In which the truths unveil themselves
*Year 305 After Conquest (AC) – New Future*
The battlefield lay quiet. The clangour of swords had died away. The clamour of the slaughter was hushed. Silence lay on the red-stained ground where the sun glittered so blindingly from up the sky.
It's still late noon, Arya thought.
The battle lasted barely a few hours yet the victory has already been decided. Her lifeless legs scratch against the blood-stained ground as two men drag her away from the broken blades, shattered shields and heaps of burnt corpses. When they grew tired and tossed her to the ground amongst the bodies, the smell of burnt flesh flare up her nostril and make her gag. But, a quick thug from behind and she finds herself facing a bloodied face.
He was kneeling on the ground across her, tied up, weak and dejected. He's a northerner. And there are a few others that are in similar states at both his sides. Arya counted twenty-one men as their tired eyes are all on her.
"Would you like to say a few words?" A disembodied voice sounded. She turns to the side to find Euron close. "A goodbye perhaps?" he inquired.
The bleeding cut on her left forearm felt nothing compared to the raging pain within her. There is nothing else she could do now and she's probably not going to leave this place alive. But, she could at least try to save these men who did nothing but following orders.
She finds blue eye then. "Spare them."
The corner of his lips tugged upwards, the barest of lift but his eye conveys it all. He walks closer and looks down. "Give me one reason."
Arya looks to the men who are looking back with gleams of hope in their gaze. She licks her dry lips and finds Euron again. "You've won…" she reminded him. "Rather than executing them and waste their potential, you can add them to your forces. They will become your soldiers and they will fight for you."
Silence lingers as Euron says nothing and his features reveal the same thing. She waits with bated breath. The wind blows carrying clouds of dust and ashes where the flame had licked before and its perpetrator nowhere in sight.
He turns to the men. "Will you serve me as your King?"
She urges them silently as their gaze finds hers again. And when they finally did as was told, Arya closes her eyes in relief.
"You should thank your former queen." Euron declares as he moves to the northerner who is kneeling across her. "Because of her, you're still alive. Now, say 'thank you'."
Confused, the man said nothing. Until another in black armour—Euron's soldier— joins them with a small knife in his hand.
Euron leans in. "Look at her and say thank you."
Immediately, the man obliged and said, "T—Thank you."
Silently, Arya acknowledges it and tries to calm him down. But her vision got obscured by the back of Euron's soldier as soon as he uttered the words. And the next thing she hears is his plea of help and gurgle of sound.
"What are you doing to him?!" she growled at Euron who is calmly at their side.
Before he can answer, his soldier moves away, having finished his task, to reveal the man from before. Only this time, his jaw is gaping open as blood pouring from his empty mouth and into the soil.
Arya swallowed down bile at the sight. Her stomach felt sick knowing that there is something wrong with the inside of his mouth. It looks too empty and hollow. Not only when a piece of long flesh was thrown on her lap did she notices the man is now without a tongue.
"Don't worry yourself," Euron said, crouching at the man now lying on the ground, motionless. "He's still alive as you wanted… But, to be one of my crew, you need to be mute. That is a requirement that I cannot bargain." He stands up and moves to the next person and leans to his ear. "Say 'thank you' to your crippled queen."
Arya clenched her jaw so hard that it hurts. Her nails are digging through the dirt as she fists her hands, frustrated to think of something to help them get away. But she comes up with nothing.
Instead, she looks away to escape the frightened looks of her men that she just assist in sealing their fate. As another bloodied tongue winds up on her lap and Euron goes on to the next man, she looks down in silence, eyes closed. She hears them thanked her over and over again before they lost their voice forever and her tears fall down together with their plea.
It goes on until the last of her men said the same thing and goes silent. When it was too quiet, Arya opens her eyes and finds twenty-one wet tongues, ripped and torn around the edges lay in a heap around her. Across, her men are on the ground, barely moving as their mouths stained with red.
Euron is at the side, watching her closely before he decides to close in. "It's done. I spared your men as you wish."
She looks up slowly. "I hope you kill me Greyjoy. Because I will not rest until I cut off your head."
He goes down to stare levelly with her. "Why are you angry? I did as you wanted." He gestures to the now quiet bloodied men behind him. "You did this… I didn't want them, but you beg me to save their lives. Had you not did that, they would receive a quick, merciful death without pain. But you wanted them alive." His gaze bore into hers with a glint. "You did this, no one else."
Her throat begins to clog up as his words seep into her heart. There is something beginning to crack inside her as her breath hitches. Her vision becomes blurred as the pain from the inside makes it escape. "You sick cunt…" She spat. "You're even less than a human."
Euron looks less than bothered. "Why would I want to be human if I can be a God?"
*
They took her to Winterfell, or rather what's left of the castle. The fire had long died now and as they drag her inside, she can no longer recognize which part of the castle it was once. The stone walls had melted away and most of the establishments are in a pile of rubbles.
She tried searching for anything of resemblance and survivors but found more rubbles and black ashes and dirt piling up instead.
It has become a graveyard, Arya thought. And soon she will be joining them.
A hard tug makes her hiss in pain as the two men that have been dragging her pulls her arms up. They ignore her discomfort and secure chains around her wrists next. She stood awkwardly with her arms up the wall, pulling her weight.
Arya glared at the two men. "Are you so incompetent to murder a cripple that you need to tie her to a wall?" she taunted but they said nothing but stare.
"Don't waste your time." Euron suddenly appears behind them. "I told you, all of my men are mute." He pats them in the back and the two men turn and left without a second glance.
