Arya's Fleet Travelling West of Westeros

by William St Romain

Arya leads a fleet westward to circumnavigate Planatos. This is the first leg of her journey, taking her from Dragonstone to the Frozen Shore. Back at home Jon and Daenerys are managing the kingdom and dealing with domestic drama.

7. Chapter 7: The Emperor in Yellow

Chapter 7: The Emperor in Yellow

Arya flew directly west at first. She had only the barest idea of where Carcosa was, but she doubted not that she could find it. And so she did, though it took more than a day and a half. It was nearing the end of the day when from over the horizon a large city came into view. Beyond it she could see the Hidden Sea, likely the first Westerosi ever.

The city itself was not particularly impressive. Much like Washo, it was composed mostly of single story wooden buildings. Stone walls surrounded it. Yet their value was questionable for hills surrounded the city, some high enough to easily top the defenses. There were a few taller structures, their architecture resembling what she'd seen in pictures of Yi Ti. One was particularly tall. She guessed that the number of roofs it had indicated how many floors it had. If so than it must be a palace. There were at least half-a-dozen floors, not counting any cellars or dungeons.

With the sun nearing the horizon it was not until she had gotten close that she saw there was far more to the city than was apparent at first glance. Beyond the walls to the north, along the lake shore, was a forest of stakes. Thousands of them. Arya flew over the forest to see what hung on them. What she saw appalled her. Every stake had a person impaled upon it. Men, women, even children, no mercy had been shown to any.

Arya had taken no notice of the people in the city. So it wasn't until after she had toured the macabre forest that she turned her attention to the place. She saw people fleeing in all directions, much as rats flee a sinking ship. Out of pure maliciousness Arya circled the city thrice more. She saw some guards on the walls trying to bring war engines to bear on her, but officers must have gotten to them in time.

Near the building she had identified as a palace she saw a gathering of people in brightly colored silks. There was a large square field surrounding the place, itself surrounded by another wall. Soldiers filled much of the empty space.

Arya directed her dragon down. Snowflake alighted near what looked to be the front doors. These were large and high. When opened they would have allowed access even to Jon's Redflame. The soldiers moved quickly to form ranks to either side. They were trying real hard to put on a professional appearance. Though Arya could tell they were scared stiff.

Before the doors a large crowd had gathered. Ministers or whatever passed as such. Like La Do when she had first met him, these men all wore flat board hats, although they each had different feathers attached to them. One man stood out as a soldier. He was dressed much like Mupan had been. His armor though was brown and not so ostentatious. Nor did he wear anything over his face.

All these were as nothing however. Standing before them was a man whose height was near that of Robert Baratheon. He was dressed all in yellow, his gown covering even his feet. A cowl covered his head and a mask of yellow leather covered his face. The hands that reached out to greet her were wrapped in yellow cloth. Only his blue eyes were visible.

"Welcome Arya Stark."

It was not the smooth, cultured voice which sent a chill down her spine. His Westerosi was flawless.

"How do you know my name?"

The mask prevented her from reading anything from his expression. There was no change in his voice either. She had finally met someone who could hide his thoughts from her since she had left the House of Black and White.

"I have been following your journey ever since you set out from Dragonstone."

"You know of Dragonstone?"

"I have walked the earth for a thousand years. I looked upon Valyria at its height. I know of your land and its people. Come. Let us go inside and I can offer you refreshment."

A growl, low and threatening, emerged from Snowflake's throat. Without looking, Arya reached out a hand and laid it on her muzzle. The dragon looked down on her rider with her bright yellow eyes. The spectators could almost imagine the beast speaking. But the she-dragon didn't. Instead, she leapt up into the air and flew off.

The complete lack of any fear for the dragon from this man in yellow bothered Arya most of all. For the first time since leaving Dragonstone she was afraid. She hesitated. Yet she didn't want to show fear. Arya did not lack for pride.

Seeing her hesitation, the Emperor presented the door. His men cleared the way. Arya forced herself forward. As she passed through the doors they shut with an ominous thump. When she turned to look behind her she found that only the man in armor had followed them in.

