A/N: ForceSmuggler your comment to the last chapter made me laugh! Thanks :)

And Anime Princess I'm building to Jon finding out who he is...it's coming! Before that can happen some other significant things have to occur first

In this chapter there is a section where two storylines happen at once, they are separated by one being in regular font and the secondary part being in italic. Lastly there is a change in language for one of the characters but I have not written the dialogue in that language. It was difficult having the language and the translation together, so I've indicated when each language is being spoken instead.

Enjoy :)

Chapter Twenty One: The Oath

The horses hooves pounded through meadows and along roads, their hinds were flecked with sweat but still they pushed on. The pounding was all Gendry could hear in his head, tears stung his eyes from the wind and his own anger. Every moment since he left his father in that alley all he could hear were his words "ours is the fury" and the passion he spoke them with. That passion had transferred to Gendry, and now he felt an anger within him which could not be sated. They had been riding hard for two days now, and the pain which consumed Gendry had only grown worse since he had fallen from his horse in agony as if being struck in the neck. The pain he felt was like death, and he howled in agony as he rolled on the ground near the feet of his horse. Tobho had hastily dismounted and ashen faced, approached wary of being attacked from the trees. But when he found no wound, and no sign of attack his worry had only deepened.

"Lad, I feel the worst has happened for the King, we must hurry!" he spoke with an urgency, a genuine worry that scared Gendry. And he realised for the first time since leaving Kings Landing how much danger he was actually in. Especially now his Father might be dead, that meant Cersei knew of him.

His words stirred Gendry and the pain morphed into an ache in his heart, a loss, an emptiness and soon the melancholy turned to regret. Yet still the horses pounded steadily towards Storms End. Tobho signalled for them to pull up at a nearby stream, the horses gratefully pulled over to lap the cool freshness and recharge from the gruelling pace. Wincing, Gendry dismounted and walked awkwardly over to the stream and cupped his hands into the water which shocked him with its iciness. Washing his face he rubbed his eyes, where his tears had dried hours before. A heaviness hung over him, threatening to engulf him. Tobho approached from the side and draped a skinny arm across Gendry broadening shoulders, despite himself tears welled up in Gendrys eyes. He shook his head and brusquely strode back to his horse.

"We best be getting on then," he said with downcast eyes and a tight jaw.

"Gendry-" started Tobho.

"I'm fine," cut in Gendry, "really I am, I just want to get there"

Tobho reached up and grasped the reins of Gendrys bridle, "Lad" he said gently, "when we get there we need to consider what we will say"

"I'm the son of your King that's what I'm saying!" retorted Gendry hotly but immediately regretted his tone.

"Lad," pressed Tobho again, "we need a plan. What if Renly isn't available? Or not there? His men will have been trained to be suspicious. We must be prepared"

"I have a scroll from the King, my father. No one can argue with that"

Tobho looked sadly at the lad he had raised, and knew the boy didn't consider the danger they were in.

"Paper can easily be destroyed Lad, then all will be lost I'm afraid" was all Tobho said before returning to mount his own horse.

Again the pounding hooves filled Gendrys mind, as powerful as a heartbeat and drowning out all other noise around him. Thoughts raced through his mind, but Tobho's words had struck a chord and deep inside he knew his words were true. The trees began to thin out and the horses trotted to the top of a ridge. The path continued before them, leading in a wide arc to the front of a magnificent and imposing castle rising out of the mist ahead of them. Tobho went to press forth but Gendry spoke suddenly.

"Wait"

Tobho pulled his horse up, and looked back with a look of surprise on his face.

"You're right, we need a plan. I feel an uneasiness, some sort of dread." said Gendry in a tumble of words, his cheeks burning up in embarrassment.

Tobho rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "It is wise to follow what the gut says. What have you been thinking lad?"

"I'm not sure," stammered Gendry, "but I feel like we should tread carefully"

Tobho simply nodded and rubbed the stubble on his chin again, "I have a plan lad, but you have to trust me and follow what I say. No riding into Storms End waving that scroll around proclaiming to be the Kings son. Do you understand?"

Gendry clenched his jaw in frustration at the comment but nodded brusquely anyway.

A mist had come to hang around the coast as they neared Storms End, Tobho had carefully brought them to a trot in case of danger ahead. This frustrated Gendry and he did not know why, it didn't make sense until the towers of Storms End begun to rise from the mist. His mouth hung open in wonder at the fortress before him, bleak and dark against the morning sky. But something about it caused an intense feeling for him as the mist parted before his eyes. He had never felt this feeling before, a feeling of home.

There were dozens of people coming and going through the gates which stood wide open, and there were twice the amount of Guards standing at attention monitoring all who came through. Tobho dismounted and quickly rubbed some mud into his skin, and glanced at Gendry as if he should do the same. Gendry followed despite feeling an intense dislike of the mud being rubbed against his skin. Then they lead the horses by their bridles towards the gates, the Guards gazes grazed right over them creating no interest. Gendry's heart was hammering, but he sighed a breath of relief once they were inside the bounds of the castle walls. The smell of the town which had sprung up around the castle was no worse than Kings Landing, but it was no better either. Yet it was a smell Gendry was familiar with, and he felt comforted strangely by the scent of human feces, urine and animals all mixed together in a heady perfume which hung in the air like the mist which clung to the castle towers ahead of them. Tobho lead the pair and their horses to an inn, where he promptly and politely paid for two rooms using a small portion of the gold Robert had given them.

After rubbing down the horses hastily Gendry was grateful to finally be laying flat on a bed which was better than the cold stones of the previous two nights on the road. Tobho knocked gently and Gendry heaved his body up to open the door for him. Silently Tobho slipped inside and shut the door with barely a click, he sat at the end of the bed while Gendry lay down. Relief flooding his body again as his aching body stretched out.

"What do we do now?" whispered Gendry, "That feeling of unease has only grown since getting here, which is strange because I feel more at home within these walls than I have ever felt before"

Tobho swallowed thickly, "Inns are the best places for information lad. Men get drunk and spill their secrets, tell strangers whatever they have locked in their hearts. And that's why we are here, to listen and learn what is happening here before we act. Just now I heard muttering about Stannis..."

"Stannis? Who is Stannis?"

"Your other Uncle," to which Gendry sat up abruptly but Tobho raised a hand, "this Uncle we do not wish to meet though lad. For he is in company of a witch from the East, a dangerous woman who likes fire. We do not want to meet this Uncle, we must wait for Renly to return"

Gendry flopped back on the bed exasperated, "When will Renly return?"

Tobho looked uncertain, "Some say he's gone to be wed, another strategic joining of powerful Houses. But others aren't so sure. When the path is not clear we remain where we are...hidden. It's the best way, the safe way"

Gendry rolled into his side to gaze at his master, "You learnt all of this from being in the Inn for mere moments?"

