Author's Note: Well sorry about the delay. It was not intentional. The first week I was sick and then the chapter got a bit away from me. It got longer than I intended. I wanted to much to happen in it and I didn't want to cut it down. So thanks for the patience. Fair warning, it will probably be a bit longer for the next update as I'm going on vacation the next week and doubt I'll have any time to write. I hope t his extra long chapter might make up for that a little bit. I am sorry in advance about the next delay.
Chapter 4
It was nearly sun rise on the day after Arya had the confrontation with Theon Greyjoy. There had been little sleep during the night for her, and a twisted, sickened feeling in her stomach. She had turned away from someone who had once been almost like a brother to her, a someone, who when given the chance had betrayed her family. But the worst part was, that for Arya, he was the only living memory of her past life.
"That's not true," she whispered to herself. "There was Bran and Rickon, you could go find them." She shook her head of the thought. She believed Theon, when he said that the last he knew her brothers were alive. However that did not mean that they were still alive. The North could be harsh, and Bran was a cripple. Rickon was still so young. Would they survive the winter out there, alone?
They had help, Theon had said. But who could have helped them? Did the help they have know how to survive? She cursed herself for a fool. She should have asked the turn cloak for more information. Why had she been so damn intent on running away from him. Because he saw who you were, and you couldn't pretend to be No One. What if he told others that Arya Stark was in Braavos. "It was right to run away." She had whispered to herself.
These thoughts had spent the night running circles around inside her head. Even after hours of reassuring herself that it had been right to turn away from Theon, it still felt like she was excusing herself, from something. She just wasn't sure what. She had run away from Westeros because she thought that nothing remained to her. Then Theon had come and given her just a sliver of hope that her younger brothers might still live.
Then, suddenly it came into focus for her. It was that hope that caused her to flee from him, not the fact that she despised him for what he had done to her family. No, she fled because he had offered her hope. She had learned early on that every time someone gave her even a small thread of hope, it was snatched away from her. When the Night's Watch recruiter, Yoren, had offered her safe passage to Winterfell, he had been attacked and killed by Amory Lorch or his men. When she had revealed herself to Harwin who had been a part of the Brotherhood Without Banners and once a loyal servant of her fathers she had thought she had found help; and The Brotherhood took her with every intention of ransoming her to Robb. But they had been sidetracked into going after Gregor Glegane who had terrorized the small folk of the Riverlands. And worst of all, was when the Sander Clegane had promised to take her to the Twins where her brother and mother were. It was there that she had witnessed an even greater treachery then that of what Theon had done to Robb. She had seen Robb's men massacred by Bolton and Frey men. Both Houses who had at one time sided with Robb Stark. Hope was an illusion.
Even if she did take it upon herself to go back to Westeros, back to her home, she would probably only find that her brothers had died. She wasn't sure she could handle another disappointment, another reason for heart ache. It was better to live with the thought that, maybe, just maybe they were still out there, still alive.
With a sigh of resignation, she lifted herself up from her sleeping matt. The door slowly swung open and in the dim candle light she could make out the Jaqen's face. She managed to keep her face still, but something pierced it's way through her head.. Even if I wanted to, she thought, I could not leave here. Would they let me leave so easily? Jaqen had said I could go whenever I wanted. Was that still true now that I had a name of someone I was to give the the gift of death?
"A girl did not sleep well," Jaqen stated, and Arya knew she must look a mess.
"I've had a lot on my mind." Arya said.
"Should No One have such thoughts?"
"No." Arya said sulkily. After yesterday, could she even pretend to be No One?
"Is it about the job you have been given to do?" Jaqen asked.
"No." Arya replied truthfully.
"Good. And how are the preparations for Lady Crane's gift coming?"
Arya stayed silent for a moment. She had not thought of that since before she had seen Theon. She had made the plan, the poison would work, and she had come to the conclusion that she would to the do the deed soon. She and done this all before Theon had spoken to her. There was no reason she did not have to go through with her plan. Except that Theon had made you rethink your guilt about killing someone who had done anything to deserve it. How could she judge him for doing the same thing she was going to do to Lady Crane? Theon Greyjoy was complicating everything.
"Well?" Asked Jaqen calmly.
She shook the her head to clear it. She could do this, she had been given a task. She would fulfill it, and remain at the House of Black and White. If she could hide Arya Stark before, she could do it again. This was her home now. "I shall give her the gift today." She said suddenly. "I have decided poison would be the best way to go about it. It will be painless, the woman deserves that at least, and it will be fast. I have the perfect way to deliver it, one that will ensure no one will accidentally receive the gift, only Lady Crane."
Jaqen nodded in approval and simply left her chamber.
—
The night after his confrontation with Arya Stark, Theon did not go back to the brothel. Instead he spent it at the dingy room he had been renting since he had arrived in Braavos. Sleep alluded him. Instead his thoughts centered on Arya. Every time he tried to picture her as the young woman she had become, he only saw the little girl he had known at Winterfell.
He doubted she would willingly see him again. It was plain she had no interest in having any kind of contact with him when danced away. And the one thing Theon Greyjoy knew about Arya Stark was that she was stubborn. Once she got an idea into her head, her mind would not be changed. How often had he heard Catelyn Stark complain about her daughter not doing what was asked of her.
Thoughts about Lady Stark inevitably lead to thoughts of how she had died. He had heard enough stories about the wedding of Edmure Tully to piece together that the night had ended brutally for Catelyn Stark. That's where all thoughts led to, that damned wedding. Robb had died there. Robb Stark, his brother in all but name. I should have been there, I should have died with him. His thoughts seemed to whisper to him. He was the closet thing Theon had to family.
