They were back in the familiar surroundings of the home they'd shared for nearly two years, the basement apartment far from the Red Keep. Arya had intended it to be that way when she and Gendry had decided to share rent, she wanted to be as far from the King and the royal family as possible. Their walk back from Woodies had been uncharacteristically quiet, if she wasn't really leaving tomorrow she'd tease him. You said you wanted to talk but haven't said a word. Instead she walked in as much silence as him, falling a step behind hoping the tension would slip away into the night. It hadn't.

He stopped on the other side of the room and she didn't follow, keeping the small oak table between them. Deke sat in the corner watching them as silently as Ghost might have. "I won't be gone forever, just a few months."

"It'll be more than just three months." he muttered.

"I told you before I wanted to travel."

"Yes in the future, I didn't know you were just going to wake up one day, and up and leave the next." She resisted the urge to chew her lip, how could she explain it? "You were gone nearly a year last time, you never even told me where you went."

"We hardly knew each other then and I told you I went North."

"North where?" Arya didn't answer him, keeping her secrets in her heart as she had for what felt like decades. "Why now? Why are you leaving tomorrow?"

"I...saw an opportunity and I took it."

"What, is Tyrion Lannister paying for your sudden vacation." his blue eyes glowed with anger. "You think he wants anything more than to bed you?"

"No. He had nothing to do with it." her own rage was boiling under her skin now, "is it so hard to believe someone might actually just enjoy my company?"

"It's a brothel Madi."

"And it wasn't like that." Arya forced herself to calm down, "Will you take care of Deke?"

"Deke? You want me to take care of your wolf while you're on your adventure?"

Arya seethed at the word adventure, her life had been anything but an adventure. She'd give anything to go home, to leave the scheming to the desperate highborns with their game of thrones. But Arya had this burden forced upon her, every move holding the fate of the world in her hands, one wrong play and Westeros would fall back into nothing.

"You're the only one here he listens to."

"He hardly listens to me, if you want to leave then take him with you." Gendry turned to his room and slammed the door behind him.

He might hate her now, but she knew he loved Deke. She knew that if she left him here Gendry would take care of him, and Deke would take care of Gendry. Arya went to her own small room, threw some clothes, Madyson's Jorunal, and an old dagger into a small bag. She might not be welcome here when she came back, but this was for the best. There would be no use staying here and playing house with Gendry when the fate of the world was at stake, when he didn't even know who she really was. Whatever she desired it wasn't worth it. There were things to be done in the east, seeds that needed planting before Westeros fell apart. And it would, with or without her pulling the strings.

Crossing the Narrow Sea for the first time in this life was colder than in the last, though not as cold as even the summers in Winterfell. Arya stepped off the ship and onto the crooked cobble stones of the harbor, her faded black cloak snapping in the wind as she walked. She could taste salt and seaweed, the fish and clams, even a hint of cat piss. The guardian of the city stood in the distance behind her, bellowing out at the arrival of more ships that were only specs in her view.

The Titian of Braavos was as she remembered it, just as Ragman's Harbor was. The little houses and apartments stood at different heights, some leaning on each other for support like good friends. Traders and merchants walked and ran along the docks, shouting things in half a dozen tongues. Little pickpockets scurried around, some trying and failing at nonchalance, as whores attempted the opposite; waving and calling for their targets attention.

Arya roamed among them, ignoring the offers of food or pretty jewelry, nor paying attention to the odd sailor's whistling advances. She wasn't going to be here long, just a day while she waited to catch another ride further south, closer to where the Dragon Queen was. As she made her way down some vaguely familiar streets she pondered the things she should buy, a new knife might be, some snacks for her next trip, a less worn cloak.

Her face was passive as she stopped, but her heart sunk just a little at the sight in front of her. Her feet had carried her where they never had...yet had a hundred times. Two giant doors glared down on her, one ebony black, the other weirwood white. The moon face in the center challenged her and she resisted the urge to bite her lip, but despite the storm in her stomach, she walked up the stone steps, counting as she passed each one out of habit. Once more she hesitated when she reached the door, wondering if she should just turn and leave as any sane person would. Any sane person would never have come here in the first place, any sane person wouldn't have traveled to the past.

