Arya

They crossed the narrow sea in silence. Arya wanted to be left alone and Syrio gave her all the room she needed. She spent her days on the "Titan sword" gazing at the sea, Nymeria by her side as the ship rolled over the waves. She had always wanted to travel by ship, but now that her dream had come true she did not care. She thought of her father and whether he was really dead like Ser Hetherspoon had said. She thought of Anna whom she had left all alone, of her mother and her other siblings. Syrio had told her that once they arrived at Braavos they would make their way straight to a ship leaving for Whit Harbour to deliver her home. Home. But without Anna, Rickon and father it would not be home. It would just be an empty castle.
One day she was awoken by Syrio.
"We will reach Braavos during the night. Put this on." He handed her a hooded coat. "Even though we will make our way to the Ragman's harbour as quickly as possible it is not guaranteed that there will be a ship to white harbour willing to take us, so it is best if you are not recognized. We may even have to stay in the city for a few days or a week."
She nodded weakly and started to pull the coat on.
"You will also need a fake name. The men of this ship will not talk of us since they believe we are members of the faceless men, but the ship taking us to white harbour will ask questions. So remember this: I am a sellsword looking for employ with Lord Bolton. I am traveling there with my daughter by a westerosi whore who is called..." He gave her a questioning look.
"Cat." She thought of her mother.
He shook his head. "Not good enough. Someone could make a connection to your mother. How about Anya?"
She shrugged. Her name meant nothing to her.
"Good Anya." He said with nod before turning to look at Nymeria. "Another thing that we need to figure out is how we are going to get you on board the other ship." The direwolf just looked up at him with wondering eyes.
She had not thought about that. Nymeria had grown quite a bit and by now it would be impossible to pass her off as a simple dog.
"I have talked to the captain. While we look for a ship they will put Nymeria in a wooden box. Once we have found one I will tell the captain of that ship to pick up our 'baggage' from this one."
The tears came to her eyes against her will. She scolded herself for it. It was stupid, it was the only way to ensure that Nymeria was safe, but still she could not bear the thought of being separated from her. Suddenly Syrio pulled her into a warm embrace.
"Do not be afraid, Anya. As long as I am with you I will ensure, that no harm will come to you." Arya nodded into her chest, but her tears continued to flow, so Syrio kept holding her until the sobs faded.

It was night when they arrived at the harbor, just as Syrio had said, and the night's darkness was deep, though the rich districts and the harbours still shone in bright lights. When Arya asked Syrio why no one in the city left a light on he simply told her that it might draw attention to the home. She did not understand what he meant by that, but she dared not ask. When the anchor fell into the waters of the harbour she noticed that Syrio tensed up.
"Just get off the boat. Act natural and ignore the men coming on board." He told her.
She wanted to ask why, but by then the boarding plank already touched down on the pier.
"Go." He pushed her started to walk down it, desperately trying not to stumble as to draw the attention of the brightly coloured men, who, armed with quills and parchment, boarded the ship.
She walked on along the pier and only when she reached the first house did she dare to breathe freely again.
"I am sorry, I did not expect them to inspect such a little ship at this late hour." Syrio's voice was barely a whisper. "Now listen to me Arya: No matter what you do, do not show anyone you are armed, do you understand?" She nodded quickly. "No you do not understand. So I will tell you again. Do not show anyone that you are armed. Do not even make a move for your weapon or grip it for a second. That alone would betray you. Do not under any circumstances show anyone in this city that you are carrying a weapon." She nodded again. "Good. Now walk naturally. Running will only draw them towards us." For a second she thought that by 'them' he meant the harbour officials, but then she remembered the dimmed lights.
Her anxiety only increased as they made their way through the night. At every corner Syrio first checked every direction before waving to her to go on. Little by little they left the lights of the purple harbour behind. Over canals and below aqueducts they hastened, like stray cats trying to avoid rock towers. The city was quiet, but now and then Arya thought she heard the faint sound of steel clashing. She shook her head to get rid of it, but it seemed to return all the time. Must be because I am tired, she thought to herself.
She almost ran into Syrio, who had stopped in front of a house for some reason. She looked up and saw a shield hanging from the door. "The ship" it proudly declared showing a laughing and a crying mummer's mask. She saw a smile play along Syrio's lips. "You know what, Anya? If I had more time I would visit old friends."
"Too bad you have run out of time, old man."
Arya wanted to bolt away, but Syrio grasped hold of her arm and held her where she stood. "Do not run." He snarled.
The man who had called out for Syrio was a young, lean Braavosi, dressed in clothes that looked like something Syrio would wear if he had more money and a taste for bright colours. The sword at the man's hips hung leisurely. He was flanked by two others, who wore the same colours as him. From their looks she judged them to be brothers.
"Since you talk Westerosi with your whore I'll give her the honour to hear why you will die. And by whose hand. I am Sarol Prasept. I champion for the courtesan Illiora Montis. Which courtesan do you represent? Uh, uh" he held up a finger. "Let me guess. Poor clothing and into little girls? I'd say Lady Motegar?" His companions laughed.
"I do not look for a fight." Syrio was very calm. "I am merely a sellsword passing through. My ship arrived at night and the captain refused my daughter and I shelter for the night."
The young man laughed. "Even if that were true, I would say that it is just your bad luck old man. But you obviously are a Bravos. A bit old to be one, but a Bravos nonetheless. Well, judging from your refusal to answer my challenge I would say you probably survived so long because you are a coward." Again the three men laughed. Arya could feel the anger rise in her. Syrio could kill them all in a heartbeat and still he stood there taking their abuse. "Well being a coward is probably why you never won the favour of a lady and now have to find your pleasure with helpless girls." The three laughed again.
"I am not helpless."
The young man stopped laughing and looked at her. "Oh, I see. Interesting." He made a move towards her, but Syrio stepped in his way.

