my brother never teach you what a joke is?" another man laughed, when she looked at him her eyes were drawn to the glimmering of his hand, his golden hand. She felt a low growl rise in the back of her throat, and a forgotten grudge crawling through her fur.

All of them stiffened and looked in her direction. "Wolves" the large women whispered grabbing the hilt of her shinning sword pommel.

"We have a fire they should leave us be" the Kingslayer insisted, she revelled in his nervous tone.

"They should" the women agreed.

She padded into the clearing then, not taking her eyes off of the man with the golden hand. The four bodies stood up around their fire and drew their swords.

"It's hu-huge" Pod sputtered frightful, she could smell the fear rolling off him in waves, each one closer to panic. But she just glared at the golden haired man with his golden hand, growling, willing him to know who she was, and wishing she could tell him it wasn't just the direwolf who was going to enjoy tearing his throat out.

"It's a direwolf boy, but it's only one" the women informed him.

"I don't think only is an apt term" the Kingslayer said sarcastically, but even with his light tone she could smell his fear, and with another growl she took a few steps forward, eyeing the Kingslayer.

"I think it wants you Jaime" Pod whispered raising his sword defensively.

"Don't be ridiculous" the women hissed.

"No, he's right" the other man whispered in the dark, sending prickles up her spine, it was familiar. Not to the wolf but to the girl inside her head, she cast her golden glaze to the other man. He was tall with a broad chest, his shaggy hair was as dark as pitch and his eyes glowed an unmistakable deep blue in the moonlight. But she knew the scent of him somehow, even if the direwolf wasn't the one who'd shared his bed once, fleeing for her life beside him in some unknown woods. Gendry. Arya wouldn't have thought it possible for a direwolf to feel anxiety, but her paws froze in the icy grass. She stopped growling and just stared at the blue eyed boy, a turmoil of feral instincts at war with the girl inside her head, yet appearing eerily calm to the humans. She'd been so distracted that she hardly noticed her cousins come sneaking out of the shadows, ready to attack her prey.

"What's it doing?" Pod whispered while Gendry held her gaze, he looked confused but she thought she could see awe in those blue depths. One of her cousins took Pod's question as an invitation, leaping at the party while and other wolves followed his lead. All six wolves who'd followed her leaped at the group with snarling and snapping jaws. She didn't move at first but as soon it registered in the girl's mind what was happening she let out loud commanding howl, leaping at the light grey wolf that had lunged at Gendry, grabbing her by the leg and tossing her like the young girl inside her head might have once thrown a doll.

The other wolves had backed off with another growl that was directed towards them, while the wolf she'd thrown limped into the forest whining. Gendry lay on the ground and she could smell his blood. He'd been bitten on the arm. The others must have been injured too because she could smell the salty tang of their blood, but she didn't care for them. Sniffing at the boy, trying to apologize without being able to speak, wishing she could tell him she was the girl he once knew...but that was wrong. That girl had died with her mother, and had a few dozen smaller funerals after that. All that was left of the girl he'd known was a dark silhouette, with a long memory.

He gave her a strange look cocking his head to the side "I'm okay" he whispered, she took a step back then, remembering herself. The Kingslayer had inched closer to study her, she didn't fear him but the very presence of the man who'd once attacked her father caused the direwolf to feel the resentment all over again. She let out a threatening growl towards the golden haired man and one last glare, a promise for the next time she saw him, turning she stalked off into the shadows of the woods with her cousins. Next time Kingslayer, thought the girl inside her head.

Arya woke to Sam's round face hovering above her, "Are you okay?" he asked. She pushed herself up off the floor, making the wooden floor whine in response. "Why wouldn't I be?" she grumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes, trying to recover from the reality of her dream. She glanced out a window to see it wasn't even dawn yet, but the worse of the storm was over, besides the light pitter pattering of rain drops above their heads.

"You were making queer noises…well actually you were growling…" he looked like he wanted to say more. She had been growling, growling at Jamie Lannister? And Gendry? The dream came rushing back. Gods.

"So what? It was just a dream, it happens all the time" she retorted, but regretted it the moment the words left her lips, for Sam instantly looked even more intrigued. "What is it?" she asked slightly annoyed this time, wanting to have a minuet to think on her dream. What's his deal?

"What animal do you dream of? A dog?" Sam suggested. A dog, she saw Sandor in her mind's eye for moment, covered in blood and begging to die.

"Not a dog…A wolf" a direwolf truly.

Sam backed away a little as she got up and sat down on a barrel that hadn't tipped during the storm. "You know how I mentioned I was friends with the Lord Commander at The Wall? His names Jon." Sam waved his hands as he spoke.

Arya's heart stopped for an instant, her dream completely forgotten. Why does he want to talk to me about Jon? "What about him?" she asked working on not giving away her sudden anxiety. Calm as still water.

"He'd growl in his sleep too!" Sam said excitedly, "He had a pet wolf, not just a wolf, but a direwolf, and he'd have wolf dreams" Arya just stared at him. "Like the ones you were having last night!"

"What's your point Sam?" She knew his point, Jon was a Warg like she was. If she hadn't learned how to control her face she would of smiled, maybe even laughed. They used to have so much in common, her and Jon, and it figured they would have this too...but Arya had changed so much over the years. She wasn't the little girl who'd follow him around and beg to hold his sword, the girl who'd finish his thoughts, and cry in his arms over cruel nicknames. She found herself uncertain about how much they'd still share, their dark eyes if nothing else.

