The day had finally come. The sun slipped slowly over the mountains towards its golden throne as Arya sleepily left her messy room. She muffled an upcoming yawn with her hand as she opened the door and stepped outside the warm keep into the chilly courtyard. Unsurprisingly, all her elder siblings, Daenerys, Theon and Domeric were already there, Domeric helping Jon saddle his chestnut horse and Lyarra and Dany holding his bags.
"There you are," said Robb, noticing her at once. "Lyarra was about to go and fetch you." Theon moved away and Arya glimpsed Jon giving her a small and sad smile. Arya wanted to run up and hug him; she didn't.
The general murmur ceased as Jon made his way towards her. "I tried looking for you last night," he said quietly. "You weren't in your room or in the training yard. Will I be leaving for Dorne knowing you are still mad at me Arya?"
"It's hard to be mad at you," Arya mumbled. Ghost crept up to her and licked her hand. Apart from Nymeria, Arya liked Ghost the best of the direwolves. Lady was always so…ladylike for a direwolf and Grey Wind preferred to follow Robb everywhere rather than spend more time with his siblings. "Will you write to us all the time?" she said hopefully.
"All the time," Jon promised. "Every single day I am away, I will write and once a week, I'll send all my letters to you. We don't want to tire out all the ravens do we? I'll even save you um, a cup of sand."
"I've never seen sand before."
"You will soon be able to see and hold sand for yourself when I return." Arya nodded, biting her lip. She patted Ghost on the head before she threw herself on Jon's chest, hugging him fiercely. "I'm glad you're not mad at me," said Jon with a relieved chuckle. "I can never be mad at my little sister." Arya pulled away. "Stay safe in Dorne," she said at last. "Don't get bitten by a snake." Theon snickered. Jon and Arya ignored him. "I'll miss you," Arya whispered.
"I will too," Jon whispered back. He stepped back and was whisked into a hug by Lyarra. Domeric patted Jon on the shoulder. "I'll miss sparring with you," Arya heard Domeric say. "The Dornish princes are lucky to have you."
"Don't eat all the food today," Daenerys warned. "It'll have to last at least until you're in the Riverlands unless you wish to eat frogs in the Neck." Everyone there laughed. A vision of Jon attempting to eat a cooked frog appeared in Arya's mind. Arya's grin widened.
"The crannogmen will be happy to offer hospitality," said Father, appearing in front of the keep's door. He walked up to them. Arya noticed his Stark grey eyes were rimmed with shadows. He must have had a restless night, she thought as she watched Father murmur softly to Jon. Poor Father. Arya shifted closer to them. "I have spoken to Lord Reed," Father was saying quietly. "He is more than happy to have you under his roof for a day or two for a respite. I know the general view of crannogmen, but Lord Reed is a good friend of mine and it will be wise for you to have a day of rest before continuing your journey in the Riverlands."
Jon nodded. "I will Father," he promised. "Will there be anything you wish for me to convene to Lord Reed on your behalf?"
Father shook his head. "Give him my thanks. He'll understand."
"I will Father."
"Show those Dornishmen what we Northerners are made of," spoke Robb. "Go and prove we Northerners are strong."
"I heard that Dorne has excellent brothels," said Theon slyly. "Show them you Northerners aren't all icy and stiff inside eh? Besides, if you happen to plant your seed in any of those Dornish whores, you shouldn't feel too bad. He or she'll be a Sand like Daenerys here, not a Snow like you." Arya wanted to slap him. Jon was her brother and as much Stark as she was. Father shot Theon a sharp and frosty look. Taken back, Theon fell silent.
"Tell us everything," said Lyarra, handing Jon one of his bags. "Don't leave any detail out. I'll be living here all my life – I'll be thrilled to read about your time in Dorne. It'll certainly be more interesting than what the maesters wrote about the hot and sandy Dorne in those volumes in the library."
"Take care what you eat," advised Father. "Some dishes may not look spicy or hot, but they most likely are. The household guards are in the stables and will be meeting you shortly. They'll stay with you until you settle."
"What about Gwenysse?" asked Lyarra. Arya berated herself for not realising that Gwenysse was not present.
"Gwenysse will be leaving in the afternoon," Father replied. "Your mother and I agreed that she and Jon will be travelling to Dorne separately until they meet up at Greywater Watch. That brings me to the new plan." Arya looked up at him with astonishment. Father rarely changed his plans. "I'll be accompanying Gwenysse a little in her journey," he explained. "Her trip in the North will be slightly longer as she is still young and requires more time to rest."