The ebony door was silent as she pushed it open, not a single creek. Arya stepped in slowly, the great room was dim with the only light reflecting from candles spread along the windowless space. Two commoners could be seen from where she was, one old lady kneeling and weeping under the statue of the Moon-Pale Maiden. The other was an even older practically ancient man, stumbling between the Lion of Night and The Stranger. She ignored the struggling man and crying women, stopping a moment by the ten-foot-long pool that sat in the center, watching the still dark liquid.

A soft scraping sound bounced off the walls and she closed her eyes, imagining the movements of the Kindly Man's slippers hardly touching the stone. If she could hear him though, it was only because he allowed her to. Yet she ignored that too, opening her eyes she wandered to the southeast corner where the Old God's weirwood face stood among the other thirty faces. The girl kneeled down, her cloak a dark pool surrounding her as she closed her eyes again, and breathed deep.

Her father's smile filled her mind, Jon Snow's fingers mussed her hair, and her mother brushed it. Sansa giggled at dinner and Bran grinned knowingly as he always did. Rickon made a blubbering noise that wasn't quite a word and Robb laughed with glowing sapphire eyes. Somewhere Nymeria howled and Deke stared up at her, grey eyes waiting to see where she'd take him. Gendry smirked at her in the confines of their tiny apartment and the smell of the Godswood washed over her. All the while Arya was floating in a place of serenity.

"Valar Morghulis." A soft but aged voice cut through her peace.

Arya didn't flinch or startle but calmly glanced up at the Kindly Man's face. "Valar Dohaeris" she replied.

"And how may a man serve a girl?" he asked.

"He doesn't." She told him, wondering if he always preferred this old innocent-seeming face. "I've only come to visit the Gods."

"There are no Gods here girl, only one."

A corner of her mouth lifted slightly, "Just so."

The Kindly Man held her stare a moment, then nodded. "A man will leave you to your prayers."

"Thank you." Arya watched as he shuffled away on silent feet, he stopped before reaching one of the dark corners and she waited to see what he would do. A few breaths passed and a ray of light cut through the stone floor as the giant weirwood door was opened.

Two men walked in, the older had a hard face, the kind of look he wore told her he thought he belonged in any room he entered. The younger man, probably in his late teens, was more tentative as he entered the hall, and in her opinion had more sense than his companion already. But as she considered their reactions to the Many-Faced God's temple, she considered hers. She'd been an eleven-year-old girl, running up the steps two a time just so no one would think she'd been afraid, she'd been stupid and concerned too much with what others thought.

Arya blinked away her thoughts and turned back to the candles resting at her knees, she contemplated her chances of getting out of here with one of them under her cloak. If it were anywhere else in the world she'd bet on herself, but here she had no doubt there were eyes on her from some dark crevice she'd never guess to check. As much as she wished to lose herself in the childhood memories, she knew she didn't belong here, not in this life. She rose, taking one last deep breath of Winterfell and everything she was fighting for and made her way to the door.

The Kindly man had walked her way as well, meeting the two strangers near the front door. "How may a man severe you?" he asked the older, he had ginger hair dipped in grey at the edges.

The man didn't answer though, instead, his eyes met hers and he froze, mouth falling open slightly. "Who are you?" he blurted.

She stopped, confused. "What?"

"Who are you?" he repeated as if he had the right to know anything about her.

"Jon." His younger companion gave him a hard questioning stare, the young man had deep blue hair and dark eyes. The name gave her pause and she wondered where her half-brother was in this very moment, she saw mounds of snow and the Wall.

Jon looked to his friend and back to her, "Sorry I just...you look like someone I knew once."

Arya nodded a little awkwardly, "Well, I doubt I'm her."

"No...no you couldn't be."

The Kindly Man gave her a look, "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. You have a beautiful temple but if you'll excuse me." Arya pushed on, catching eyes with the boy whose name she never got. His dark irises seemed inexplicably innocent and she wondered what it was he and his friend were here for, an offer? A request? Who might they want killed? But Arya left the temple and her questions with the life she'd never allow herself to fall back into.

When Arya slipped out the tall doors for the last time, in any life, the city of Braavos sat before her in all the beautiful simplicity she remembered it holding. A quick trip back to Ragman's Harbor told her what ship she'd need to take South, there were a few to pick from but Arya and her sights on the one leaving the soonest. She found her way to the market, stands littered all over and people crowding around like ants on little hills. Arya brushed by them, speaking Braavosie to a few and finding the odd word escaping her memory, it'd been so long since she spoken the tongue but luckily her accent didn't fail her.