Tobho flashed a sad old smile, "Like I said lad, liquor loosens the tongues of men. One just has to be ready to hear what they have to say"

Several days passed, and every day that passed Gendry become more nervous and impatient. No more news of Renly's return came, but the men begun to mutter about the unwelcome appearance of soldiers from Kings Landing looking for some boy no one had heard of. The consensus from the Inn was these soldiers were not welcome, and there was great relief when they left. Gendry had begun to fret that they'd made a mistake coming here.

"We should leave on a boat for the Free Cities," he declared one day, "I don't need to tell anyone about my parentage. I never wanted to be a Lord, especially not a King!"

Tobho chuckled as he repaired a hole in Gendry's pants by the fire, "I remember when you were a lad you would always talk about being King. Even made me forge you a tiny war hammer so you could pretend to be King Robert. Like it or not lad, it's in your blood. The Storm Kings would rejoice if they knew you were here"

Gendry flushed realising he didn't know who the Storm Kings were, he sat by his master next to the fire.

"Tell me about them, the Storm Kings. I know nothing of my ancestors but when you speak of them I feel...something. What it is I don't know, but I feel it"

Tobho smiled warmly, and began with the story of Durran and Elenei, finishing with Argilac the arrogant.

"So," said Gendry slowly at the end, "I am the blood of the Storm Kings and a Baratheon?"

Tobho nodded, "Argella Durrandon married Orys Baratheon and thus House Baratheon was born. Some say Orys was a dragon seed, a bastard son of Aerion Targaryen. Which made him a bastard brother to Aegon First of his name"

Gendry sat back, his mouth gaped open slightly before he raised his hands before him and stared in wonder for the first time at himself. These hands came from four great powerful lines, the blood within held more power than he realised. The last meeting with his Father now begun to make sense, he now understood why his Father revealed the truth to him. He understood now why Robert had risked his life for him, it didn't make his death any easier. A tear slipped from his eye which Tobho caught with a sideways glance.

"You couldn't save him. As soon as the truth escaped from his lips his life was meant to end. You don't understand the power your mother the Queen exerts"

"And you do?" whispered Gendry as he put his head in his hands, feeling overwhelmed.

Tobho sighed, "I haven't always been a smith in the Street of Steel lad. These old bones were young once, and I have watched the rise and fall of many" he spoke with nonchalance, continuing on with the stitching of Gendry's clothing.

Gendry let the words wash over him, head still in his hands deep in thought. After a time he lay back on his bed, and slipped into a slumber filled with painful memories and terrifying dreams. He jolted awake as he dreamt of being smothered in waves of crimson blood pulling him down, suffocating him.

The room was dark, the fire burnt in low embers but it's light was unable to penetrate past the fireplace. Gendry sat up and rubbed his face, it was wet and he realised tears had dampened his face and pillow. Shaking his head as if trying to clear water from his ears he stood and dressed. He needed fresh air, hiding in his sleeping quarters was stifling him now. He needed to be in the town of his ancestors, he wanted to get a better feel for the town of his people. Silently he shut the door but in a way that he could still open it again, and he set off down the dark hall. Once out into the dark, quiet streets that feeling returned. A joyous, light feeling of belonging. It was so strong he felt tears begin to sting his eyes, he spent time wandering the streets and alleyways until he found his way to the castle entrance. He stood in front of its heavy oaken doors, closed and barred for the evening. Gingerly he stepped forward and hesitatingly laid a hand on the wooden surface, breathing out he looked up and again his heart leapt. He was home, but it frustrated him no end that he couldn't do anything except lay a hand on the door which led to everything else that lay within him. He stood in front of that closed door, mulling over his history lesson from Tobho and the words his Father spoke to him.

"It's wonderful isn't it" spoke a velvety voice of a woman from the shadows.

Gendry startled and looked around him, in the shadow of the castle and an alley stood a woman. Her face shrouded by shadow but the glint of her eyes shone in the darkness.

"Uh I'm-I'm sorry. What is wonderful?" he was shocked, and didn't know what to say because he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Standing here," she continued, "in front of the House of your people. What a shame the door to beyond is shut to you"

Gendry was confused, how could this stranger know? He looked puzzled and tried to see her face clearer. Slowly she stepped into the light and his heart dropped when he saw her clothing. A crimson dress and hood, crimson hair, and a gloating face. At first he thought he saw the face of Cersei but then it changed and he knew whoever she was he was in danger.

She uttered some foreign words which thrummed with power, he felt it in the air.

Then everything went black.

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The horses slowly trudged down the long dark tunnel carved from solid ice, they walk slowly so they don't slip on the glassy surface of the floor. The group comes to a halt and waits in the darkness, the noises of the horses echo through the tunnel and the men shiver from the cold, the fear or both. Impatiently the horses shift their weight before the door slowly and loudly groans open in front of them, illuminating their path. A light snow is falling around them as they leave the known world annd venture into the eerie stillness of what lies beyond. The horses make no noise once they enter the snow drifts, and behind them, the door groans loudly to a close. Jon looks behind him as it closes, his breath forming visible clouds in front of his face and his face solemn. As the door comes to a shut he gulps, they're now north of the Wall.

This day was something Jon had been eagerly waiting for, but quickly his excitement had given way to apprehension. Going north of the Wall was not something he ever looked forward to but he would never dare to openly admit that in front of the other brothers. Taking his vows had been something he had pestered the Lord Commander for in the previous months, but he had always been told the same frustrating answer 'when you're ready'. Sullenly he sulked because in his mind, he was ready the day he crossed through those gates. His moods weren't helped by the fact all of his friends had already taken their vows, even Samwell Tarly was a sworn brother now. And Jon was the last of them to be sworn in, he looked back to his group and saw the last of them disappear into the thick of the white forest. Spurring his horse forward they surged toward the forest through the snow to catch up. Once in the forest Jon listened all around him, but not one sound could be heard from the trees. There was no wind, no bird song, all was quiet and for some reason shivers slid down his back. He couldn't put his finger on it but something felt ominous, like he was being watched but when he looked around there was nothing there. No one from the group spoke, it became apparent to Jon that everyone felt that foreboding feeling. But none dared to mention it. The Rangers led them through the still, quiet forest with trees towering over their heads. After some time, they reached a clearing ringed with trees and at the center stood a proud Weirwood. It's canopy was vibrant and stark against the blanket of white surrounding them. The face carved into the tree looked wise, being neither happy or sad. To Jon it looked like it had been expecting them, as he dismounted he never took his eyes off it. Following the lead of the others he tied his horse to a low hanging tree branch and gently caressed the horses neck and whickered reassuringly to her. In response the horse whickered quietly and nuzzled his hand.

