In which Arya remembers the things that lead to her current situation.
*Year 304 After Conquest(AC) - New Future*
Clear violet eyes meet with steel grey ones. Both eyed each other warily with no movement made. The only thing accompanying them is their breathing. The light from the small opening pours into the small room, conveniently spotlighting the intruder, allowing Arya to comfortably study the woman silently, while she remains on the other side, within the shadows.
The silver-haired woman fidgets around nervously under her gaze as she steps back until her back was against the metal door from where she came. Arya tried to recall her name again, Daenerys something, of House Targaryen. She swears she heard something about a dragon along the line too. She frowns then.
Dragons extinct hundreds of years ago, didn't they?
The name Targaryen was strangely familiar. She ponders over it for a moment and suddenly it hits her. She knew that name. Father used to talk about a Rhaegar Targaryen who kidnapped her aunt Lyanna and not to mention the mad King Aerys who murdered her uncle Brandon and her grandfather Rickard. She must be related to them.
Her face automatically scowled in defence. Why was she here? And where the hell is here anywhere?
Deciding that she should not waste any more time pondering what might and what is, she slowly tries to put her weight on both her feet before getting up. Her throbbing has lessened now and she silently thanked the Gods.
The other woman clearly was not expecting her advanced as Arya heard her taking a sharp breath.
"But…you're a girl." The woman, Daenerys speaks up. Shock and confusion lace through her expression. Arya stares back evenly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Well, what a genius, this one is.
She walks closer to her instead. At her movement, Daenerys slides away leaving Arya to the metal door by herself. Their position reversed. Hastily she reached for the lock that binds the door together. She tries to pull it away but to no avail.
Arya grunts, frustrated as the door won't budge at all. She wanted to scream to the bastards that locked her in here for them to release her. But all that came out was again a guttural sound of a desperate growl. Panic was starting to creep on her. She tried to utter a word but ends up with another groan instead.
Why can't I speak?!
She looks down to her hands then, it was strangely unfamiliar as they are slightly bigger than she had previously woken up to. They were not that of a little girl, and not that clean either as her hands were scraped with dirt and full off scars, old and new. She groans for the hundreds time as she tries to move the bars again, but the result was still the same. Her inside is starting to fume with anger and without second thoughts she banged the rigid door hard with her bare feet.
Arya could not care less as pain starts to register. All she can think of is getting out of this damned place. She switched tactics then, preparing her body to go against the metal bars. She takes a few steps back before running straight and throwing herself towards her obstacle. She did this a few more times, but her actions deem fruitless. The door did not budge with its lock still in place.
She falls to her knees, panting hard. Her breath was deafening to her ears. Feeling defeated, she turns around and lean against the metal bars. Her body is already sore all over due to her reckless actions. Just then, a prickling sensation of being watched registered and she looks up to see Daenerys is observing her with an expression of pity? Or is it concern? She could not tell.
The silver-haired woman slides down and mirrored her action, sitting down with her back against the wall. Daenerys doesn't seem to want to start any conversation with her as she pulls her knees up against her chest, looking forlorn. For that Arya was grateful as she was sure that she cannot answer any of her questions when she barely knows anything herself, much less to express about it in a speech right now.
~~~
*Year 298 After Conquest(AC) - New Past*
"Arya –" the voice breaks her trains of thought. She knew that voice anywhere. "May I come in?" he asked. Arya sighed.
"No. Go away, I'm busy." She shouts. He clearly did not listen as he opens the door, making a loud creak along the process.
Jon's face emerged from behind it. He looks around the room before finding his little sister sitting on the edge of the bed as her clothes were occupying the other parts of it. Nymeria was entertaining herself with a bundle of clothes scattered on the floor.
"You've been avoiding me," Jon stated. Arya gets up and reached for a dress near her.
"I'm leaving on the first sunlight and as you can clearly see, I haven't packed my things yet." She answered instead while absentmindedly folding the garment.