"Domeric and I will be leaving for the Dreadfort tomorrow…" said Lyarra with an uncertain frown. Father gave her a fond smile. "Robb will send the two of you off," he said, turning and nodding at Robb. "Lord Bolton will send me – or Robb – a raven when the two of you arrive at the Dreadfort."
"I will keep her safe," vowed Domeric, squeezing Lyarra's hand. For once, Arya didn't roll her eyes. She liked Domeric and was pleased to have him as a brother once he marries Lyarra, but he was like a southron knight from the soppy stories and songs Lyarra and Dany used to sing and tell. Ugh. Arya shivered. She'd heard awful tales about the Dreadfort – it was courageous of Lyarra to spend a couple of years there without a familiar face except Domeric. Neither stupid Jeyne Poole or Beth Cassel were willing to accompany Lyarra there.
Utter cowards.
"I know you will," said Father, offering Domeric an appreciative smile. "I think you one of my sons already – one day you will in truth be my good-son. That is a day I am looking forward to."
"As am I Lord Stark," answered Domeric.
"What must I do Father?" said Robb worriedly.
"You'll do a fine job ruling Winterfell in Father's stead Robb," said Jon, smiling at Robb. "If I can last a year in Dorne, you can take care of Northern matters for a few weeks or so. Maybe even less than a few weeks."
"Will Mother be coming home soon?" said Lyarra hopefully.
Father shook his head. "Not anytime soon," he answered, biting his lip. "She'll want to ensure Gwenysse settles in the Water Gardens, attend her nephew Edric Dayne's wedding…she will return when everything is settled."
"Oh." Lyarra sounded disappointed. Arya stared at her feet. "Does it mean that Septa Mordane is in charge of us all?" she said suddenly, alarmed at the prospect of the hawk-eyed septa looming over her during her dancing lessons. It seemed Father had not told her that her dancing lessons were taught by a Braavosi water dancer; Septa Mordane was under the impression that she was finally on the way in becoming a 'true lady' beginning with dancing lessons and hopefully (in Septa Mordane's mind) ending with pristine sewing. Arya inwardly snorted. She would sew as well as Lyarra the day the Others were at Winterfell's doorstep.
"Perhaps I can stay and take care of Arya, Arthur and Rickon while you're with Gwenysse?" suggested Lyarra.
Father shook his head again and gave her a gentle smile. "Lord Bolton will not be pleased if you show up months later after the agreed date. I will speak to you later, Lyarra. This is Jon's time."
"Write to me when you arrive at Greywater Watch," called Arya as Jon climbed onto his horse. "I expect your first letter soon!"
"Go for an early breakfast now if you will," Father told her, her siblings, Theon, Domeric and Dany, "or return to bed. It is up to you. I'd like a moment alone with Jon before he leaves with a few household guards."
"Come," said Robb, placing a hand on Arya's shoulder. "Let us give Father and Jon some time alone. We'll see Jon again…soon."
Syrio clicked his teeth together for the second time that hour as he effortlessly knocked the wooden sword from Arya's hand. "You are a dead girl. You have not been seeing again, dead girl."
Arya scowled. "Jon just left for Dorne!" Her Braavosi water dancer Syrio Forel, tutted. He was a slight man with a bald head and a great beak of a nose. "What if this was a war, dead girl, and your brother died? Would you fight without seeing? You would be long dead, dead girl."
"Jon is my favourite brother! It hurts…"
"Every hurt is a lesson, dead girl, and every lesson makes you better. Now, are you ready?" He tossed a wooden blade in the air and Arya caught it clumsily, her dancing master clicking his teeth again disapprovingly. "You were not seeing or watching," he remarked. "How can you dance a bravo's dance when your mind is in the clouds? The water dance is swift and sudden." Without warning, he struck Arya high in the breast before she could defend herself.
With a huff, Arya concentrated and delivered a good blow which earnt her an approving nod. "Left!" he called, dancing this way and that as he slashed his own wooden sword at her. It clacked as Arya's blade met his. "Right!" Syrio sang. "Left, right, right! Lunge!"
Arya immediately sidestepped and with a strong swipe, knocked Syrio's blade from his hand.
Almost.
Arya bit in a curse she learnt from Theon and narrowly dodged a high stroke from him. Clack, clack. His sword almost slammed into her breast as her wooden blade darted out to parry it. The training chamber whirled around her as she and Syrio danced to the sound of the clacking of their blades until the fatal droplet of sweat slipped from her eyelash and blurred her eye. Arya blinked…and received a stinging blow in the shoulder. "Ow!" she cried.
Syrio stepped back. "You are a dead girl again."
