CHAPTER 1
*eight years after leaving King's Landing*
King's Landing looked much the same as it did when she was a child. People still milled in the streets, bartering and bantering as they went about their business, although there did seem to be a significant decrease in their numbers. According to the whispers she'd heard while at sea, the quality of life had increased significantly, but she couldn't determine whether that was from access to clean water and a central sewage system (courtesy of one Tyrion Lannister) or less mouths to feed. At any rate, Bran the Broken's reign was one the people of Westeros had never seen before.
Arya hiked up the hood of her cloak as she ducked between stalls, falling into the familiar pattern of imitating shadows. Creeping along, her footsteps were masked by chatter, and her large eyes darted around, taking note of everything. As much as she would like to pretend Bran's rule had rid the city of vipers, Arya firmly believed danger was everywhere. That would never change.
A stranger brushed against Arya's side, bringing the smell of roasting meat in his wake. Despite his mumbled apology, Arya jerked away, leaning heavily on the nearby wall. Excited squeals of passing children morphed into screams, and the smell of food became the sweet cloying scent of death. Stumbling to the side, Arya squeezed her eyes shut and slid onto a doorstep. Her breaths became gasps, searching for air that refused to enter her lungs.
She lost track of time. Perhaps several minutes later, or perhaps an hour later, she opened her eyes and sat staring at nothing. The screams had faded, but her hands still shook when she brought them in front of her face. She finally filled her lungs with air that smelled of fresh-baked bread and stood on weak legs. In the distance, the Red Keep loomed with its two-toned walls, the original red stone intermingling with the sand-colored repairs. The street she was on led straight up the steps of the Red Keep, but a few stalls down, she recognized a stone arch from the times she'd crept out of the fortress as a child.
The king would not mind a delay if it preserved her sanity.
.:*:.
The cellars of the Red Keep were decimated. Piles of red stone lined the walls, and the dragon skulls Arya had once climbed on where shattered, some beyond recognition. The lit torches' light bounced off the walls, offering a reverent atmosphere that seemed more appropriate for the sept than the graves of dangerous relics. She thought it fitting that only Balerion the Dread's empty eyes stared back at her; the noblest of dragons survived another conquest. With feathered footsteps, she ascended the staircase to the land of the living and continued along the silent halls until she reached what had been King Robert's solar. She desperately hoped it was now Bran's, wanting to avoid confrontation should she be caught somewhere she ought not to be.
The morning sun shone through the open balcony doors as she slithered inside, casting everything in a warm, pleasant glow. The red wine on the sideboard caught the light, shimmering like a jewel as she poured a hardy helping into a provided glass.
"I see you found the Dornish vintage. Please help yourself, as I have no need for it."
She snorted. "Have a preference for ale, do you, Brother?" Turning from the wine, she found her brother seated behind a rich desk. His vacant expression shifted minutely, and for a moment, Arya imagined he was smiling.
"I have waited many years to see you again, Arya."
"Yeah, sorry, lost track of time. Did you think me dead?"
"Never."
The surety in his voice made her look up, and he continued, "Sansa, on the other hand, wrote me every month asking how you were."
Her gaze dropped to her wine, and she took another sip. "What did you tell her?"
"The truth. That you were alive but still needed time." He waved a hand towards the open doors. "Did you find the new city to your liking?"
"It still smells like shit."
Bran's lip quirked. "On that, we can agree."
Arya's eyebrows shot up just as the door to the hall opened and Tyrion Lannister walked in. His purposeful gait slowed as he realized his king was not the only person in the room. "Lady Stark! We were not expecting you! To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Arya opened her mouth to respond but her voice stalled as Bran answered, "My sister grew weary of solitude." He turned his head back to her. "Grand Maester Tarly would love to see your maps and charts, dear sister. Perhaps you should spend the next few days with him in the library."
She wrinkled her nose. "I fear I should go mad if I am to be cooped up with scrolls all day."
"Then perhaps you should also become reacquainted with the stables and training yard. I am sure our Master at Arms would be grateful for help with the newer squires, don't you agree, Lord Tyrion?"
