Daenerys
It took only the blink of a moment before Rhaegon's flames engulfed the sheep. Sonarys' followed and turned the second sheep in a steaming piece of black meet. Viserion went about it the bloodiest way. Quick as a snake he buried his sharp fangs in the animal's neck and tore it apart limps and bones. The whole spectacle never failed to make Dany wince, but it was necessary. The dragons needed to eat. Especially, Viserion tended to grow unhappy when he wasn't properly fed.
If Ser Barristan shared her discomfort it didn't show on his face. On the contrary, his blue eyes were filled with awe.
"They are quite fearsome, aren't they?" Jon asked Ser Barristan.
The elderly knight nodded his head, his eyes still fixed at the dragons occupied with their supper.
"They are fearsome," he confirmed at last. "How old are they?"
"More than a year," Daenerys replied and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. It was getting colder. "It is hard to believe how quickly they continue to grow."
"And you are training them?" Ser Barristan asked.
"We do our best," Jon added and graced Daenerys with a knowing smile. "They learn fast, but they are not like dogs. They are not always obedient."
Daenerys returned his smile and jerked her head at the dragons.
"Do you want to see Ser Barristan?"
He gave her a confused look and wrinkled his grizzly brows.
Daenerys couldn't help but to laugh.
"I meant…Do you want to see me fly?"
Ser Barristan's mouth opened and closed, but no sound could be heard.
Even Jon started to laugh.
"They allow you to ride on them? Are they even big enough for such a feat?" he asked and jerked his head at Sonarys. The dragon had finished his meal lay curled on the ground.
"Rhaegon has yet to get used to it, but training them regularly is the only way to teach them," she explained and angled her head to look back at Jon."Jon is still too heavy, but in a few weeks from now we intend to try again. Wait and see."
Excitedly, she made her way to Rhaegon.
The smell of burned flesh filled her nostrils as she stepped closer. By now it was a familiar smell.
"Rhaegon! Māzigon kesīr!"
At once the dragon opened his ruby eyes and huffed. She felt his hot breath touch her skin and savoured the feeling. It felt like a warm embrace.
Every slowly, she stepped towards the dragon and touched his neck. His rough skin felt hot like a brazier, but to her it was the most pleasant of sensations.
"Ñuha dōna riña, rual nyke naejot kipagon," she whispered in his ear and waited. This was the deciding moment. Rhaegon disliked carrying her on his back when he was tired, but when he lowered his back she knew that she earned his agreement.
"Kirimvose, dōna riña!" she replied sweetly and grasped one of his scales to pulled herself up. Rhaegon remained still as she continued to climb up his back, but as always Daenerys felt a jolt of fear rushing through her body.
Seated atop Rhaegon's back she exhaled deeply and leaned down to give the last command.
"Sōvegon!"
At once her child straightened and started to spread his wings. Daenerys huffed and brushed her hair out of her face as Rhaegon flapped his wings. One, twice and a third time were enough to propel them into the air.
She felt as if her heart might jump out of her breast. The first time she nearly emptied her stomach, but by now she had gotten used to the feeling. At least she believed so, but when Rhaegon dipped lower, felt slightly dizzy.
"Paez! Paez!" she whispered to Rhaegon. Then she straightened herself and took a glimpse at the world below. Lhazar looked like a motely of green and brown. Even Ser Barristan and Jon looked like two small ants compared to the endless blue sky spreading above her head.
She wanted to stay like this forever, but she knew that Rhaegon would get grumpy if she demanded too much of him.
"Dōna riña, ivestragī īlva pālegon aril," she whispered to her child. The dragon seemed pleased by the command and dipped lower. Slowly, they soared downwards and landed on the plain below. Daenerys held close on the dragon's back as he buried his scales in the ground below, ripping out grass and roots alike.
"Sȳrī gaomagon!" she praised Rhaegon and climbed down from his back."Kirimvose."
Rhaegon huffed and threw plumes of smoke into the air.
She didn't know what his actions meant, but she took it as a sign of agreement.
With wobbly feet she arrived at the bottom and exhaled deeply, the familiar feeling of excitement still tingling on her skin.