She bought a new cloak from a friendly old man, a dark crimson red that wasn't so tattered as the black one she wore before. She purchased a new dagger with a black stone hilt and freshly forged steel, it fit well on the brown leather belt around her waist. She grabbed some sunflower seeds as a snack and hid them in her pocket, and just when she thought she was done a women dressed in purple robes nearly pulled her off her feet and into her booth.

"My apologies!" the older women had dark velvet hair cut to her shoulders, her blue eyes glowing from the contrast. "Oh, what soft hair you have." the wrinkled fingers brushed through Arya's head and she took a step back, this vendor was as forward as a whore.

"Thank you." she thought to excuse herself but the women continued.

"You serve the Red Priests?" she asked, eyeing her in her new cloak. Arya looked at the booth the women owed, a young girl was washing out another man's hair in the back, the black dye watering down his neck.

"That waters too cold girl!" he growled.

"Yes." Arya looked to the older women again, a new persona shifting under her eyes and a small grin lifting her mouth. "What color dyes do you have?"

By night there were few people wandering around. A stone mermaid rose up from the center of a fountain, it's hands held out like a beggar. But there were no coins in her palms, only the endless current of water shooting from her hands and back into the watery abyss. The water surrounding the statue led down under the city, connected to all the canals that weaved through Braavos. The space around it was clear, an army of houses and cobblestone paths guarding the sea women and connecting her to the cities people. Arya's plan to spend the night at an Inn had been a simple one, she'd already figured out which ship she would take south, and come the morning she'd convince the captain to make room for her. If only she hadn't taken the long way just to see the stupid fountain again, she would be safe and warm in her Inn already.

"Lift your sword you coward!" she blinked to attention at the voice, pulling her gaze to the opposite side of the nearly empty plaza.

"Listen I'm not trying to fight you!" Arya walked around the mermaid, glancing down one of the alleyways she noted two shadows in the night, one with a sword raised and the other with his hands. The Bravo didn't care for the clueless tourist and lunged, the young man sidestepped quickly, keeping his entrails safe inside his stomach for the moment. Despite his initial intent he drew his long sword in defense and met the Bravo lunge for lunge.

"You're bloody mad." the younger man growled in High Valyrian, but his accent seemed almost Westerosi. The two stumbled their way closer to the mermaid, steel signing into the night and Arya watching with a small sigh. The Bravos always reminded her of peacocks, showing off their giant feathers with a sword in their hand. It was fitting considering the goofy vibrant baby blue shirt the man wore, paired with the velvet pants. The young man on defense noticed her for the first time, "Stay back!" he warned.

He was too busy keeping the Bravo's sword out of his heart to see her grin of amusement. But it faded when he stumbled, barely blocking the blow to his neck. The Bravo's next swing knocked his sword from his hand, the weapon clattering on the stones. As slightly interesting as the show had been, she couldn't stand by and watch the clueless guy get killed. Arya stepped behind the Bravo, her new dagger resting against his throat.

"Drop it." She spoke in Braavosi to be sure he'd understand. Her eyes finally saw the young man kneeling by the fountain, familiar dark eyes and long hair. It was the boy from the temple. Huh.

"Mind your businesses bitch." In truth, she hadn't been expecting any reaction other than surrender after holding the blade to his neck, but the man-no, boy, shoved her back and a sharp elbow slammed into her nose.

Her hand reached to her face, white fiery pain killing her smugness from before. "Son of a-" she hardly dodged the Bravo's swing of attack. Her adrenaline spiked, Arya kicked his leg out from under him after he missed her, and his sword slipped from his hands this time. The stranger with the dark eyes was on his feet now, steel in his hand once more and pointed at the defeated and grounded Braavosi.

"Wait, wait, please." the young boy held up his shaking hands.

"Stupid." Arya picked up the boy's sword, with her other hand placed under her bleeding nose. "Bloody."

"Wait!" the boy's brown eyes grew with panic as her arm swung back.

"Bravos," she muttered as she tossed his sword into the endless water.