"Arya, if you don't want to go to King's Landing, then don't," Jon said kindly. "Father will allow it, you know that."
Arya let out a long sigh then. As much as she wanted to stay, she already made her decision and that is to follow her father to the South. She throws the twisted cloth on to the bed once more before turning around. Jon was staring at her, waiting.
"I'm just worried is all. It will be a long journey." She commented as a matter of fact.
"Father's men will be escorting you too along with the King's guards." Jon countered. "Don't work yourself out over nothing. It will be fine. Besides, was not your dream to travel and learn the world? This is your chance, little sister." He finished with a warm smile that is so contagious that Arya had to smile back. He mussed up her hair for good measure, shaking off all the worry the younger girl had.
"Anyway, I have something for you," Jon speaks up again revealing a long wrapped package. Arya looks over it with mixed feelings. She was well aware of what that is.
Jon clearly does not notice the change from the younger girl as he was too excited unwrapping the bundle of cloth over it and presented her with a skinny sword.
"This is yours. I had Mikken forge this sword especially for you." He explains, looking to Arya expectantly. Arya reaches for it slowly.
She inspected the rest of the sword. The hilt was wrapped with genuine leather. A symbol of a direwolf was planted on top of the pommel. Her fingers ran across the blade gently. It was exactly the same as she remembered. It was still light and pointed. Still elegant.
"It's beautiful, Jon." She muttered, her eyes clouded with tears.
"Lesson number one– " he trails. Arya let out a smile at that as she looks up at him.
"Stick them with the pointy end." They said together.
Carefully, Arya placed the skinny sword on the bed before throwing herself over her brother, engulfing him in a tight hug.
"You know, every swordfighter who ever lived named their sword." He implied. Arya closed her eyes then.
"Needle." She whispers. "It will always be Needle." She finished. Jon tightens his arms around her in approval.
*
It had been almost a fortnight as the entourage travelled along the king's road. The journey was dull and uneventful as they went about the same routine almost every day. When they finally decided to make a stop at the Crossroads inn to rest and fill their supplies, Arya wasted no time and take refuge at the river banks near the inn. She purposely brought her Needle with her to practice.
The feeling of the long blade on her grip was soothing and calming as she spins, thrusts and twists. She didn't notice for how long she had trained but the sweat trickle down her forehead was proving that she had spent quite some time. A soft sound of leaves being crunched enter her ears and she snapped her head at the direction. She swiped her sweaty brows with the back of her hand, relaxed, as Sansa came walking towards her, frowning.
"What is that on your hand?" she asked when she finally in front of the younger girl. Arya raised a brow.
"A sword." She answered, throwing a pointed look at her sister.
"Arya! That is a real sword!" Sansa said exasperated.
"Yes, Sansa. I believe that is exactly what I just said." Arya said, amused.
"A lady should not be playing with a sword, you know that. Where did you get it from?" Sansa asked with disapproval over her face. At times like this that she reminded Arya of her mother. Oh, how she missed her already.
"I'm not playing, I'm practising... Jon gave it to me as a present before we left Winterfell." Arya answered calmly.
Sansa opens her mouth a few times as if to say something, no doubt wanting to reprimand but a noise caught both their ears then.
"Did you hear that?" Arya asked, frowning. Sansa looks at her silently, nodding.
The subtle noise was starting to build up and they can clearly make the sound now. Men's shouting and metals clashing can be heard and it appears to be coming from the inn. Arya takes the first step and strides along the path back. Sansa was following her closely from behind.
When the inn was in sight, Arya stops abruptly as the scene in front of her register before her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she first saw the banner of a lion. The Lannisters.
Her eyes dart towards the chaos that spread before her. They were so many men, fighting, cutting, and slashing. Their blood pouring the already soiled ground. The Lannisters' men were clearly hungry for them. For us.
