The lands of Westeros are foreign to the acolyte for she has never been beyond the narrow sea but, it is surprising that she seems to know where she is going without having to look at her map. It is like these lands have been etched into her brain as a distant memory and the acolyte guesses she has been here in a previous life.
The North is nothing like the weather in Braavos; even though Winter had officially ended a four moons past, the North was covered in a thin blanket of snow and by observing travellers huddled in their fur coats while warming themselves by a fire, the acolyte can only assume the winds are cold. The weather bothers her as much as the weather in Braavos does. Even though she grew up in the hot city, she can't help but shake the thought that winter has always been in her bones. There was a saying about winter she heard long ago but, she could not seem to recall it. The words are on the tip of her tongue but, she easily pushes the thought out of her memory. This has absolutely nothing to do with her mission, it is a piece of information that has little use to the many face God she serves, so she does not bother to attempt to recall the saying. She was built to serve, not a human capable of thoughts and emotions but a tool. That's all she was, a tool. So why did these lands trigger memories that have to purpose to the cause she serves? Memories she thought that she had buried so deep inside of her that were incapable to set forth once more. This only made the acolyte fight harder, push away any thoughts that have nothing to do with her current mission; to kill Gendry Waters.
The blacksmith is staying some inn not far off from where she currently is. It is nowhere near the King`s Road like she initially expected but, deep within the wilderness. After a long journey, she finally comes across the inn. She almost missed the place, it was deep in the centre of the forest. She sees a group of boys huddled in thick fur cloaks playing outside playing outside the inn. One of the older ones, who seems to be about her age whistles at her. The acolyte walks past the boy unfazed. She is not interested in his mating call, so she decides to ignore him. If he tries anything she will see to him. She cannot kill him, she is only to give the gift to one person and unless that boy was Gendry Waters he would live.
When she entered the inn, the first thing that captured her attention was several fires across the room. She looked around and noticed the residents – mostly children – were frolicking around in simple garments, unlike the thick cloaks the boys outside had donned on. She began to examine her own clothing. Even though the cold weather did not bother her, she dressed warmly with thick wool socks, breeches, a tunic, a wool sweater, a fur cloak and a pair of mismatched fur gloves and boots. She removed one of her gloves and noticed her hand was a bright pink, almost red. She did the same with her other hand and noted almost similar results. No part of her hand was black and when she placed pressure on the reddened areas with her finger, she saw the area go white before returning back to the bright pink colour. Good, that meant she would keep the limb. She decided to warm her hands, along with the rest of her body by one of the many fires in the inn. She took this on as a secondary precaution, in order to minimize her risk of frost bite and retain full function of her hands. Even though the body part meant nothing to the acolyte personally, she needed them in order to give the gift and continue her servitude to the House of Black and White. She would probably learn to accommodate without them, like she had with her eyes when she was Beth the blind beggar girl but, she preferred not to be crippled once more.
She heard the footsteps approaching her from behind but still acted startled when the stranger behind her spoke. "Oh my! You must be freezing!"
The acolyte turned to see a girl about her age with similar features. She blinked a couple of times before answering. "Oh yes, it is so cold outside. I am lucky I found this inn." In truth, the acolyte was not bothered by the weather nor was she a scared helpless girl like she perceived herself to be but, once they found Gendry`s body it would be common to suspect a new comer, only she was trying to perceive herself as a weak frightened little girl incapable of murder. This is another reason why the acolyte likes to keep to her natural body rather than changing her face. At five and ten, she is still a gangly little girl whom looks younger than she actually is. She has some notable muscle on her but with her size no when suspects her as a threat and is commonly mistaken for weak.
She paid the innkeeper and was shown to her chambers. Upon first glance of her residency she understood why she had gotten the room so cheap; the area was cramped and tiny and the linens were crumpled and soiled. She needed to be well rested before her kill, so she stripped off the sheets, laid her furs over the mattress and went to sleep. The acolyte roused from her dreamless sleep two hours later. She found two girls about the ages of ten, preparing her a bath. The acolyte shrugged off her clothes and stepped into the tub. The water was neither warm nor cold but, rather a tepid temperature. The acolyte did not complain about the water temperature, it could be scorching hot or ice cold and it would make no matter to her, as long as she was clean. After her bath she decided to don on a simple blue gown; if she was going for the look of a soft and gentle girl, a tunic and breeches would not do. Granted those garments would be much more easier to fight with if the blacksmith showed any resistance and they almost always showed resistance but, she would not let it come down to that. She would gain his trust by either acting friendly or by using her feminine appeal and then once his guard was down, it would be then when she would shove the knife through his heart. Her plan was simple enough: find the blacksmith, befriend him and kill him.