'Soon girl,' he whispered to her, knowing she wanted an oat mash that he usually fed her after a ride. As Jon walked away he glanced back at her and smiled slightly, he'd grown attached to her in the last few months. Between Ghost and his horse he at least felt some stability, his group of friends had grown but that had taken time and a lot of persistence. He'd been branded a soft high born which had taken a lot of sword fighting to convince them otherwise and also attracted the unwanted attention of Alliser Thorne. Reflecting on this Jon took his place in the line of brothers that had formed in a ragged ring around the front of the Weirwood tree. The Rangers began to speak but Jon was transfixed by the face of the tree looming in front of him. It seemed to stare right into the depths of his soul, and it seemed to stare right at him. He was jolted back to reality by one of his brothers tugging his sleeve, Jon looked around and saw the Rangers staring at him.

"Are you ready to take your oath lad?" he was asked roughly.

Jon stepped forward and bowed his head slightly, "I am ready to enter the Nights Watch" Satisfied, the Ranger leading the ceremony indicated to the men present to kneel. And, despite the snow falling around them, all men present kneeled and waited. Jon realised he was kneeling amongst the roots of the Weirwood and laid his hands on it through the snow. Immediately his mind was barraged with pictures and visions running through his mind ending with a haunting face with angry, cold, blue eyes. Breathing erratically he came back to reality and looked down at his hands, he felt danger all around him but as he opened his mouth to speak his brothers around him began their vows. And after so much practice, he joined them knowing he had to do it and didn't want to miss his chance to join the Nights Watch.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come"

The men all intoned their vows together, the energy between them and the Weirwood roots under Jon's hands sent him into a light trance. He fades away from reality and soars through the darkness of his mind. Suddenly he hears a woman shouting his name, but it wasn't his name. It sounded different, yet inside he responded all the same. How he responded he didn't know. She called his name again, he heard the urgency in her voice, the fear, the worry. Flames danced around his vision and threw light into the darkness, Jon looked up and came face to face with the fierce form of a dragon. A woman stood by it, her hand outstretched and tears running down her face. She screamed again.

"Baelor! Run!"

Jon's awareness drifted back to his body puzzled by the name he was called, the men were chanting their final verse of their oath to be sworn brothers. But Jon had faltered, and come to a stop. He breathed out a ragged few breaths, the warm air clouding his vision in a cloud for a moment. All noise had dropped away, all he heard was the sound of his own breath and the beat of his heart. Slowly, he turned to look behind him and saw them surrounding the clearing. The dead had arrived, they stood just watching them. Their rotting, undead forms all in various stages of decay. Some were fresh, their skin and features were intact. Others were merely walking bones but with bright blue, unearthly eyes. They all stared, then they all stepped forward as one at a run.

The moments following that were chaos, the unearthly shouting of their approach was somewhere between a snarl and a scream. Their bright undead eyes hungrily seeking his life, Jon drew his sword and jumped to his feet as the sound of battle was upon them. Several of his brothers died on their knees in the midst of their unfinished vows, and the Rangers accompanying them weren't faring well either. As Jon sliced through the advancing undead he saw two Rangers dead on the ground, their blood staining the snow just as the leaves of the Weirwood stained the sky. Plunging his sword into the body of a wight and feeling a nauseating squishing sensation Jon kicked out behind to push back another attacker. Swinging the sword around wildly he vanquished one, and on the upswing managed to get another. Knowing this was a fight to the death, against death, Jon kept fighting. Ignoring the frightening screams and shouts to either side of him, he just kept swinging his blade. Even when his arms burned and felt like they would fall off, he kept going. A pile of bones and rags were gathering at his feet, until he realised there were no more to fight. He stood panting under the Weirwood tree who simply watched on with its wise expression. Jon had a stitch in his side making standing up straight difficult, he took stock of his surroundings and realised with a cold stab in his heart all his comrades were dead, the horses too. His horse, seemed to lay in pieces where she stood not able to fend off such a brutal attack. Blood stains littered the clearing where once men knelt saying their vows, and a sob left Jon's lips. His brothers and their steeds all gone. A snap of a twig caught Jon's attention and he swung around ready to strike as he watched a tall and fearsome White Walker enter the clearing. It seemed to look around at all the death, and destruction with satisfaction, it's gaze landing at last on Jon and it smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile though, it was malicious, and hungry for death. Slowly it unsheathed a long sword of clear glass from its back and strode toward Jon. He grimaced and waited for impact. The ground shook as this giant of ice and evil advanced on him, but before Jon could engage the White Walker was knocked to the side. Confused Jon prepared to fight off another attacker before he felt something wrap around his legs and drag him away through the snow. He gripped tightly to his sword, the wolfs head handle cutting into his skin. Furious the White Walker regained its footing and chased Jon down as he was dragged away. He kicked and resisted but the bounds around his legs only tightened, suddenly he felt like he was being swallowed by the earth itself and dragged down a hole. The White Walker screeched in fury and dived to drag Jon back, but just as it landed the ground closed underneath it engulfing Jon underground. Scrambling through the ground it dug with a deafening screech, but Jon was gone.It's furious screeches echoed all around the clearing, but it was to no avail.

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Arya hears the screams and snarls of the undead, and feels the panic of the fight, the coldness of the North and sees the fearsome face of death advancing on her. She suddenly wakes and breathes frantically, panic coursing through her veins and convulsing trying to shake the undead attackers from her body. Sobbing and groaning from the shock of the dream she ignores the pain which shoots through her body as she continues to writhe trying to shake the remnants of the dream from her consciousness. Her cries echo around the jail cell, the only sound to punctuate the darkness of night. Jaqen stirs and looks groggily in her direction, although he can't see her through the pitch black night. He tried to soothe her by shushing but she continues to writhe, so reluctantly he goes to her. At his touch she settles but her breathing is still panicked, he places a hand on her shoulder and feels her racing pulse.

"Arya" he says gently, but she doesn't respond. He can feel her forehead is hot, and her body has the stench of infection. He knows that smell, and he knows she has no more than two or three days to live. He removes his hand from her shoulder and her writhing resumes as does the gibberish she has begun to speak. At first he ignored it, but the longer it went on it began to disturb him. Which was virtually impossible to do...she didn't just speak unintelligible sentences though, she spoke of people and places. And things she could never have known while being locked in this cell, and she was incredibly accurate. Jaqen lurched over to the door and thudded on it in desperation yelling for help, a short time later the unmistakeable sound of boots approaching came before a gruff voice grunted at him.

"The fuck you want" growled the guard through the thick oaken door.

"She's dying, you must get her help"

"Dont give a fuck" grunted the guard in response.

"I think your Queen might give a fuck, she very much wants her...alive" he spoke with a dangerous glint of warning in his voice.

There was a pause, then the key turned the lock and the door groaned open. Several guards filled the doorway, barely letting any light to penetrate the cell. Jaqen was menaced with weapons and he shrunk away, watching on as the biggest guard scooped Arya up like a doll and took her limp body from the cell. Jaqen was loathe to see his cell mate go, he had quite come to like the girl named Arya of House Stark.