"You sick cunt."
"Yes, you said that already."
Slowly, he walks towards her. His pale blue orb rakes over her body as he silently studies her left and right.
"So, you're the incompetent coward that needs to immobilize a cripple to kill her effectively." Arya glowered not breaking eye contact.
Euron stops then. "No." He nears in. His face is so close that if she moves in the slightest, their skin would touch. "Just cautious and shrewd of the infamous crippled queen who was crowned in such a young age, taking down one after another of her enemies and had the dragon queen's support before I did."
She swallowed a lump that begins to form as his eye seems to be in search of something within her. There is a strong unfamiliar pungent smell coming out from his breath that makes her stomach churns.
"So forgive me if I had to take extreme measures to contain you." He continues and finally backs away.
Arya releases a breath. "You took my men, my home, and my country. What else do you want from me?"
He stares at her long and hard. "That is for you to decide." Without another glance, he turns and walks away, disappearing behind the pile of rubbles.
*
That was the last time Arya ever saw Euron. As soon as he left, no one came back to end her or even torture her into submission. All she had, accompanied her were silence and the cold. She can't feel her arms anymore. Even the cut that she received from before had stopped hurting for a long while now. And when she looks down to her legs, the patch of red from before has grown, soaking from her right thigh down to her boot making a pool of blood under it.
Perhaps this is what the bastard crow's eye wanted after all—for her to slowly die.
The moon glimmers above her head, replacing the sun hours ago. And the cold wind doubles her frozen state, seeing that there are no more walls and barriers between them. Arya decides she can stand the coldness creeping inside her bones and spines. But not the thoughts of her family.
Of Rickon and Sansa. Of Osha. Of Jon. And Of Daenerys.
There was a huge possibility that her family had been caught in the flame. Perhaps they were still down the crypts, trapped and burnt alive. And if somehow, by the smallest chance that they manage to escape, how far can they go before Euron and his dragons caught up with them?
And try as she might, she cannot remain hopeful of Jon. There is no sight of Rhaegal during the battle and she can only imagine what Euron had done to her brother and his dragon back at Kings Landing. Even Drogon and Viserion had been following Euron's command with obedience and did not seem to be bothered by their brother's absence.
She had not the slightest idea of how any of that can happen.
The dragons are naturally bound to Daenerys as they should be since she is and will always be their mother. Whatever Euron did, Arya believed that there is no way that he would kill the dragon queen. She still remembered how frantic Drogon was another lifetime ago when Robb executes the older woman. After all, she had been at the end of his wrath.
Though there was only the barest and the slightest of hope that her family - that Daenerys - are still alive somewhere, Arya takes it anyway and let it simmer inside the coldness. She lets it burn slowly and steadily, lighting up her hope and goes to sleep with it.
*
It was only three days later that she finally received a visitor from Euron Greyjoy himself. Though it surprises her that the man still shows any interest, she had bigger things to care about such as the fever that she now has since the last two nights. The untreated wound on her forearm and thigh might have been the major reason for her current condition.
She wills herself to lift her heavy head and looks up to find Euron close. His clothes are much cleaner now. Red drapes go around his torso and fall behind his shoulders matching his red eye patch. And he clads black scale armour which she has the luxury to finally notice. His armour is dark as smoke. The scales edged in red and gold and they shine and glimmer under the sun. It's like nothing Arya had ever seen before.
"Forgot something?" She croaked.
He smiles, amused. His lips are in a much darker shade of blue than before, almost black. "Yes. I got you some beverages." The waterskin that he holds sloshes noisily as he shakes it in front of her face.
The sound wakes the hunger inside. Her throat suddenly becomes too dry and instinctively she licks her chapped lips to soothe her cravings.
"Would you like some?" he taunted.
Fucking cunt. Two can play the game. Arya thought groggily.
She looks at him squarely. "Perhaps you can untie me and leave that here. I can tend to myself."
"Alright, crippled wolf." His smiling eye gleams with something that made Arya shivers but she blames it on her feverishness. "If you answer my questions honestly, then I will do as you say." He finished.
He didn't wait for her consent seeing that she has none as he starts pacing in front, wheels turning inside his head.
"Tell me," Euron starts. "Have you ever hated your brothers or sister?"
Arya frowns at the question but more so because of her headache that keeps worsening by the minute. She can feel cold sweats trickle down the side of her face. "Of course I have." She answered late as the crow's eye curiously watches her. "But I'm not as wicked as to murder them if they as much called me names. I'm not a kinslayer." She spat the last word in disgust.
His smiling eye is gone as he nears her again. "Do you see me as evil?"
"I see you as much worse."
He leans in then. "There is no good or evil in this world, crippled queen, only unfortunates. And those unfortunates are the one that is without power. And do you know what power is? Not knowledge, not family and certainly not the crown. Blood. Blood is power."
Her grey orbs harden, not backing down. "I wonder who fucked up your feeding milk when you were a babe for you to turn into this."
Silence tense surrounds them right after. Arya waits to be struck, punched or worse stabbed but instead, Euron laughs. Cackle. A horrible sound which she can live without.
"I think you deserve a sip." He declares after regaining himself much later. He opens the cork of the waterskin and pushes the opening to her mouth.
She opens her cracked lips and sloppily takes the liquid. Water is what she expected to come down but instead, it was something else. Something thick and viscous, with a taste, seems to change with every swallow. Now bitter, now sour, now sweet. She spat it out though some already got inside her throat.