She contemplated her plan as she arrived downstairs to see dinner was being served. It wasn't much but she noticed the inn supplied fresh vegetables, brown rice, barbequed deer and rabbit stew. She was drawn to the stew, eating a great portion and picking at the scraps of the other entrees. Normally she was not a picky eater and did not pay much mind to what she ate. She ate for sustenance not for taste, yet she was drawn to this particular dish. A paranoid thought entered her head and she began to question if this stew had been tampered with but, when she looked around the table, she saw plenty of children eating the concoction like she did. So it wasn't poisoned...
"Do you like it?" the inn keeper she came to know as Willow asked.
"Oh yes, it is quite tasty" the acolyte lied. It wasn't the taste that drew her to the meal, but rather the familiarity of it. Like she has had it somewhere before.
Willow smiled. "My sister Jeyne cooked it, well she cooked the entire meal. I am sure she would be happy to give you the recipe.
The acolyte did not think there was much to the dish. You take hot water, you throw a rabbit in and you toss in some vegetables too. How hard could it be? But she still smiled and thanked Willow.
"I never caught your name." Willow commented.
"My name is Cat." The acolyte had not come up with an identity for this trip but, the lie came easy to her. The kindly old man taught her the best lies come from the truth and truthfully speaking, her name had been Cat once. She enjoyed the life of the girl from the Canals, selling clams and cockles till the sun went down. So she told Willow her life in Braavos as Cat of the Canals. She made up a lie about her mother passing away a moon ago and telling her about her father, a stonemason residing in Westeros on the outskirts of Riverrun. She left the free cities to seek him out and introduce herself, in hopes of developing a relationship with her father. By the end of the story Willow was tearing up and wishing her luck on her journey to find her father.
Cat sighed. "It's easier said than done, these woods can be such a dangerous place. I fear what will happen if I run into outlaws. I am an unarmed maiden travelling alone in the streets of Westeros. In the free cities we do not have to fear crime but here..." she was lying. The free cities could be just as dangerous as Westeros, if not more so but, she guessed neither Willow nor any of the children here have ever been far from this inn, let alone the free cities.
Cat was right and Willow suggested the one thing she was waiting for. "We have a blacksmith, his name is Gendry. Perhaps he can forge you a dagger or another weapon to help you with your journey."
Cat blinked twice with a frightened expression on her face but on the inside the acolyte was smirking. "Oh my. I have never wielded a weapon before but, perhaps you are right. I should seek this Gentry, where may I ask is this forge?"
"Gendry" Willow corrected, "and his forge is just outside the inn to your right."
Cat nodded and headed to the direction of the forge. She knew exactly where it was and had been paying close attention to it, when she first arrived at the inn. Now that the acolyte finally had an excuse for entering the forge, she made her way to the area while twirling a dagger in her hands before tucking it back under her sleeve. Tonight, she would give Gendry Waters the gift.
She slipped inside the forge. As soon as she took one step inside, Cat noticed her body perspiring. Despite the cold weather outside, the fire made this room in general particularly hot. In order to prevent herself from developing a heat illness, Cat let her cloak slip to floor leaving her in the flimsy gown. She noticed the blacksmith hammering at some breastplate. He did not seem to notice that she walked in. Good she thought, this will make the kill easier. The first thing she noticed about the man was his size: he was large, all tout with muscle. She watched his biceps flex as he sent his hammer down to the steel and watched the sweat on his body trickle down his defined muscles before falling to the floor. He's strong she thought. She was just a tiny girl, even with her skill she doubted she could take on a man of his caliber. Then again his senses were poor and she knew that would lead to many weak points with his fighting style. Still she would not chance it. Best to kill him now when he was not expecting anything.
She quietly made her way deeper inside the forge, she unsheathed her dagger and clenched it in her palms. The acolyte tried raising her arm to give him the gift but, for some reason she could not. Was she sure this was Gendry? Of course it was; it had to be! The kindly old man had instructed her he was a blacksmith in the inn and Willow said herself that he was currently in the forge but, perhaps the inn had several blacksmiths and perhaps this Gendry had stepped outside for a moment. The acolyte decided not to risk it, she could not give the gift to a man not chosen by the God of many faces. Her job was to serve not choose and not to mistake her kills. Okay new plan, first she would find out if this man was Gendry Waters and if he was, then she would kill him. She tucked her dagger back up her sleeve and walked another couple of steps towards the blacksmith. He was too captivated by the steel laid in front of him that he had yet to notice her presence.
"Ehem..." she let out a bit of a cough to announce her presence.