Arya drifted in and out of dreams and waking, several times the pain of her body sent her straight back into a deep sleep. So deep that sometimes she felt like she might not ever make it back. Once she saw a boy with haunting dark eyes who came to her, he followed her everywhere she went. And began to feel panicked this stranger was following her, but he grabbed her wrist and spoke.

"Arya, it's Bran. Don't go any further otherwise you won't be able to get back, you're travelling too far from your body."

But she wrenched her arm away and tried to carry on without him, but he somehow prevented her movements. In frustration she cried out but at that moment she was reefed back into consciousness. A hard slap across her face stunned her, and for several minutes she couldn't see or hear anything other than blurred images and blurred voices.

The room she was in was dark, and the surface hard, cold and wet. Her body shivered, but her heart stopped when her vision corrected and she saw the flash of long blonde hair in the darkness.

"We almost lost you little wolf," spoke the voice serenely with a hint of anger in the undertone.

"I don't like to lose things," continued the woman, "especially not one as useful as you."

The woman smiled and Aryas body froze, that smile always came before something painful, or shameful. She waited and waited but nothing came, the woman glanced disdainfully to her side and whispered something to a man with a hood covering his face. He simply nodded once, and the woman stepped forward. Despite herself Arya cowered, and a whimper escaped her lips which caused the woman with the blonde hair to smile deeply in pleasure.

"I had my men bring you back from the brink of death, you're worth more to me alive than dead. Thank your old gods for that," her smile became more malicious, "and when you're well enough our little games will resume. I can't wait to see the look on Ned Starks face when I use you, his baby girl to weaken the North. You have no idea who you are or where you're from, I'm not sure if that makes this even sadder than it really is"

Cersei laughed a harsh, mocking laugh as she looked over Arya's body.

"Or maybe that makes it even easier for me to use you because in your mind you're already no one" her voice was a malicious whisper, her eyes mocking. Something within Arya began to stir, anger began to build and yet her face remained serene giving nothing away. Laughing mockingly again Cersei gave some terse orders before calling for the guards to open the door. The door slammed shut behind Arya and she winced at the woman's departure before feeling a strange emptiness creep through her whole body. Tears began to well in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away as she became acutely aware she wasn't alone, and she knew better than to show these people emotion.

After several days of sleeping with blankets, being provided edible food and water, Aryas strength returned. Every moment she submitted to the medicines given to return her strength, and bring her back from the brink of death she pondered the woman's words. Whoever she was Arya only knew she was the Queen, and she knew she had made a powerful enemy as had her family who she couldn't remember. Every moment she mulled over every small detail, every glint of her eye, every malicious smile. The longer she did this she began to realise, this woman had weaknesses just like any other person in the world.

The wooden door heaved open and Arya was pushed inside, she fell to the ground in a puff of dust, and coughed from the fall winding her. Not caring for her one bit, the guards closed the door while she lay coughing. In the darkness she felt home, and the coughing turned to a laugh. There was a sound of stirring in the darkness and her laughter was extinguished, her pupils dilated as she searched the darkness for the source of the sound.

"Jaqen?" she asked with a slight quiver in her voice.

A shuffling sound got closer and she with relief felt Jaqen slide next to her, as her eyes adjusted to the dark she only saw he held a finger to his mouth. Urging Arya to be quiet, she nodded and made the gesture of her mouth being closed. After several minutes Jaqen pointed to under the door and they saw a person silently glide past the cell, their spy had now departed.

"Did you do as instructed?" spoke Jaqen barely above a whisper, in response Arya nodded. The sound of a stone scraping outside the door caused Jaqen to place a hand over her mouth to prevent her speaking, he crept to the door and slid his form alongside it. He stood there for the longest time, before creeping back to Arya and drawing her into the deepest recesses of the cell.

"We have constant company at our door, what did you see? What did you hear?"

Arya recounted how the Maesters forced her to drink medicines and eat proper food, they even let her sleep with a blanket. Jaqen eyed her enviously for a moment, before musing.

"Maybe I should've tried to die a few times myself."

Arya smiled but did not laugh, she was aware of the presence looming at the doorway, she could actually feel whoever it was on the other side of the door straining to hear them.

"Girl, I fear our captors will not let you live much longer, we must get you out of here"

"How?" whispered Arya.

Jaqen simply smiled, and spoke in a foreign tongue.

Arya looked puzzled at his answer, "I don't understand"

Jaqen pointed to the door, "That is the first step. To escape, a girl must learn a new tongue"

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Darkness had descended upon the city, revellers spilled out of the Inns writhing drunkenly over themselves like coiling snakes. Their cheers echoed down alleyways and laughter lead into song and merriment. Unbeknownst to any, a lithe form slipped through the crowds flitting between shadows and amongst the noise. Nose to the ground, it was the only way Nymeria could remain focused with so much clamour on her senses. She followed the trail, of Arya, into the city. Although she wasn't following a physical scent, she knew she was on the right path. Every sense of the wolfs was twitching, and she was on high alert, danger was present at every corner. Men marched by periodically dressed in armour and although she heard them coming from far away she hid in the shadows and watched them pass. By midnight Nymeria had the lay of the city, knew the city patrols and even knew the soldiers who were on watch and their names. With nothing but time, everything got soaked in. As the revelry of the small folk began to calm, Nymeria resumed her search back on the trail for her mistress the Lady Arya. Up and down alleyways she padded, ignoring the rats and cats who tried to communicate with her out of curiosity or anger. Midway down a flight of stairs the trail disappeared, moving sideways there was still nothing but then she discovered a small opening in the wall and she promptly squeezed through. It was dark and damp inside, the stones under her feet were cold, and there were patches of slippery moss under her paws. The trail was strong, the strongest it had been in months, with a quick whine she took off at a trot down the dark passageway. After running for a long period of time Nymeria heard the unmistakeable sound of marching, and the clink of armour, more soldiers. Slowly she stepped forward one paw at a time, her hearing strained carefully not to miss a thing. Luckily she was moving so slow, she came up against a wooden surface and poking her nose through the gap at the bottom smelt fresh sea air. Silently she jumped on her rear legs and tried to understand what was in front of her. She smelt wood, and metal as her snout brushed against a handle.

Door, she thought in her mind, and sea.

Despite her best attempts the door would not budge, shoving her nose under the door gap she clearly smelt Arya. She was close, and alive. And she smelt the sea, wherever this place was it was within close proximity to the sea. Turning back into the darkness she retraced her steps, running back to the crack in the wall she squeezed out and ran down the steps. Searching for the sea.