Just then, a scream came from behind her and Arya turns around to find Sansa on the ground. A man with a lion sigil at the back of his armour was standing above the older girl. Before he can swing his sword, Needle made its way through the back of his throat first. Arya pulls Sansa up her feet once more. A look of horror crossed her face as Sansa stares widely at the man that has fallen over his pool of blood.
"Sansa!" the younger girl yanked her arm roughly, making her look at grey eyes instead.
Teary blue eyes only stared back silently.
"We need to find father and Bran." Arya continues desperately after getting her sister s attention. Sansa nods lightly at that and the younger girl wasted no more time pulling her close.
They ran as fast as they can among the chaos, using the longer way along the woods to avoid unnecessary attention. As soon as the royal carriage came into view, they carefully walk closer to it.
"Lady!" Sansa shouts from behind and ran pass Arya.
The younger girl clenches her jaw tight when she looks down to where Lady lay motionless. Her white-grey fur stained in crimson blood. Sansa kneels beside her fallen companion, tearing profusely and at the same time, the sound of battle was becoming louder as second goes by.
"Come on, Sansa. We must find father and Bran." Arya pulls the older girl up again, tearing her from the fallen direwolf. With one last look over Lady, Sansa let herself being dragged by the smaller girl.
As they both carefully continue their search for their father and brother, Arya was looking for an additional family member too. Nymeria was nowhere to be found along their path and she prays that her furry friend was safe and away from this madness.
Even though the younger girl perfectly schooled her features, in truth, panic was starting to rise inside her. The further they walk, more north-men and the royal escort lay on the ground with holes all over their body. She just hopes neither of them was her father or Bran.
They stop abruptly as another group of Lannister soldiers were busy welding and yielding their swords against the Northmen, just a few feet away from them. Among the chaos, Arya caught a glimpse of dark brown hair and his profile immediately gave away the person. It was her Father.
He was fighting and struggling against a Lannister soldier. Arya unconsciously takes a few steps forward, contemplating whether she should intervene or not. That is when she realized who his Father was up against. His blond hair was striking against the dull colour of their surroundings. Jamie Lannister was swinging his sword again and met by her Father's own.
And then he leaps forward, charging the older man in a sudden rush. Unprepared, her father stumbles backwards earning a cut on his shoulder as his steps were too late to avoid the blade's path. But, he doesn't let it weaken him. Instead, he retaliates and begins to strike his opponent once more. His sword swung with purpose at the blond man in quick succession. But, his movements were interrupted when suddenly his focused grey eyes caught hers not far from where he stands.
Arya's eyes were unblinking as they stare at each other for what feels like a long time when in truth it was only a second when Jamie started to counter-attack again. The older man blocks his advance, stepping back, unaware that one of the Lannister's soldier was behind him, waiting. Arya saw the Lannister's man and she shouts her lungs off in an attempt to warn her father. But it was of no use when the soldier's blade was already sliding through his back.
Her world stops. Her eyes unable to tear away from her father as he falls to his knee with the steel blade still inside him. He looks over to her with such sadness and regrets in his eyes like he was already defeated. Arya wanted to scream then. To tell him to get up and fight but all that came out was her tears.
Jamie strides forward then and with no hesitation, swings his sword for the final blow. Arya kept her gaze locked silently as her father falls down. His blood was crawling their way onto the cold ground in what seems like slow motion.
"Arya! Help!"
A disembodied voice called out to her desperately and Arya turns around in a daze to find Sansa was on the ground a few feet from her. Another soldier was on top of her, pinning her down. She tries to kick him, but it only comes out as a flail. Before Arya can register what was happening, the soldier put a stop to her sister's effort with a dagger through her heart.
Sansa's eyes were wide in shock and pain but soon, they were closed, tightly. Arya looks down to her sister who was lying there motionless. Her face calm. It almost looks like she was in deep slumber if not for the hole on her chest and the blood soaking her dress.
This must be a dream. A horrible dream. Yes, a dream. It's not real. It's not real. It's not happening.