Seven hells, all the Starks were the closest thing he had to a family. He could have never killed Bran and Rickon. But that didn't stop you from making people believe that you did, a voice inside betrayed him. You didn't mind killing two other boys, boys who meant nothing to you just to make people fear and respect you. To make them obey you. Don't forget about Sir Rodrik, did he deserve to have his head chopped off? By your own hand, a hand he had helped to train, no less. And what about the Ironborn you left behind. What do you think Roose Bolton's bastard boy did to them. You know what the Bolton's like to do to their enemies? How loud do you think they screamed when the bastard took their skin while they still lived?
"Fucking ghosts," Theon muttered as he reluctantly sat up in bed. He could see the greying sky at the open window. Sun was coming up and he had to face another day. Although, the day felt slightly different. He knew it had something to do with Arya, but he wasn't sure what it was. The day didn't seem better, nor did it seem any worse then the previous day, just…different.
He mulled it over as readied himself to face the city. Once he was dressed he took the hand full of coins he still had and counted it dismally. He found himself running low, again. He would have to see if he could find work helping to unload any of the merchant galleys that had docked that morning. He almost laughed at the thought that Theon of House Greyjoy was reduced to manual labor just to live. And just like all the other times he wanted to laugh at the irony of it, he shrugged it off. He supposed he didn't deserve anything more than that.
Reluctantly he put the coin away. He cast one, quick glance at a wooden cup he had accidentally knocked out of a begger woman's hands. She had been blind and he must have frightened her when he came out of the brothel, because she darted away before he could give her back the money. He supposed he could have added the small amount of coin to his own, but something kept him from doing it. He thought the woman would turn up at the brothel again, but she hadn't. Still he kept the money aside on the off chance he would see her again. He he had committed enough sins without adding theft of a blind woman to them.
By sun up, he had made his way to the common room to break his fast. His landlord told him that if he would be staying any longer, he would have to pay his for his room and board in another few days. Just as Theon nodded his head to show that he understood, it hit him. He understood why Arya had made things look different for him this morning. For so long, he had been like a ship without a rudder. He did not know what he was going to do with his life. When he had come to Braavos he was directionless, and while he stayed there, he remained directionless. He had no real friends, the only people he felt comfortable talking to had been the prostitutes, and that was because…well, because he was used to them. He did not allow himself to make a home there. The only problem was, that he had no home at all. He did not know what he was to do with his life. There was no meaning to it. He went from one day, to another, just waiting for something to happen to him.
Then yesterday, Arya Stark had happened.
She hated him of course. He did not begrudge her those feelings. He would be the first to admit that he deserved them. He also did not know what exactly her coming back into his life meant for him. But he was damned sure he was going to find out. He had initially thought that perhaps she could give him some kind of forgiveness, but he would have to earn that, he supposed. He doubted she would make it easy for him. But she was living proof that the Starks had survived. Maybe, just maybe, getting a Stark back at Winterfell would atone for some of what he did. He took Winterfell from the Starks, maybe he could do something to help the family get back their ancient seat. Even if it only meant delivering to someone who could make that happen.
She would be stubborn about it. He would just have to be even more so. She would not want to see him again, he would make sure that she would. She had made it clear that she had made Braavos her new home, he would remind her of where she truly belongs. It might seem a hopeless task, and he doubted he would be thanked for it. To many it might even seem a bit stupid. But it was sure better then doing nothing, wasting away to nothing. Seven hells, the Night's Watch would have been better than what he was living now. He would just have to convince Arya that they should go back to Westeros.
—
Much to his surprise, Theon saw Arya that same morning. He thought he would have to search for her, but she was there on the the same cobbled street that the brothel was. She was pushing her cart along as if she did not have a care in the world. It appeared she wasn't even trying to avoid him. His first instinct was to march right up to her and demand that she listen to him. He almost laughed at that. No that would be too easy. She must have a purpose for standing so out in the open, it was as if she were flaunting her existence at him.
To make matters worse, she saw him. She had pushed her wares right past him. To add to the insult, she offered him a friendly smile, one that he was fairly certain that the Arya Stark who had grown up around him in Winterfell would never have given him. Especially to someone who she hated. No, this was a smile that must have belonged to this girl before him, this Cat of the Canals, as she was called.
She even paused a moment when their gazes had crossed. "Clams, oysters, or cockles?" She asked in that bright voice that any street vendor would use to make a sale.
His eyes narrowed slightly, ahh so that's how she's going to play it. She's going to pretend that yesterday did not happen at all. It made sense, the damage had already been done. He had seen her, he knew she was there. But she wanted nothing to do with them. They both knew that there was not much he could do if she choose not to acknowledge the fact that they knew each other. Instead of saying anything, he just shook his head and waved his hand as if to move her along. It seemed he would have to rethink how he would approach her. He would not be able to force her into another confrontation.
He watched as she shrugged her shoulders, and she gave him another, then moved to her next costumer. There was a brief moment where he wondered if he should follow her, but then realized that might make her angry and he wasn't entirely sure how this Arya, or Cat, would react to being followed. He tried to reassure himself that she wouldn't disappear. If anything, seeing her so out in the open showed him that she wasn't going to hide from him. Perhaps she thought if she ignored him long enough, he would disappear again.
Instead he spent the morning at the docks, he managed to find a few odd jobs, and was able to make a bit of coin. In the early afternoon, he found himself back in the market area. He pretended to look at a few goods and bought a bit of bread and cheese for a midday meal, but mostly he was there hoping to catch a glimpse of Cat. At some stalls he would even venture to ask if anyone knew where he could find the girl who sold the shell fish. All he ever received was information that she would be around the next morning but no one knew where she went after she sold her fish.