It didn't take long to find it, and before long she was slinking down a set of stairs which led to a small bay underneath the palace. Several ships bobbed in the current in the bay, making enough clunking sounds to cover her movements. Hiding in the shadows, Nymeria noted the guards standing at attention in the entrance. The wind picked up and Nymeria was thankful the guards weren't able to smell her, as the wind blew a gust into their faces whipping their cloaks around. Seizing the opportunity Nymeria used the wind disorientating them momentarily to slip silently between their legs. Once inside the smells and sounds were overwhelming for several moments, there was a thick fog of despair and sorrow in the air. Nymeria knew this wasn't Arya's, and probably wasn't just from the present but left from hundreds if not thousands of prisoners who had been here over the years. Catching back onto Aryas scent she slowly stepped forward and refocused on finding her mistress. A voice caught Nymeria attention and she approached the door which was unguarded. It was Aryas voice, but speaking a different tongue followed by a man's voice. Nymeria pushed her snout near the door and could lay down very flat to hear better.

Arya was speaking, and conversing with a man in another language, silently Nymeria called out to Bran who she knew was watching her every move.

"Make sure it's Arya," she heard booming in her mind, she whined in response. The speaking in the room abruptly stopped, and Nymerias keen hearing heard a very silent approach to the door. This time she whined again but louder, the man spoke in his foreign tongue and Arya returned a sound of surprise. Nymeria heard a second set of footsteps, and felt Arya approach. Again she whined, but louder and Nymeria could see Aryas feet. Suddenly, Arya lay down on the floor and they locked eyes. Shocked Arya looked at Nymeria, and Nymeria tried to wiggle forward but only managed to push her snout under the door just enough for the man to see it. Arya reached out and stroked her snout gently.

"Nymeria?" asked Arya with a quivering voice.

The wind blew strongly at Winterfell, an icy wind which blew with fury threatening to seemingly rip the trees from the ground. Lyarra lay by the fire, at Ned's feet as the meeting with the banner men dragged on into the night. Ned held two scrolls in his hands, and the discussions were becoming heated.

"Robert has named this boy his heir, we cannot bend the Knee to Cersei. She has usurped the crown and will turn against us anyway. If this boy lives he is the rightful heir, a true born son fit for the throne. Will you rally with me to help this boy King?"

Discussions continued back and forth as many disputed the lad wouldnt be allowed to live if he was still in Kings Landing.

"We must find him," urged Lord Manderly, "And we must alert our allies"

"I agree," chimed in Ned.

"I disagree," came a voice across the room.

Lyarra who lay on the floor merely swivelled her ears to listen to who the voice belonged to. Bolton, she knew immediately, the traitor. She felt a growl coming on but Ned rested his hand upon her, and she was relieved Ned knew.

"Now is not the time to make enemies of the Crown my Lord. The Crown has always been a staunch friend of the North, ever since the days of Aegon. Why would we send our sons to die in a War which could be prevented?"

Ned turned around and spoke coldly, "I swore an oath to support Robert Baratheons kin to succeed him. Before his untimely death he sent this scroll to me, because he knew I'd listen, and I'd heed his wishes"

"And who else has this scroll?" questioned Roose Bolton smoothly.

"The Citadel has one as does Lord Arryn"

Roose Bolton did not speak, just remained quiet which was disconcerting to Lyarra, her hackles began to raise as her anger built at this man's presence. Again Ned calmed her with his touch.

The door to the room opened and Lyarra felt a clamour of emotions, it was Catelyn, her eyes were red rimmed.

"Ned please come, Bran needs you"

At mention of the crippled Stark boy Roose Bolton seemed to smile gloatingly, only Lyarra caught it and she bared her teeth. Roose caught the wolf's reaction and scowled. Ned rose and excused himself, signalling Lyarra to follow which she did obediently but reluctantly. She didn't want to leave that man without someone to watch him in the castle.

Ned power walked ahead of her talking quietly with Catelyn, while Lyarra padded silently behind. Reaching Brans rooms, the door opened and light and warmth spilled into the corridor. Bran was inside talking to someone, and as Lyarra entered saw it was Summer. When she entered Summer bounded over to Lyarra, they nuzzled and speaking to his mind she asked him to go and watch Roose Bolton. Summer bounded down the hall into the darkness, Bran was watching the entire interaction with his deep, wise eyes.

Ned spoke and drew Brans attention to himself, blushing slightly Bran only said one thing very simply.

"Arya is in Kings Landing"

Catelyn shuddered a sob and sunk into a chair by the bed, while Ned sat at the end of the bed and leant forward.

"Are you certain?" he spoke with a very low voice.

Bran nodded, "Nymeria found her"

"She's alive?" questioned Catelyn, hope tinged with sadness in her voice.

Bran nodded, "She's imprisoned in the dungeon of the Red Keep, but she's alive"

Ned and Catelyn looked at each other, alarmed.

"What else son? Is there more?" urged Ned

Bran looked uncomfortable, "She's being tortured and Nymeria heard her speaking another language"

Catelyn broke into tears and Ned looked confused, "Who is torturing her?"

Bran looked at his hands and fidgeted not wanting to answer the question.

"Bran," snapped Ned, "I must know, who is torturing Arya?"

Bran fixed his deep brown soulful gaze on his Father, "The Queen, Cersei Lannister"

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It didn't take long for the beatings to resume, they started from the moment they burst into the dark cell unannounced and didn't end until they would throw her back in the cell after Cersei was finished with her. Jaqen watched them take her, and heard her cries as they dragged her away and the dull thuds of someone beating her the whole way. He looked away when they tossed her crumpled form onto the floor and she was barely conscious when they returned her. Once he was sure they were gone he slowly crept up to her and turned her onto her back, the injuries to her face were gruesome and he noticed the brutality was increasing. Scurrying away quickly and silently he returned with a small bottle of medicine, and a salve. He opened her mouth, acutely aware he had to keep her quiet as he sensed someone on the other side of the door. He dropped the liquid into her mouth and covered her mouth as she began to cough and return to consciousness. Her eyes opened and she wildly looked around in panic, he slid a finger over his own mouth then pointed to the door. She followed his gaze and recoiled away from the door in horror. Scrambling back her breathing heaved and she began to cry, reaching up to touch her face she broke down and Jaqen sat back and let her cry. He came forward when she seemed to settle and spoke in Braavosi.

"Child, let me help you" he spoke calmly in a way which soothed Arya, her breathing slowed.

Arya nodded and replied in Braavosi, "Why do they keep hurting me?"

"They want to break you child, they want you to tell them your family's secrets"

"I don't remember my family" groaned Arya in pain.

"They are responsible for that girl"

Arya rolled to her side and whispered, "I know all their names, except the blonde one they call the Queen"

"Why do you need their names girl?"

Arya looked fiercely over her shoulder to Jaqen and continued in Braavosi, "Because I'm going to kill them all"

Jaqen smiled slightly in approval, "Will you let me help you?"