"He's a Warg! I think you are too!" she made her self laugh, she hadn't truly laughed in a while. "I'm serious, you said you're from Westeros right? They say people who share blood with the first men are more likely to be skinchangers and wargs. Jon has Stark blood and they're said to have one of the purest bloodlines descended from the First Men!"

"Wargs and Skinchangers? They're just stories Sam..." even when she didn't need to, she caught herself lying to people. Old habits die hard, especially ones drilled into her for years by religious fanatics.

"So were dragons once, and whitewalkers, and trust me they're real" A warg then, Arya had known for a while what she could do, and it took her a while longer to put a name to it. Like she'd known what she was, but had refused to admit it.

"You read too many books Sam" was all she could think to say to dissuade him.

Sam smiled "That's true enough, and that's why you should believe me, did you ever meet a wolf? I read once you have to have some sort of bond with the animal."

Arya's mind was a jumble of emotions, and her thoughts went to Nymeria and her wolf dreams. She was thrown back to the night she'd been on the run with Gendry and Hot Pie, they were being followed by Lord Bolton's men. When Arya had dreamed that night, she'd dreamed she was a wolf who'd hunted them down. Did I...? A sheet of ice crawled up her spine. I tore them apart…or did Nymeria?

"Lyanna?" Sam's voice sounded slightly farther away as her palms started sweating. She couldn't say why, but she was thinking of Old Nan's stories again. She'd tell them that skinchangers were evil creatures who were more beast than man. Maybe she was right, she thought bitterly, the amount of blood on her hands...it wouldn't be a stretch that someone might see her as something evil, a demon or monster...but not Jon, Jon could never be evil.

"Lya-" Sam was cut off by a scream above them, a girls scream. In an instant the men and women who were asleep, were awake, their eyes wide in confusion as to what was going on. When the sounds of steal clashing began, men and boys alike started tearing open bags and ruffling through their things to find a weapon. The sight reminded her of the deserted village by the God's Eye, the night Yoren had been killed, along with two dozen boys.

Arya jumped up as well drawing Needle in her left hand. "What do you expect to do with that?" Sam yelled, he looked terrified.

Arya ignored his question. "Get Gilly and the baby somewhere safe, and find a bloody weapon!" she shouted. She was aware Needle was very small, but other than the four knifes Arya always had hidden on her person and the dragon bone dagger at her hip, it was all she had time to grab before fleeing Braavos. Besides, if it was small that meant she could move faster in the room shrunken by people and storage.

Before anyone had a chance to run upstairs men in dark armour came crashing through the only exit, they had long swords and spears drawn and most were covered in someone's blood already. Everything happened so fast, Sam was running towards Gilly, other men ran into the fray but they didn't have any armour and most weren't skilled or trained in the arts of fighting, they were just traders. The strange soldiers seemed to cut right through them, only a few putting up any sort of challenge.

Arya had an advantage, the soldiers weren't interested in the women and children who were screaming and trying to find a place to hide, so they never saw her coming. She ran forward and saw a man with a black-grey beard being pushed back by one of the soldiers, she took Needle and drove the small sword through the back of the soldier's thigh. He fell to his knees with a cry and the bearded man slashed his own sword across the soldier's neck, silencing him. The man gave her a quick gracious nod and went back to the fight, and Arya took his lead. Staying low she managed to cut down three other men by striking their legs first, which didn't have any armour on them. Once they'd fall she'd slid Needle across or through their throats to finish them off. One solider had caught on to what she'd been doing soon after, and had turned to face her.

He had an ugly face, she could tell even through his black helm, painted in cold rage and sweat. He lunged forward with a blood stained sword but Arya was faster, easily dogging his blow. She knew Needle wouldn't be any help fending off his long sword so she had to move fast to dodge his blows, he swung his sword once, twice, and missed her; but it was getting harder to avoid him. Below deck had already been cluttered with junk, but now it was swarming with people too and stank of blood and sweat.

Arya had run out of space, the man brought his sword up and swung for her face. She ducked down and when he lodged his sword into the wooden pillar beside her, she sprang up and stabbed Needle through his neck. He choked on his own blood when she pulled the sword back, and the eyes that were once burning with rage glittered with fear as he fell on the floor. His hands rose to his throat, trying hopelessly to stop the bleeding, had her mother once done the same?

She turned from the dying man and her dark thoughts, catching the sight of three more soldiers. One was swinging his sword at Sam while the other two were creeping up behind him and toward Gilly. Jumping over a barrel she threw one of her knives into the back of one's head. Reaching the other before he had a chance to see his friend fall to the floor. He didn't have dark armor on like most of the men, so she only had to slid Needle through his copper skin from behind; she knew where the heart was.

As he fell, Arya heard Gilly let out a startled gasp while Little Sam was wailing like the world was ending. Not today. The other solider knocked Sam to the floor with pommel of his sword but before he had a chance to bring it back around, Arya was on him. She jumped on another barrel to gain some height and stabbed her sword right through his eye, he fell back screaming in pain and clutching his face. Sam sat up looking bewildered when he saw it had been Arya who'd saved him, his mouth shaped in a little O. With Little Sam's crying she almost didn't hear the steps behind her, she was half turned around when something crashed into the side of her head, sounds of clashing steal mended together, her body becoming weightless as she fell, the world blurring and darkening before her...It would be just my luck to die here.