She looked at the Emperor with a question in her eyes. "There is no reason for you to be plagued by lickspittles. This is my general, Dagon."

"Your general?" The man was old, though she could tell he was still hale. Yet there was nothing behind his eyes. It was like he was dead inside.

"He has long been our servant," said a woman's voice behind her. Arya was able to suppress a start. It had been many a year since she had last been taken by surprise.

Arya turned to find a young woman of about her own age. She was very different otherwise. Although highly attractive, she had painted her face in white and black which gave her an almost ghastly appearance. What made it worse was that she was almost naked. Her clothing would have stretched the definition of modesty even in the Free Cities.

"So I see."

There was confusion in the woman's eyes. Arya chose not to enlighten her.

The woman finally decided to introduce herself. "I am Chai Ming Dom, daughter and princess to the Emperor Chai Ming."

"Dom, be a companion to our guest. I have duties to attend to."

"Yes father."

Appreciative as she was at his leaving, Arya wasn't happy to be afflicted with his daughter. Even more unwelcome, the woman took Arya's arm and led her down the hall as if they were the best of friends. She brought her to a large room with silken couches. There were also slaves to attend them, both male and female. All of them had elaborate makeup. And like Dom, they were all virtually naked. Arya could hardly miss that all the slaves were most pleasing to the eye. Dom draped herself on one of the couches. Her demeanor was highly suggestive, almost an invitation. Arya ignored it and sat stiffly on a couch on the opposite side of the room.

There was a glint in Dom's eye that was outright mocking. A sharp glance from Arya sent the slaves to the corners of the room. Dom gave commands and most of the slaves left, including all of the men. Only a couple of women remained to serve them.

Arya sipped at her cup suspiciously. It was tea, not wine, though it tasted unlike any tea she had ever had before. "Our ways are strange to you, I'm sure," Dom said.

"Not half so strange as you knowing about me."

The other woman smiled. "My father is a sorcerer and a most powerful one. He sees you in his visions. He has been watching your entire journey."

"So he said. Why?"

Arya was always blunt, but Dom didn't seem to notice. "You are a most remarkable person. A truly exceptional one. There are few like you on earth. It is fitting that we should be friends."

"Why? Do you consider yourself exceptional?"

"Can you not tell? I am no warrior, as you are. But I have learned much from my father and plan to learn more. We come from a distinguished lineage."

"Tell me."

Others might have mistaken Arya's interest as merely stalling or attempting to curry favor. This is a misunderstanding of her nature. Arya's curiosity was genuine and she hoped the other woman would let slip something valuable.

If so it worked. "We are the ruling house of Yi Ti. Our family goes back almost two thousand years. The founder of our dynasty was Chai Mogwi."

"How did he do that?"

Dom was annoyed at the interruption. "After the fall of the Sea Green Emperors Yi Ti was in chaos. Many claimed to establish dynasties in the ruins, though none truly ruled. The man who controlled Yin was named So Lon. He called himself the Lilac Emperor. Chai Mogwi was a general of So Lon. He saw how So Lon's misrule would doom Yi Ti. He overthrew the corrupt pig and went on to reconquer Yi Ti."

"Why?"

"It was necessary. The anarchy was great. The lesser folk fell to depravity, vice, and corruption. A strong hand was needed to return them to sanity."

Arya looked at the slave women with their painted faces before addressing Dom again. "I meant why it was necessary for him to overthrow So Lon."

"Did I not just tell you? He was corrupt."

"Sorry, but that is an easy thing to say."

"He was taking the wealth of the fortunate and giving it to the indolent and foreigners."

"I see. Was that his only crime?"

"He was allowing foreign barbarians to live on our lands."

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"On the contrary." Dom was losing her temper. "This land has been part of Yi Ti since the time of the Empire of the Dawn."

"Please continue."

Dom mayhaps was beginning to grasp that she was losing control of the situation. She took a deep breath before continuing. "So Lon did not accept the natural order of things. He sought to raise up those underserving. Give them property and position."