"The wine of the warlocks," Euron said as she coughs out the remaining liquid. "Do you know what it does?" He taunts further. "Your gods will come for you tonight; the old, the new, whichever you worship and then you will see more truths in it than all the gods of earth."
Arya can't help but chuckle. The aftertaste still lingers on her tongue however many times she spits out. She looks up to pale blue eye then. "If that is a threat then it was a poor one, you deranged crow." For the first time since she met him, the corner of her lip lifts and she finds herself smiling. Dark and crooked. "There's only one God I know and He already visits me constantly."
She notices the agitation and tension that cross his features however small and brisk as he schools his face back into indifference soon after. But, Arya saw them nonetheless and her smile remains. Euron doesn't say anything else as he closes in and pulls her head back before shoving the waterskin to her lips again. She was forced to swallow every last drop of the warlock's wine just so she can clear her airway and breathe again.
And then as fast as he came, Euron left. The now-empty waterskin discarded on the ashen ground.
*
When Arya sleeps that night she dreamt of weirwood tree and of a black crow. With the same Gods' face of red sap flowing through its eyes and mouth. Or was that blood? She could not be certain. But, the black bird perched on top its branch was different for it has another eye—on top of its forehead— between its two red ones. She noticed seaweed stuck between its wings too.
The creature doesn't seem to care about any of it as its three red-blood eyes had pinned her in place and Arya finds herself unable to move, not even to lift a finger. So, she waits and watches in silence. It could have been going on for days or months. There is no sense of time here—wherever this place may be.
And then of a sudden, the crow caws. Loud and sickening. Before it spreads its wings and flies towards her. As the black bird closes in, opening its beak, Arya sees the beginning of fire inside its throat. And then it shrieks and the flame grows and swallows her whole.
The heat engulfs her entire body as she screams in silence. The pain of her skin melting off seems familiar and she swears that the bird shrieks out her name before it decides to burn her alive. The last thing she remembered witnessing before blackness took over is that there was someone behind the tree, watching everything in silence.
*
A sudden coldness washes over her, replacing the heat and burning that she experienced. Arya wakes up in a jolt, water droplets dripping from head to toe literally soaking her wet. When her vision finally clears, there are two men standing before her. One, she couldn't recognize but he has the familiar black armour of the enemy. An empty bucket in his hand.
Another mute. She realized as her body starts shivering.
"Your stench has become too overwhelming." Another joins and Arya finally realized that Euron is here as well. "I hope you don't mind." He said nonchalantly. His soldier had already walked away.
If she won't die before, then surely she would now. There is no way that she can survive the night in this state. It would be a miracle for her body to not be a block of ice in this freezing weather.
She remembered the last time that the crow's eye was here; how upset he was before forcing that poison water into her throat. Whatever she said back then must have rattled him so much for him to show up like this and tries to take control again.
The thought alone made her smile. Slowly, she meets his gaze, unwavering but the uncontrollable shivers raking her body to find any kind of extra warmth. She said nothing but silence. Whatever he's playing, she will not be a part of it.
"I've been busy the last few days…" He finally breaks the silence, not breaking any contact. "Visiting your towns and villages. I had low expectation before but after meeting the folk myself, getting to know them better, I'm quite taken by them." Her smile is now gone as he restores his. "They speak highly of you. 'The crippled queen with visions', they alleged. When I told them I have you in my captivity, they didn't believe me. Saying that their queen would save them from the monster that will tear apart their home as she always does. Yet, when the flame took over, their queen still didn't show. And of course, my dragons don't have to worry about their source of food for a while."
Her chains clink when she moves, chest heaving with raw intensity of wrath inside. Euron only smiles wider. "You should have seen the fear in their eyes. Their lips mumbling something of a prayer I reckon, while my dragons and I come down upon them." He leans close and whispered. "However many visions you may have, you will never understand that power I hold over them."
The cold flames inside her rise up and crawling through her veins, taking over the rest of her body. But she closes her eyes and wills the fire to cool down. The young Stark bets on her life that this is what he wants. To watch her break. She will not show any weaknesses to this sick of a man. She owes it to her people. She owes it to their beliefs in her, at least.
When she meets his gaze again, determined than ever before, Euron snarls and pulls a knife to her face. His cold fingers gripping her wet hair in place as he leans close. "Perhaps I would see the same fear in your eyes when I cut open your pretty face. Will you pray to your God then?"
The cool blade painfully digging into her skin and Arya can feel the sting as something thicker trails down her cheek. She lets it be and instead taunts back. "You think I'm pretty?"
He doesn't waver either. "As pretty as your dead legs." And then he pressed his knife deeper.
She tries not to flinch as she welcomes the familiar pain. The blood now trickles heavily down her chin.
"Whichever God you worship, He must have hated you so much that He didn't even warn you that you'll lose your legs. Your vision meant nothing then and even now." Euron continues.
"That's not His faults." Arya tries not to shiver much as to not further the damage the knife had done and is still doing to her face. "He can't possibly control me when I leap." she joked.
Euron stills. "When you leap?"
"Yes," She smirked, noticing the change and decides to continue on. "I thought I can fly, so I jump from the broken tower. Even though it lasted only for a few second, I was up in the air and I was flying. It was nothing like I had ever experienced. That freeing feeling when there was nothing between you. No ground and no sky to hold you…" She snorts at his face. "You wouldn't know the feeling. Even if you have every last one of the dragons in this earth."
