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Enjoy the chapter, please review.
...
Chapter 2 - Revenge Comes In All Shapes And Sizes
The journey to Braavos had been rough. Nieve always hated being at sea. She had managed to sneakily climb aboard a merchant ship at the port of Sandship, without her fellow sisters knowing. It wasn't the motion of the waves that made her uncomfortable, but the cramped living space - the claustrophobic environment. Most clear nights she spent sleeping on deck with the sailors. She preferred it under the stars; it made her feel less isolated, less confined. The journey had taken no longer than two weeks, but it was longer than she would have liked. It was dangerous for Varys and Tyrion to stay in Braavos - the city was constantly occupied by spies. They could have moved on now - to Qohor or Meeren or even heading as far as Sothoryos. That's what I'd do if I were him, Nieve thought. She hoped the Imp was stupid enough the stay in Braavos but from what she'd heard, Tyrion was very smart, and she'd met Lord Varys before and witnessed his notorious intelligence as a council member.
"Land a ho!" the Lookout screams. Nieve dashes starboard to gaze at the city ahead, that had been her home for so many years. She knew the streets like the back of her hand, she remembers the smells of the ports, the touch of the stone walls around the Septe, but none of all took her breath away every time like the Titan of Braavos, as the ship drew closer to pass through the legs of the magnificent landmark. She was home, but then she remembered they would not have such a warm welcome for her.
...
Half an hour later she'd thanked and paid the captain, and was wondering around the winding narrow streets in the lower town. She stays hooded, wishing to be safe rather than sorry that anyone would recognise her. She reaches closer to the centre of town. She was in hopes to find a friend she knew who worked at the brothel.
If she's still even there, it's been years.
The markets were booming, constant trade and business in Braavos - that's what she loved, the city was always busy and fast paced. Nieve sees the alley leading to The temple of the Many Faced Gods - Oh what's the harm in looking, she thought, following the path to The House of Black and White. She remains in the shadows of a narrow alley, staring at her previous home from a far. I wonder if they're all still there, she thought, all her old mentors and friends. Nieve had been a great assassin, but her mind and power could not allow her to loose who she was. She loses her train of thought just as a cat comes streaking past her. Without even hesitating Nieve grabs it. Chasing cats had been a form of training with the guild of faceless men. She clutches at it so it couldn't wriggle free, before giving it a little scratch on the head. The creature purs and stops thrashing immediately, Nieve smiles. Then around the corner skids a young girl, who looks no older than thirteen.
"Who are you?" The girl says sharply.
"Who are you?" Nieve asks matter-of-factly but she keeps her smile.
"I asked you first." The girl responds, her aggression not quite strong enough to mask curiosity.
"Just an old student." Nieve replies honestly, nodding towards the house, "And you?"
"Just a new student." The girl retorts. Nieve smiles even wider. She's quick. But obviously not quick enough; the girl's hand hovers over her hip under her cape - evidently
waiting to reach for a blade.
Nieve gestures to her indiscreetness, "Don't make it obvious you have a weapon - ruins the element of surprise. Learn to draw quickly instead."
The girl's eyes narrow. "What are you doing here?"
"Is Jaqen still there?" Nieve ignores her question.
"Why don't you go in and find out for yourself?"
"I can't. I'm not actually meant to be here." Nieve said absentmindedly, stroking the cat.
"Why?" The girl still stands posed in a stance; ready to fight. It doesn't bother Nieve however.
"Lots of questions, haven't we?" She says and edges slowly toward the girl. She shifts in posture but holds her ground.
"Well you're a stranger skulking outside my home."
Nieve challenges, "Home is it already? You're are from the North of Westeros, are you not?"
The girl blinked in shock. Nieve decided it was her turn to ask the questions.
"How old are you?"
The girl doesn't respond, still wary.
"I'm twenty." Nieve admits, "There's no harm in telling."
There's a thoughtful pause before she answers. "Fourteen in a few months."
"I was fourteen when I came to the House of Black and white."
"You're not from Braavos either." The girl counters. "You sound southern."
"Dornish actually." Nieve smiles.
"When did you leave the House?" She's lost her stance now, moving in closer, genuinely curious.
"When I was eighteen."
The girl makes a worried expression, "Is that how long it takes to become a faceless man?"
"No." Nieve laughs. "I learnt the skill, took a few jobs - unpaid. But I never took the mask."
"Why not?"
"Didn't want to forget who I was." Nieve says with a sad smile.
The girl's brow furrows in confusion. "So why have you come back here then?"
"Like I said: I don't want to forget who I was."