"He freed slaves?"

Her tone was so neutral, so bland, that Dom couldn't decide if she should take warning or offense. "He did not understand that there are those meant to serve and those meant to rule. Like us."

"Valar dohaeris."

"What?"

"Nothing." Dom blinked, but still couldn't tell if Arya was mocking her. "How long did your family rule Yi Ti?"

"A full seven centuries more or less. Our line did not have the good fortune of some. We were at war constantly. Most of my ancestors did not rule long."

"I see. Sixty-eight emperors in seven hundred years. That is about ten years per emperor."

"As I said, we did not have the good fortune of some. Nevertheless, we ruled Yi Ti longer than any other."

"So how did it end?"

"One of our generals, Lisho, turned on us. He had grown ambitious. During a single night the wretch led his army into our palace and slaughtered our people. It was he who founded the Maroon Emperors, so-called."

"How did you escape?"

"My family had found a great wise man, a sorcerer named Hastur. It was he who discovered the attack, too late to warn the family I fear. He was able to gather the youngest son Chai Do and carry him off before the soldiers could get to his room. The two fled east for many days before finding shelter here, in Carcosa. It was but a small fishing village then. Under Hastur's tutelage Chai Do was able to organize the village into a thriving city. Chai Do was not able to learn the greater mysteries, but his son, my father, was an eager learner. Hastur also taught him the wisdom of the ancient gods. The pretenders may worship their monkeys and trees. We know the true gods. The gods of the stars."

"The Church of the Starry Wisdom."

"I am not familiar with such an edifice."

"It is but a rumor, spoken of in ports across the Narrow Sea. Never mind."

The slave attending her put a strange plater on the table before her. The plater was subdivided into separate compartments. In each was a small morsel, a dainty made from differing sweetmeats, vegetables, or pastry. Arya ignored it.

"So how did your father survive for a thousand years? I assume this Hastur was responsible?"

"Quite so. Throughout his life Chai Ming has gathered knowledge of the Elder Gods and their magic. The magi was his teacher in all things. He vanished from the city some twenty years after they came here. None know where, nor what became of him. Yet Chai Ming has continued his studies and passed them on to his children."

"Who are these Elder Gods? I have never heard of them before."

"That doesn't surprise me." Dom was clearly gleeful at once more having the advantage. "The Elder Gods are the true gods of the Empire of the Dawn. It is they whom the God-on-Earth worshipped."

"Do you mean the Lion of Night and the Maiden-Made-of-Light were members of these Elder Gods?"

Dom laughed. Arya noticed how the two slaves were shocked and scared, though they tried to hide it. "Foolish tales created by small minds. There are no such spirits. There are only the true gods, the Elder Gods. There are no others."

Arya gave no hint of her thoughts. "Do you include Red R'hllor as well?"

"R'hllor? A fiction created by the dust eaters in Asshai. They are but pretenders to power. True magi need not fairy tales."

"Why do you say that?"

Perhaps Dom remembered the stories of the Long Night which had filtered east over the past several years. Or it was the instructions she had been given by her father. "I any not casting any aspersions upon your lord husband. Be assured. Even here in the east we have heard of the great hero who defeated the demons and their armies of the dead. We simply believe that no god was involved."

"No offense taken." Obviously they also failed to believe that any ladies were involved as well.

"I have heard that you are sister to a descendent of Valyria."

"A sister by marriage, yes." Arya felt no need to go into particulars regarding her relationship with Dany.

"Has she not told you of the Elder Gods? Her people are descended from them."

"Are they? I'm afraid much of the lore of Old Valyria was lost in the Doom. The Targaryens worshipped the Seven after the Conquest."

"How odd. Why would they demean themselves like that?" Arya didn't bother to answer. Dom sat up. Everything about her said she was intending to portray a sense of seriousness and weight. Arya saw through it. "The people you call Valyrians began here, in the east. Not in that hell-fire of a furnace they lived in. It was their blood which sat upon the throne of the Empire of the Dawn."