Being this close, she can see the tense muscle on his features and she takes that as a small victory. His striking blue eye moves frantically in search of something within. Arya doesn't know what and didn't really care.
Just when she thought that the blade will move onto her throat next, she was surprised to find that it didn't. Instead, Euron sheaths his knife and turns, leaving her without another word.
She doesn't even bother of what just happened and instead lets her body relaxes. Now that the madman has left her alone, she can die in peace. She decides she liked the coldness better. At least, the cold made every part of her body numb so that she can't really feel anything as they slowly start to shut down.
It was late afternoon when someone stirs her out of her frozen sleep. Lazily, she opens her eyes to men busy around her. They undid her chains and soon after, she falls down the ground with a thud. The dirt goes into her mouth at the abrupt contact and pain courses through her body, awakening the muscle that had long not been used.
The mutes grasp her by the arms then and drag her towards a chair. She immediately recognizes that it was her wheelchair. They toss her onto it without care and she has to hold on so that she doesn't fall down. As they take her towards a destination, all Arya can think about is the fact that she had a knife strapped below the seat.
*
Her consciousness comes and goes as time went by. At one point, she felt someone tearing her frozen cloths apart and then at another, she felt the pain on her forearm being penetrated by something sharp. She didn't have it in her to fight off the perpetrator let alone scream of the pain that had been inflicted. So, she can only suffer in the midst of her dream-state, unsure whether those things happened or not.
And when she did regain her consciousness, it was at the presence of something warm and smooth touching her entire skin. She finds men clads in black swarming around her, wet cloth in their hands as they attempt to wipe the dirt and blood off her arms, torso and face. The thought of these men seeing her in such vulnerable state was lost on Arya as she was too preoccupied with the heavenly feeling of cleanliness and warmth.
It has been a long time since she feels restful. So, it was not strange that she didn't want to wake up and leave the comfort of this state ever again. However, slowly and surely her mind becomes aware of the smoothness under her back and the warmth that wraps around.
Finally, she opens her eyes to a familiar ceiling and when she moves her head, her room comes into view. Arya props herself up but immediately fail when her left arm gave out. She straddles it, biting her lips so that she will not scream out. Bandages were neatly wrapped around her entire forearm covering her wound. And when she reaches up to her face with her good hand, another bandage covered her cheek.
Something stirs at the corner of her room then and Euron's mute reveals himself. Silently, he walks out of the room and shuts the door behind him. The feeling of confusion and discomfort left the young Stark as she takes her alone time to study her room.
It was a miracle that the flame didn't catch on to this part of the castle. Her room is still in the same state as the last time Arya left it. And just like that the thoughts of the last morning she had with Osha in this room before the battle come swarming inside her head. And then of breaking her fast with Sansa and Rickon soon after. She wills the memories to disappear knowing that if they occupy her mind, she would break.
Turning to the side, the young Stark finds her wheelchair located close. Carefully, she slides herself towards the bedside, mindful of her injured arm. When she was finally within arm's reach, she pulls it closer and searches under the seat. Her fingers come upon a cool surface. She grips the leather hilt and pulls it out slowly.
As the blade glimmers from the candlelight in front of her face, Arya's grip tightened, determined to stick the pointed end inside one blue eye.
*
When the mute soldier came back not much later, he placed her onto her wheelchair and pushed her outside. Arya lets herself be handled. Keeping in mind that she had an advantage now, however small, under her seat.
Her thoughts got cut off when they were along the hallways, or what's left of it. The stone walls at both sides are gaping open, revealing the space behind them. Once which had been rooms is now an open area merging with the outside world. So, it was no wonder that she starts to shiver as frigid wind pass her by. Her new thin gown certainly doesn't help.
A few turns and corners later, she finally finds herself at the Great Hall. The grand room isn't in a much better state than the rest of Winterfell. The ceilings were no more as moonlight shines through and towards the dusty floor. Her heart weight heavy at the sight of her home. At Winterfell being destroyed.
"Majestic, isn't it?" Someone suddenly said. Arya snaps her head to the voice where Euron is walking towards her. "I meant the moon." he finished leisurely.
She doesn't bother to respond though he doesn't seem to mind as he takes a seat at the head of the dining table. Candles light up the centre. The fireplace has also started creating a well-lit space around the area.
The mute behind her continues to push and placed her across Euron. He then proceeds to get two plates from another table at the corner of the room and serve them to his master and herself. He pours red wine inside their goblets next and distances himself not far, creating an illusion that she's alone with the crow's eye.
Arya frowns at the plate full of food in front of her which consists of some kind of meat, bread and assorted vegetables and fruits. Her stomach rumbles, asking her to start eating but she refrains herself and finds Euron instead.
"What is this?" She asked, confused.
Euron stops cutting his meat. "Horsemeat, hard bread, and some vegetables and fruits from your glass garden." At her sickened look, he smiles assuredly. "Not your horse. Others."
She tears away from his gaze, trying to regain herself and start planning how to execute him. Though there is not much of a distance between them across the table, she doubts she can throw the blade from where she's seated. The man had even succeeded in stopping an arrow with his bare hand so there's no way she can throw the knife with faster speed and precision in her current condition.
"Help yourself." His voice cuts through her musings. He signals for his plate to be taken and the mute obliged and placed it at her side. The meat from his plate had been cut into small bite-sized. "Your arm still needs healing," he said.
As much as Arya hated him, she can't deny that he has a certain charm about him. If only he wasn't such vile of a person. Hard grey orbs meet calculating blue. "No, thank you." She ignores his plate and her utensils and reaches for the meat with her bare hand instead, taking a large bite.