Arya looked confused, "How can you help me? Look at where we are"

"We are exactly where we need to be. And soon we will leave this place, let me take you with me"

"Where?" asked Arya, confused.

"Braavos," said Jaqen as he produced an unusual coin and placed it in her hand, "if you hand this to any Braavosi boat and say the words valar morghulis. They will take you to where I live in Braavos"

"I thought you said you're coming with me?" asked Arya in surprise.

"Yes but if something happens and we must seperate this is how you will find me"

"But," started Arya, "I need to get to my family, I need to warn them"

"Yes you do, but what will you do after that? Marry a Lord and be the lady of a castle?"

Arya shook her head sadly, "That's not me"

Jaqen chuckled, "Will you become a knight?"

Arya shook her head, "Women can't become knights in Westeros"

Jaqen leaned forward, "In Braavos none of that matters, woman or man you can be who you want to be. Who you are meant to be"

Arya tucked away the coin, "How are we getting out of here?"

Jaqen leaned forward and pointed at the door, "You will open that door"

Arya followed his gaze and laughed, "I can't open the door"

He looked deep in her eyes, "You will girl, you have something within you. I see it, and that part of you can do wondrous things. You need to find it"

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Jamie didn't know what to think of how Cersei seized the throne, he didn't know what he believed about Roberts death either. An assassin from the North? It just didn't make sense, the North would never assassinate the King. Not even with the friction between the two men since Elia's murder, in all the years between them there had been peace under a banner of civility. They'd even stamped out rebellion on the Iron Islands together. Standing watch all these things pondered in Jamie's mind as he scanned the noble men standing in the throne room wanting an audience with the Queen. A fellow KingsGuard approached and gruffly passed on a message, he must attend the Queens chambers at once. Nodding to his comrade he turned and marched in the direction of the Queen's rooms. His heart pounded, he hadn't actually spoken to Cersei since the day he encountered her in the hall and she had pressed a knife to his throat. As he approached the guards on watch opened the doors and Jamie stepped into the room. He was shocked to find it quite dark, only the light from some candles penetrated across the room and some light through the drawn curtains cast long lines across the floor. There was a heady smell of sweetness in the air, her smell, and immediately he felt his heart twinge. He had missed that smell, the feel of her skin and her mouth on his body. He stiffened into a formal posture of soldier awaiting command to counteract the feelings he felt within.

"Jamie, I'm over here. Come" she called from the other room.

Obediently he crossed the room and followed the sweet scent as it grew stronger, and as it grew stronger his heart beat faster with nervousness at what was to come.

He rounded an ornate Lannister curtain which had been drawn around the side of the bath and his mouth gaped open as Cersei stood. Water streamed down her naked form as she stood and looked down at him, her hair was tied up in a messy bun. He stopped in his tracks and closed his mouth, attempting to curb his urge to grab her and drag her to bed. She smiled and he inadvertently stepped forward as if he was a moth drawn to the light. She lifted her arms to welcome him but he stopped short of her.

"I can't do this," he breathed.

"Why not? Come to me" she purred.

"You, you threatened to kill me! You pushed me away, the one who loved you the most?"

"Loved? Don't you love me anymore dear brother?"

Jamie clenched his jaw and looked away, "You know I love you still"

Cersei laughed, "Then come to me Jamie, I want you"

Jamie looked angry, "Now you want me? What happened to before?"

"I had to keep the King happy, it was all part of the plan"

"You planned to kill Robert? And seize the throne"

Cersei smiled sweetly, "How else could I be free to love you openly?"

"You didn't do this for me, Cersei don't lie" said Jamie plainly.

"No, I didn't do this for you. I wanted to be Queen and now I am. I won't apologise for that" admitted Cersei.

She stepped down from the bath, water dripping down her slender form, from her hard nipples onto the floor. Jamie swallowed thickly, his resolve weakening the closer she came to him. Despite wincing away from her, Cersei smiled and stroked her wet hands down the side of his face.

"There's no one standing in our way now Jamie, it's me and you. And your Queen commands that you fuck her, take me to the bed and fuck me, hard" she spoke in a commanding and seductive way.

Hearing those words from her mouth dissolved any walls Jamie had erected against Cersei and he roughly grabbed her and kissed her. That feeling flooded his body he had missed for so long, and he dragged her to the bed and threw her wet body amongst the sheets. It took moments for his armour to be off, he pinned her to the bed and pulled her legs back as he slid himself inside her wetness. He drove himself into her hard, fucking her with anger as much as the love he had for her. She gushed with pleasure all over him and the loud noises they made were not confined to the walls that enclosed them.

Afterward they lay amongst the ornate bedding and explored each others body for what felt like hours, kissing each other all over until the sun was no longer in the sky. Spent from so long abed, Jamie crossed the room to wash his face in the bath water, but when he reached the bath he saw the water. It was red, like blood. He turned back to Cersei.

"Why is the water red like blood?"

Cersei shrugged, "I looked in on an interrogation today of a prisoner accused of conspiring in Roberts murder. Things got a bit messy"

Jamie raised an eyebrow, "You killed Robert, there is no conspiracy"

Cersei laughed, "Well I'm making one"

"Who is this poor soul you're using?"

Cersei looked away and sighed. Jamie stepped forward, "Well? Who is it?"

Cersei looked back to Jamie, "Arya Stark, I have Ned's youngest daughter imprisoned"

"She survived?" he breathed in disbelief.

Cersei nodded, "I don't know how but yes. The Hound found her at the bottom of a cliff, apparently she has forgotten who she is entirely"

"If she can't remember who she is how is she of any use to you?"

"Because Ned Stark will do anything for his family, especially his daughters. Once we execute Mace-"

Jamie was stunned, "Execute who? Mace Tyrell??" he spoke with incredulity.

"Yes," replied Cersei casually, "He is accused of organising Roberts murder with the North in an attempt to seize the throne for himself. His trial was already conducted" she spoke without emotion, so matter of fact.

Jamie sat at the end of the bed trying to process what Cersei had said, "I can't believe you're doing this, Father is not going to like this"

"Fuck what Father or anyone else thinks. I'm the Queen everyone else is now below me, will you help me?"

"Help you?" laughed Jamie, "It sounds like you've got everything under control"

"I need you, I want you to be my King Consort and Hand to the Queen"

Jamie turned in shock and looked at his sister, she lay naked on the bed her legs spread and the Hand pin had been placed along her perfectly curved torso. It was so inviting, that entire scene, but he had misgivings.

"I want to help you but I don't think making an enemy of the Tyrells is the right way. Why don't we organise a betrothal? Weddings are better than deaths at keeping people by your side" suggested Jamie, hoping she would go for it.

"If I agree to this will you become my Hand and fuck me again?" smiled Cersei seductively.