"You're saying that…"

"The God-on-Earth was the forefather and progenitor of the dragonriders. Their purple eyes and silver hair are proof of their divinity. It is their blood from which magic blooms. You are the Mother of Dragons. You should know this."

"Daenerys if the Mother of Dragons."

Dom ignored her. "You have the blood of the dragon. You ride a dragon. Your children will ride dragons too, someday."

The heart of it. "It is a dragon you want, is it?"

Dom perhaps realized she had given away too much. "That is not the question. Your family has the power. The power to remake the world. That is what your ancestors did of old."

Arya wasn't sure if Dom was deliberately misidentifying her heritage or genuinely didn't understand the difference between Westerosi families. What she was sure of was Dom was a very poor liar.

"We are not trying to remake the world. We fight against slavery because it is right. We tend to our people because it is right."

"Is not changing the world right?"

Arya gave that serious thought. "I do not know. What I do know is that change is painful. Maybe even dangerous. We have no desire to fight wars to make others live in a fashion we consider right."

Surprisingly enough, Dom agreed. "Wars are costly. We ourselves avoid them when possible. One should not destroy villages, nor disrupt trade, even if one cares not for peasants. For peasants are what kingdoms are made from. Without people an empire might as well be made of sand."

It was a level of wisdom Arya wasn't expecting from Dom. It also gave her an opening for a subject she was rather more interested in.

"I couldn't help noticing the stakes on the shore of the lake."

Dom was suitably uncomfortable, though even this was fake. "Ah… yes. Rebels and criminals."

"Including the children?"

Dom laughed. "Those were not children. I can understand your mistake. There are a people in the mountains outside the city…"

"The Mountains of the Morn."

"Is that what your people call them? It is a close enough translation, I suppose. They are inhabited by a people called the Jog. They are the smallest race upon the earth. They do not like outsiders and refuse to be ruled by any but their own mocri. They are blood priestesses who wear silly hats and sacrifice strangers to obscene gods."

Dom may know quite a lot about Westeros, but Arya could tell there were many things she hadn't heard of. The Children of the Forest being one of them.

"How does your father live so long?"

The sudden question caught Dom out. "He uses magic. He has not yet trained me in it."

"But he will someday. Has he taught your brothers?"

"I have no brothers." Realizing this sounded suspicious, Dom was quick to clarify. "Naturally, over his long life my father has taken many wives. He has fathered many children. But he has outlived them all. All his sons have died fighting for his throne. All his daughters have been married to various lords and nobles."

"He never taught his secrets to any of them."

The statement clearly made Dom uncomfortable. She was not blind to the inference. "My father is very demanding. He expects the most even from his own offspring. I am the only one who has been promising enough in his knowledge to learn such deep secrets."

"Yet he still hasn't taught them to you."

"He will! In time." Her voice had gone up several octaves.

Before Arya could goad her further the Emperor appeared at the door. "You must not let yourself go Dom." The slaves both fell to the knees, kowtowing in terror.

"No father." Dom stood stiffly, almost as if she were at attention.

Arya also got to her feet. She was not given an opportunity to ask him anything. "Please show our guest to her room. She must be tired after her long flight."

Then he was gone.

It was almost as if he hadn't been there at all. "He moves so quietly. It has been a long time since I met anyone so quiet."

If Dom grasped the hint she did not show it. "He is almost more ghost than man. I am also surprised by him at times. Shall we go?"

Whether Dom was deliberately comparing herself to Arya the queen couldn't tell. She silently followed as Dom led her through the palace. They went up several flights of stairs to the top floor.

This floor was small, virtually a single room. It was a large room. Yet there was almost nothing in it. Arya was disappointed to see that the only bed was a mat on the floor. Arya had noticed back at Yo Sha's stronghold that the people of the east seemed to prefer sleeping on the floor instead of in a true bed. But she had always chosen to sleep in her cabin on Summer. That was not possible here. There wasn't even a pillow. Only a block of wood with a tiny cushion.