The taste is horrible but she keeps on chewing and then swallows. Realizing she needs every last bit of energy that she can get to kill the man in front.
"How do you like your dress?" He asked as he receives back his untouched plate.
"There's a reason the silk market did not thrive in The North."
"Most women would be excited to receive such gowns."
"Was that before or after you destroyed their home?"
Arya doesn't really expect an answer to that but he just smiles and said, "Both."
She felt sick and even more detest if that's even possible. This meal, his sudden kindness, and caring; it's like she's in a horrible act. She's not sure if she should stay in character or break out of it. If there was any trick up his sleeve and his façade, she can't find it yet.
So, she focuses instead on the one thing that she can and will do. Killing him.
Since throwing the knife was out of the picture, she needs to get close to him and strike when he least expected it. The knife has to go through his eye or his skull and nowhere else. Certainly not his torso. Even now, he stills adorned his peculiar armour. The red and gold scales are nowhere in sight as before. But perhaps they need the sunlight to shine through. And remembering how sturdy his armour was when she tried to stab him, needless to say, she won't go for it again.
"It's valyrian steel armour."
Her gaze snaps up to meet his. Apparently, she was not being as subtle as she thinks she was.
"I procure it from the ruins of a Dragon Lord family in the dooms of Valyria."
Arya focuses again at the dark armour, only noticing the patterns within the metal. Whorls and glyphs and arcane symbols moulded into it. "Everyone knows that Doom ruled Valyria. There's nothing in that scorched and drowned city."
"That is where you're wrong. I found the city and in it much more. One of which I used against your king of a brother."
The air stills as his last words hung heavy. She grits her teeth at his indifferent notion. "What is it?" she demanded.
He stops and puts down his fork and knife. "I'll answer your questions if you answered mine."
She frowns at the sudden change of topic. Perhaps this is the reason that she's still alive and is having an unpleasant dinner. Because she had something that he wanted and needed to know—whatever that may be. Arya decides to play along so that she can bide her time to do what truly necessary.
She nods her consent and he leans forward. "Dragon horn." he smiles wickedly. "The dragonlords of old sounded such horns before the doom devoured them. I found it amongst the smoking ruins of Valyria and with it, I can bind dragons to my will."
She froze. "That's impossible." There's no way that such artefact exists.
"No, it's not, crippled queen. You saw the dragons. I control them now."
He was even riding Drogon before. The dragon that Daenerys had bonded and yet—"But not Rhaegal. Where is he?" She pushed. "Where is my brother?"
"That was another question. It's my turn now." He stands up and walks closer but not close enough for Arya to strike as he stands by the fireplace. "Tell me how you got your visions."
His gaze is unrelenting and she still has many questions that needed answers. But, it seems she can't get to it without revealing herself to him. And however Arya sees it, telling the truth about her time travelling to this man seems suicidal. Even more so since his motive still remains unclear.
"I got them in my dreams. Snippets of it and it's up to me to interpret them." she lied. When his cold gaze reveals nothing, she decides it's her turn now. Though, she badly wants to know about Daenerys, she opts to a much natural inquiry instead. "Do you have Jon?"
Euron sips his wine. "I have him."
Hope begins to ignite inside her.
"I heard that you had many suitors all over Westeros. But, you turned them down. Why?" he asked.
Her confusion only deepens at the strange question and as always his features reveal nothing. "Because I'm a cripple and I can't bear any children as any of the suitors wanted. Besides, I didn't need them to establish my governance."
He hums, thoughtful. "Perhaps I should impregnate you just to prove you wrong. At the very least you'll finally know what it truly feels to be pleasured by a man."
Arya felt sick to her stomach. "I'm sure it's lovely, but I doubt your dick can satisfy me."
His lips upturn and then he laughs. The sound resonates through the Great Hall. The wind passes by and makes her shivered.
He placed his empty goblet on the table and meets her gaze. "I've prepared a gift for you tomorrow and now more than ever I think you'll enjoy it." He fixed her a last smile. "Sleep well, crippled queen."
As Euron disappears into the shadows, Arya can't shake the feeling that she had exposed something of importance even though she doesn't know what that might be.
Her sleep that night was restless.
*
The mute fetch her the next day and as they go through the familiar paths, Arya recalls the many ways she will kill Euron Greyjoy. The presence of the small knife under the seat is as sure as her beating heart. She had positioned it closer to her right so that she can reach for it without moving too much. All she needs to do is slide her hand and reach for its protruding hilt underneath.
As they finally enter the Great Hall again, Euron is already there, leaning against the table as he watches the flame from the fireplace. The room feels oddly bright as the light from the sun shines from above the empty ceilings.
Silently, the mute soldier pushes her close towards the inner of the room. As soon as he stationed her at the same place as last night, he left. The situation could not get any better than this, Arya thought. She needs to kill Euron fast and maybe she can even escape from this place.
"When I was a boy, I dreamt that I could fly." Euron suddenly said, breaking the frantic thoughts inside her head. She looks up to him but he remains unmoved, facing the fireplace. The shadows of fire dance on his profile. "I dreamt that a murder of crows pushed me from a tall tower. I fell off it but I didn't reach the ground. Beneath me, there, lay the realm. The Iron Island, The Dooms of Valyria, where the dragons stirred beneath the sunrise, Andalos and Sarnor… I could see the whole world and everyone in it. The world; broken and remade. And a new god born from the graves and charnel pits."