"You look a bit pale around the face," Jon remarked with obvious amusement.
Ser Barristan simply stared at her and cleared his throat.
"Impressive," he complimented, his blue eyes still fixed on the dragons. "How far can they fly?"
"Hard to say…it depends on the day. The dragons are like children and they don't always obey," she explained and picked her cloak from Jon's hands.
Carefully, she wound it around herself and sat down. She needed to this to drive a way the excitement. "Especially, Viserion has a rather volatile temper. He has no rider and it will take years until Aemon is old enough to train him."
"It is still impressive," Ser Barristan insisted."Aegon the Unlikely dreamed of hatching dragons. Now, after such a long time his dream came finally true. You have yet to tell me…How did you accomplish it?"
Daenerys swallowed hard and shrugged her shoulders. She doubted he would believe her if she told him the full story. Even Jon didn't know the full truth.
"I put Jon's eggs into a burning pyre and they hatched. That was all."
Ser Barristan's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Jon's eggs…," he began and turned to look at Jon."From where did you acquire dragon eggs?"
"I found them in my mother's grave…I think they belonged to my father," Jon explained. "Do you know something about the eggs?"
"No," Ser Barristan replied and swallowed hard. "It seems there are a great many things I don't know about Prince Rhaegar."
He sounded so distraught that she felt the urge to comfort him. She was also curious to hear more.
She gathered all her courage and asked the question that had been lingering on her tongue since Ser Barristan appeared before her.
"You mentioned during our first encounter that I show a great resemblance to my Lady mother," Daenerys added softly. "Is it true or were you just trying to flatter me?"
"Of course not. You do show a great resemblance to the late Queen Rhaella. I have known her since she was a little girl."
His words made her heart well with happiness.
"My brother Viserys told me that our Lord Father cherished our Lady Mother," she said, trying to recall her blurry memories. "He also said that she was kind and very beautiful."
Ser Barristan paled and exchanged a silent look with Jon, before giving his answer.
"She was very kind and beautiful…above all she loved her sons, but her relationship with your Lord Father was rather strained. Theirs was not a marriage of love, but of convenience. It was King Jaehaerys who forced them to wed."
"Oh," she said and tried to hide her disappointment. "Well, Viserys was a child. I am sure my Lady Mother tried to hide her true feelings in front of him. But what I don't understand…Why did King Jaehaerys force them to wed? Was he so insistent on blood purity that he sacrificed his children's happiness?"
Ser Barristan exhaled deeply and nodded his head in understanding.
"It had to do with blood purity, but for a different reason than you might expect. King Jaehaerys insisted on the marriage, because he believed in a prophecy. Prince Duncan, the King's brother brought a woods switch to court, who prophesised the King that a promised prince will be born from his line. For you it might sound silly, but your brother Prince Rhaegar was also very fond of prophecies."
Realization washed over Daenerys.
"Rhaegar spoke about such a promised prince with our Grand-Uncle Aemon. He voiced his doubts that my late nephew Prince Aegon could be this promised prince."
"Well, he is dead," Jon added sourly. "I doubt Aegon can be a promised prince if he is dead. Did my father really believe in this nonsense?"
"Sadly, he did," Ser Barristan confirmed. "I have no proof for this, but Ser Arthur told me that Prince read something that caused a significant change in his character."
"What are you trying to say?" Jon asked and crossed his arms in front of him.
"Prince Rhaegar was a very bookish child and he hardly showed any interest in swordplay. At court they japed that Queen Rhaella swallowed books and candles before she birthed Prince Rhaegar. However, one day he stepped out in the courtyard and asked Ser Darry to instruct him in swordplay. From this day on he started to train like a madman and became an accomplished rider and swordfighter. Granted, he was not able to defeat Robert Baratheon, but I doubt even I would have been able to prevail against a mad stag like him. Well, coming back to the topic at hand…most people at court were sure that the Prince's change in character had its origin in his fondness for prophecies. I think for a time Prince Rhaegar believed himself to be this promised prince. At least that is what Ser Arthur Dayne implied to me. He and Prince Rhaegar were as close as brothers…if anyone knew Prince Rhaegar's mind it was Ser Arthur Dayne."