Her train of thoughts got cut off as a blow landed on her face. She falls backwards, hitting her head against the hard ground. She grunts in response as pain started to register but it soon faded as her sister's face came into view and when she looks up, her father was still where he was, his blood almost fills the ground now.
No, please. This is not happening. They are not dead. They are not–
"This is a nice sword... You won't be needing it anymore." The man speaks up. Arya looks up to find the soldier who just murdered her sister came into view, studying Needle with his left hand.
And at that moment, something within her just snaps. Rage beyond compare, filling her every bone. Her hand reach for the cold ground and when a stone came into her touch, she grabs it and throws it with all her might onto the soldier. The man yelp in surprise and pain as the stone hit him right in the eye. He stumbles backwards, losing Needle on his grip as he reached for his injured eye.
In one swift motion, Arya pushes her feet forward, intentionally capturing the man's feet. He fell backwards, unprepared by the force as he lost his footing. It only takes a few second for her to stand up again, gaining the upper hand. Instead of Needle, her hand automatically reached for the nearest weapon. She paid no attention as she grabbed another rock, this time slightly bigger as she had to carry it with both her hands.
Pinning him down just like he did with Sansa, Arya aims for his head and started to hit him with the heavy boulder. She heard a satisfying crack and as if in possessed, she hit him again and again. Each hit was full of hatred and rage. She didn't hear herself scream as the only thing that she was seeing and hearing were the crimson blood of his head and the sound of flesh disintegrate.
~~~
*Year 304 After Conquest(AC) - New Future*
A blood-curdling scream wakes Arya up. In an instant, her eyes shot open only to find clear violet eyes looking down on her.
"Stop! It's just a dream!" Daenerys shouts desperately against the loud scream. Her hands are on both Arya's shoulder, shaking her repeatedly.
Only then, Arya realized that the scream was coming from her. She panted heavily as if she had run a mile, exhausted by her own cry. Panic erupted as her heartbeat thumps loudly against her ears. The horror of the image she last saw still stuck at the back of her mind.
"Hush now... It's alright. It's only a dream." Daenerys continues, softly this time. She tightens her grips on Arya's shoulder in a comforting manner before rubbing circle on the young woman's skin gently with her thumb.
The vision of the young Stark's nightmare ebb away slowly as her breath calms down, following the older woman's own rhythm on top of her. It lasted for a while before shecan regain herself back and when she did, Arya finally registers how close Daenerys is. The older woman was still pinning her down and her face close to hers, with her breath hot on hers.
Feeling a little uncomfortable under her gaze, slowly Arya jerk her body upward, successfully tearing Daenerys away from her. They eyed each other silently before Arya breaks it and sits up, recalling the dreams she just had. Or was it real? She wasn't sure. She leans against the metal door and stares blankly over the dark hallway outside.
At the corner of her eyes, she saw the older woman slides further into the wall, keeping back her distance, allowing Arya to ponder over her dreams or memories.
*
She never had the chance to close her eyes again after that horrible dream. Her thoughts are occupied by the vague events that keep creeping their way inside her mind. She keeps telling herself that it did not happen. Her father and Sansa are alive still. She will wake up by the heart tree again to find they are perfectly safe in Winterfell.
But, as time goes by and the sunlight comes pouring down her cell, it was becoming harder to convince even herself. Her senses automatically in alert as she felt rather than see movement from across the cell.
"Is 'Accalia' your real name?" soft voice echoes, but it was loud enough for Arya to hear, though she paid her no heed.
"How did you end up in here?" Daenerys asks again. Her tone nothing but curious.
Arya chanced a glance at the silver-haired woman who stares back with gentle eyes.
How did I end up in here? How?
The younger girl ponders over it for a moment but nothing came out. It seems she does not have the answer herself.
"Do you know who runs this place?" Daenerys asks for the third time. Arya snapped her head, glaring at her. It was becoming rather annoying now.