The young Stark shifts in her seat. She recalls her earlier comment when she taunted him about falling off the broken tower.
"I thought I saw something in you." Euron finally moves, slowly advancing towards her. "But, I guess I was wrong. You lied to me about those visions that you presumably had. You might have fooled the northern folk, but you're nothing to the eyes of God. You're nothing to me."
Her heart rate speeds up. "I didn't lie."
"Have some dignity. You're embarrassing me."
Little by little, she slides her hand at the side to where her knife is.
"Perhaps I should tell you this before we part ways," He bends to stare levelly with her. Their face close. "My men had been scouring the rubbles to find any hidden treasures Winterfell may possess and can you guess what they found in the castle crypt?"
Arya froze.
"Dead bodies." He continues. "Not of your ancestors but of your sister and little brother. Of other women, children and even direwolves."
No.
"Imagine my surprise."
Her vision blurred as her throat clog up. They can't be— They can't—
"And the gift that I mentioned." Euron had moved away to bring a tray. Carefully, he puts it right in front of her. The inside remains hidden by a cover. "You asked me if I have your brother, Jon." Without waiting he pulls the cover off.
Arya's heart stops and so does the world around her as dark grey orbs looked at her own without recognition that they usually do. His features are spotted with angry bruises making his pale complexion to be of some colour. His dark hair matted with dried blood and they trailed under his chin and stops right at his throat because nothing else is there but the steel of the tray.
She turns her head away violently, taking a large breath to fill her heaving chest.
No. That's not Jon.
She shakes her head repeatedly willing the horrid image to float away but Jon's lifeless head had planted itself beneath her vision even if they remain hidden.
"Your brother's death cost me a dragon. I would have all three if not for his valour. He was a great man and I'm sure he'll be missed."
Tears well up behind her closed eyes and they fall not long after. Her nails dig into her skin painfully hoping that the pain somehow will bring her away from all of this but the coldness of the room still remains and so is she.
Just then, her chair rattles as if someone is pulling it. She opens her eyes to find Euron in front, leaning close.
"I have the Targaryen queen." He said.
Arya's heart stops for the second time that day.
"Not like Jon. Whole and alive." He corrected. A small smile adorned his features. "For now."
"Don't hurt her…please." She begs, voice small.
His smiling eye shines through. "Is that fear in your eyes? You fear for this woman?" He tilts his head to study her better. "You poor soul. I had assumed that you have no interest in men but, Daenerys Targaryen? Your brother's wife?" He clicked his tongue. "You're not so honourable are you?"
She can't begin to think about what Euron had done or will do to Daenerys. And she's not sure if she wants to know. Whatever it is, it couldn't be anything good. The possibility that Daenerys is also dead and Euron is just playing with her was not lost on Arya as well. Hot and searing warmth surge beneath her entire being. She fists her hands in determination. Her grey orbs harden as she faced Euron again. "Spare her," she said more clearly. "And I'll show you how I got my visions."
*
The red leaves of the weirwood trees are no more. Instead, they lay on the ground, in piles of dirt, burnt by the flame that had caught on. But the trunks remain intact and so does the faces carved on them. Euron stands beside one, leaning casually on its side. Two mutes stand guard not far behind her. The silence is loud and the cold even more, but her thoughts are not such case as she thinks about what had happened for the last few weeks and what she's about to do.
Grey eyes find Euron's penetrating one then. "You're right. I didn't have visions because they were my memories." She starts. "When I was no more than twelve summers, King Robert Baratheon paid Winterfell a visit. He named my father as Lord Hand and my father brought my sister and me to Kings Landing. There, when Robert dies, my father was accused of treason and he was sentenced to death by the Lannisters. My brother, Robb went to war with the Lannisters following my father's unjust death. But, he was murdered before he can win The North's independence. His wife and unborn child and my mother were slaughtered as well. My remaining siblings scattered in the wind and I think of them as dead. I vow to myself that I will kill every single one that is responsible for their deaths. And I did. It took me six years but I got them. Every single one of them."
She glances down to the tree's carving. "When I killed the last person on my list, I found a weirwood tree with a face just like this one. I pray to the Old Gods that my father worship, the Seven that my mother practised and to the God of Death that I only ever knew to bring my family back. And when I wake up, my prayer was answered. I was back in Winterfell, in my room, a child again with my family still alive."
Euron straightened as he looks at the God's face and at her repeatedly. "No man can bring back lost time— Even if it's the Gods in all of this world combine," he said sceptically.
"Well, something brought me here. Gods or not, they brought me back to the past twice now."
"Twice?" He asked, unbelieving. "How?"
Arya glances to the God's crying face. "I'm not sure about that yet." Each time she went back in time, she was always in the presence of a weirwood tree and dying. She remembered the first weirwood she encountered in the Red Keep was after defeating The Mountain and the Queensguard. And then the second one where Drogon set her aflame at this very place.
Euron walks closer towards her then. "You're not sure?" He taunts. "If you don't know, then why are we here?"
She reaches her side and immediately comes in contact with the small knife. "So that I can remember every inch of your face before I go back and kills you."
As soon as the knife reveals itself, she heard the thudding of boots against ground fall frantically from behind her. But, she ignores it. The only thing in her sight is the sharp edges of the blade. Everything else seems to be in slow motion as she hears her breath and the wind pass by so loudly.
Her grip is certain and she turns the blade swiftly so that it's pointing at herself and then without waiting, thrusts it where her heart resides. The knife met flesh and the pain that follows almost blinded her and loosens her grip. But, she holds on. With the last energy that she has left, she pushes so that the blade sinks deeper.