The little Bravo deflated with a whine at the sound of the splash, even though he was a worthy opponent, Arya didn't think him any older than her (well her physical age at least.) The young man beside her stood taller than her with smooth skin not yet touched by age. The dark-eyed stranger lifted the blade menacingly to the young Bravo's neck.

"You're not going to kill him."

"Why not? He tried to kill me!"

"You were the one open to a dual!"

He gaped at her "I wasn't open to anything, I told him-" The Young Bravo scrambled to his feet and shot down the nearest ally in the blink of an eye, dark eyes stepped forward a moment ready for the chase before stopping short. "Great."

Arya rolled her eyes, "Oh no, now you'll never get your revenge."

He glared at her before frowning, "You're the girl from earlier, the temple."

"I am." she agreed glancing at her own blood on her hands.

He squinted at her, his sword arm falling limp at his side. "Why'd you dye your hair red?"

"Why is yours blue?"

"Well, my mother was from-"

She put a hand up to stop him, the pain in her face was leaving her with a short temper. "I'm sure she was great, but I don't care." she turned away from him, head tilted backward with her hand to her nostrils, that were still bleeding. Inhaling sharply she tasted iron, then spat the blood on the ground, groaning mostly from her annoyance at the whole situation rather than the pain.

"You're bleeding."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed."

"Not your nose." his stance reflected all the vexation she felt. "Your arm."

Arya wiped once more at her nose before plucking the damp fabric of her arm, sure enough, she was bleeding and her shirt was ripped. "Oh." she turned further, catching her new cloak in her hand and finding a piece with an ugly tear. "I just bought this." she muttered, disappointed.

"Most people would be more concerned about the blood, Your Grace." She shot him a glare but ignored his terrible jape, focusing more on the cut now. When she tapped the skin underneath, it was hot and swollen, and he'd been right, quite bloody. As if seeing was believing the cut stung once discovered, Arya clasped a hand around it. "Here." Dark eyes sheathed his sword and pulled up the end of his navvy cloak, "Pass me your dagger."

Arya pulled out the blade once more and handed it over, and in a few moments, he had a long piece of blue cloth in his hands. He seemed ready to pass it over before realizing she wouldn't be able to tie it one handed. "May I?" with reluctance she nodded.

"Yeah." Arya pushed aside her dark red cloak and offered up her arm to the stranger.

"You said your name was...?" he handed her back her dagger.

"Madelyn, but I prefer Madi."

She tensed as he tightened the cloth around her arm. "Sorry."

"And who exactly am I forgiving?"

For the first time since meeting him, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, "Griff, or Young Griff, but if we go by what we prefer...you can call me Egg."

"Egg?" she smiled despite herself, "Really?"

He grinned "Yes."

"Well, Egg you're an idiot."

His smile faded once more and stepped back. "Excuse me?"

"Any fool knows you can't just go walking around Braavos at night with a sword on your hip."

"Any fool knows not to walk around unarmed."

Arya lifted her dagger, "Not unarmed, nor am I open to a dual."

"I thought the Bravos only dueled at the Moon Pool?"

"The best ones dual there, the rest just wander around looking for easy targets." she eyed him up and down, his dark blue hair was straight reaching to his shoulders, his shirt was white and his breeches brown. His cloak matched his hair like hers, though blue instead of red, and his boots were leather.

"I'm not an easy target." his dark eyes flashed with fire.

"That boy didn't seem to think so."

"That boy is probably older than you."

"He was not, and I wouldn't have let him un-arm me."

He scoffed, "you think you could beat him when I couldn't?"

"What makes you think I can't?"

"You're a priestess aren't you?"

That gave Arya pause and she glanced back at her red cloak and remembered her red hair, she did look very much like the Red Priestess she was pretending to be. "Yes." she put her dagger away and walked past him. "Try not to get killed on the way back from wherever you came from."

"You're just going to leave, what about your arm?"

"I'll take care of it." she'd no doubt she'd need stitches now. Arya hesitated and turned once more to take him in, standing beside the mermaid and her begging hands. He looked very much like a Knight from the songs with his sword in hand, just lacking the armor. He'd the face she had no doubt her sister would swoon over if he had been of royal birth. "Be careful Egg." she grinned "The night is dark and full of terrors."

Thanks for reading Kindstranger :)