Jamie smiled in relief, he didn't want an innocent man to die and plunge their family into war, he crawled back up the bed and took the Hand pin.

"I'll be your Hand, my Queen" she groaned as he slid himself inside her deep while kissing her neck. The Hand pin was grasped in his hand as he plunged himself into her over and over as she groaned loudly in pleasure.

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Black horses clattered into the yard of the Red Keep early the next morning, their hooves loudly echoing in the castle bounds. They came to an abrupt halt, and the horses snorted in displeasure. Abruptly the door to the carriage burst open and servants scurried to assist, but were tersely sent away. Olenna Tyrell thundered down the steps and ignoring protestations from any one in her way she pushed her way into the castle directly to the throne room. To her disappointment she was made to wait several hours for an audience with the Queen, and despite being given seating and food to wait out her time for the Queen her anger only continued to build. Inside she was a mess of emotions, anxiety, fear and worry but she hid it all behind a firm mask of anger.

By the time the trumpets heralded the Queens appearance Olenna had taken a seat and grudgingly eaten food after she had forced one of her servants to check it wasn't poisoned.

As Cersei entered and her appearance was announced Olenna refused to stand in respect. Cersei noticed as did many other nobles, and chose to hear the other nobles before Olenna. Which only caused further enmity from Olenna. At long last when the last noble had cleared away with a pointed look to Olenna as he exited the room, Cersei looked over to the small angry woman.

"My dearest Olenna, what occasion could explain your abrupt but welcome arrival?" spoke Cersei with mock respect.

"Don't sit there and talk to me like you're happy to see me," retorted Olenna, "you've falsely imprisoned my son and accused him of foul conspiracies. Release my son and heir at once. Stop this fabrication and charade, you know as well as I do Mace isn't capable of conspiring against anyone"

Cersei fiddled with her fingers for mere moments, "But I regret to inform you Mace Tyrell was found guilty yesterday of conspiracy to murder, and conspiracy to usurp aided by the North"

Olenna raised her eyebrows and laughed harshly, "How many people did you pay for this judgement? What a farce"

Cersei smiled sweetly, "I'll remind you I'm now your Queen, you will treat me with respect"

Olenna looked up to Cersei with anger, "You demand respect but you have not earnt it. Good leaders don't falsely imprison and falsely accuse their closest allies! Release my son at once, you know he's innocent I can see it in your face"

"Unfortunately he is not innocent, as I mentioned he's been found guilty. The evidence was overwhelming"

Olenna huffed as Cersei spoke.

"However, for exchange of a confession and pledge to go the Wall, I've accepted a suggestion from the Hand that we mend the issue with a betrothal"

"The Wall? And who would be going there? You can't be serious Cersei, sending an innocent and dim witted man to the Wall?" again she scoffed, and Cersei's anger began to grow.

"Are you refusing our benevolent terms? Your granddaughter would become Queen one day when Joffrey inherits the Crown"

Olenna looked at Cersei seriously, "I can see here there are two people involved in this, and only one of you is smart"

"Excuse me?" questioned Cersei with anger.

"Tell me, who is your Hand? I bet that's the person who tried to talk you out of this unbelievably dumb charade that my son is guilty with a marriage pact"

Cersei gripped the Throne and took a breath, the sharp barbs on the Throne scraping against her skin.

"I assure you I am as shocked as you are at Mace's guilt. I would've thought the betrothal would be a way we could look to the future together-"

"What future would that be? Where we join our Houses and forget what you're doing to us? I think you've picked the wrong House for that my dear. What you're doing is incredibly short sighted"

"is it?" Replied Cersei mockingly, "I am the Queen-"

"So I've heard from you already," retorted Olenna drily, "and I don't need to be reminded of it again"

Stiffly Olenna rose to her feet, "Those who feel the need to remind their subjects who's in control really don't have control in the first place. When you're ready to make a proper deal for my sons release I'll be waiting"

Without waiting for Cersei to reply, Olenna shuffled from the room trailed by her servants. And Cersei Sat seething on the Iron Throne.

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Beating after beating, cry after cry, even sporadic cuts didn't break Arya. The respite in between, Jaqen's healing liquid and salves along with his support kept Aryas heart beating. It didn't matter how much the abuse intensified, she clung to life and spoke no words against her family. These people she had forgotten, and although her heart felt immense pain at not knowing them she knew only one thing. Her name. They yelled it at her, screamed in her face but she didn't know anything else and had nothing to give them.

The wolf would reappear sometimes which lended her encouragement but as the days bore on she knew she couldn't hold on much longer. Her dreams were nightmares, people chasing her saying her name, faces she recognised but didn't know. Trees that moved and spoke, trees that tried to grasp her and hold her. She ran for as long as she could but when she woke she was exhausted. Jaqen watched her and sadly he knew her strength was fading, he administered as much medicine as her heart could take knowing too much would kill her.

"You must remember girl, what lies within you will set you free" he spoke in low tones in Braavosi tongue in the darkness of first light. Now able to converse fluently in Braavosi, she replied.

"I don't know where to find it, or what I'm even looking for" returned Arya gloomily.

A gust of wind blew under the door and ruffled her hair, the coolness of the breeze and the smell of the sea caused her to open her eyes a bit more. Suddenly she scrambled to the crack under the door ignoring the pain in her body, and felt the breeze rush across her face again. She closed her eyes, and she smelt it. The freshness of the air, the scent of the trees and she was transported to under a tall white wooded tree with waving red leaves. It's face was carved into the tree and it smiled at her, she turned and saw two people crouched amongst its roots. A woman and a man, her heart jumped. They were the people from her dream, she stood close to them and when they turned the man looked right at her and stepped forward. He reached his hand out as if to touch her and spoke.

"Arya?"

She smiled sadly, "Father"

Just at the point of him touching her she was suddenly back in her body, breathing in the salty breeze of being on the coast. She breathed out deeply and opened her eyes, invigorated. The air gave her strength, and purpose. Arya breathed it in deeply again and felt it rush through her body cold and tingling. Several things happened at once, a rush of memories flooded through her mind causing a rush of emotional pain to wash through her. Falling forward on her knees she weathered the pain, and the tears that dropped involuntarily from her eyes splashed amongst her hands which were spread out on the cell floor. She lingered there for a moment and Jaqen approached her but as he stepped forward she began to laugh uncontrollably. The door flung open and Jaqen abruptly fell backwards into the darker recess of the cell, the guards approached Arya. She remained laughing uncontrollably on the floor, her eyes rolled back in her head which unnerved Jaqen. He watched her closely, the guards grabbed her small form and the laughing ceased.

Arya spoke the names of the men, but they ignored her. She yelled their names louder and the men looked to one another, again she laughed before speaking in Braavosi.