"Shit!" The blacksmith exclaimed, as his body jumped. He whipped his body so fast around to face her that the idiot managed to trip over his own two feet, sending his body to the ground. Yup with his stupidity, he would be an easy kill.
"I am sorry miss, I did not see you there." He said standing up his focus on the dirt on his apron. He began to brush the dirt off his apron, "you should not sneak up on... Arya?" He exclaimed finally facing her.
The man now took a good look at her. He moved his eyes all across her body but they did not linger on places she expected them too. Even though she was not the most beautiful woman in the world, the acolyte was not unpleasant to look at and when men did spare passing glances at her, their eyes would linger on specific body parts like her lips, breasts and ass. However, this man was looking into her eyes, her hair and primarily focusing on her facial features rather than other areas. His eyes were widened and his jaw hanging, reflecting the emotions of shock across his face and even more so then he had when she surprised him by announcing herself in the forge moments ago. After a while his eyes found hers and she found herself returning his stare and looking into those baby blues. His eyes were accompanied with a sort of warmth that was so familiar and oddly comforting. Her stomach gave an unfamiliar lurch and she could feel her insides twisting. There was a heat building in her stomach that radiated through her entire body. Her heart racing and her throat was impeccably dry. This could only mean one thing... The rabbit stew was poisoned! She probably should have purged herself to detoxify her body of the foreign substance but, for some reason she could not seem to break her gaze from the blacksmith and his blue eyes. She was frozen in place and felt an enormous heat sweep through her body, this heat was something more than the heat radiating from the forge, it felt almost good, like she wanted nothing more to be consumed by this fire and she felt a pressure build up inside of her, sending her entire body in turmoil. Seriously what was in that stew?
"Arya" he repeated this time more sure, giving her a pained look. He said that name the first time he laid eyes on her. Who was this Arya? The acolyte turned around to see if he was addressing someone behind her but, they were alone in the forge. When she turned back around to face the smith, she noticed he was inches away from her and she could not stop the gasp that exited her throat. Suddenly his arms wrapped around her and her first instinct was to fight. His grip wasn't too tight to imply that he wanted to inflict harm upon her but it was firm enough for her to be unable to escape his grasp. Oddly enough she found that she did not want to escape his grasp. He was warm and they seemed to fit together like two corresponding puzzle pieces. She was confused, why was he holding her like this? She had seen people embrace like this in Braavos: lovers, friends and family members but, she was a complete stranger to him; wasn't she? There was something so familiar about his scent – the musky smell of smoke, earth and rain – and there was something so soothing in his touch.
He lay his head on her should and moved his lips to her ear. "I thought you... I thought you were dead" he choked on the last word.
Something about his words snapped the acolyte back to reality, well only one word in particular. Dead. He is supposed to be dead by her hand. She cannot sit here and let him hold her that intimately, she was meant to kill him!
"I am not Arya" the acolyte snapped. "My name is Cat and I need a dagger."
"Seven hells Arya, how stupid do you think I am? You might be a woman grown now but did you honestly think I would forget you? That face, those eyes. I know you're still mad at me but I kept your secret before and I damn well will take it to my grave. You know that, so why in seven hells are you lying to me?" He snapped in annoyance, the last word emphasized with a hint of sadness.
The annoyance rubbed off on the acolyte as well. Normally these irritancies did not rub off on her but, the blacksmith started bringing back emotions she never knew she had, that she shouldn't have. He brought back things that the acolyte had buried years ago and chained inside of her, to never resurface again. "I told you my name is Cat. Now are you going to forge me a dagger or not."
The blacksmith snorted, "forgive me m'lady..."
"Do not call me m'lady!" she snapped. The statement was an automatic response and the sound of it stirred something inside her and the acolyte felt the strangest form of déjà vu. She was confused by the feelings and furrowed her brow in response, trailing deep into thought. I am not a lady... am I? She took another look at the blacksmith, scanning his features like he was doing to her earlier. The acolyte had never met this man before tonight, for that she was certain but, there was still a familiarity to him. Maybe the acolyte had never seen him before today but did that mean this body had not? This... Arya as the blacksmith claims. After all he seemed certain that he knew her and he did call her Arya. A name that was so familiar, that stirred something were her heart used to be. Was that her name? Her true identity? Arya?
The blacksmith seemed to pick up on this too. He figured out that she did not recognize him and his face grew solemn. "Arya it's me, Gendry."