The girl nods.
"You're dealing with the same issue right now, i can tell." Nieve continues, "They told you to forget your old life; your family, your identity. 'how can you become someone else, if you're attached to you who you are?' and they have a point - if you're looking to do it right."
The girl hangs on to Nieve's every word.
"You didn't do it right though did you, but you still learnt the skill of killing."
"Yes." Nieve says suspiciously. A northern girl with a desire for revenge, I think I might know who this is. Nieve thinks the chances would be slim - the girl had been missing for years, declared dead even. But yet…
"It wasn't easy pretending though." Nieve doesn't let up her train of thought, "They'll tempt you with your past, try convince you to become no one. I learnt how to become someone else - but refused to let go of who I truly was, so they kicked me out."
The girl barely let Nieve finish; "Can you teach me?" she seemed desperate. "I scared too."
Nieve looks her in the eyes. She sees the same fear and desperation she had felt when joined the Gilde of the Faceless Men. But she couldn't entertain the idea, she had too much to deal with already. "Don't you want to be a exemplarily student?" Nieve mocks.
"I'm serious."
Nieve's tone now stern, "You don't want to go down the path I did. I'm disgraced here - wanted even."
"But you still know how to kill." The girl is determined.
Nieve nods.
"Then teach me. How do I resist losing myself?"
Nieve protests, "I don't have the time-"
"-Fine. I'll just go tell the mentors you're in Braavos then…" The girl says threateningly.
Nieve smiles even wider at her. "Alright. Well played. Meet me after sun down, at the lower town ports."
Now it's the girls turn to smile.
"What's your name?" Nieve asks.
"Cat."
Nieve rolls her eyes. "You want me to teach you how to keep your identity, yet you give me your alias. Not a good start, Arya Stark."
The girl's hand flies back to the blade again, "How do you know my-"
"-I know too much. That's why I could never do well here. But you could do awful."
Arya grins at her.
"Remember sun down. Ports." Nieve hands her back the cat, "And bring something that reminds you of home."
...
A mere twenty minutes later Nieve reaches the brothel were her messenger awaits. The place is a depressing scene, but everyone seems pleased sounds coming from the rooms. A small thin man, with a pointed beard welcomes her. He's dressed in various embroidered floral silks, bound in a thin gold band around his hips. Definitely the pimp, Nieve thinks.
"What can I do you for?" He smiles falsely. "We many fine young men in our service. Or perhaps it is the company of women you seek…?"
Frankly it's none of your damn business, Nieve thinks. But ultimately ignores his offers.
"I'm looking for a women by the name of Clea."
"Aha. You will not be disappointed - she is one of my finest treasures, but you know how it is; treasure is worth a lot."
Nieve rolls her eyes, produces her satchel and hands him some silver. And he snaps into friendly service again.
"Right this way, Lady..?"
"…Lady Lycodon." Nieve says swiftly.
"What an interesting name." The brothel-keeper is unconvinced, but Nieve couldn't give a shit.
They reach the room belonging to Clea. She calls "come in", and Nieve enters, closing the door in the brothel-keeper's face. Clea is sprawled across the bed in a thin garment that barely cover anything - obviously expecting an actual customer. She sits up in shock to see Nieve, a friend she hasn't seen in many years.
"Get up, Clea, I'm not going to fuck you." Nieve smiles. Clea laughs in disbelief and dashes to Nieve. The embrace.
"I can't believe this. What are you doing in Braavos? How've you been?"
"Well, things haven't been great." Nieve looks down at her feet. "I need your help, Clea."
"What's wrong?" Clea pulls away properly to look at her friend's devastated face.
"My father is dead." Nieve tells her. Clea gasps. "The Lannisters. I heard Tyrion is here in Braavos. I'm going to find him and kill him. I'm going to kill them all!"
"Nieve, I'm sorry." Clea holds her shoulders in comfort. "I really am. But what can I do?"
"I need help finding the imp." Nieve says calmly, "You're in the best position to hear secrets here. Hells, he probably comes here for satisfaction himself."
"He has of yet. Word would have gotten around. But I promise I'll do what I can to find out where he is."
"Thank you, Clea."
"It's really good to see you. I've missed you. We must catch up. You've paid for the hour right?"
Nieve laughs, "Yes." They sit cross-legged on the bed, for old times sake. Clea's elbows resting on her knees and chin resting in her hands.
"Now tell me all about your adventures. Life can't be easy for a rogue assassin…?"
...