The agony was short and soon she feels no more. The people that gathered around her stilled and so does everything else as she feels her body gradually lightens.
~~~
*Unknown*
Slowly and reluctantly, Arya opens her eyes. She blinks, closes her eyes and blinks again until the surroundings become clear. An open field, a beautiful blue sky and lazy wind nudges against the grass where she was seated, awakening all of her senses.
Gingerly, she pushes herself up with her hands and then her legs to stand tall. When she turns, a large white tree that she had just leaned against comes into view. The carving of a face with red sap is visible.
Something within her snap into realization at the familiar God's face and the weirwood tree's now full of red-blood leaves. Memories come rushing in waves and she remembers every last bit of what happened before she got to this unfamiliar place.
Of the destruction that struck her home. Of Jon's lifeless head and of Euron's sinister smiling eye.
"Hello, Arya." A disembodied voice sounded from behind.
She turns with a jolt to find 'Dream Bran' standing right in front. She swallows a lump. "Bran."
A million thoughts cross her head. But, the most prominent one was the possibility that she was wrong in her calculation. If she's dead and this is the afterlife then—
"This is not the afterlife." Bran suddenly said.
She focuses on the young man. "Then, where am I?"
"Somewhere else."
She waits for him to explain more but he only stares back. His familiar blue orbs look vacant yet heavy. "I have to go." she declares, recalling the things that she needed to do to stop Euron Greyjoy. "I need to go back in time."
"You can't, Arya."
Her stands shifted. "You don't understand. I have to go back. I have to save them. I have to save our family."
"You can't go back." He said calmly. "I can't send you back in time again."
Silence surrounds them save for the blowing of the wind. Her body stills as she tries to understand what he said.
"You can't— You're the one who sent me back?"
"Yes."
"H—How…nevermind. I don't need to know. Just, send me back, Bran, please." She closes in. "I can do better this time. I know it. You have to do it."
His features soften though not by much. "I can't. No matter how many times you go back, you cannot change the past. And if I send you again, this time you will not survive it."
"But, I have to. I need to save all those innocent lives. Our family. Daenerys. The North." She pushed.
"You can, but not by going back. Father, mother and Robb are gone but Jon, Sansa and Rickon are not. We can save Westeros from Euron if you'll help me."
Her frowns deepen. "No. We have to save them all. Do you hear me? Father, mother and Robb don't need to die. I can save them this time and I will."
His gaze hardens. "Nothing good will come out of it if you change the past. You remembered how Robb turned out when you save him. He sacrificed his own direwolf to the Faceless Men just so that he can end a young girl's life across the narrow sea."
Arya chuckles in disbelief. "That can't be true." She knows Robb had hired the assassin cult but sacrificing Greywind—
"You know better that acquiring the service of a Faceless Man is expensive. And they never received coins as payment." At her stillness, Bran continues. "Do you see now, what your meddling into the past had cost?"
She flinched at that but regain herself in a matter of seconds. "If I can't change anything, then why in seven hells did you send me back in the first place?"
"I heard you pray."
"You heard me pray?"
"Yes. I heard you pray in the Godswood of the Red Keep after you finish Cersei off your list." He walks past her to stand beside the God's face. "The weirwood trees are connected to me, to the three-eyed raven and that's what I have become now."
Seeing Bran standing beside the Heart tree gives Arya a sense of familiarity. Her previous dreams that she had during the years flash at the front of her mind. Of the godly trees, the ravens, and the man that was always in her nightmare. "That was you." Her gaze clears and meets him in understanding.
He nods in confirmation. "I attempted to tell you sooner but you keep pushing me whenever I try to go inside your head... But, now that we're here, you understand the threat that Euron Greyjoy possessed. What he's capable of. You need to stop him before he gets to Daenerys. Before he controls the dragons."
Arya had stopped listening as soon as Bran said he was in her head. "You heard my prayer, so you decided to play god?"
"You were missing father and mother. You wanted to see our family again and that's what I did."
"And you let me stay there," She trails as memories dance before her eyes. "In those illusions that you created until you seed hope inside me, knowing full well that they were going to die no matter how much I tried." Her body starts to tremble with growing rage. "I had to watch our family murdered and slaughtered over and over again. I was enslaved, tortured. And I had to watch the person that I love killed by my own brother. I lost my legs to save you."
Bran did nothing but stare, with those unresponsive look. She marches over in large strides until she's right in his face. "Fuck you... Get me out of this place. Get out of my head."
"I can't. Not until you promise that you'll help me stop Euron."
"I don't care about what you want. Get. Out."
He doesn't waver, not in the slightest. "You don't care about Daenerys? About her life? About the life of everyone else in Westeros? Euron has the dragon binder and he will stop at nothing until he gets the dragons. He will not stop until he lay waste and carnage to the world."
It's getting hard to control herself and seeing the passive and detached attitude that Bran wears only makes the fire within her grow. "Did you also make me fall in love with her?"
"I can't control what you did. That's all your doings. That's why we're here in the first place, much later rather than sooner."
Her fists tighten. "I don't believe you."
"Those things inside your head, they are not illusions. They are real memories, real experiences… Do you think that all of the people that you met in your lifetimes were fake? Something that I could've possibly made? No, Arya. They were real person acting under different circumstances with no influence but their surroundings and themselves. I may have the knowledge of the past and the future but their choice is not something that I can control." He looks her squarely right into her soul. "I cannot control Daenerys. I cannot control Euron. And I cannot control you."
