Arya

She should have known something was wrong the moment the guards looked at her as she made her way to her lesson. Mostly because they actually noticed her. For the first time in months people were actually noticing her, staring at her with curious eyes as she made her way to her lessons. She had grown used to being the Ghost of the Red Keep, able to sneak about with no one giving her a moment of their attention. Even the septa had given up trying to educate her and there were days that Arya wondered if Sansa remembered she had a sister. But that day the guards noticed her, watched her as she walked past them, their eyes following her movements carefully. Not in the way so many men would look at a woman, or how a father would look at their child. They were the stares that reminded her of the snowy owls that would roost on the towers of Winterfell, keen eyes watching for even the slightest bit of movement.

Later, much later, when she spoke of that day to others, she would blame missing all the signs on the confusion of the last month. First her father had sent for her and Syrio, telling them to come to the Tower. They'd arrived to find a fuming Sansa and a sighing Jory but no sign of her father. And as the hours had ticked by her father had remained unseen, Sansa fumed more, and Arya and Syrio merely watched, practicing their breathing exercises, and Jory had worried. Finally news had come from cousin Antony, who had burst in without his trademark smile or clever wit.

Instead, with utter bluntness, he'd said, "You're father's been stabbed by Jaime Lannister because your mother is an idiot." He'd then paused, considering his words. "Not very comforting, I'll admit. Still, stabbed, Jaime, Cat's a moron. Can I get some wine? Seems like today is a day for wine. Arya? You want some? Sansa? Strange man with a nice beard? Jory?"

Only Syrio had joined him in drinking.

It had taken nearly a week for her father to awaken and when he had things had only gotten worse, at least in Arya's opinion. Instead of going home, which Arya wanted oh so much and Jory had all but come out and said was her father's plan, they'd been forced to stay when King Robert had told her father he was in charge because he wanted to kill something. It was around that time that Antony had left, much to Arya's annoyance as he was one of the few people that could liven up the Red Keep. Things had gone peaceful after his departure, save for the news that a group of raiders identified as members of Ser Gregor Clegane's forces were attacking the Riverlands. Arya had learned her father had declared Ser Gregor to be a false knight only for the peasant presenting the charge to reveal the Mountain had not been with his men. This, according to the whispers she'd heard as she moved about the Keep, had been a shock to all, even Lord Varys. The Mountain that Rides had simply vanished.

That… had gotten many people talking.

Sansa had been thrilled, hating the Mountain for his near killing of Ser Loras at the Hand's Tournament. Others in the Capital had been nervous, not quite sure what to think. And her father…

Her father had become consumed with something.

If Arya were honest with herself she was becoming concerned when it came to her father. The Capital was doing something to him, making him take actions he'd normally never done back home. She'd heard whispers from the servants that her father had proclaimed he would no longer be Hand of the King, only for him to tell them when he finally woke up after his long rest that he was Hand still and that they were to get back with their lives. And said rest had come about because he'd gone out with Antony and gotten in a fight with the Kingslayer. A few servants thought that her father had gone drinking with Antony and Jaime and gotten so drunk that he'd injured himself but Arya didn't buy that; it wasn't just Antony Stark who could drink barrels of wine and barely feel a thing. It was in the Stark's blood… she'd even herself, when no one was around, snuck down the to the kitchen and drank several cups of wine to see what it was like only to find it had almost no affect on her. So no, he hadn't been out drinking. Whatever he had been doing he'd become more obsessed with it over the last few weeks until he'd suddenly shut the large book he'd been reading and become very quiet. Arya had tried to press him but he'd said it was none of her concern and that she should go to bed. She'd meant to press him on it but when the king had returned wounded she'd known that now was not the time and thus stayed silent, allowing her father to grieve when the fat king had finally died.

Perhaps, if it hadn't been for her father and mother so many times shoving her off when she got to nosy, she'd have noticed something off. Instead she'd carried on like it was any other day, eating breakfast in the solar (alone, of course; Sansa was off once more to a breakfast only she'd been invited too and her father was already gone, focused on duties rather than his children) before heading to her lessons. Just a normal day.

Except now, when she found herself pressed against the wall of her practice room, a member of the Kingsguard glaring at her while several Gold Cloaks backed him up.