"But how does my brother Prince Aegon fit into all this?" Jon asked sceptically.
"I am not sure," Ser Barristan replied. "As I said before…I also believe that Prince Rhaegar thought he was this promised prince. Later, for whatever reason, he changed his mind and even tasked his Maester to watch the skies for signs. Prince Aegon was supposedly conceived when a bleeding star graced the sky. I didn't know what to make of it, but Prince Rhaegar was very happy after his son's birth. Even King Aerys was pleased and the bells rang day and night."
"And then he left my siblings and his wife Princess Elia," Jon remarked coldly. "Was it just infatuation or more?"
"I doubt the Prince intended the leave them," Ser Barristan countered quickly. "He doted on his children, but I admit his relationship with Princess Elia was rather complicated. He was fond of her, but I never had the impression that theirs was a marriage of passion. My personal impression was that, that Prince Rhaegar resented King Aerys' choice of a bride. Princess Elia's frail health and Prince Rhaegar's dislike for his father's overbearing nature certainly put a strain on their marriage. Princess Rhaenys' birth brought Prince Rhaegar much joy, but even this brief moment of happiness was dimmed by Princess Elia's failing health. She had to keep to bed for half a year and she had barely returned to court when King Aerys demanded of her to provide an heir for his dynasty. The following quarrel nearly led to Rhaegar's execution…," he trailed off.
Daenerys felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her head.
Even Jon looked shocked, his jaw tense like a bowstring.
"What did Rhaegar do?" Daenerys asked quietly.
Ser Barristan didn't answer immediately. He simply stared back at her with wide blue eyes. He looked conflicted, as if he was not sure if he should give her the truth.
"I don't know if…," he stuttered, which only strengthened her need for answers.
"Please tell me…I can take it," she assured him tensely. Every fibre of her body tingled with anticipation.
"He told the King to keep out of his private business and the King hurt him in the cruellest way possible…," he continued and stopped for a moment. Then he exhaled deeply, his pale blue eyes still fixed on Daenerys."The King took the Queen in front of the court and made Prince Rhaegar watch."
There was nothing to say. She felt only disgust.
Ser Barristan took all her delusions and tore them to pieces.
"And what did my father do?" Jon asked in a trembling voice.
"He watched," Ser Barristan said plainly. "That was all he could do. The King threatened to take his head if he dared to even make a noise. You see…King Aerys took great pleasure in torturing his loved ones and Prince Rhaegar was one of his favourite victims. Prince Aegon's birth a year later was a miracle, but Princess Elia suffered again. For six moons she had to keep to bed. It was quite a surprise to me that she even attended the tourney of Harrenhall. By then everyone knew that she wouldn't be able to bear another child. I don't know who spread these nasty rumours, but King Aerys was very displeased and stilled his rage by burning several of his loyal subjects."
"Maybe Princess Elia's barrenness was another reason for my brother's actions," Daenerys offered and recalled Rhaegar's words from her vision.
The dragon has three heads.
Ser Barristan frowned and pondered her words for a moment.
"Maybe," he agreed with a heavy sigh. "Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia behaved very strangely after the tourney. At first I didn't think much of it. Prince Rhaegar humiliated Princess Elia. Her anger was understandable, but it was not only the Princess Elia who started to shun Prince Rhaegar's presence. Even Ser Arthur Dayne started to distance himself from the Prince."
"Why is that strange?" Jon asked. "Ser Arthur Dayne was a Dornishman. Surely, he didn't approve of my father's actions."
"True," Ser Barristan confirmed. "But he was Prince Rhaegar's closest friend while the Princess Elia and Ser Arthur were never particularly close. But Ser Arthur's sister, Lady Ashara Dayne, was very close with the Princess Elia, which makes it even more surprising that it was the Princess Elia's order that led to Lady Ashara's removal from court. At first I thought it was the King's order, given Lady Ashara's delicate situation, but I heard much later that the cause was a quarrel between Lady Ashara and Princess Elia. These are mere rumours, but something very strange was going on behind the scenes. I doubt we will ever know the full truth, but the situation was more complicated than you can know."