"I'm a dead girl every day."
"Yet you rise again with more strength and knowledge than before." Syrio had placed his wooden sword back in the chest of wooden swords. Arya followed suit and dropped hers in. She wiped away the torrent of sweat on her forehead with a cloth and sat down on one of the few chairs left there when Father had the spare room transformed into a training room for her. Mother objected to the proposal of Arya learning water dancing in her bedchamber; it was inappropriate, she had said, scandalous in the south and the north apparently. As the boys took up most of the training yard, Father had changed one of the many large spare rooms into a training room for her.
"How goes catching cats, girl?" inquired Syrio, sitting down beside her.
"There are not many cats here in Winterfell," replied Arya.
"You do not look with your eyes, girl. How can you catch cats if you don't look for them? How many cats have you seen?"
"Three," Arya counted. "Gage's scruffy cat, Beth Cassel's cat and Jeyne Poole's kitten." She scowled. Jeyne's kitten was white with stripes of yellow, the colour of butter, who seemed to be as nasty as her owner. Jeyne was given the kitten a few months ago as a name day gift by her father Vayon and she named her Jonquil, no doubt after some character in a southron song.
"Only three, girl?" To her surprise, Syrio threw back his head and chuckled. "I am astonished, girl. You have not been seeing. There are certainly more cats here in Winterfell than three!" He stood up and glanced out the window. "Come here," he said to Arya. "Look out this window and tell me how many cats you see. You'll catch another cat for me tonight."
"Tonight?"
"No time like the present, girl. Time slips through our fingers like sand." More like snow. "How many cats can you see girl?"
Arya stared out the window. Robb and Domeric were sparring again. It looked more empty without Jon. Theon was on the sidelines, shouting words that could be either encouragement or something else. She continued staring and noticed a cat slinking in the shadows near the guest house. Gage the cooks' cat. She highly doubted there was only one cat in the courtyard. A few minutes passed and Arya could not find another cat. "One," she said, giving up.
"Only one, girl? You still are not seeing today."
Arya huffed. "I see one cat! How do you see more?"
"Over there, there and there. One is creeping up to your brother while one of the others is climbing the wall." Arya squinted at the many shadows. She turned to Syrio and frowned. "There are no cats there!"
Syrio smiled. "Girl, do you know how I was chosen to be the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos?"
"I only see one cat there!"
"Hear me. It was seeing, the true seeing." Arya chewed on her lip. She thought Syrio was selected because he was the finest swordsman in Braavos. "The ships of Braavos sail as far as the winds blow, to the most strange and wonderful of the known lands," Syrio recounted, "and when they return, their captains fetch queer animals for the Sealord's exotic menagerie. You should have seen all the unusual creatures, dear girl. Such beasts you've never seen: striped horses, great spotted animals with necks as long as stilts, odd hairy mouse-pigs as big as cows, stinging manticores, tigers that carry their cubs in pouches, terrible walking lizards with scythes for claws…Syrio Forel had seen them all.
"On the day I speak of, the last First Sword had died and the Sealord had sent for me. Many swift, strong and fast Braavosi swordsmen had come to him, all of them – even the finest few – were sent away. Why? They didn't know why. When I came into the Sealord's presence, he was seated on his magnificent chair and on his lap was a fat yellow cat. The Sealord informed me that one of his captains had brought this beast to him from an island beyond the sunrise. 'Have you ever seen her like?' he asked of me. I looked at the cat and replied, 'Each night in the alleys of Braavos I see a thousand like him,' and the Sealord laughed. An hour later that very day, I was named the First Sword."
"I don't understand," said Arya, her face contorting into another frown.
"The cat was an ordinary cat, no more," said Syrio simply. "All the bravos that come before me expected a glorious creature so that is what they saw. How large it was, they said. It was no larger than any other cat, only fat from indolence, for the Sealord fed it from his own table. What curious ears, they said. Its ears were chewed away in kitten fights. It was a plain tomcat, yet the Sealord said 'her', and that was what the others saw. Do you understand, girl?"
Arya pondered on his story. "You saw what was there," she said finally.
"Just so. All you need is to open your eyes. The heart clearly lies and the head plays cruel tricks, but the eyes always see true. Look with your eyes, girl. Do not forget that. Look with your eyes, hear with your ears, taste with your mouth and smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then you think."
Arya grinned. "Just so. You lied to me about the cats!"
"You saw the truth – one cat."
"Why did you lie to me?"
"You have not been seeing all afternoon, girl. You were believing the lies your heart told you. You needed to begin seeing."
"Don't you have brothers or sisters, Syrio? Surely you miss them!"