It took her a moment to realize that it was Ser Meryn Trant who stood before her and she found herself scowling a touch at the sight of him. Sansa had always prided herself on knowing each member of the

Kingsguard and their grand deeds. Ser Barristan the Bold, who had been so noble King Robert had pardoned him when he became king. The Kingslayer. Ser Arys Oakheart, who was said to have turned down the seductions of the Queen of Whores, who had never failed before him to bring a man to her bed in Lys. Ser Mandon Moore, the 'Lonely Knight' who received love from none and sought it neither, for all he cared for was duty. Ser Boros Blount who despite his ugliness Sansa claimed was the most kind of them all. Ser Preston Greenfield, who it was said could never be corrupted and never sought pleasures of the flesh.

And then there was Ser Meryn Trant. 'Oh, and him,' as Sansa had called him. The afterthought, the one most likely to be left behind while taking a piss, if Arya believed the jokes she'd accidently heard some of the guards say. Less because they hated him and more because he was simply forgettable. One day, when Arya had gotten it in her head to explore the White Sword Tower, she'd spied on the Kingslayer and Ser Preston, the former telling the later that it was his theory that Ser Meryn had gotten in line behind other men to be knighted, thinking it was a line for food, and King Robert had knighted him before he realized what was going on.

Arya had snickered at that. She wasn't snickering now.

"Did you hear me?" Ser Meryn snapped, glaring at Syrio who, despite being utterly surrounded, calmly walked back to the rack of practice swords and replaced his and Arya's weapons. "The Stark girl is coming with me."

"Syrio Forel does not think so," the swordsman said with a slight smile. "We are taught even in Braavos that when an old fat man wants to take little girls and boys with them without permission that foul things are about to happen."

Ser Meryn turned red at that. "She is coming with me!"

"You can repeat it all you wish, that doesn't mean it will come true. Only fools scream things over and over and believe the world will listen."

"Do you know who I am? What I am?" the man bellowed, drawing his sword. Syrio tilted his head, considering the knight for a moment.

And then… Syrio transformed.

Dimly Arya found herself thinking of a book whose pages were being quickly flipped through. Syrio's skin folded in on itself, starting at his face and moving down his body. His tanned skin, exotic in Westeros, become something unworldly as the flesh rippled and turned a deep blue with a hint of scale-like surface texture. Heavy muscles gave wave to feminine curves, though the frame was just as deadly looking. Curly black hair became slicked back short locks that were a deeper red than even Sansa's. His round face framed with a dark beard became sharp angular features with stern yet pouty lips. His clothing disappeared as she grew several inches, nothing left to the imagination as her heavy breasts rose and fell with every breath and even the junction between her legs was left bare for all to see. Golden eyes, like those of a cat, shone brightly as Syrio looked upon the startled guard, taking a step forward. Where once had been her dance instructor Arya now gazed at a nude woman of blue who looked like some creature from Old Nan's stories come to life.

"Do I know who you are? What you are?" 'Syrio' taunted before leaping into the air, her foot connecting with the gold cloak just to Trant's left, striking the weakest part of his skull and sending shards of bone into his brain. The man fell bonelessly to the ground, 'Syrio' continuing her descent as she hit the man to Ser Meryn's right, driving the palm of her hand into his throat so hard it collapsed his wind pipe and left him twitching on the ground, gasping for air that would never come. The Kingsguard tried to swing his sword but 'Syrio' easily dodged the clumsy swing and disarmed him before shoving him back, her flexible body allowing her to easily slam her bare foot against his throat, holding him in place against the wall. "Oh yes… it was people like you who made me afraid to go to the sept as a child." She kicked him once, causing him to hit the wall, and as he bounced back 'Syrio' grabbed his head and easily snapped his neck. Nodding to herself, the blue warrioress looked over at Arya and suddenly the hardness the girl had seen moments before faded and a look of compassion appeared on her features. "We need to go."

"How… how did you do that?" Arya whispered. "Is it magic? Are you a fairy or a sprite?"

'Syrio' shook his head and Arya could tell that her reaction had pleased her. The girl had the sudden feeling that 'Syrio' was more used to people screaming in terror than asking her breathlessly how she'd done what she'd done. "No and I promise I'll tell you everything but we need to go now."