"Delicate condition," Jon repeated silently, his dark eyes wide in realization. "Was Lady Ashara perhaps with child?"
Ser Barristan gave a hesitant nod.
"Who told you?"
"Nobody," Jon replied and swallowed hard. "Yet I heard rumours that Lord Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne were involved. That is at least what the servants told me."
"She was indeed with child and birthed a stillborn girl," Ser Barristan replied in sad voice and averted his gaze. "But I heard the child was fathered by Brandon Stark. It seems we heard conflicting rumours. Not that it matters…the Lady Ashara is dead and gone."
"How did she die?" Daenerys asked quietly and graced Ser Barristan with a soft smile.
When he lifted his head she noticed the tears shining in his blue eyes.
"She killed herself."
…
Daenerys found Jon awake, his back turned to her. She shivered as the blanket dropped from her shoulders and she quickly pulled back around her shoulders as she moved.
He was reading Robb's letter. Lord Wylis left a few days after his arrival, but Jon read the letter almost every night.
She didn't know what to make of it.
"Jon," she addressed him in calm voice. "How can you read without a candle?"
"I know the letter by heart," Jon answered quietly and folded the piece of paper. "I am now the Lord of Winterfell. Father was accused of treason and forced to join the Night's Watch. I know the truth and it doesn't matter to me. You are still my brother, come home. Your lady is also welcome. Your brother, Robb."
"Do you regret refusing Lord Wylis?" she asked fearfully and braced herself for the answer.
His head snapped around, his dark eyes piercing her through the darkness. She read guilt on his face.
"Going home would only endanger my brother," he explained softly. "But I feel as if I abandoned him. That is all."
Daenerys understood his feelings, but she cared little about Robb Stark. Jon spoke always very fondly of him, but Daenerys only knew him as the boy who sold her to his brother as an "act of generosity".
She didn't want to depend on Robb Stark. It felt not right and yet she didn't want to hurt Jon.
"I am sure he will understand," she replied and leaned closer to place a kiss on his cheek. "And you didn't abandon him. You left, because you thought it was the best way to protect him. One day we will go home."
"Maybe," Jon agreed and averted his gaze. "What Ser Barristan told us about King Aerys about your father and my grandfather…Was it too much?"
She was surprised by his sudden change of topic, but felt touched by his concern.
She shrugged her shoulders, but was unable to conceal her sadness.
"I should have known that he wasn't a good person when his subjects called him the Mad King," she added and wound the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Just thinking about her father's actions made her feel sick.
No wonder Rhaegar had a melancholic temper. Our father was a monster.
She shuddered again.
"Are you cold?" Jon asked her warmly and put his arms around her.
"I rather not think of him as my father," she added and leaned her head on his shoulder. "But I have to accept the truth. My father was a monster, which brings me back to our talk with Ser Barristan…," she trailed off and gathered her courage.
"You once told me that your Uncle and Grandfather were executed by my father's order," she forced the words over her lips. "What did this execution entail?"
Jon tensed, but answered nonetheless.
"I only know what Lord Stark told me. King Aerys had my grandfather burned alive and my Uncle Brandon strangled himself to death when he tried to save him."
She expected something like this after hearing about her Lady Mother's "dutiful marriage"; but it still hurt to hear it.
She bit her lips and let go of Jon, her purple gaze searching his.
"That was the reason you were so upset after the battle, wasn't it?"
He gave a silent nod.
"You are not like the Mad King," she insisted defiantly. "I didn't take pleasure in it and neither did you. That counts, doesn't it?"
"I hope so," Jon replied weakly. "I hope so."
…
Daario
Daario felt the sweat running down his neck as he tried to understand the High Valyrian gibberish spoken by the Good Masters of Astapor. He spoke the crudest of bastard Valyrian, tinged with a Tyroshi accent he learned from his mother, a pleasure slave. His father must have been an ugly man, for his mother's Master had little use for him after her death and sold him off to the fighting pits. He proved himself as a fighter, but was eventually able to flee. Now he was back to face the very man that watched him kill other slaves in the fighting pits.
He told Jokin to fuck himself when he suggested coming here, but in the end he found himself overruled by both Jorkin and the Widower. They were in dire need of gold, even if it meant associating oneself with these men.