Later that evening Nieve had got food from the tavern in the lower side of town, killing time until Arya's arrival at the ports. She didn't know why she agreed to this - she could not afford attachments nor the time to training little Ladies in Waiting. But then she thought about how she would have wished someone would have trained her; shown her how to handle the gild's training without becoming a mindless killing piece of meat - to be used; to be a slave to iron.
"Valar morghulis" Says a defiant voice from behind Nieve. Arya had arrived to meet her at the ports. They stand on a ruined and abandoned pier, the sun still setting, the area was fairly empty. All but a few tradesmen a couple of piers along.
"Valar morghulis." Nieve responds with a nod. "Did you bring what I asked of you?"
Arya nods. Drawing a small rapier she approaches Nieve with it. Nieve looks at the blade.
"Fine blade. What's it's value?"
Arya looked at her concerned, and retracts the weapon protective away from Nieve's reach.
"You can't have it! It's not for sale!"
"I meant it's sentimental value."
Arya looked taken aback. "Oh." she relaxed again. "My brother, Jon, gave it to me."
"Why?"
"Because I wasn't allowed to fight. Being a proper little lady and all." Arya says bitterly.
"So your brother taught you?" Nieve knew the rest of the seven kingdoms weren't so keen on allowing the ability to fight back, unlike Dorne, but it still outraged her. If
anything women need it more, she thinks angrily, remembering Elia and the injustice done against her and her children. That will never happen to me, and hopefully that will never happen to Arya now either.
"No, he left for the wall, and gave me Needle as a goodbye." Arya explains.
Nieve smiles, "Needle? Is that the blade's name?"
"Yes."
"Good name."
"So how will you be teaching me? Why did I need to bring Needle?" She swung the blade through the air, reminding herself of the weight and grip of the sword.
"The lesson has already begun. You must constantly relive you past if you wish to remain in the present." Nieve reveals.
"So what? I come to you and tell you my life story over and over."
Nieve shrugs,"That and amongst other things. I'll also train you to fight - tutor you in everything I know."
"How can I trust you. I'm going to be telling you personal things - I don't know what you can then go do with that information."
"Fair point." Nieve agrees. "Everytime you tell me something personal, I'll tell you a bit about myself too. That way you have as much on me as I do you."
Arya considers this for a moment, "Okay. First let's start with who you are then?" She begins.
"My name is Nieve Sand, adopted daughter to Prince Oberyn of House Martell. I grew up in the Sunspear, and I trained with the faceless men for two years - I was one of their fastest learners in the guild - until I refused to graduate and take a new face. I then spent the next two years squatting in taverns, travelling around Essos for hit work. But I always refused money. I'd agree to kill the ones who deserve it. When I finally went back to Dorne, I made it my business to know everything that went on in the Seven Kingdoms. It's proved helpful."
Arya Listened silently throughout, making her judgements. Nieve was a good reader, despite Arya's blank expression; she knew Arya believed her.
"Is that information sufficient enough for today, Lady Stark?" Nieve smirks.
...
They spent the next few nights for two weeks like this - exchanging stories, sparring, training, meditating. Arya told Nieve everything, from her childhood in Winterfell, to the visit at the Capitol, and the journey to try reunite with her family since. Nieve tried her best not to show it but she was horrified, how could someone so young suffer so much. She told Arya to use that pain, keep it fresh, "that's what is needed to fuel vengeance, and no one can be no one when they have a vendetta."
Arya had warmed to Nieve, it was like having a big sister again, only this time Arya felt she could appreciate it more. Nieve had heard of the news of Sansa, and her other siblings and told Arya where they were last seen. Nieve hoped this would only provoke a protective desire in Arya - that she still had some family worth fighting for. Arya seemed to be realising that now too, slowly. She hadn't gotten used to the idea that she was all alone, but with Nieve, she felt companionship again, genuine and untreacherous.
Nieve even became comfortable to tell Arya of her intensions in Braavos. Her search was still on by day, but no sight of Tyrion Lannister was found. She would spend her days searching and then join Arya every night for training, Nieve admired Arya's commitment - well to be perfect honest Nieve admired her own commitment at first, but with her friendship with the young wolf progressing, so did her will to train her.
One evening Nieve had brought up the question of love, whether Arya had had any interests or betrothals before. Arya laughed, dodging a blow from Nieve's spear.
"Definitely not. I don't want to be anyone's lady. Although…"
"Although what?" Nieve struck out again, Arya just managing to flick the spear away with Needle.
"You know the boy I travelled with, the blacksmith?"
"Gendry, right?"
"Yeah," Arya pants, "I always thought if I'd ever love someone it would be him."