It was a bit later in the afternoon when he thought it was time to give up, at least for the day. He was just about to head to a tavern for a bit of ale when he happened to walk by the place where a theater troupe had been set up for the past couple of weeks. He heard that at least one of the actresses was quite good, but that the play was a bit of a mess. When the play first started, he had half a mind to see what all the fuss was about, but then he found out what it was about. Anything related to the War of the Five Kings made him a bit ill. Reliving those bad memories was something he did not want to do, even if it was smothered by bad acting and bad jokes.
But this time, as he walked past, he caught a glimpse of the girl he had been trying to find all afternoon. Oddly enough Arya was waiting to pay for her admission. Why in all the Seven Hells would she want to see that? Was the only thought that came to Theon's head. Immediately, he took his place among the audience members. Apparently he was to see this play after all.
—
To Arya, it felt as if she had seen this stupid play more times than she could count. Realistically she could probably count the times on one hand, but the writing had not gotten any better, and the only worth while thing about the production was Lady Crane herself. There was a brief stirring of guilt in her heart when she thought that would not be the case for very much longer.
She didn't pay close attention to what was happening on stage. She had seen enough to realize what was going on. Instead her eyes wandered over the audience. It felt like she was being watched. Had Jaqen come to see if she would finish the job as she said she would? Had he sent someone else? Was this some sort of test and she was being evaluated? Of course if that was the case, anyone one of these people could be following her every move.
Every once in awhile she would flick her attention to the stage, she had to continue the act of a rapt theater attendant. No one else could realize she was there for another reason, absently her hand drifted into her pocket to see if the vial of poison she had hidden there was still secure. It was, of course, and then she let her eyes drift over the audience again.
It was then that she saw him. Theon Greyjoy, apparently he had taken over Sansa's place as the bane of her existence. He seemed to be everywhere. She had seen him that morning. She had decided to ignore him as best she could, and gave him no indication that she had known him. She thought it would discourage him from trying to reach out to her again. She thought it had worked. But now, here she was, staring right at him, and he was boldly staring right back at her. He wanted her to know that he had seen her, that he had been watching her intently.
She frowned. Why did he have to be so interested in her? There was a gasp in the audience. From the dialogue on stage she knew it was the part where King Joffery was about to die. Theon must have been distracted by the audience's reaction because for moment his eyes darted from hers to the stage to see what was unfolding. She took that opportunity to duck into the crowd, using several of the audience members to hide herself from his view and effectively cutting off her own view of the stage.
It was for the best. The play would be drawing to a close, and she didn't need to see the imp killing Tywin Lannister. The players made a mockery of both Lannisters. She almost laughed thinking about how the grim Tywin would feel about these actors reducing him to an undignified, flatulent mess in his death throws. She pushed the thought from her mind, she had to focus.
She was able to slip in behind the stage easily enough. There were a few others darting about backstage, busy with their own tasks. She pretended to be tidying up, slowly making her way to where she knew the actors readied themselves for a show or cleaned themselves afterwords. She cast a casual glance around and no one was paying her any mind. She picked up a soiled cloth that was resting on Lady Crane's dressing table. She carelessly draped it over hear arm and then made a show of organizing the woman's make up. She looked around again, and still nobody back stage seemed to notice her.
For some reason her heart was beating fast. She cursed herself, she had killed before. She was no stranger to death. But those people were different. They deserved their deaths, Arya's mind whispered as she looked into the mirror that rested on the table. At least more so than this Lady Crane, she is going to be killed out of jealousy. Arya heard clapping coming from the other side of the curtain. She shook her head, she had to stop thinking, she just had to act.
With one hand she pulled the stopper from the bottle of rum on Lady Crane's table, with the other she swiftly pulled out the vial from her pocket. She poured its entire contents into the rum and then put the stopper back. She looked to the stage entrance, no one had come through yet. She finished her task and moved away from Lady Crane's table. She picked up a few stray garments if only to make her guise as some sort of maid seem more credible.
Just as she was about to pass the stage entrance one of the players came through and threw part of a costume at her, adding to her pile of dirty clothing. "Here, wash this." He said without even looking at her.
She felt just a curve of smile grace here lips. It seemed she had blended in quite well. She was unnoticeable, just as most servants were. She walked toward a basket that was already piled with soiled garments. She would add her bundle of clothes to it and then be on her way. It was all she could do not to look back at the actors as they made their way to the dressing area. She wondered if Lady Crane was there yet.
Her curiosity was soon answered she heard the Lady's voice as she stepped through the curtain. Arya felt that uncomfortable sensation that she was being watched again. She could hear the other players talking amongst themselves, but Lady Crane's voice had quieted. Was the woman paying Arya too much attention? She hurried to add the clothing to the rest of the pile. She refrained from looking to where she thought the woman stood. Perhaps if she pretended not to notice Lady Crane's attention, she would be able to walk away before the woman talked to her. Of course, nothing would be that easy.
"You girl," Lady Crane said.
With Arya's back still turned to Lady Crane she allowed herself to cringe. This was sloppy of her, now she would have to think of a lie to explain who she was and why she was there. Worse, she would have to look the woman she was about to murder in the eye. She was quick to hide her discomfort, turned around, and offered the woman an accommodating smile. "Is there something I can help you with m'lady?"
"I've seen your face around here before." Lady Crane said with her head canted thoughtfully.
"Well, yes, m'lady." Arya said. "I sometimes come to collect the laundry."
Lady Crane's smile seemed amused, "Oh, I don't mean back here. In the audience." She let a small chuckle escape her lips. "How often have you paid to see the show?"
"I.." Arya was about to lie, but she saw the stern look the Lady gave her. "I pay most of the time." Lady Crane raised her eyebrows, and Arya had to try another truth, "Okay so I sneak in more often than not." Arya relented, and then quickly added, "but I did pay for today!"