"I disagree, Your Grace, but I do think Lady Stark's expertise would provide a wonderful change of pace for the students."
"Alright then, I'll be sure to terrorize the Master at Arms after a session with Maester Tarly. Anything else, Bran?"
"Plan to visit with Ser Brienne in the morning. She has lacked a decent sparring opponent in recent years and is itching to find someone worthy of the title."
Not one to wait for dismissal, Arya threw her words over her shoulder as she exited the room. "Already planned on it!"
.:*:.
Grand Maester Tarly, as it turned out, was very receptive to Arya's findings, despite having wrinkled his nose at her callous dumping of her findings on the table.
"Shouldn't you be more careful with those, my Lady? They represent almost a decade of irreplaceable knowledge."
Arya rolled her eyes and ignored his chastisement, however gentle. "The maps were made to the best of my cartographer's abilities, and they should overlap slightly when unrolled to provide reference points." She had made the mistake of accidentally mixing up the earlier maps in her cabin aboard the Nymeria a few weeks into the voyage and had been utterly lost until her cartographer found her and placed them back in the correct positions. She'd had him redraw the maps immediately so no one else would ever be as confused as she had been. But Sam didn't need to know that. "They are all drawn to the same scale as well."
He sifted through the stack of scrolls, almost two dozen in total. When matched together, the resulting map would be almost twice the size of the courtyard map of Westeros Cercei had commissioned a decade ago.
"What else did you bring back on your travels, my Lady?"
Arya slung her satchel on the table. "Not much. I did not go to conquer, and I hold firmly to the belief that the people of these lands deserve to keep some secrets for themselves."
Sam's eyes grew round. "So, there are other civilizations?"
"Of course. The majority of the cultures we encountered are just as advanced as Westeros, if not more." At this, she handed Sam a bundle of books that had been resting by her feet. "Here are my writings about the first few years of my travels. The rest are on my ship. I'll have them brought to you shortly."
Sam stuttered out his thanks, complete with many a "my Lady", as he unwound the twine holding the stack together and began flipping through the first volume. Arya pointed to the crudely-embossed 1.1 on the cracked leather spine.
"Each volume has a number indicating the year I was gone – in this case, the first – followed by the volume. There are quite a few. I recorded everything." Sam's eyes skirted to the rest of the stack, seeing that it extended to 2.3.
"My Lady, I am honored that you've entrusted me with your life's work. I feel I should have them sent to the Citadel for copying." He chuckled. "Wouldn't want something to happen to these without knowing their information can survive centuries."
"They are yours to do with as you wish, Sam. My only request is that you take care of them. There is quite a bit of sensitive information in there, and should something happen to those journals, well…the results could be deadly." She turned on her heel. "I'm feeling famished, so perhaps we can continue this discussion in a few hours."
Without waiting for an answer, she left the library and wound her way down the halls to the kitchens. The cook fulfilled her request for bread and cheese, and Arya took her little bundle out into a nearby courtyard that happened to house the training yard.
Munching on her bread, Arya observed from the perimeter how each of the young squires moved when training with the Master at Arms. She soon concluded three things: one, this Master at Arms knew what he was doing; two, he was arrogant about it; and three, the squires were suffering for it. She swiped her palms together to shake off remaining crumbs just as the fourth squire of the afternoon fell into the dirt by the Master at Arms' own doing. Walking briskly toward the man from behind, she unsheathed Needle and laid it on his right shoulder. His entire body tensed, and she knew without looking away from her prey that the rest of the yard had turned to look.
"Dead." She whispered into the newfound silence. He tried to turn, grabbing for his sword in the process, but stilled when he felt her dagger at the small of his back. "Did your own master never teach you to watch the perimeters for threats? I could have killed you at any point within the last half hour and you never would have seen it coming." She released the pressure on her weapons and moved to block his blade as it came from above a moment later.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, girl? I am the Master at Arms for the Red Keep, and you should know that a threat to me is a threat to the King!" His snarling face looked even uglier up close, and Arya pitied any whore that had to warm his bed.