Syrio considered it for a moment. "Syrio has a good number of brothers and sisters," he said at last, "but it is also an honour to be in the serve of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."
"You were the First Sword of Braavos before you came here!"
"Now there is a new First Sword to the Sealord. Girl, you had often spoken of leaving Winterfell and seeing the world. What do titles matter? First Sword…now the Lady Arya Stark's water dancing instructor."
"I am not the Lady Arya Stark!"
Syrio cocked his head. "You were born a lady of the House Stark and you were named Arya, hence you are the Lady Arya Stark." He paused. "Girl, we are done with dancing for the day. Go and rest, girl. Catch cats if you can. I will not expect you here tomorrow."
For the second time in two days, Arya dragged herself from her warm bed to the courtyard to bid farewell to another sibling. She didn't want them to leave so soon. First Jon, then Father and Gwenysse, now Lyarra and Domeric, whom Arya had already considered a brother.
The day started off the same: cloudy, gloomy, silent. Arya crept from her room to the courtyard, grains of sleep still trapped in her tired eyes. As she suppressed a yawn, she noticed a fresh bruise blossoming on her arm. Another one. She left the Great Keep and skidded to a halt. Only Domeric and Lyarra were there. Have I come too early? Arya wondered. She hovered uncertainly on the doorstep as she watched them saddle their horses quietly.
"Are you certain about this?" Arya heard Domeric inquire. Lyarra nodded and glanced around. "They already lost Jon, Gwenysse and Father," she answered. "It will be cruel for them to bid us goodbye."
"Would it not hurt them more when they realise we are gone?"
"We said our farewells yesterday."
"Do you really want to do this Lyarra? These are your brothers and sisters we are talking about. And Daenerys who you think as a sister. They will be unhappy when they find out."
"By then we'd be long gone. I cannot bear saying goodbye to them Domeric. It is too much. I just…just cannot."
"Is it because your father is not here as well?"
"I wish…I wish he and Gwenysse could wait another day. I also hoped that my mother would be here too. I thought when we leave for the Dreadfort, both of my parents would be here. As Mother is still in Dorne and Father away…I think that it would be best if we just go without a fuss."
"Your father and mother still love you."
Lyarra didn't answer. She turned and noticed Arya. "You woke up early," she remarked with a smile. Arya stared at her. "Where's Robb and the others?" Arya asked. "I thought we were all going to be here…to send you off like we did to Jon, Father and Gwenysse." When Gwenysse left, Arya didn't feel as sad as she was in the morning when Jon departed. Of course she would miss her dear little sister, but Gwenysse spent more time with Arthur than her.
Lyarra shook her head sadly. "I already said my goodbyes yesterday Arya. You do not remember it?"
Arya thought for a moment. Before supper, Lyarra did spend two hours with her in the armoury looking and holding the weapons there. She usually wasn't as interested in weaponry…"I didn't know," said Arya, a lump forming in her throat. She felt incredibly foolish. Lyarra laughed softly. "I will miss you," she murmured, drawing Arya into a hug. "I really will."
"I will too." The words scrambled from Arya's mouth. "Can you wait a minute, please?" Domeric walked up to them and squeezed Lyarra's hand. "We will wait for you," he promised. Arya ran to the armoury as fast as she can, almost tripping over her own feet. She pushed open the heavy armoury door and her eyes darted around swiftly. Her heart pounded as she panicked slightly. Oh where was it? She bit her lip worriedly. There! She grabbed the spotted object and raced back to the courtyard where to her delight, Domeric and Lyarra were still waiting.
"Here." Arya handed the dagger to Lyarra. It was small and of Valyrian steel. It looked quite similar to Ice but much, much more little. "You said you liked it," she explained. "Take it…and remember us."
There will definitely be future Theon and Lyarra POVs, maybe a Domeric one too. I planned for their to be conflict, but as Part 2 is much longer than I originally anticipated, the planned conflict will be slightly delayed, which brings me to a question: as Part 2 is supposed to finish in 3 chapters with a three year time gap, would you prefer me to delay Part 3 even further to add Jon's travel to Dorne or write that in a separate story? I'm perfectly happy writing a mini spinoff of Jon's time in Dorne.
Here are the descriptions of the Stark children:
Robb - stocky build, purple eyes, thick dark hair
Lyarra - purple eyes, long dark hair
Arya - long face, grey eyes, brown hair
Bran - dark blue eyes, thick dark hair
Gwenysse - grey eyes, long dark hair
Arthur - purple eyes, brown hair
Rickon - brown eyes, thick dark hair