"Go where?" Arya asked.

"Away from here. You heard them, they are gathering your family-"

"We have to save them!"

"We will if we run," 'Syrio' said. Arya stared at him… her… in confusion. "The Queen clearly wants you as a hostage, to use against your father. If we aren't here then they can't use you as a pawn. It gives him a better chance to fight back, to not cave to her demands." Arya bit her lip and 'Syrio' held out her hand. "Arya, I swear I'll explain everything but please… trust me."

She looked down at the extended hand and then back at her instructor's golden eyes. "…do I get to be blue too?"

"No," 'Syrio' said, thankfully seeing that Arya didn't mean to insult with her question. "You'll get to be something else entirely. Something amazing. Now…" her flesh shifted again and Arya looked down at Ser Meryn's corpse and then at 'Syrio', who now wore the man's face, "…follow me. We need to hurry."

Arya followed after her instructor, a part of her wondering if she should be troubled that she wasn't concerned about the dead bodies on the ground in their training area. 'Syrio' had just murdered three men, one a member of the Kingsguard. She hadn't even needed to use a weapon! Arya loved her sword, was thrilled to have it… but after seeing the way 'Syrio' moved she knew she'd never be able to JUST be a swordsman ever again. No, her eyes had been opened and she wanted to learn to fight like…

"What should I call you?" she whispered when they rounded a corner. 'Syrio' shoved her forward, playing the part of angry and violent knight, and Arya constantly acted as if she were trying to squirm away.

"Ser Meryn, for the moment," her instructor said, leading her into an empty room. It was clearly a solar for visiting guests of the Red Keep but today was empty with not a soul occupying it. Arya winced when she heard someone scream in the distance, realizing that most likely it was one of her father's men, but while she hated leaving them to die she knew there was nothing she could do. 'Syrio' busied herself with finding a sharp knife before transforming once more. This time she returned to being a woman and her face and form resembled what Arya was quickly coming to realize was her true form, only now 'Syrio' wasn't blue but pale and her hair was the same color as Arya's. She wore the simple garments of a peasant woman and her face was even caked with dirt from the looks of it. "Hold still or else this will hurt."

"What are you doing-ow!" Arya flinched and then looked down at the clump of hair that fell to the floor, followed by more as 'Syrio' ran a blade through her locks.

"You can't shapeshift like me but we can make you look not like yourself. People are looking for Ned Stark's daughter… they won't be looking for a poor woman and her skinny son." After a few more minutes (and more whimpers of pain from Arya when 'Syrio' tugged too hard) Arya was sporting a cut shorter than Bran's and 'Syrio' was leading her out of the room. "I am your mother. Until I say so treat me as such."

"Yes mother," Arya said. "Where will we go once we leave?"

"Somewhere safe," was all 'Syrio' would say. "And younger."

"Hmm?"

"Act a bit younger. Think of your brother."

Arya scowled. "It will sound stupid."

"Why do you care? You are playing a role to escape."

She blinked. She hadn't considered that and suddenly it seemed rather fun. "Yes mama," she said shyly and dutifully. Her 'mother' nodded in approval and quickly took her hand, ducking back out into the hall.

"We get out of this disgusting Keep and make our way to the Iron Gate and then to Rosby Road. After that we will begin to make our way…"

"Are we going to see… him?" Arya said in excitement. 'Magento', she thought, forcing herself not to grin lest she give away their ruse. 'Syrio's master! The special one!'

"Yes," her 'mother' said. "Now, keep your head down."

"Y-yes, mama," Arya said, sniffing. Her 'mother' looked down at her and, seeing the fat and fake tears gathering in her eyes chuckled and shook her head. For Arya excitement danced with fear. A true adventure, escaping the Red Keep and King's Landing, all under the nose of the guards that were hunting her! She gave a moment to wonder of her father and Sansa but in the end she knew that 'Syrio' was right; there was no way to save them now and her only hope of doing so would be to escape and get help. And from what Ser Meryn had said it was clear that there would be no help coming to her in this horrid city. Only escape would allow her to find those that could help her save her family.

'I'll return, father,' Arya thought.