After bidding her good sleep Dom left. There was no door to the room. Only a panel of wood and paper that could be slid closed. Arya debated removing her armor. Valyrian steel was light as air and the dragonscale so comfortable that she frequently forgot she was wearing it. But no one could wear armor indefinitely, no matter how light. She felt weary and her armor was beginning to chafe her shoulders. In the end she decided it was too dangerous to leave herself unprotected. Still, she removed it for a short while when she made use of the chamber pot. It felt good to get all that metal off her body.

It was after re-donning it that the panel slid open. In stepped a man of about her own age. He was naked, well formed, and possessed a garishly painted face. Arya was impressed with his endowment, but she did not welcome his presence.

"Sorry ser, but I have no wish for company."

She had mistakenly spoken in Common and so the man did not understand her. "My Lady," he answered in Yitish, "I am here to offer you company. I am well trained in providing pleasure to any who need it."

"I neither need nor desire it. Please go back to your mistress and tell her I have no wish for company."

The man continued to advance on her. "I cannot. I have been commanded to provide you with enjoyment."

Arya was rapidly losing her temper. She suspected that the man was more than just a bed slave. "I do not want enjoyment. Leave me now. I will not tell you a second time."

The man held out his hands. "I give the greatest satisfaction, My Lady. I will bring you to ecstasy and pleasure all night long."

Arya whipped out Dark Sister, almost slashing the man. "I told you! Get Out!"

The man fled in terror, not bothering to close the screen as he left.

Arya took a deep breath. She had surprised herself, for she had not realized she was so tense. The rage had been building and needed to be released. She regretted now her attack of temper. The man no doubt was simply doing as he was instructed. Still, Arya couldn't help feeling that this was a contest and she had just lost it.

She tried to make herself comfortable. It wasn't easy. Her armor didn't sit well on the mat. She took the precaution of slipping Visenya's Dagger under her head, though it wasn't easy. The wood block sat flat on the floor and there was no space for anything. The blade had to lay under her back, which only added to her discomfort.

When she awoke the next morning she knew immediately that something was wrong. She looked all over the room, but Dark Sister was nowhere in sight. She had laid the sword next to her when she went to bed. Whoever took it had to have unnatural stealth.

Arya drew Visenya's Dagger and spun around. No trace of anyone was visible. It wasn't as if there was anywhere to hide. Arya searched the room thoroughly anyway, just in case.

When she finally relaxed a slave woman entered, painted face, coiffed hair, and all. As with all the other slaves in this place, the woman had almost nothing on. What's with these people? Even the Dornish don't expose themselves this much. The woman had brought in a tray, compartmentalized like before, with a different food in each. She laid it next to the map.

"Would the Lady desire anything else?" she asked in her sweetest voice. The way she said it and the way she prominently displayed her breasts was strongly suggestive.

"No thank you." The woman bowed and left.

The woman had also left a tray with tea. It was the same as the previous night and not very good. Still, it was wet. The food was flavorful, but there was so little of it. Hardly enough to fill the belly of a Westerosi. "It's amazing these people don't starve to death. I guess this is why they are so thin."

Arya was about to leave, but hesitated. She slipped Visenya's Dagger into her sleeve, tying it there to keep it hidden. Then she left.

As she descended the stairs she came face to face with the slave man who had entered her room the night before. He had been nailed to the wall. His belly was sliced open and his entrails were scattered all over the floor. His member had been cut off and shoved into his mouth. Arya recoiled in horror, her hand to her mouth. She came close to retching up the meal she had just eaten.

"He disobeyed." This time Arya did jump. Dom was coming up the other staircase. "He was commanded to ensure your pleasure."

Arya's voice was sharp. "I didn't want him to! I told him to leave!"

"Immaterial. He failed in his task."

"You kill a man for that?!"

Dom was almost mocking. "It was his duty to obey. He was to seduce you. He failed."

"I can't believe you!"

Dom almost laughed. "He exists to serve. Why do you concern yourself with such a worthless wretch? He was just a slave."

"Didn't you yesterday say that empires are made up of people?"

"More than one. We cannot become enamored of one single minion. He existed for one purpose. He failed to preform that purpose."

