((AN: For some reason, my computer crashes when I try to add a chapter, so bear with me, please. I promise I haven't stopped writing. Trust me, there's still a long way to go before the end. If your feel like you can't wait, though, I've also posted this on Archive of Our Own under the same name with more chapters. Also, thank you for the reviews! I live for them and I hope this doesn't disappoint.))
The journey to Meereen was surprisingly uneventful. Arya was almost disappointed. The bloody trail she usually left behind her in her journeys would've at least offered her some distraction from the dreams that still plagued her. Now that she accepted them, they stopped hurting her, but the closer she came to her destination, the more clear Bran's voice became. And what he said made her want to turn back and give the Many-Faced God all of her former self.
If she only could... It was hard to be someone when all you wanted was to be no one.
Sometimes, in the space between wake and sleep, Arya could almost see her brother. He watched her as the roots of some great tree wrapped around him. It frightened her, but just when the fear threatened to be unbearable, the wolf-dream would take her in. There in Nymeria she was fearless. There she had a pack that no man could rip away.
In the dreams, Bran would tell her that she needed to call the pack away from Winterfell, to have them lie in wait in the Wolfswood because a time would soon come when they could eat their fill of the hunters and men, but that was near impossible. The scent of danger to one of her true-pack was in the air and the taste of hot, fresh meat was sending Nymeria and the others into a frenzy. The best Arya could do was convince her to let people leave and enter Winterfell without being hunted. Well, most of the people coming and going made it. There were some relapses.
Soon, Arya would tell her. Soon you will feast on all the men behind the wall. Soon you will answer the one who was lost's call.
The promise of retribution was the only thing Nymeria would listen to. Even that, however, was a tenuous hold on the direwolf. Night after night, Arya repeated the soothing melody, cooling the bloodlust for just a little longer. She wasn't sure how long it would work. The direwolf and the girl were one and the same, but Arya had learned the art of patience in her travels and patience was a hard thing to teach to a wild animal.
(She wondered if Jaqen H'ghar ever felt as she did when Nymeria defied her. Arya lost count of the times she had been punished for her defiance.)
She found no solace in the light of the day either. The man and memories of him plagued her every moment of the day. The more she tried to ignore them, the more they haunted her. Finally, she gave in, losing herself in them as she made her way to Meereen. The last one was the one that replayed in her mind the most. It was the last time she would ever see him again. She was sure of it.
"A girl will leave, then?" Jaqen H'ghar asked that night in the dark. His fingers lingered on her's as he placed the sword in her hands. "A girl will leave and will never be able to come back. Do you understand this?"
Arya was watching his fingers move lightly over her's, wondering what it meant. She wondered what everything he did meant. Sometimes she felt as if there was something there she wasn't getting and would never understand.
His question caught her off guard and she raised her eyes to meet his. Something blossomed inside of her, spreading an odd, discomforting warmth throughout her body. The man in front of her had showed her many faces and carried many names, but it was only when he was Jaqen H'ghar that made her feel this way.
What does it mean? she wanted to ask. And why are you so sad?
But she held her tongue and forced herself to ignore the ache inside of her and the sadness in his eyes. Jaqen had taken her in, shared his secrets, and gave her the gift of death. She would remember it always, but she couldn't forget that he was no one. And no one cared about nothing but serving the Many-Faced God. The man she found comfort in didn't truly exist.
"Yes. I understand," Arya whispered, pulling her hands away from him. "But my pack calls for me. I came here only to learn how to avenge them, only I'd forgotten that. They won't let me do that anymore."
Jaqen H'ghar studied her a moment longer. The sadness in his eyes deepened. "My lovely girl," he murmured as he leaned in close to her until his lips brushed against her ear. She shivered at the touch. "The one you seek is in Meereen. A man listens. A man knows. Tread carefully, lovely girl, for she is heavily guarded."
Arya didn't even bother to ask how he knew where she needed to go. Jaqen always knew everything, even the impossible. She accepted it years ago.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes once more before he stood and left the room.
The look in the man's eyes had burned into her soul and followed her all the way to Meereen. She feared she'd never understand it.