Lady Crane laughed at this. "Ah, you remind me of myself when I was young. A group like this one came along in my village. I snuck in every night to see the shows. They enchanted me so much that I of course had to become one of them. When they left my village, I went with them, and never looked back" She gave Arya a thorough look, almost as if she was appraising her. She looked thoughtful for a moment, before bringing her attention back to Arya's eyes. "Tell me, what do you think of our little production?"
Arya hesitated for a moment and bit her lip wondering if the woman wanted honesty. "Well, you're very good." She decided to remain neutral.
There was another laugh from the Lady. "By that you mean the writing was shit. I work with what I'm given, and I guess that does make me good, but still that final speech I have to make is terrible."
Arya felt herself nod in agreement. Whenever she had seen the play, Cersei's reaction to Joffery's death never rang true with her. At least, the overwrought words of grief and pain didn't ring true. That was not how she had felt when she had lost so many family members. There was pain, yes, and sadness but there was also something more, something that the writing of the play didn't seem to understand. Before she could think, she blurted out, "well, you could always change it."
Lady Crane raised her eyebrows at this, "well now, there's an idea."
"Without you the show is nothing, it's just a low form of comedy. There is no truth to it. Perhaps you're final speech needs something more, something more deserving of your talent." Arya said.
"And just how would you do that?" asked Lady Crane genuinely curious.
For a moment Arya said nothing. She was nervous. She was wasting too much time here. She needed to leave. Lady Crane had already recognized her as being out of place, what if someone else did too. As it was, she would probably never be able to be Cat again. She should have disguised herself differently. Her gaze darted around the backstage area. She needed to say something so she could end this conversation. Finally her gaze landed on the piece of wood that had been carved to look like a severed head. It was a poor imitation, but she knew it was used as a prop to represent Lord Eddard Stark. And for a moment she lost herself in the past. She had been present at her father's execution. However her eyes had been shielded, and she did not see her father die, but she could hear the crowd cheer at his death, and her sister's screams. She could imagine she could hear the sound of the steel cutting through his neck and the thud of his head on the ground.
She was so lost in thought that she had missed Lady Crane's an interest in both her and the severed head prop. Lady Crane said nothing, she simply watched Arya as the girl gathered her thoughts.
Finally Arya spoke, "Cersei just lost her son. There is grief there, of course, but the crying and the weeping, that would come later. She watched as he died, she must have felt helpless. He was taken from her, even before she could say goodbye or tell him one last time that she loved him. She just wouldn't sit there and cry." Arya took a deep breath, as what she was about to say next opened her old wounds . She wasn't certain how Cersei felt, but she knew how she felt when her family was taken from her. "And while at that moment she might have been helpless, that feeling would only last a little while. Because that helplessness would soon turn to anger. She would want vengeance. She would want to kill the people that took Joffery away from her. She would want to hurt them as much as they hurt her."
Lady Crane studied Arya, and there was sympathy in her tone when she spoke. "You speak as if you know what the Queeen had went through. What's your name girl?"
Arya blinked away the memories, and brought herself back to the present. "They call me Cat…Cat of the Canals."
"And is that your real name, Cat of the Canals, or do you like pretending you're other people?"
That seemed to startle Arya into action. Was this Lady Crane starting to see through Arya's masks? And she was startled to see the sympathy and even warmth in the woman's gaze. It had been so long since anyone looked at her that way…since her mother had looked at her that way. "I should go, my father will be waiting for me." Without waiting for the actress to respond she fled out of the back stage area.
When she was outside in the open air, Arya stopped a moment needing to quiet down her racing heart. That woman had seen too much of her, she had guessed that Arya was not who she pretended she was. Thankfully there was no way for Lady Crane to know her true identity. There were now two people in Braavos who had the power to see through to her real self. How could she pretend to be No One? And worse, that woman did not deserve to die. She had been kind, and she seemed genuinely interested in Arya. It was hard to find genuine people in this world. Why should one of the few have to die out of spite and jealously? She brought her hands to her face to hide herself from the frustration.
"There you are."
Arya knew the voice that uttered the words and managed to refrain from letting a groan escape her lips. She was not sure she could face Theon Greyjoy right now. Lady Crane had made her feel too vulnerable; but she had no choice. She shuddered one, deep breath and then let her hands fall to her sides. She didn't say anything, she just held his gaze for a moment. In those few seconds she saw the guilt flash through his eyes. He wasn't trying to hide it from her. He had killed innocent people, and he was paying for it. It triggered her own feelings for the people she had killed. The ones who probably had not deserved it, but who she felt she had to kill in order to survive. Killing Lady Crane was not like that, killing Lady Crane would not even be like Theon killing those two innocent boys. It had been a low, despicable act, but he had thought that he had to do it to ensure his power over Winterfell. But Lady Crane…there was no reason for her death. How could Arya live with that kind of guilt? There were others, more deserving of the gift of death. People she vowed to kill when they had killed her family.
Finally she said, "wait here." Then she turned around knowing that he would do as she bid him and retraced her steps. Her heart still pounded. She was about to cross a line that she could never come back from. After this, she could not pretend that she was No One. And at that very moment she knew she would need Theon to help her. He was the only one she knew in the city who might be able to help her.
It didn't take long to make her way to where the actors were discussing the performance. There was a brief moment of panic when she realized that she might be too late, that Lady Crane might have already drunk from her rum. In a rush she pushed aside the curtain that separated the actors from the main area, just as the woman was about to drink from her glass. Without preamble Arya knocked the cup from Lady Crane's hands.
There was a stunned silence that followed. All the actors looked at her in shock. Arya took each face in turn, and it didn't occur to her to speak until her eyes rested on the actress that played Sansa. That seemed to calm her down enough for her to find her voice. She looked to Lady Crane. "You should keep an eye on that one." She nodded to the other actress. "She's jealous enough to want you dead." She looked pointedly at the rum bottle and then turned away to flee the scene before anyone had the presence of mind to stop her.