They made their way down to the stables easy enough, the confusion that seeped through the Red Keep making it easy for them to get through the halls without any questions and soon found themselves outside and able to head into the stables. A taller boy with short black hair and thick muscular arms, maybe around Sansa's age, seemed unable to decide if he should focus on his tasks or go see what was happening around him. Arya and her 'mother' continued on, paying little heed to the confused young man, focused solely on finding some horses and getting out of King's Landing while they still could.

"What do we have here?"

The two stopped short and, had they been in a mummur's play, the audience would have roared with laughter at the way the two almost comically turned as one to stare at Janos Slynt, commander of the Gold Cloaks. He was wearing his finest armor and looked as puffed up as a peacock, a smug smile on his lips as he took a step forward, cloak billowing behind him as he drew his sword.

"There was a commotion," Arya's 'mother' said, sounding frightened and scared even as her body tensed, ready to leap forward and kill the bald annoyance that stood before them. "We fled-"

"As well you should, Stark Lovers," Slynt said with a vicious grin. "King Joffrey is giving out gold dragons for every Stark Supporter's head we bring back. I've already won myself a wonderful price by bringing in that traitor Eddard-" Arya couldn't help but start at that and her gaze instantly became murderous, "-but a few more wouldn't hurt to set me up rather nicely." He looked at the two and Arya squirmed under his gaze. It was a look that she'd not thought she'd see a man send her way for another few years. "Of course, if you let me have a quick poke…"

"You think I'd bed you?" her 'mother' asked.

"Not you…" Slynt said, running his tongue along the back of his teeth as he looked Arya up and down. "But she'd make a fine squirm-"

Janos Slynt, who had just earned his new king's gratitude and his place in legend for ending the Stark Rebellion against Joffrey, first of his name… twitched as his head was reduced to a gooey mess by a well placed blacksmith hammer. After a few moments he fell to the ground in a heap, revealing Arya and 'Syrio's' savoir.

"…please tell me that was the right thing to do," the tall teen they'd past moments early said, staring at the body of the Commander of the Gold Cloaks dumbly.

"Very good," Arya's 'mother' said, a bit surprised that Slynt hadn't died by her own hand.

"Who are you? Why'd you do that?" Arya asked suspiciously.

"My name's Gendry," the teen said. "I was told to come here by Lord Stark. The other Lord Stark, the one in Iron Pointe, requested me to journey to study under him. The Hand sent word that I was to meet him here, that he'd arrange for my journey to Iron Pointe. I brought my tools and was waiting when I heard screaming… then I saw this one… oh, by the Seven, I killed a Gold Cloak."

"And a disgusting one at that," Arya's 'mother' said, already on the move. "You need to leave. Not just the Red Keep but the city as well. Something has happened, the Kingsguard and the Gold Cloaks are killing anyone connected to the Starks. They hear you were asked to come here by the Hand of the King and you'll be dead before you finish talking."

"Where should I go?" Gendry asked, trying hard not to stare at the bloated body that laid at his feet.

"Anywhere."

Arya shook her head. "Come with us." Her 'mother' glared at her, not liking this new thought, but Arya fired back, "You said they wouldn't look for a mother and her skinny son… will they be looking for a mother with two boys?"

Gendry, realizing that with a swing of his hammer he'd thrown his lot in with them, chimed in. "We could take that wagon! I know how to drive one, did so for my master, Mott, many times! You could sit in the back… no one would question it! I know the way through the city well, all the short cuts!"

Arya's 'mother' considered this and soon was nodding in agreement. "Very well… son." Her form rippled slightly so that now her hair was as black as Gendry's. The teen stared at her in shock and for a moment Arya thought he would begin to panic and ask questions but a well timed scream from deep in the Red Keep convinced him to just go along with this new development. As Gendry made towards the wagon 'Syrio' grabbed his wrist and hissed, "Help us and you'll be rewarded beyond imagination. Betray us-"

"And you'll kill me," Gendry asked.

"No… you'll wish for that mercy."

The blacksmith's apprentice swallowed, seeing death in the woman's eyes. "Y-yes. I understand."