Words and verses in Braavosi poured out of her, and the men began to look shaken. Jaqen leaned forward, entranced by the words she spoke understanding every word she uttered with clarity and perfect pronunciation. At the end of their patience one guard dropped her arm and backhanded her with a sharp slap. The words she was chanting died in her mouth, they dragged her from the cell with a sharp pull on the cell door. Jaqen was left in darkness his mouth gaped open in shock, he was left wondering how she could possibly know that curse from Braavos?

Arya regained consciousness sometime later, tied upright against a structure on the wall, still in darkness. That was welcome though, she preferred the dark. There was a scraping sound to her side and she strained to see who was in the room. A shock of light coloured hair caused Arya to smile and reveal her bloodstained teeth, she strained against the binds and laughed crazily. The scraping sound faltered and resumed after a moment of quiet. Arya breathed ragged breaths unperturbed by the blood dripping forward from her face onto the floor in front of her. The droplets of blood seemed to drop in slow motion, stretching long and thin from her face and chin, dropping in large droplets on the floor. Again Arya laughed and breathed out heavily.

"I know who you are," breathed Arya, "and I know what you're scared of"

"You don't know anything, you're a stupid little girl" returned Cersei from across the room, "you're a traitor, your Father is a traitor, so is your mother..."

"I don't remember them..." retorted Arya quietly

"I think you do, otherwise why do you cling to life so hard? Why are you so hard to break?" said Cersei with an undercurrent of frustration which Arya recognised.

"I'm empty, I'm no one" replied Arya through heavy breaths as she laughed again deliriously.

Cersei stood and crossed the room, the light shining off the length of the long dagger she held in your hand. Arya wasn't scared one bit, she just laughed again and could tell she was bothering Cersei which is what she wanted.

"That's a lie, and you know it. You are someone, you are Arya of House Stark"

"If you say so. That doesn't change anything though, you're still going to die" and Arya laughed mockingly to provoke Cersei. Out of reflex Cersei slapped Arya hard across the face, the slap winded Arya momentarily but she laughed even louder in its wake.

"Ohhhh Cersei," breathed Arya her voice changing, deepening and becoming croaky. "Did you think you could escape me? Did you think you could escape this?" Aryas voice was croaking and otherworldly now, her eyes had rolled back in her head again, so only the whites of her eyes remained.

"When will i wed the prince?" croaked Arya mockingly, "I will be Queen though?"

Again Arya laughed a croaking, wheezing cough speaking in this otherworldly tone. Cersei froze in her spot, and slowly rose the dagger to strike, her teeth were gritted and angered.

"How can you know that" She raged in an angered whisper.

"Queen you shall be, until comes another..." began to croak Arya, Cersei shrieked and yelled at her to stop. But Arya continued, eyes still rolled back in her head, voice still croaking.

"Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds," her croaking voice became another wheezing laugh, "Oh you have angered the Gods Cersei, the old ones and the new ones too. They will come to claim you soon, the snake will coil about you and squeeze the life from you. The valonqar will wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you"

Again Cersei shrieked but this time she lurched forward and struck blows of slaps and punches against Arya who was defenceless in her bounds.

The moment Cerseis blows struck her the tone of her voice changed, and so did the tongue. Arya recited a Braavosi chant which Jaqen had taught her, she did not know its meaning but she knew it had power. At first Cersei paused at the strange language seemingly entranced by it, Aryas voice grew louder until she yelled the strange chant. Cersei couldn't bear it any longer, bending down she grimaced from exertion as she grabbed the dagger with a clatter and advanced on Arya who was still chanting with her eyes rolled back. Arm raised Cersei charged at Arya ready to strike a death blow but at her last step Arya screamed with such intensity and power the air between them and around her exploded outwards sending Cersei flying hard up against the wall. Cersei hit the wall with a sickening thud, instantly knocking her unconscious. The dagger clattered to the ground from her hand. Aryas binds broke, and she fell to the ground with a crash. Guards came running and found both women unconscious, several bound Aryas hands and legs while the others lifted Cersei and roused her.

Groggily Cersei opened her eyes and when her vision focused she saw the bound form of Arya across from her. Panting her breaths she smiled maliciously.

"Tomorrow at dawn young Stark you'll die a traitors death, and all Westeros will know you as such" she spoke gloating with her power as the guards assisted her to stand. Brushing off her gown Cersei stood looking down at Arya as she groaned in pain and rolled on the floor, but Cersei's words she heard through the pain.

"I won't die anything but a hero" is all Arya managed to reply with a defiant glare from her bloodstained face.

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Jaqen heard the guards approaching, and the groans of agony echoing down the hall. He knew immediately to expect the cell to open, on cue, the door groaned open and light flooded the cell. He covered his eyes, the light so bright it hurt momentarily. He saw Arya's limp arm drop down as the guard threw her into the cell. Again she fell with a thud, and she groaned loudly in pain. Rolling onto her side, and in one quick movement jumping to her feet and slashing the guard with his own sword. There was a flurry of movement and Jaqen saw the guard closest in a pool of blood, his throat slashed cleanly from one side to the other. Swearing the other guard advanced but Arya rushed towards him and a gust of air sent him flying backwards into the empty hall beyond. A rush of fur and savage growls from nowhere ended in Nymeria ripping the guards throat from his neck as he fell against the wall and ended with blood dripping from her jowls. The wolf stood over the dead man covered in blood and licked the blood from her mouth, Arya rushed forward and hugged her. The flurry had only taken moments, and it seemed none had been alerted of its occurrence. Jaqen rushed forward to Arya and grabbed her shoulder, he spoke low in Braavosi.

"Girl we must leave"

Arya nodded and looked to Nymeria, "Nymeria lead us to the boat" she spoke in Westerosi, and they followed as the wolf silently padded in the opposite direction. At one point Nymeria stopped and whined at a door, scratching at it and looking up to Arya. But Jaqen rushed them on, speaking in Westerosi.

"We can't stop now, they'll come through at any moment!" he whispered in a panic. Arya knew he was right and shrugged her shoulders, silently she communicated they couldn't break anyone out. Else they would be killed.

Nymeria turned and padded on through the stone corridors and the fresh sea breeze began to caress their faces, and the sound of gentle lapping grew louder. They emerged into the night and stepped over the bodies of two dead guards, their necks a bloody mess. They carefully tip toed along the dock in the little bay underneath the Red Keep. Arya took one look up and silently made an oath she would return for Cersei before she followed Nymeria's lead and dived into the cold ocean to swim across to the boat. Arya pulled herself up after hauling Nymeria onto the boat, followed by Jaqen. They crept through the boat looking for crew, Arya found the captain asleep in his quarters. She drew the dagger she stole from the first soldier she killed his blood staining its blade, and leaned forward pointing it into the captains neck. He stirred and startled when he felt the blade and saw Arya standing over him. She held up a coin and said, "valar morghulis".

Stunned the man only replied with two words still with his hands up in surrender.

"Valar dohaeris"