She rushed out to where Theon stood, grabbed his arm and started to pull him away from the theater grounds.
"Would you mind telling me what this is all about?" He asked briskly as she led him away.
Arya looked back to see if they were being followed, but she saw no one. Which was good. There were a million thoughts running through her mind, and answering Theon's question was not one of them. She had defied Jaqen's orders. She was sure she would be held accountable somehow, and she was sure she did not want to be around to find out how. But there were still things she had to take care of at the temple. She needed to think of a way to get out of Braavos. And there was something else that was bothering her as well, something that was eluding her. She shook her head and looked to Theon.
Instead of answering his question she asked one of her own. "Do you have any coin?"
"Arya, answer me." He could see the panic in her eyes. "What happened?"
Arya shook her head, "not now. I'll tell you later. I need to know if you have any coin?"
He was silent at first. What was it that had spooked her? Just what kind of trouble was she in? Didn't he have a right to know, especially since she was now asking for his help? Then he realized that no, he did not have the right for answers before he decided if he was going to help her. He had already offered his help to her. She was now taking him up on that offer. He wouldn't question it, at least not yet. "I have some." He admitted.
"Enough for us to get back to Westeros?" She asked quickly, again looking behind her.
"Maybe, I don't know. But I could probably get some more if you give me a day or two." So it was home she was wanting. For a moment he felt a panic rising in his own heart. What would that mean for him? In the North his life would be forefit, of that he was certain. He took a deep breath. He would deal with what would come to him. He had a debt to pay to this young woman for what he had done to her family. He owed her this. "We couldn't afford a comfortable journey and we may even have work our way across the Narrow Sea."
Arya nodded her head. "I need to leave soon. The sooner the better. Could you find passage within the next couple of days?" Arya supposed she could find somewhere to hide until Theon had found a ship that would take them home. Jaqen wouldn't find out that she had saved Lady Crane's life until tomorrow. It would be okay to return to the Temple that night, at least long enough to take care of a few things.
"Possibly," As they sped along the street he gave her a sidelong glance. "Gods Arya, what's going on?"
"No time to explain. Get what money you can together by tomorrow afternoon. Meet me in the alley where we had our first conversation." She stopped them from walking any further. They had not been followed. "I swear I'll explain everything then. For now…just go the opposite direction from me. It's better if not a lot of people see us together". She didn't say goodbye, she simply turned and walked away.
"If you need me I'm staying at Grady's Boarding House." He called after her on impulse. "Do you know where that is?'
She stopped briefly. She didn't turn around, but he caught the nod of her head. If she had need of him, she would know where to find him.
Theon watched as she made her way down the street, then turn onto another street several yards away. The whole situation felt…wrong. There was something going on that he did not understand. He pushed his own rising panic down and simply strolled down the street, then turned in the opposite direction.
—
The sun was low in the sky when Arya found her way back to the temple. It was quiet and deserted as usual. Outwardly she was calm, but there was an unsettled feeling lurking under the surface. Something in the air that felt dangerous. She supposed it could be paranoia on her part. It wasn't only that she had failed to kill the woman, but she had also warned the woman that there was someone who wanted to harm her. Arya had even told Lady Crane who it was that wanted her dead. There was no doubt Jaqen would be displeased about all of that. There was also the fact that she had finally admitted that she did not belong there, amongst these servant's of Death. Now that she had done that, she was anxious to leave the place behind her.
She wouldn't have come back to the temple at all if she didn't have a good reason. Arya needed to retrieve her most important possession. Needle. She should have known she could not let go of her past the moment she hide the sword that Jon Snow had given her. When she reached Needle's hiding spot, just outside of the temple near a canal, she glanced around fervently, and found she was alone. Then she knelt beside the rocks she hid the steel under. It took her a few moments to work the stones free. When the the last of them were finally removed, all she could inside the hole was a shadowy darkness. For a moment she was scared that the sword was no longer there. She stared dully into the black hole. Then she forced herself to reach in it. Much to her relief she instantly she felt the cold hard hilt of her sword. It was safe.
She stood up quickly, and looked at the ominous building she tried to make her home. She did not want to go into the temple, but Mouser was still our there somewhere and the easiest way to find the Cat was to wait for her in her chamber. There was a bond that had formed between the two of them and Arya felt responsible for her. It would have felt wrong to leave her behind. She would have tried to warg her way into the cat, but her uneasiness left her nervous about leaving her body behind unguarded. It would be easier to wait for Mouser to come to her.
She managed to make it to her room unnoticed. The cat was not yet there, so she kept the door ajar, so when Mouser did return she could slip into the room easily. She sat down on the mat that she slept on with her back against the wall and Needle at her side. She would be ready to defend herself if anyone came into her room seeking to punish her for what she had done. She did not bother to light a candle, right now it felt safer for her to be in the dark. When Mouser returned she would quietly leave. Hopefully she would be on a boat or well hidden before anyone thought to look for her.
The minutes ticked by and neither cat nor human had made their way to the room. Her fast beating heart started to slow, and her mind started to calm. She was given time to think about what had happened. If she left, would Jaqen even pursue her? Was she panicking for nothing? If she thought about it, what would be the purpose of coming after her? She did not know much about what went on within the House of Black and White except how to deal with poisons and she also knew of the ways in which they changed their faces. But she did not know the identities of the assassins. Not really. She didn't even know how many servants there were to the God of Many Faces. Maybe they would just let her go free. Or had she gone too far with what she had done with Lady Crane. And what exactly would they do to her? Would they kill her?