Sipping from his golden cup he observed the Good Masters on their gilded seats and clad in their bright tokars of lace and silk. The wine tasted sweet, but didn't help to wash away the uneasiness he felt in their presence.
He killed hundreds of men and met the cruellest of people, but these men were the lowest of rats. The Widower, who suffered a similar fate like him, shared his disgust, but didn't mind to gorge on the food in front of him.
The feast laid out for them was almost overbearing. There was roasted duck, heron, catfish and very small pigeons. All of this was flavoured with every spice known: salt, pepper, cumin, coriander, dill and fennel. Just the smell of the food made Daario believe that he stepped in the stall of a spice trader.
Daario was not the kind of man who tended to refuse a meal, but today he kept to the wine.
This very refusal to eat earned him a sharp look from one of the Masters.
His name was Kraznys something. He was graced with an oiled red beard and quite fat. The slave girls serving the wine were almost flat-breasted compared to this man, which was the reason Daario decided to dub him Master fat breast.
Daario couldn't help but to smile.
You thought you could impress me with your food. Well, I won't have any of it, but I will empty a few gallons of your finest wine. Just watch.
Kraznys frowned and leaned down to whisper in the ear of the slave girl kneeling beside his seat. The girl couldn't be much older than ten or elven.
She immediately straightened herself and her large brown eyes met his across the room.
"The Master asks if the food is not to your taste?"
"The food is fine," he told the girl and lifted his cup. "And the wine is even better, but I am never hungry when I do business. We are here to do business, are we not?"
The slave girl translated and Master fat breast frowned again. He looked as if the one of his pleasure slaves had pinched his balls too tightly.
"That is indeed why the Good Masters called you here," the slave girl answered and met his gaze. "We have need of the Stormcrows. The payment will be abundant."
"Good to hear," the Widower mumbled, his mouth stuffed with meat. Both his face and fingers were covered in grime. He looked like pig. "The enemy better be strong. My axe sings for blood."
Again the girl translated and again the Good Masters wrinkled their noses in disgust.
"The enemy is a worthy one," the slave girl spoke for her Master. "Your enemy will be the sheepmen. They supposedly command three dragons."
Jokin nearly choked on his wine, the Widower stopped his eating and Daario lifted his head to meet Master fat breats' face. Daario may not be able to understand their High Valyrian gibberish, but he was able to read falseness on a man's face. He found none.
Could it be true?
"The Master understands your surprise, but he is not lying. Three dragons burned several thousand Dothraki screamers to ash," the slave girl added.
Daario poured down another cup of wine as he tried to make sense of this mad tale.
Jokin seemed equally confused and stroked his beard.
"How is that even possible?" he asked in disbelief. "Several thousand men…" he trailed off.
"We spoke to the survivors of this massacre. The Dothraki horde in question was lured in a trap and the enemy used oil to stir the flames cast by the dragons. The dragons are not bigger than horses. They can be killed. This I can assure you."
It still sounded like utter madness.
"Still…I don't see how we Stormcrows could make a difference against dragons," he replied bluntly. He was the son of a whore, but no fool.
Master fat breast didn't appreciate his bluntness and tightened his grip on the handle of his chair. Angrily, he grumbled his answer in the slave girl's ear.
"My Master marvels at your cowardice. We invited the Stormcrows to prove their valor and they thank us with this impertinence. There a dozen of sellsword companies to choose from…," the girl continued her translation. This was a load of bullshit and he was unable to keep his mouth shut.
"And that is what I don't understand," Daario said and poured down his cup of wine. "Why are we even here if you have other sellsword companies lining up for this mission. Let us be honest here. They refused you, didn't they? Nobody wants to end up as a pile of ash and you probably weren't prepared to pay the price they demanded."
The slave girl looked at him with wide eyes and her Master hit her right over the shoulder.
The answer came promptly.
"Nothing could be further from the truth," the girl said and rubbed her shoulder. "The Stormcrows wouldn't be the only ones employed for this mission. You would fight at the side of the Dothraki. Khal Drogo is vying for revenge and promised fifteen-thousand Dothraki screamers to do our bidding."