"I accept your challenge."
The young man's eyes lit up. "Oh, do you?" his sword hand went for his blade "That was all I asked for." The moment his fingers brushed the sword's hilt Syrio's flew out of its scabbard. A flash, a short scream and the young man hit the floor.
The others stood baffled as Syrio used the corpse's clothes to clean his weapon.

"I believe we are done here." He stated. "Come Anya." He turned away from the brothers and made his way towards the next corner. Arya followed him.
"You saw that?" he whispered. "This is why we are not trying to attract attention. It would not be safe."
Aryas nodded. She knew that Syrio would have had no problem fighting the other two brothers, but if they had been forced to fight more than these three then even he would have been in danger. Maybe even she would have been forced to fight. She clutched her sword under her cloak.

"What are you doing?" Syrio screamed. Suddenly she heard loud steps behind her. Syrio's blade made two loud cracking noises and the two other brothers lay dead in the street. Syrio breathed heavily. "Ah, only touching, ah, one's blade,ah, can mean a challenge."
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Syrio clutched his side. "Yes, only out of breath, do not worry, now we must go..." He his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he hit the floor. From the point he had clutched a red stain started to spread over his clothes.
"Syrio!" Arya's screamed echoed from the doors. She fell down by his side. He still breathed, but the blood now started to leak out of his clothes. She knew that it would not be long before he bleed out entirely.

"Help! Help!" she ran to the next house, but the door was barred. She looked around. They stood in the middle of a small plaza, a fountain in the middle. Every door was barred. All shutters were closed.
"Help! Help! A man is dying!" But she knew no one would come out to help. Not as long as the others lurked through the streets. She fell down at Syrio's side. She started to shake him. "Syrio! Syrio, please! Syrioooo!" But Syrio could not hear her. She was brought out of her grief by a shadow looming over her. She gripped her sword. Who ever it was she would not go down without a fight.
"Bugger me, it really is him." a rough man's voice said.
"I told you I saw him standing outside." Another one shot back.
"Pssh, not so loud or do you want to bring down the Bravos on us? Help me carry him inside."
Arya felt a soft hand on her shoulder. "You have to let go of him, so we can pick him up, gal. Don't worry, we are old friends of this bastard."
Then she felt rough hands lift her up and carry her along the street. The last thing she saw before exhaustion took her was the shield of the two mummer masks. But now it seemed like both of them were crying.

Okay, before anyone cries foul play at me, because Syrio sliced through knights like nothing only to lose now:

With those he also expected a fight. Here he thought all was done. Bravos tradition is that after the duel is done it is done. Only Arya did not know that she could still "challenge" those other two guys. Also:
Those two guys are actual water dancers I.E: they KNOW how to fight him. And as future chapters will show Syrio had the bad luck to run into three of the best blades of this generation.