She did not want to find out. She wanted home, she wanted Westeros. She wanted justice for her family, she wanted revenge. In her heart she had never given up her prayer, the list of names of the people she wanted to kill. She might have stopped saying it during her time with the Faceless Men, but it was always there in the back of her mind. Many of the names had been crossed off. Some by her hands like Meryn Trant, some who had been killed by others, like Joffery. But others were still alive. Talking to Lady Crane had reminded her of what it felt like to loose the people she loved and of the vengeance she felt she needed to pursue.
When she was blind, she almost forgot that. And the more time she spent in this temple to the god of many faces, the more she had become complacent in loosing her way. Now that she thought about it, the temple had allowed her to run away, and now it was time to stop running. Theon had said there was a chance that her brothers lived. To turn her back on that hope was the mark of a craven. She would face what Westeros had to give her. Her brothers were missing, but she also knew Sansa had escaped the Red Keep, perhaps she was alive somewhere too. And Jon…he had given his life to the Night's Watch, but Jon was still alive. Perhaps if any of her siblings were still alive, they would have gone to him. It was a place to start at least.
Then there was Theon. She had seen him standing there, waiting at the theater. Without even realizing it, she had decided to use him. The hard fact of it was that there was no one for her to turn to in Braavos. She hated to admit it, but she did need help. She had no coin, and she needed to keep attention off herself which meant she couldn't travel freely around the city to steal or work for the money. Theon was there and he had already offered to help her. She let out a small sigh. It would not be the first time she would rely on someone she despised. She had endured the company of Sander Clegane, she could most assuredly handle the company of Theon Greyjoy.
Somewhere in the midst of all her thinking she drifted to sleep. Waiting for the cat to return seemed to be a boring task. It was several hours before she jarred herself awake. She let out a few whispered curses at at her stupidity for letting her guard down. Mouser, who must have come in earlier was curled in her lap. The cat lifted it's head and hissed at her for disturbing her sleep.
"Sorry, Mouser." She whispered, "but it's time for us to go."
The cat responded with what could only described as an annoyed meow, but got up and padded over to the door. The cat seemed to realized the importance of leaving as quickly as possible. Arya stood up slowly, her body stiff from the position in which she had slept. She allowed herself to stretch and then realized that she still wore the clothing of Cat of the Canals. "Hold on a moment Mouser."
It was time to fully be Arya again. She felt around the dark room to a chest where she kept a few odd pieces of clothing that she had been given. By feel she was able to find a pair of plain trousers and a simple shirt. She then discarded the skirts that Cat wore. She undid her hair that had been done up in a more Braavosi fashion and let it fall to her shoulders. It had grown some since she had been in the city. She opted to tie it back in a simple tail so that it would stay out of her eyes, and out of her way should she need to fight. The final touch was tying Needle back at her waist. Being dressed that way, Arya felt like herself once more.
When she was ready, she slipped through the door of her chamber knowing she would never come back. Mouser was at her feet and then darted ahead, leading her through the halls of the temple. It wasn't surprising that she saw no one as she skulked her way through the temple for the last time. It was never a very busy place and it was rare she saw anyone other than Jaqen or the Waif except when she was in the worship area. She was still careful, and breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped through one of the back doors into the fresh air.
It was still dark outside, but in the east, the sky was just a touch lighter. Dawn was not far off. She would have to find a place to hide for a few hours. She was thankful that she would have time to think about what she was going to say to Theon. She wasn't sure how much of her story she would share. She was still having problems with how much she should actually trust him. And there was still something that bothered her about the whole incident with Lady Crane. It was clear that she needed to sort out her thoughts.
First, Arya needed to put some distance between herself and the temple. Perhaps she could loose herself in the crowd of the morning bustle once the city started to wake. The most active place at this hour would be near the docks where the fishermen worked their early mornings. She found herself heading in that direction. The cat kept up with her easily, she must have known things were different this morning because she made no attempts to leave Arya's side.
For a good part of the early morning, they wandered aimlessly amongst the fisherfolk. But as the day wore on Arya knew she would have to leave, staying in one spot for too long did not seem like a good idea. Especially now that she would be missed at the temple and Jaqen would know that Lady Crane was not dead. She kept her eyes sharp, trying to pay close attention to those around her, making sure no one looked at her for too long. It seemed that she escaped notice, but she still felt vulnerable. She would feel better when she was no longer in Braavos.
She was crossing over a bridge that spanned one of the canals when a sight caught her attention. She had caught a glimpse of the large statue of the Titan of Braavos. She remembered the awe she felt as the boat she came in on, sailed under his legs. She remembered feeling a certain relief when she made it to the city. She thought that she would be able to find some sort of home upon these shores. But once again she was wrong. She had only found another place she didn't belong. And now she was going to say goodbye to that Titan. It was strange, but she did not feel any sadness at this parting.
In the moment she took to study the Titan she had let her guard down again. She was startled into awareness by an old peddler woman and her cart. Arya managed to hide the uneasiness she felt when she saw the old woman come closer. It was apparent the woman took too much interest in Arya. Of course, the woman could only be trying to sell something to Arya, but still she felt weary of the woman. Her sword hand lifted slowly to Needle's hilt. She made no move to draw it, she only rested her hand on the hilt casually.
"Lovely girl…" The old woman croaked, with a toothless grin.
Arya raised her eyebrows in question, waiting to see what the woman had to say to her. As she looked to the old woman her eyes caught the swift movement of Mouser as she dashed to the other side of the bridge. It seemed the cat had sensed something was amiss with this woman too. Arya tried make a move to pull her sword free; but the cat had distracted her for a fraction of a second too long. The old woman used that to her advantage.