But Daenerys is far too excited to notice as she continues. "Are there more slaves they keep in here, beside the others and yourself, Accalia?"
At the last word, Arya's glare intensified. She tried to speak up but again she was unsuccessful. It was like her mouth had lost the ability to speak. Though she can clearly feel her tongue still intact, the words do not seem to get out. At her frustration, a threaten growl came out instead, automatically shutting Daenerys of her questions.
Just then,the hair at the back of her neck raises, alerting her of someone approaching her cell. In an instant, Arya stands up and back away from the metal door, making the older woman shocked by her sudden moves. But, when the same men from last time came into view, Daenerys posture relaxed though there is still wariness in it, but this time towards the men. She stands on her two feet and joins Arya.
"You are alive?" one of the men asks mockingly towards Daenerys. His accent thick under his tongue. He shifts his gaze to Arya then. "I'm surprised you did not tear her apart yet, Accalia. I hope you are not going soft now. We cannot afford you being soft. You know how Master Qazlas is." He continues. Arya glares at them, not understand one bit of the words he said.
The other man moves forward then, unlocking the bars. The noise of metal against metal loud against their ears.
"Come Accalia, it is time," he said as the gruff man opens the metal door wide. Arya looks at both men and the door warily.
She does not know what to expect beyond this cell but at the same time, she wants to get out and run if she had the chance.
"Come on Accalia, we do not have all day." The man said impatiently. Arya decides then.
She glanced at Daenerys who was staring at her evenly. Her eyes were begging her to not leave her alone. But, Arya breaks their connection and walks away with careful steps. The men back away with every step she takes, keeping their distance. If anyone were to see, it almost looks like they were intimidated by her. Arya shrugged that thought off as she finally steps outside the open door and into the hallway for the first time.
To her left and right, no endings can be seen as the hallway continues into the darkness. Only dim light fills the ground, conveniently separated by an aligned ray of lights, much like her cell.
"Move along, now." The gruff man speaks up. Arya turns around to find them both waiting for her to move the other way. When the man nudges his head forward to get his message clear, Arya glanced one last time to Daenerys who is in the already locked cell. She ignored her very best at the pair of frightened violet eyes and walks away to the intended path.
As she moves further, her eyes roam towards her path only to find similar cells as her own. Some of them were occupied and some of them were not. She stops short to find a pool of blood under her foot. It was coming from one of the cells and Arya grimaced at the man, or rather his body that the blood was coming from. The stink of decaying flesh was starting to fill her nose.
"Ha! I knew Bearclaw will not last after that fight." The man with the thick accent suddenly speaks up. "You better pay up." He continues. The other only groans in response.
Without wanting to spend any more time there, Arya strides faster leaving the two men. Though they were a few feet from her, she cannot run as there was no place to go but forward. They will catch up to her in no time.
Finally reaching at the end of the hallway, she finds a metal door locked from the other side. Before she can do anything about it, a voice beats her to it.
"Open up. Accalia is here." The gruff man ordered. They were standing at a safe distance again, right behind the younger girl.
The door conveniently opens with a loud creak. As Arya steps inside or outside, her eyes caught more men in similar brown gear as the two who were escorting her, standing guard on each corner. The only difference was they were sporting a long club of sharp edges, with a belt keeping it in place.
Suddenly feeling intimidated, her stance changes instantly, ready to attack when necessary. But, the guards paid her no attention and she moves forward carefully until a large opening stops her. The light that was coming from the other side almost blinded her.
"You are up against the man who injured Bearclaw. Manslayer they call him." The man speaks up making her turns around. "Best of luck little Accalia." He continues with a smirk before urging her to continue forward. Arya frowns, looking at the opening and the men repeatedly.
She can feel whatever was waiting for her behind the opening is not a way out and she would rather not go there. But, the men clearly won't budge as long as she is still there. Taking her chance, Arya turns around again to the bright opening. Her jaw clenched tight and her knuckles white from gripping too hard.