Daario felt the urge to laugh, but the Widower's grim silenced him completely.
I went too far.
"Why would the Dothraki accept such a mission?" The Widower inquired. "They never fight at the side of sellswords. They are far too proud for that."
"The Dothraki are hungry for revenge. They long to bathe in the blood of the sheepmen to regain their honor. And they will be richly rewarded if they fulfill their task to our satisfaction."
"Meaning what?" Daario asked stubbornly and met Master fat breasts' gaze. "Why do the Good Masters of Astapor care about the loss of a Dothraki horde?"
"A whole harvest was lost to us due to the Dothraki horde's defeat. Two thousand boy children were promised to us by the Khal, but we received nothing. We have several outstanding orders and we need to replenish the numbers of our young recruits. The Good Masters care not about the sheepman, but they dared to hinder our buisness. They need to be put in their place and the best way to teach them obedience is blood. We employed the Dothraki for this very purpose. Yours is to bring us the heads of these dragons," the girl replied in a raised voice. She probably tried to intimidate her Masters' authoritarian voice, but she still sounded like a child, despite the promise of blood echoing in her declaration.
"Dragons…Dothraki…sheepmen," the Widower grumbled."How much are you prepared to pay us for this mission?"
The slave girl translated the Widower's question and Master fat breast whispered his answer in the girl's ear. Then he slapped her with the whip and she rose to her feet, before rushing down the steps to whisper her answer in the Widower's ear.
Daario watched the Widower's face. He was by no means a coward, but the idea of facing dragons didn't sit well with him.
When the Widower's eyes widened he knew that there was no escape from this fight. Jokin was a fool. He would do anything for gold, even sell his own cock.
…
Arya
Arya paced the room back and forth. Sitting still was impossible when her good-sister was enduring her birthing pains.
"Arya…Arya!" Bran's shouts called her back to the present. She stopped and turned around to find him covered in furs, Summer's head resting on his lap. "Your constant pacing drives me mad."
"This madness has been going on for hours…," she muttered more to herself than Bran. The very thought made her shiver from head to toe. "Will the waiting ever end?"
A few hours ago she tried to slip pass the servant girls to see her mother and spotted bloody sheets.
The memory was enough to make her feel sick.
She hardly knew Lady Roslin, but she couldn't help but to fret about her. She didn't want to lose another family member. It was enough that her Lord Father, Sansa and Jon were gone.
"Don't be afraid," Meera Reed added softly and graced Arya with a smile. It was no surprise to her when she found the young woman and her brother Jojen in Bran's chamber. "Birthing a babe can take its due time. My Lady Mother laboured for two days until Jojen was born. She is still with us."
Arya nodded her head and sat down. Arya knew nothing about childbirth, but her Lady mother's births were easy. At last that is what she her Lady Mother had told Lady Roslin when they spoke about the matter.
She probably wanted to comfort her.
"But Bran spoke of a bed of blood," she recounted her brother's words and turned to look at him. "Isn't bad?"
Bran paled and swallowed hard. Jojen Reed remained indifferent as ever. As always, Arya felt the sudden urge to kick him just to see if it would gauge any emotional reaction from him.
"Birth is always accompanied by a bed of blood. At least that is what my Lady Mother told me," Meera Reed explained sweetly and brushed her hand over Arya's untidy hair.
She did it in such a sweetly manner that Arya felt a gust of warmth washing over her. She didn't like her strange brother, but was beginning to like Meera Reed.
"I hope so," she fretted leaned down to brush her hand through Nym's fur. She lay sprawled beneath Bran's bed, her head resting on her pawns. It gave her the comfort she needed.
"It will be a girl," Jojen Reed said and broke the silence. "And Lady Roslin will perish. This I know."
Arya felt as if a gust of cold wind washed over her.
Even Meera Reed, who seemed used to her brother's behavior, swallowed hard.
"Why are you…," she began and opened her mouth, but Jojen Reed's piercing gaze silenced her.
"Stop hiding from the truth, sister," chided his sister and turned to look at Arya.
"Will this be proof for you to help us?"
Arya knew what he meant. Bran had pleaded with her numerous times, but every time she refused to help him.