The woman had grabbed Arya's arm before she could jerk the sword free and had slashed Arya's abdomen with a knife that she had concealed up until the time of her attack. Arya had cried out in pain and surprise. The woman was stronger than she looked, and instantly Arya knew that the old woman's face was merely a disguise. The Faceless Men had found found her and it seemed her punishment for defying them would be death. The first thought in her mind was to run away.
She pushed away the pain. The cut did not seem to be deep, and she could deal with that later. Her first priority would be to survive. She struggled to pull away from her attacker, but could not find an opening to free herself. Instead the attacker pulled her in closer and she jabbed the knife into Arya's stomach. There was another flash of pain. With a gasp, Arya turned to catch one more glimse of her attacker. This time the old woman's face was gone and it was replaced with the Waif.
Arya was not surprised that it was her. She had a feeling the girl was relishing the attack. Had Jaqen sent her, or had the Waif taken Arya's fate into her own hands? She should not have given this any thought as the Waif stuck the knife into her stomach again and this time twisted it. Ayra let out a louder yell, doing all she could not to scream.
Survive. Her mind kept whispering that word to her.
Some how she found a burst of strength and wrenched her arm from the Waif. She pushed the girl away. The Waif must have been surprised by Arya fighting back, because she fell to the ground, a look of shock playing upon her features. Arya looked down at her, and knew that in her current state she could not fight the girl. She would not draw Needle right now. She needed to get away and somehow see to her injuries. She looked to the railing of the bridge they were on and realized the water could help in her escape. Just as the Waif was recovering her footing, Arya lunged for the rail of the bridge and forced herself over the side.
The cold water shocked her, but she forced herself to stay under for as long as she could, hoping that it would convince the Waif that she had drowned. When she could bare it no longer she surfaced coughing, shivering, and in exquisite pain. She needed help. With difficulty she swam to a set of stairs that had led to the water from the streets. It must have been a landing for some of the canal boats that used the water way. Slowly she climbed them, her hands clutched to the worst of her wounds.
She was bleeding heavily. She could see the red of her blood seeping through the fingers of her hands. There was a very real fear that touched her heart. Was she about to die? She could still walk, but she had no idea of where to go. She started to shuffle down the streets aimlessly, looking to anyone who might help her. But there were no friendly eyes in the crowd. It seemed as if the people would look at her, see how hurt she was, how dirty and wet she was, and turn away not wanting to get involved.
She stopped a moment to collect her thoughts. She ignored the suspicious stares of those around her. She tried to focus on where she was. She recognized that she was near the alley where was to meet Theon. He would be expecting her there, but not for several more hours. He was all she had in this city, he would have to help her, but she didn't know how to find him. She had no choice but to wait and hope that the bleeding would slow down so she wouldn't die.
She stumbled her way to the ally and then slumped back against the side of a building. She winced in pain and she was tired. The whole ordeal had weakened her. She felt herself slide down until she sat on the dirty ground. She forced herself not to panic. She took several deep breaths and then for the first time noticed that Mouser had followed her. The cat had not abandoned her. She took several deep breaths before the beginnings of a plan started to form in her mind. She allowed herself to gaze at the cat intently. If she couldn't use her body to go for help, perhaps she could use the animal's.
It did not take long for her mind to enter that of the cat's. She supposed now that she had done it several times in the past it came a bit easier to her. Either that, or her body was slipping into unconsciousness, which made it easier for her to transfer her being into the cat. She wondered what would happen if her body died while she was still with Mouser. Would she be doomed to walk around as a cat for the rest of her life? The panic threatened to come back with that thought. Then she looked to her body and saw that she was breathing steadily. She was strong enough for now, but she must hurry and find help if she was to stay that way.
Quickly she turned and padded off in the direction of the street. She supposed she should look for Theon. How she would communicate with him, she did not know. She would have to find some way to get his attention and get him to follow Mouser to where she had rested her body. The first place she had tried was the brothel. She had slipped through a back door, but and when she made her way to the main room she had to get used to the fact that she had to look up to see the faces of customers. To her dismay Theon was no where to be seen.
The night before he had told her of the cheap boarding house he was staying at, on the off chance that she might need to contact him. It was the next place she would try. It took longer than she had expected to transverse through the streets of Braavos. She knew where to find the place; but everything looked so much different when seen through the eyes of a cat. Much to her relief she had spotted Theon before she had made it to the boarding house.
It seemed he was on his way back home. His step had seemed lighter than she remembered and she wondered if that meant he gathered enough money for them to travel back to Westeros. He was nearing his destination when she darted across his path. He nearly tripped over the small animal and cursed as he struggled to remain on his feet. He gave Mouser an annoyed look before he started back towards the boarding house.
Arya let out a frustrated meow. The stupid man completely ignored her. She padded after him as he started to open the door to the boarding house. She slipped in before he noticed she was there. Theon told a thick set woman, who must have worked there, that he would like a bit of the stew they had at the fire for his midday meal; and then shuffled over to one of the empty tables.
Arya tried again to get his attention. This time when he sat down to take his rest she slithered around his feet as if begging him to pet her. It succeeded and he looked down at her. "So you followed me in, did you?" He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go on off with you, I don't have time to deal with strays."
She answered him with a small hiss. Of course Theon would be this stupid. Instead of running away as he wanted her too, she jumped on the bench next to him.
He gave her a perplexed glare. "So, you aren't going to leave?"
As if to answer him, she reached out one of her front paws and scratched the back of his hand lightly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to let him know that she needed his attention.
"Ow," he cried out softly, and he narrowed his eyes in mild anger.
The woman who worked there looked up. She saw the cat and let out an annoyed huff, "hey, we don't allow animals in here. That filthy thing has to leave. Now."
"Of course." Theon said grudgingly, even if it wasn't his fault that the cat was there. Instead he scooped up the cat and started for the door.