As she walks into the blinding light, the first thing she senses was the loud sound of cheering. Next came her vision. She blinks a few times to adjust the now bright light. She swallowed dryly as a sea of people caught her eyes. They were shouting and pointing at her like a madman.
"- to you, Accalia! The she-wolf of Qazlas Pit!" she caught a voice among the chaos. She snapped her head at the sound and found no one but another sea of people.
"And her opponent, the Manslayer!" the voice bellowed. Arya swears the crowd cheered louder if that was even possible.
She glanced nervously around the large ground. It was like an arena or some sort. The crowd were conveniently placed high from the ground, watching her from above like she was some kind of entertainment sport.
Through her daze, she didn't realize that there was a need for a weapon. Someone had placed them on the middle of the ground but Arya was too distracted by a man thrice her size charging forward with incredible speed despite his big frame. A battle-axe was in his hold. She cursed inwardly as the man finally within her reach. The axe swings by and if not for her quick sidestepped, she would be cut in half now.
Before she can find her rhythm, the Manslayer managed to knock her with the back-end of the axe, sending her sprawling on her back. The bile taste of blood was filling her mouth as her head starts to spin. The crowd cheered at her fall.
She rolls her body sideways, spitting the blood on the ground and gets up. Knowing that she needs a weapon to keep herself alive, she puts all her might into her feet and runs across the arena. A spear was waiting for her there. As she grabs it, she hears the thumping sound of the man's foot from behind her.
With one swift motion, she spins her spear around to meet with the man, successfully cutting his middle. The Manslayer roared in rage. He lunged forward as if his tear on his abdomen was merely a scratch.
His battle-axe against her spear, clashing. Though Arya was channelling all her strength into each defence, it does not seem to help her. The man's blow was twice the strength and he managed to put her back three steps when she attacks with one.
She was panting hard as minutes go by making her steps faltered. It only takes a second for the Manslayer to reward her with another hit across her middle. She heard something crack from inside her as she kneels on the ground. Her panted breath was deafening to her ears.
This is just a dream. This is not happening. This is not real.
Her mind keeps chanting the words repeatedly. She didn't want to acknowledge whatever situation this was. If she did, then she would have to accept the fact that her father and Sansa did in fact had died. But the pain was excruciating and unbearable dismissing any possibility of a dream.
But, dream can't be this real, can they?
Another blow to her side makes her groan by the pain. Her face scrunched up in pain as she was sprawling on the ground yet again. A set of images assaulted her mind then, just like in her dream.
Jon giving her Needle.
The Manslayer suddenly came into view, towering over her. His smirk plastered on his hideous face as he looks down on her. At that, another set of images came uninvited.
Her father lying on the ground with swords through both his back and front. And Sansa's calming face as her dress was soaking with blood… They are both dead.
Her sight is blurred by the tears in her eyes as the haunting images become clearer with seconds go by. Oblivion to the younger girl's state of mind, the man above her takes that as a sign to end the battle and pulls the axe up and swing it down on her. Despite the ache inside her heart, Arya was prepared for that. She raised her arms where her spear blocks the axe that was supposed to split her head into two, taking her place instead.
She ignores the splinters that rained on her face as the wooden spear breaks apart and throws the metal end towards the man. The man screams in agony as the steel blade pierce right through his chest. But, it was nothing compared to the one coming from the younger girl as she jumped at the man with another half spear against his chest. He ends up stumbling backwards with Arya still on top of him.
Her inside was in rage and denial as the images of her dream came pouring inside her head again. As if in possessed, she takes half the spear out of the man's chest only to plunge it back again and again. The crowd was silent as her desperate scream filled the place. The Manslayer was long dead, but Arya could not care less. Blood of her own and the dead man was on her hands. But all she could see was the death of her father and Sansa repeatedly at the back of her mind. Just like in her dreams, no, her memories. And what is more excruciating being the fact that this time, she had no one to blame but herself.