Gendry. Gendry Waters, the man she had to give the gift to. She shouldn't have cared, she gave up the life of this Arya (whoever she was) to become no one. She was no longer tethered to that life and that included the companions she used to know. She was a servant of the many faced God and she had no allegiance with this Gendry. She had to kill him... So why couldn't she? Never once did she hesitate from a kill. She has massacred before and disposed of the most fragile and likeable people without so much of a second thought. She recalled one time she had given the gift to a child of only four years of and even that did not faze her. So why did this blacksmith have so much power over her? Why was she unable to kill him?
"Gendry" she repeated the name foreign on her tongue. She tested it out and somehow it seemed right. Gendry. Gendry and Arya. Arya and Gendry.
As she said his name he moved his large palm to cup her cheek. The touch sent a warmth radiating through her entire body and left a tingly feeling on the place he had touched her. That was strange, she had not felt anything for a long time. The only thing she remembered about emotions was that they were unpleasant and they made you weak. But this felt good. It felt right; like she was meant to feel after all. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, leaving Goosebumps on her arms. "Gods Arya where have you been? Why didn't you come back to brotherhood or to Winterfell or... to me?"
She should have ignored his question, she should have swatted his hand away and killed the smith but she was frozen in place and felt obliged to answer his question. She wanted to answer him and when she spoke, she spoke honestly. "I don't know..."
Gendry frowned at that. "You can trust me Arya. I kept your secret all these years, I can keep another one."
The acolyte shook her head. "I don't remember... " she began.
Gendry narrowed his eyes. Confusion and pain evident in his expression. "You don't remember where you've been?" he asked.
The acolyte shook her head. "I don't remember who I am or who Arya is, I don't remember anything about my old life and I don't remember you. I have been living in Braavos since I was one and ten, that is all that I can remember." The acolyte did not know why she was confiding in the blacksmith after all he is supposed to be her target but, there is a part of her itching to know about her old life. She sealed away all the information about herself in an invisible box and locked it inside of her, she knew whatever was in there was not meant to come out. After all that is why she joined the house of Black and White, that is why she became no one. To forget. Though she could not shake the feeling that she was broken and had been for five years. Maybe this Gendry can help her remember, bring back the person she really was, fix the broken pieces. The question was did she want to be fixed? Once she unravelled this old life there was no going back. The acolyte did not know why this Arya had left her home and her identity to be no one but she knew she must have had a good reason for it. Yet a part of her craved to know, as the assassin side of her grew weaker and weaker, she could feel the little girl she trapped inside the invisible box, clawing her way to get out.
There was a wide variety of emotions flickering on Gendry's face. His face plastered with confusion until he settled on one thought. "Maybe it's for the best. That you don't remember."
The acolyte shook her head. "No, tell me."
So he did. They sat down in the forge and Gendry began unravelling the life of Arya Stark. With every story that he told, she felt the walls inside of her breaking. Piece by piece she would see flashes of her old life. She saw and older boy with similar features as herself giving her a sword, she saw a man with the same grey eys getting beheaded, she saw a beautiful girl with auburn hair dressed in a fancy gown and had her hair done up in a popular southern fashion, she saw her and Gendry rolling around on the floors of a smithy. Suddenly she started to remember everything about her old life; the life of Arya Stark. A downpour of information entered her skull and most of them were unpleasant. It was too much for the girl to process and once she finally did, the girl did something that she had not done in five years. The girl wept. She now understood why she went to Braavos to forget because, right now she felt an unbearable stabbing feeling in her heart. Gendry had tried to comfort her and tried to apologize but she shook him away. Gendry. She finally remembered Gendry. She had made him apart of her pack and he had abandoned her to join the brotherhood. For some reason in those moments of childhood she thought of Gendry as one of the few people she could rely on but he left her just like everyone else.
She stayed there in the forge, curled in a little ball weeping for hours. Once she finally came too, she noticed Gendry beside her. The blacksmith had fallen asleep and Arya idly wondered how long she had been sitting like this. She could not take the pain anymore, why did she have to be stupid and ask him to help her remember her old life. She was supposed to be no one, she wasn't supposed to care. But Gendry had made her care, he made her feel things that she liked and was desperate to feel once more. It was one of the reasons why she asked him to help her remember but, Arya knew she would not feel happiness for a while and she would gladly give up all her emotions if that meant she could rid the negative emotions she was feeling right now. The stabbing feeling in her heart was too much to bear and Arya knew what she had to do. She had to be no one again, go back to the life of the acolyte and forget this ever happened. But how could she go back? A snore from Gendry snapped her back into reality and she watched the sleeping man in front of her. Gendry Waters. The kindly old man's voice echoed in her brain. She know knew what she had to do. So she unsheathed her dagger and hovered over Gendry's sleeping body. "valar morghulis" she whispered right before she brought the dagger down at full force, aiming at his heart.