Soon the three of them were in the wagon, Gendry urging the horses on a steady pace. Arya wanted him to go faster but he argued that would draw suspicion and her 'mother' agreed and told her to settle back and focus on looking like a nobody. It was soon clear to Arya that Gendry joining them would be a massive help as the muscular teen knew the backways of King's Landing better than she and, if from her mutters of approval were to be taken as fact, her 'mother' as well. One or two Gold Cloaks did give them a look but Gendry had plans for that too. Where Arya would have tried to look as small as possible or slink by undetected Gendry was loud and unsubtle. The young Stark nearly pissed herself when they passed a squad of four guards and Gendry called out to ask for directions to a meatpie shop. She was for sure that the armed men would come at them swinging but instead the men just told Gendry to piss off and after muttering a curse about them being unhelpful pigs he continued on.

Again and again this happened and Arya just watched on in befuddled amazement. They would come upon a group of men with swords and dark murderous eyes, Gendry would call out something, and they'd be on their way. Sometimes he asked directions, sometimes he asked what was going on, and one time he acted like a guard owed him a few silver stags. Each time the Gold Cloaks would bellow and complain but never do more than to tell Gendry to get moving.

"What is going on?" Arya finally hissed.

Her 'mother', who was making a great show of looking like she was ready to wilt at any moment, smiled slightly. "You've been pampered your entire life." Arya scowled at that but her 'mother' continued. "It's true though. You've lived in a keep where every person who wasn't family was in the employ of your family. They might brush you off or tell you 'not now' but they could never be truly mean to you."

"You didn't know my septa," Arya huffed.

"But here," her mother continued as if Arya had never said a word, "and in these roles? We are nothing to them. These Gold Cloaks see thousands just like us every day. So why should they care? Their duty isn't to protect us, despite what kings and queens and even men like your father might like to claim. They are here to give the illusion of protection, to make the smallfolk believe they are cared for when they truly aren't. The Gold Cloaks are no different than a sword made of gold: pretty to look at and shit in a battle."

Gendry nodded in agreement. "They see me as someone that is going to eat up their time, drag them away from their conversation, and if things get fucked up then get them in trouble with their commander." He paused, working his jaw. "Who I killed."

"Try not to think about it," Arya's 'mother' said. "Think about getting us all out of here."

"Where should I head once we get through the Iron Gate?" Gendry asked.

"Down the Rosby Road. Then to an inn called the Seven Moons run by a woman named Irena the Adder. I'll be able to figure out our next step there."

Gendry nodded, flicking the reins lightly. "What should we call ourselves?" When he saw Arya staring at him he shrugged. "Figure our real names might not be the best thing, at the moment. From the way she talks," he nodded at the woman, "you are a lord's daughter. Lord Stark's, I'd wager. People will be looking for you."

Arya's 'mother' considered this. "What was your father's name?"

"I don't rightly know," Gendry admitted. "My mother worked at a tavern, the Laughing Stag. It was sold to Petyr Baelish a few years ago."

"Then go by Petyr. Arya, you are Kat now."

"Kat?" Arya said, considering this. It would be weird, to be called by her mother's nickname, but on the other hand it would be easy enough to remember. And she had been practicing the Ways of the Cat, as Syrio had called it… "Yes. Kat will work."

"And what of you?" Gendry asked as they passed through the Iron Gate, leaving King's Landing and the games and dangers of it behind. "What do we call you other than 'mother'?"

"In public you may say I am Ravan," Arya's 'mother' said. "But in private you may call me by my true name."

"And that is?" Arya asked.

Ravan smiled.

"Mystique."

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: And for those that called it… congratulations. Yes, Syrio is in reality Mystique.

I came up with this idea based on a fan theory concerning Syrio: named that he is actually Jaqen. We never head what happened to Syrio and the theory is that he escaped Trant, changed his form, hid in the black cells, and became Jaqen.

This chapter now radically altered Arya's story. Rather than going with a band of Night's Watch inductees, she is on the road with Mystique and Gendry to find Magneto and his Brotherhood, which will be replacing the House of Black and White in this series. So rather than men who change all change their faces… we will have men and women with great power led by Magneto himself.

We also see several other major alterations. Trant and Slynt are dead now and thus won't play their parts that they did in the novels and show. Yoren and the Night's Watch recruits won't be chased by Joffrey's men (as there is no Gendry for them to hunt in their group). And there is a chance that, due to Ned not bringing any men with him to what became Jaime's massacre of the Stark forces, several of Ned's men may just manage to escape King's Landing…