A man finds a girl in her new chambers, packing breeches and shirts that she has not yet worn, and leaving gowns and slippers that she has also not yet worn. A girl's hair is damp and her face tight. A girl's scent has changed. A man wonders.
'A girl does not remain at Harrenhal?' he asks.
'No,' a girl snaps, flinging a pair of boots into her trunk, 'Lord Tywin's scared I'll be raped if I stay.'
'The Lord of Lannister is correct. Those men that remain here are not suitable company for young girls.'
A girl does not reply, nor does she look at him. A girl's eyes are pale as twilight, and her face is paler still. A girl is beautiful.
A man speaks once more.
'A girl is morose for one who has always desired to ride to war and is now able to do as much,' he says.
'I'm not riding to war, stupid,' she snorts, 'I'm tagging along with a crotchety old man who doesn't know what else to do with me, and probably won't let me within fifty miles of an actual battle.'
'A man is correct in thinking that the Lord of Lannister knows nothing of a girl's lessons?'
'A man is. Though I don't think he'd let me fight in a battle, even if he did know. I'm worth more to him alive, no matter how many men I can kill with my eyes closed.'
A man smiles, remembering a girl with her eyes closed. For weeks and weeks a blindfold in the mornings, and a girl full of fire, hulking and hammering, attacking and not protecting, like all Westerosi barbarians with their heavy painted armour and their boiled leather. Until the day a girl learned quietness and listening. A man still remembers the blow that she landed on his chest. The blow that showed a man that a girl had finally understood.
'A girl thinks much too highly of battle,' a man says, 'a man has said this many times, and a girl has learnt. The gift is a silent and merciful thing that a girl should give in stillness, not surrounded by thousands of other men that wish to give it her in return.'
A girl smiles. A girl is beautiful.
'What about you, anyway?' she says, 'are you staying or going?'
'A man is going, but not to King's Landing,' a man replies.
A girl looks sideways at a man, then turns to face him.
'What do you mean?' she demands.
'A man is going far and away across the Narrow Sea, to Braavos,' he answers.
A girl turns red.
'Why?'
He shrugs.
'A man has duties there.'
'And word of these duties only reached you today? How very convenient.'
'A girl is flippant.'
'You're leaving.'
'A man has said.'
'Are you ever coming back?'
'That is not for a man to say.'
A girl believes what she hears, but does not wish to. A man sees it in the way she attends his words. With one hand she grasps the strap of her trunk, her knuckles turning white. A girl is angry.
'Will you – will you have the same face?' a girl asks, 'if you ever come back?'
'This a man doubts,' he says.
For a moment, a girl is silent.
'Then how will I know you?' a girl asks.
'A girl will not,' a man replies.
She is saddened. A man sees tears. He wishes them away. A man is compromised by them.
A girl slams her trunk suddenly shut and glares at him.
'Fine! Run off back to Braavos, get yourself a stupid new face and forget this ever happened!'
He is offended.
'A man will never forget.'
'I will! I'll forget, just like I've forgotten a million times before.'
A girl sits. She hangs her head.
'I'm stupid,' she says, 'just a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns.'
'Why does a girl speak of dreams?' a man asks.
A girl looks up.
'Because dreams are where my pack is.'
A man comprehends. A man knows.
'A man has considered asking a girl to accompany him,' he says, 'but a girl will not come. A man knows this.'
'How do you know that?' she snaps, 'are you some kind of stupid seer?'
'A man is not. But a man knows a girl. And a girl will not leave Westeros while her family remains.'
A girl's face softens. A girl is beautiful.
'Here,' a man says, and pushes the coin into a girl's hand.
'What is it?' a girl asks.
'A coin of great value,' he explains.
'Define 'great value,'' she smirks.
A man smiles. A girl has spent far too much time among Lannisters.
A man explains.
'If the day ever comes when you must find me again, just give that coin to any man from Braavos and hail him as a man has taught a girl to do.'
'Hail him? That's all?'
'Valar morghulis is more than a greeting, child. It is a warning.'
A girl understands. She looks down at the coin between her fingers. The iron is the colour of her eyes.
'We must part,' a man says.
A girl stands, and embraces a man.
A man hesitates.
A man encircles a girl's shoulders with one arm only. A girl is warm.
She breaks quickly away. She smiles. Her eyes are wet.
'Thank you,' a girl says.
A man's heart stifles him. A girl is crying. For a moment, he is Someone. He has a ruin to call his own.
A girl ceases to cry and looks at him. And he is No one once again. A girl has understood. A man has taught her well.
'Farewell, Arya Stark,' he says, and walks, and leaves her.
A man feels frozen in the darkening hall, frozen both inside and out.