Nieve let up on the attacks. Letting Arya catch her breath but mostly because she was curious to hear more.
"What happen to him?" She asks.
"He was taken from me." she spits, "By a witch. The Red Woman."
Nieve inhaled sharply. She'd met the Red Woman before. She told Arya of how she visited the Temple in her training. Looking for skilled fighters to do her bidding. A women who seemed pleasant, but was cold, ruthless and manipulative. Nieve hated her more after Arya told her what she did, how she never saw Gendry again.
"She grabbed me too, she said these exact words to me 'I see a darkness in you. and in that darkness, eyes staring back at me. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Eyes that
will shut forever - we will meet again.' What do you think it means?" Arya said anxiously.
Nieve's hearts stammered, does this woman possess the sight like her? Nieve had never known anyone like her, maybe she would know how to control it. Use it. She would
keep all this quiet from Arya for now.
"I'm not sure." Nieve wasn't lying, it was pure conjecture behind the meaning of her statement. "Maybe she knew you were coming here - intending to take a face…?"
Arya shuddered, "I refuse to take a new face!"
"You do know that's not what I'm trying to teach you, right?" Nieve sighed.
Arya frowned.
"I'm teaching you how to not be indoctrinated, become a slave for someone else's bidding. Take a new face, wear different clothes, put on new accents. Just remember
where you came from, just remember who you are."
"Then why didn't you?" Arya challenges.
"I didn't have someone teaching me - there was no one to talk to about home when I was here. I knew if I took a new face, I would forget myself - I didn't want to feel like a different person, I would let myself go so far as to act, pretend, manipulate even. But I feared I'd be someone else entirely with a new face."
Arya nods. Nieve hopes her lesson is learnt,and they continue sparring in silence.
If Nieve was honest it was her sight that prevented her most from taking a new face. The dreams she had plagued her each night, dreams of her family and home, that connection was too strong to shake from her identity. She yearned to learn to control it, and if she could find the Red Woman, although she loathed the idea of asking for her help, maybe knew how to bend the sight to Nieve's will.
But first her vengeance must be served, she had received word from Clea, that Tyrion had come to the brothel, and that he would be back in a couples nights time. Nieve vowed she would be there before he entered, to cut off his cock and pierce his heart with her knife. So on the night of his return to the brothel, Nieve waited. Arya had been annoyed Nieve cancelled on their truing but Nieve knew she would understand once she told her she was getting her vengeance.
She hid crouched in the bushes outside the entrance. She saw a small cloaked figure, walking briskly to the Brothel. She waited until he was next to the bush and pounced, dragging him into the bush with her. Tyrion was shoved on his back into the dirt. Nieve was kneeling over him, knee crushing into his windpipe, she drew her blade.
"I knew Cer- Cersei would send s- some eventually." He stammers, short of breath.
He thinks the Lannisters sent me, Nieve thinks. Well, let's correct that shall we.
"I'm not paid by the Lannisters, Imp. I am the daughter of Oberyn Martell. He died for your pathetic life, and now I will have my vengeance, and kill every last Lannister."
Nieve growls.
Tyrion's face is turning purple,. "Okay, well I've already helped you a bit in that domain." he blurts out.
Nieve doesn't let up force, but stares at him in curiosity, "What do you mean?"
But Tyrion doesn't get the chance to respond. Nieve felt the presence behind her and mentally kicks herself for listening to the Imp rather than just killing him.
"Nieve Sand." The eunuch's voice says gently.
Nieve squeezes her eyes shut in frustration,"Fuck." She exhales sharply before addressing: "Varys." She doesn't turn around but she can hear the smile in his voice. Nothing phased the spider.
"Let him go." Varys commands, "He's on your side."
"I find that hard to believe." Nieve spits back, glaring at Tyrion paralysed under her choke.
Varys' voice is a closer now, standing right behind Nieve from what she could tell, "He killed Tywin Lannister."
"What?" Nieve was unconvinced, but she had let up her grip a bit.
"I shot him, two bolts to the chest." Tyrion piped.
"And why you do that?"
Tyrion makes a noise that sounds like a laugh, but is smothered with pain and defeat:
"Frankly, I'm questioning why I hadn't done it sooner."
So excited I get to write some sassy Tyrion and Varys scenes with Nieve. Please feedback on whether you like the character, or whether I should focus a bit more into her's and Arya's relationship - wasn't sue if I'd made Nieve's intentions clear with what she hopes to achieve with Arya, but really wanted to show that dynamic as they do have similar traits.
Well, thanks for reading and I'll see you for Chapter 3 - It's Not All Black And White