I need to go beyond the Wall. Arya, please.
"Help you…You want me to help you?" Arya stuttered, unable to make sense of the sudden feelings of rage stirring inside her. She didn't answer and met Jojen Reed's green gaze.
"We do need your help," Jojen Reed confirmed indifferently as if the rest of the world meant nothing to him. It was the last straw.
She lifted her hand and slapped him hard on the face.
Her knuckles hurt, but it felt so good.
"Fuck your Three-Eyed-Crow!" she snapped back and whistled at Nym. Tiredly, her wolf joined her side as she opened the door. "I don't want anything to do with your stupid greensight…," she muttered, but when she saw Bran's pleading look she stopped.
"Arya," he said, his blue eyes wet with tears. "Jojen didn't mean it like that. Please help us."
"No!" Arya returned bluntly. "No!"
"Arya," Bran pleaded again. He sounded so desperate. It made her heart clench. "He can help me…I will be able to walk again. Don't you want me to get better?"
"Of course, but…no," she stuttered and remained steadfast in her decision. "Why do you trust this stupid crow so much? Master Luwin knows much more than a stupid bird."
"Maester Luwin knows nothing," Jojen Reed added coldly and rubbed his red cheek."Winter is almost upon us and the Others are coming. Bran is the last greenseer and we will all perish if he doesn't learn to master his abilities."
"I don't understand you," she muttered and tightened her grip on the handle of the door.
"That is not necessary," Jojen Reed countered. "But we need your help to leave Winterfell. I know this, because I saw it...as I saw your brother…Jon Snow. You are desperate to know where he went, don't you?"
Arya knew what a game he was playing, but she couldn't help it.
"Where is he?" she demanded to know. "Tell me."
"I see a city with red walls…walls of blood. The name of this city is Astapor. There you will find your brother."
"Astapor…," she muttered and tried to recall the name. She only knew that it was a place in Essos.
Maester Luwin's maps will help me, she knew and exhaled deeply. No, I can't even think about that. Mother and Robb would never forgive me.
She gritted her teeth and flashed Jojen an angry look.
"I don't believe you! Leave me alone!"
Then she slammed the door behind her and rushed back into her room.
Tears burned in her eyes as she donned her cloak and slipped through the darkness. The guards were half-asleep and didn't see her as she made her way to the godswood. It was her place of hiding, her place of comfort. It was the place her Lord Father chose to visit when he wanted to find peace.
Fresh snowflakes were falling from the starry sky as she stepped before the heart tree, its bleeding face a welcome sight. Sansa was always afraid of the face, but for Arya it was as familiar as the face of her Lord Father.
She pulled her cloak tighter and knelt down beneath the tree. Nym joined her side and nuzzled her neck as Arya closed her eyes and touched the white bark.
It came all so suddenly that she barely registered it. It was a tingling sensation that washed over her body and made her shiver. It felt as if someone tried to slip into her mind.
She tried to open her eyes, but she lost all power over her body as the images started to take form before her eyes.
She saw her Lord Father swallowed by a snow storm. She saw a beautiful maid share a kiss with her brother Robb. She saw a girl with silver hair mount a black-winged beast. She saw Joff, his face purple and his jade eyes staring back at her in horror. She saw Sansa riding over a field of flowers. She saw a blue-winged beast that bathed richly-dressed men in a sea of flames…
Their cries echoed in her ears. Terrible cries…that made her blood freeze.
At once the images disappeared and she collapsed. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found herself sprawled in the snow.
Her breathing was laboured and she could hear the pounding of her heart.
She couldn't stop trembling.
It can't be true!
Only when she felt Nym's wet tongue on her cheek did she find the strength to pull herself back to wobbly feet.
It has to be a lie!
She didn't even find the strength to call for Nym. She felt so cold. She needed warmth.
With clattering teeth she returned to the castle. She was so disoriented that she didn't even think of using her usual way.
Even the sleep-deprived guards noticed her.
"Lady Arya!" they shouted after. "Lady Arya!"
She ignored them and fled to the safety of her room. Cold and weary, she wrapped herself in her furs and tried to forget about these visions.
...