Arya struggled in his arms. Theon let out another mild curse as he fought to keep the cat under control. "What is the matter with you, you mangey thing?" He asked after the cat managed to scratch him several more times.
Arya was cheered by the thought that she had managed to get his attention. Now she had to concentrate on keeping it. Once he was outside and frustrated enough to scream, he all but threw the cat to the ground. Of course the cat landed gracefully on her feet. She offered a long, loud hiss when she looked up at him.
"Go on. You've caused enough trouble." Theon muttered.
The cat replied with a hiss, and looked up at him expectantly.
"What is it that you want?" Something in the cat's eyes betrayed an intelligence that caught him off guard. The animal seemed to be too fixated on him for this to be chance. He almost laughed at himself for thinking this. Surely he was going mad and he was about to turn around and walk back inside, when the cat hissed again and butted it's head against one of his boots.
When he looked down at the cat she let out a meow, then walked a few feet away. Theon watched as the cat moved off, and then stopped, looked back at him and meowed again. It was as if the animal wanted him to follow her. He took a step in her direction, the cat turned and walked off a few more feet, stopped, turned to look at him, then meowed.
Theon blinked in surprise, and then followed the cat again. This cycle continued on a few more times before the cat was satisfied that she had gotten Theon to do exactly what she wanted him to do. Then she led him as quickly as she could back to to where Arya's body lay.
For his part, Theon was a bit concerned that he was following a cat. Was he making this whole thing up in his mind? Was the cat trained and leading him to be robbed and killed in some dark alley? He truly was mad to be following this creature, but there was something about the way that it looked at him. Almost like it knew him, and was extremely annoyed with him.
Eventually he realized it was leading him to that alley where he was to meet Arya in a few hours. Unconsiously, his step quickened, he had this odd feeling that something was wrong. He was no longer worried about being robbed and killed, it was too much of a coincidence that the cat was leading him to this particular place.
He saw the slumped figure on the ground before the cat padded up to it. Instinctively he knew it was Arya, who else could it be? There was no one else he gave a damn about in this city and he felt his heart drop as he rushed to her. She was wet and bleeding from her stomach. Gods what had happened to her? Did this have something to do with last night? When he watched her as they walked away from the theater, he knew that something had happened, that she seemed almost afraid of something. It appeared now she had reason to be. Who would want to kill her? Why would anyone want to kill her?
"Arya?" He could almost hear the anger in his voice, an anger that hid the terror. He had just found a Stark, was he about to loose her so quickly? She did not stir as he called her name. He felt helpless. He knelt down next to her to take a better look at her injuries. There was so much blood staining her wet clothing that he knew he would have to find her help. He couldn't take care of this on his own. But even as he studied the blood he noticed that her breathing seemed steady. "Arya?" He tried again.
Arya watched as Theon gently moved her hands that hid her knife wounds. It was odd seeing through the cat's eyes as he took stock of her health, almost as if he really did care about what happened to her. It took her aback a little, watching him be almost tender. At Winterfell, he would have never allowed her, or anyone else, see him in such a vulnerable state. It took him calling Arya again before she pulled herself away from these thoughts and back to the problem at hand.
Of course he was beginning to panic. Her body was not to responding to his calls. She needed to leave Mouser and enter her own body. She did not have to force her mind to return to her body, for her mind knew where it belonged. The moment she came back to herself she felt the searing pain in her abdomen. She should have prepared herself for that. She let out a soft groan and then reluctantly opened her eyes. "Theon."
Theon took note that she did not seemed to be surprised that he was there. Maybe she had trained the cat. "Are you okay?" He paused a second and shook his head. "Of course you aren't. We need to get you out of here, we need help. I'll-"
"Lady Crane." Arya managed to croak out. It was the only other person she knew who might know how to help. "The theater, take me there, she'll know what to do." She grimaced as another wave of pain came to her. "At least I hope she will."
"Are you sure?" he asked, this Lady Crane had been at the theater the previous evening, what if it wasn't safe there.
Arya only nodded her head, and when she looked at him her eyes pleading with him to listen to her.
"Alright," He said quietly. "Can you get up on your own if I help you?"
Arya seemed to brace herself for the task at hand. Again she saved her strength by not talking and only nodded. Theon nodded his reply and then shifted to his feet. He gripped her arms firmly and carefully helped to pull her up so that she stood. She tried to muffle the groan that escaped her lips but he heard her.
He was just about to say something when she stopped him with whispered words of her own. "I can do this. Just, give me a minute.
He allowed her to catch her breath, then when she signaled that she was ready, he helped her to take a few stumbling steps forward. She started out strongly, but it seemed to be too much for her and after five of the steps she practically fainted. Thankfully, Theon had been there, holding her up firmly so she didn't fall to the ground.
"I…need…to…stop." She said breathlessly. The pain and fatigue was getting to her and she hated herself for showing Theon any kind of weakness. She could see the blackness crowding into her vision, and she wasn't sure she could hold on to consciousness much longer.
Theon must have realized what was going on because he was able to prevent her from falling to the ground by sweeping her up in his arms. She was such a tiny little thing that she didn't weigh much. He was almost relieved that she was too weak to walk. With him holding her, he would be able to get help much faster. He checked her breath, it was strong. While there was a lot of blood on her clothing she didn't seem to be bleeding too freely at the moment. He knew there must be a lot of pain and that accounted for her physical weakness. He knew Arya Stark was a fighter. He doubted she would die, not here and not now, he would do anything to prevent that.
"I got you," he whispered to her as her eyes closed. "I'll get you help. Just rest now."
It was the last thing Arya heard before she drifted off into unconsciousness; and Theon rushed towards the theater and Mouser followed behind him.