Arya
It's midnight. Hundreds of people are pushing and shoving each other to get a better look at the Iron Bull. Arya, disguised as old man Yoren, keeps in character and remains out of the commotion, staying in the back with her two new friends. Baenor and Hilda showed her the way to the secret meeting place, whispering three separate passwords at three separate checkpoints to get in. Arya is impressed. As they maneuver through the crowd of peasants, some naked and starving, she sees The Iron Bull standing on a dock over the water's edge so that everyone in the yard could watch him give his grand speech. "The Mad Queen's reign has gone on long enough! Our people starve and die in the streets! Our children resort to cannibalism! Do we do nothing about this disgrace? Do we sit by and watch our once proud city fall?!" The Iron Bull's voice is deep and commanding, muffled only by the bull's helm over his face. Arya can't believe her eyes. She's seen a helm like that before. But it can't be.
"If every man in this city rises up against her we could take it all back from them! We'd outnumber her army ten to one! Spread our message, good people! Spread our message to everyone with ears to hear it! I want the city to feel the rage I feel when I look around at all of your tired faces! I am only one man! I alone cannot defeat The Mad Queen! But together we can end her tyranny!"
A swell of cheers bursts forth from everyone around her and Arya loses sight of the Iron Bull behind pumping fists in air. She curses her small size, trying to peek over their heads on her toes. "I want to meet him." She tells Baenor and Hilda.
"Don't we all? But nobody here knows his true name or face. He is a Mystery Knight." Hilda says dreamily, watching as the Iron Bull strides back and forth, riling them on.
"You all follow a man and you've never seen his face?" Arya asks, almost losing control of her voice.
"Aye. We trust him. He keeps his face hidden so that if The Mad Queen finds out about us nobody can rat him out."
As the Iron Bull finishes his speech, he bows before them all dramatically, drawing his sword and plunging it into the wooden beams of the dock beneath his boots. "I hereby pledge to you all on my honor as a Knight! I will take back King's Landing! I will take back your homes! The time will come where we will all stand together and fight the oppression!" More cheers from the humongous audience follows this closing statement. The Iron Bull seems to look right at Arya and she gulps, nearly forgetting that she is wearing a mask too.
After the crowd disperses, Arya stays behind, wishing her friends well on their travels back under the bridge. She follows the Iron Bull, who greets members of the rebellion with open arms and offer whatever comforting words he can in their times of trouble. Arya likes this man, and she has a feeling she knows why, but had to make sure. Once mostly everyone is gone, she approaches him, hobbling like the old man she appeared to be.
"Greetings, my friend." The Iron Bull says to her, "Thank you for coming, I know it must be late for you. Allow me to help you sit down?" He gestures to a barrel beside the water.
"Let me see your face." The old man says in a voice much younger, and feminine.
The Iron Bull tilts his head and says, "I am sorry, I cannot do that. Anyone could be watching right now. The Hand has his little birds in every shadow. Please, I hope you understand."
"You've gotten taller." Arya smiles. "Still an idiot though."
"Do I…Do I know you?" The Iron Bull asks as the old man lifts his hand and peels back his face, revealing a much younger, female face. His reaction is worth a thousand chickens, as The Hound would say. The Iron Bull staggers backward, his armor clunking awkwardly as he gasps, "Arya!? What're you—?"
She lifts her finger over her lips, telling him to keep quiet. The Iron Bull looks around. Not many people are left. A few homeless women are chatting together by the water, their feet dangling over the edge of the docks. A small boy is playing with a ball down the road. A man with a bleeding leg is looking their way but his expression is vacant and unbothered. The Iron Bull beckons for Arya to follow him, and he leads her inside of a small inn called The Black Diamond. She follows him all the way up to his room, and only once the two of them are alone, does Gendry remove his helm.
As soon as she sees it's him, Arya loses control and flies into his arms. She nearly knocks him off his feet despite being twice her size. "I thought you were dead!" Arya whispers, sniffing back tears.
Gendry laughs, tightly embracing her. "I thought you were too." He whispers back, "Thank the Gods."
As he pulls away and smiles down at her, he says, "You're going to have to explain why you were dressed up as an old man for me."
So she tells him. That night Arya sits down and tells Gendry everything about her travels with The Hound, her journey to Braavos, and her training with The Faceless Men. It felt so good just to have a friend she could talk to again. For the first time in a long time, Arya felt like Arya Stark again.
"First time we met I thought you were a little boy. Guess it's only fitting I'd find you again as an old man after all this time." Gendry jests and Arya laughs, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What's the matter?" he asks.
"I'm just so bloody happy you're not dead!" Arya wails, uncontrollable tears freely falling down her cheeks.
"Well it was a close call. A man named Davos saved me from The Red Woman. Put me on a boat before they could execute me." Gendry lifts up his hand and wipes away the tears on Arya's face, and she doesn't resists. "I sailed back to the only place I could call home. But this city is a mess, as you can see."