When Arya said nothing, Bran reaches out to touch her shoulder in assurance. "The past is written, the ink is dried. However many times we go back, we cannot change it, but we can learn from it… Those memories of father and mother and even Robb. We can learn from their mistakes and successes to make the world a better place. That's how you should honour their love and memories."
"Don't touch me." She snarls.
Bran sighs. "Arya."
She ignores his call and brushes off his hold forcefully. "Don't say their names like you cared because you don't. You may have no control over me but you manipulate me into doing what you want. You pulled your string and placed me with Daenerys. You pulled another and I end up a crippled… Whatever you are, whoever you are, you're sure as hell, not my brother."
The silence that comes after is deafening. She can feel the wind slapping her entire being but instead of coolness, all she feels is hot burning rage. Bran, however, remains as passive as ever. If he didn't blink, she would have mistaken him for a statue.
"Euron will come with his dragonhorn and the future that you just escape will soon become the truth that we'll ever know." He suddenly declared.
She fixed him a fierce glare. "Get out of my head."
"You have to get to Daenerys before he does. You have to warn her."
"I said, get out of my fucking head."
He steps back then, all the while not breaking any contact. "When you wake up, you'll find yourself in a small village near Rosby in the Crownsland. A good-hearted young man found you dying by the Godswood in the Red Keep when he was leaving the castle. He brought you to his establishment and nursed you back to health."
Arya doesn't have the time to respond to any of that as Bran turns and walks away soon after. As he did so, the beautiful blue sky stretches further and further away taking everything with it until she can see nothing else.
~~~
*Year 304 After Conquest (AC) – Present Day*
The young Stark wakes to the sound of whisper and giggles that is foreign. It's small and soft as if the sound were made by a child. Sunlight shines through when she opens her eyes, making her temporarily blind. She moves her body to stray away from the annoying rays but regrets it soon after as the movement sends a wave of soreness on every muscle that existed in her entire being.
She takes a mouthful of air and breathes slowly, calming her nerves and willing the pang to fade. When she succeeded, she realizes that the room has become awfully quiet. The sound from before now gone.
Her eyes take every corner of the room. An open window by the bed, a closed-door by her feet and then a little girl on the floor.
"Hello." The girl greets. Her brown hair in a sloppy braid and her eyes an expressive emerald green as they meet grey ones.
"Who are you?" Arya croaked, wearily.
The girl stands up from the floor then. In her grasp is some kind of toy made from grasses and twigs. "My name is Emilya." She smiles warmly. "Don't worry, you're safe. You're in my home."
Arya wanted to ask more but her throat gave out and she ended up violently coughing at how scratchy it feels. Instantly, Emilya runs at her bedside and helps her to a cup of water.
The young Stark murmurs her gratitude once she can finally speak again. "Where is here?"
The girl gives a look. "Here is home," she speaks deliberately to prove a point.
Before Arya can probe further, the door opens and a young boy, probably a few years older than Emilya stand behind it. His hair is the same brown as the girl though his eyes are dark grey.
For a brief moment, his gaze meets Arya's but then he finds another. "Emilya, I told you to get me when she's awake." He said, annoyed all the while glaring at the little girl.
"If I do, you'll scare her away. And you're rude. You shouldn't be mean to our guest."
"A guest should be invited and should only be for temporary. She is neither."
When he moves, Emilya jumps to the bed. "Stop Devron! I will tell Tyler."
Devron rolls his eyes. "Calm down. I was just going take the tray, silly." He continues walking to where the empty tray is located at the corner of the room. Once done, he stops by the bed where the injured young woman still hasn't spoken a word. "I'm not making you leave now. Once you've gotten better of course."
He waits for her reaction but Arya has not been paying attention to any of her surroundings since Emilya had jumped on her bed. She had flinched at the abrupt force by the girl and freaks herself out in the process as she can feel the nudging Emilya caused to her thigh and knee. And when she wills herself to move her toes, the blanket stirs by the movement under it.
A new surge of energy flows inside her at that moment and Arya tosses the blanket away. Without waiting she swings her legs over the bed and pushes herself upward. Her stance was unsteady but she didn't care when she finds herself standing without any help. A shaky breath of relief and disbelief escapes her as she decides to continue and put one foot in front of the other.
"Wait, where are you going?" Emilya asked, confused and upset.
But Arya is too transfixed by the feeling of every joint and muscle that are making her move. She ignores the familiar pain around her torso, growing nausea and headache at each step she takes. Her stubbornness got the best of her when she landed face-first as soon as she steps outside the room.
Devron and Emilya come running to her side within seconds. "Hey, I think you should stay in bed." The boy said as he helps Arya up. But, his comment falls into deaf ears.
When she's standing again, Arya forces herself forward once more. She swallowed down the bile that threatened to come out and instead focus on getting out of this place. She needs to know that this is real and not another dream or illusion as the memories inside her head are in a pile of clutters.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she walks towards another door. The warmth of the sun greets her face and she steps outside where her bare feet meet dirt and cobbles. Each time that they sting, Arya quickened her pace to a slow run, leaving behind the two children in their home.
Little by little her vision becomes blurred. She doesn't know if the cause was her tears or that she was moving too fast. Her heart and head pound violently as the wind slaps her face.
And she runs like that's all her body knows how to do.
*
*
*
AN: Arya is now in the present day from way way back in Chapter 1 just after she killed Cersei and The Mountain.