"If you don't know who I am, you are an even worse Master at Arms than I previously thought." She danced to the side as he furiously swiped towards her. She pranced around him for the next few minutes as he lost his temper. Eventually growing tired of his advances, she deftly disarmed him and placed the point of her sword at his throat once again. "Did King Bran not tell you that I was coming?"
His face twisted up in hatred. Before he could utter a word, Lord Tyrion shouted from above. "Lady Arya, perhaps it would be wise not to kill the man training the next generation on knights?"
She sighed and sheathed Needle. "A pity." Podrick appeared at her side.
"My Lady, the Grand Maester has requested your presence to complete the inventory of your findings."
"Of course." She tilted her head and studied the fuming man before her. "Be warned, Ser. The king requested that I aid you in training the squires for the next few weeks. I shall see you tomorrow at dawn."
Following Podrick out of the training yard and back under the shade of the open halls, she smirked at his soft laugh. "I've been wanting to do that for a while as well, my Lady."
She sniffed. "He's an arrogant prick. Seniority does not a leader or teacher make. Abuse can only create abusers."
Podrick inclined his head. "Well said, my Lady."
They walked the rest of the way to the library in companionable silence, and Pod gave a slight nod as he left her at the door. Sam had not moved from his seat at the table when she entered, but she did notice more of her books were spread open around him and her bag had been emptied of a few treasures, all of which were lined up in front of him for examination.
Sam did not seem to notice her entrance. He was far too fascinated with the bit of cloth in his hands. "A decorative piece I found in a market. I particularly enjoyed the runes embroidered into the hem."
He started and then groaned as his knee jerked into the table.
"My apologies, Sam. Didn't mean to startle you."
Sam waved off her apologies. "It's no matter, I only wanted to ask you to describe the things you'd found." He reached for a palm-sized rock that, when it caught the light, sent all the colors of the rainbow skittering across its surface. "Westeros does not have many of these, to my knowledge."
Moving closer, Arya gently took the rock from Sam's grasp. "The people called this an opal. I've seen them before in the Braavos markets, but only in fragments and small specks. They are used for jewelry and, in some areas, currency." She moved to put it back on the table and picked up a soft pink feather. "I found that feathers were often used to honor the dead as sacrifices in one particular group of people. They made bouquets and wreaths and would place them on the body before burning. The language barrier prevented me from asking the significance, but I thought it poetic and sentimental. Unfortunately, I don't know exactly what bird this came from. I found it on the ground and thought it worthy of collection."
The next few hours continued much the same, with Sam taking detailed notes as she spoke. Pausing, Arya said, "You do realize all these findings are written in my journals, in far more detail."
Sam flushed but continued copying out her response about a particular powder. "Yes, my Lady, but I hope to catalogue these artifacts and tag them to indicate which is which." He finally lowered his quill. "Speaking of your journals, on my initial glance over them" – here he reached for 1.2 – "I noticed that some have pages ripped from their bindings." He turned the volume towards her to show her the place where about four pages had been unceremoniously removed, as if she didn't already know.
She stared at the jagged bits of paper extending up from the binding like wintry peaks. "Yes, Sam, I know."
He paused, and his hands holding the book dipped a fraction. "My Lady, if you don't mind me asking, what was written in those pages?"
She stilled. "You remember when I told you there was sensitive information written in these books?" He nodded. "That was the most sensitive information of all."
A/N: Please do not get used to daily updates; I'm notorious for failing to update. Also, all of my stuff is un-betaed, so any errors, typos, or inconsistencies are my own.
Some of you will undoubtedly have questions, but I will only answer them if my answer will not divulge plot.
As this story progresses, there might be some similarities to fics that have been published in the last few weeks. As far as I can tell, all of my major plot points are my own, but there might be some little details that sneak in that are inspired by others. I feel like at this point, it's inevitable.
I'd like to start asking a question every time I update, so here's the new one: does anyone know which song I pulled the title from? It's sweet without being sappy, and it's one of my absolute favorites. This song also has quite a bit of foreshadowing for the next few chapters.
Cross-posted on ao3