"Is that why you're lying to everyone? Telling them you're a Knight and swearing to have killed a hundred Lannisters?" Arya asks coyly.
Gendry's cheeks burn red as he says, "The people need a hero. There's no heroes left in this world anymore. They need someone to believe in. Someone who will bring back the peace and justice they deserve. A hero like back in the Age of Heroes… I can be that hero, but Gendry can't. The Iron Bull has killed a hundred Lannisters, and the Iron Bull is a Knight. He is, because the people believe he is, you see?"
"Sounds like lying to me." Arya smirks.
"And what you're doing isn't?" He asks, frowning.
"Calm down, Gendry. I'm only messing with you." She says, punching him in the arm.
"I forgot how much of a pain you are…" Gendry winces, eyeing her up and down. "You've grown a lot, y'know."
"Now that's definitely a lie." Arya smiles, "You're the one that's grown. You're bloody huge!"
"I've been training hard." Gendry tells her unabashed, "Not every man in the Gold Cloaks is a sadistic arse. Some are willing to give me some fighting lessons in return for some free armor upgrades."
"Doesn't make you a Knight, though." Arya tells him, "Gendry… I think you should stop."
The look he gives her is overwhelming, as if she'd just suggested they both go and commit suicide together. "What do you mean? I thought you were on my side about this?"
"I am. But you're going to get killed. What do you think happens when you try and take on The Mountain or Cersei's Queensguard?"
"I don't know but I won't be alone… I have the support of hundreds. More than what you saw here tonight. Thousands maybe soon. I won't rest until we've accomplished it. I won't see anyone else suffer. There's enough of that going around."
Arya debates internally about telling Gendry of her own plans, yet she has a feeling she will look like a hypocrite after just telling him he should abandon his. Instead, she says, "If you're not going to quit then let me help you."
Gendry shakes his head, then eyes the old man's face still rolled up in her grasp. "How can you help me?"
Arya grins and lifts up her cloak, taking out a small knapsack. She opens it up and reveals five faces. All of them are paper-thin and kept in-tact, wrapped in leather bindings. Arya lifts one out—the face a very young boy, and holds it up in the air for him to see.
"They look so real." He says, poking it.
"They were real, once."
Gendry immediately withdraws his finger, gaping at her. "You can't be serious… Put that thing away! I don't want to see those! Please don't tell me you cut those off yourself…"
"No, you idiot. I've only done that once, and it wasn't very… clean…" The Waif's tormented screams when Arya peeled her face off still lingers in her memories. "I took them from the House of Black and White."
"Because that's not wrong either?"
Arya hits him again and he laughs. Already Arya can feel the depression built up from all these years of loss slipping away in his presence. Gendry is the only family she had left anymore. Jon has a new family at The Wall. Sansa has a new family in Winterfell. Bran and Rickon she had no idea about…
"Gendry, let me help you. The Mad Queen is responsible for the death of my father."
"How would you use these faces anyway?" He asks.
"I'm not sure yet. I was hoping you could give me some ideas."
Gendry leans back in his chair, the candle on the table flickering as he ponders. "Well, if you want to get in the Red Keep, Queen Cersei holds regular public trials in her court you can go see if you feel like subjecting yourself to torture and violence. She usually ends every day with a beheading of some sort. But only nobles or highborn are allowed in those halls. You've got other faces but you're still—"
"Small. Don't remind me." growls Arya.
Gendry chuckles at her, "There is a way, but I can't be sure. The Hand of the Queen has an army of spies under his command. He calls them his Little Birds. Nobody knows where they are—only that they are everywhere and you can't trust one isn't watching or listening to you at all times. People have slandered the Queen not knowing a Little Bird was listening and they've lost their lives because of it."
Little birds? Arya frowns, "Why call them Little Birds?"
"I believe the last Master of Spies called them that, Lord Varys the Spider."
Arya remembers the Spider. She never trusted that man. Something about his oily skin and womanly voice just rubs her wrong. Perhaps it's because he's a eunuch, or… or… Little Birds…
"You don't think he can actually talk to birds do you?" Gendry asks her.
"Don't be stupid." She snaps, pacing the small room in a circle. "What happened to Lord Varys?"
"Rumors say he broke the Imp out of the dungeons and sailed away with him to Essos. No one has heard or seen him since. The current Hand of the Queen took over his line of work and adopted the Little Birds as his own, which tells me only one thing; that whoever they are, their loyalty can be bought."
"How does one become a Little Bird?" Arya asks, deciding to take a seat across the table from him.
"I don't know. I think the Hand choses himself. You can't just sign up for it." Gendry rubs his black, bristly chin. "But with those masks you can be anyone you want and if they see you it doesn't matter because you can just toss that old face into the sea and put on a new one. You don't need to become one of them, you just need to follow one back to its nest and—"
"And kill the Mother Bird."