Dom tried to take Arya's arm, but the queen pulled away from her. "Keep your hands off me!"

Dom wasn't the least put out, shrugging her shoulders indifferently. "You are so soft. How do you rule when weaklings can take advantage of you?"

She proceeded to go down the stairs. Arya rushed to follow.

"No one takes advantage of us. My husband is a fair and just ruler. Our people love him."

"And you?" Dom stopped to gaze into her eyes. Arya was too angry to look away. "You are feared. You do not like having to defend yourself."

Arya tried to school herself, but it was too late. She had allowed Dom to get to her. "If you know I'm feared you must know why."

Dom shrugged again. "You are a warrior. A skilled one from all I've heard."

"Where's my sword?"

"Weapons are not allowed here. You need not fear. You are well protected."

"That's not the point. I want my property back."

"It will be returned to you, when you leave."

"I demand-"

"Guests do not demand."

Arya turned her back on her and marched for the front doors. She could not find them. To her shock she found herself facing a maze of corridors, all leading in the wrong direction. She forced herself to be calm, trying hard to become 'no one'. It didn't work. She was far too emotional. Whatever power was in the palace was far too strong. Her sight blurred. The glamor grew fuzzy. But all this accomplished was to double the number of passages which met her gaze.

She faced Dom angrily. The other woman just watched her curiously. "Why am I not being allowed to leave?"

Dom put on an act of incomprehension. "No one is stopping you. Leave by all means."

"Do you think me a fool? Your father is powerful. I have not seen such a strong glamor since I set eyes on the Weirwood Heart."

"My father is the greatest sorcerer since the Elder Gods walked upon the earth."

Yes, and I wonder how long that's been. "Why am I being kept here?"

"I told you, you can leave anytime you wish. If you can find the door."

Dom walked away. Once again Arya followed after. Too late she had grasped their game. She still wasn't sure if they knew about the Faceless Men, but they clearly knew a lot about her. They had planned it perfectly. It would likely be hours before she could relax enough to once again achieve nothingness. In the meantime, she didn't want to become lost in this maze.

"Why did you want me to come here?"

"Why? You chose to come here yourself."

"You sent La Do to get me."

Dom stopped. "So we did. You are a most remarkable woman. We were curious."

"Don't give me that. Who are these Yellow Jackets?"

"Rebels and traitors."

"You seem to have a lot of those."

"Don't you?"

Why is their knowledge so scatter-shot? "Maybe you don't know as much as you pretend. We have had only one revolt since my husband took the throne. And it ended very quickly."

"You ended it. Single-handedly I have heard."

"Yes. That should tell you something."

"It does. You are a formidable woman indeed. Is it so strange that we should wish the friendship of such a woman?"

"Is that the reason for the constant offerings I am being given?"

Dom smiled. It may have been meant to be endearing, but Arya found it repulsive. "We give such hospitality to all our guests."

"Guests? I doubt you have any."

"Not many. We do not welcome visitors. But you are special. You have many gifts."

"I have a dragon." Dom did not argue. "You want me to fight your battles."

"We wish an alliance with you."

Arya first impulse was rejection. The consequences of doing so stopped her. She was certain they would be a lot less friendly if she straight up said no. Without knowing just what the Emperor was capable of, she didn't want to provoke a fight.

Either sensing Arya's hesitation or interpreting her silence as affirmation, Dom continued down the corridor. Not knowing what else to do Arya went with her.

For the rest of the day Arya was subjected to obscenity. She was not as a rule puritanical. She was Dornish in attitude, as Sansa once told her. But there were limits. She sat watching as dancers engaged in lewd and indecent performances. Dom relished the entertainment. Arya merely sat, her jaw clenched.

When she finally managed to find her way back to her room, her head thumping, she found three naked women on her bed. Or rather a new bed. A flood of silken cushions had been piled in the center of the room. The women had draped themselves over them. As always their faces were painted and their hair coiffed in outrageous shapes.

Arya felt the rage building, but this time she forced it down. She watched as the three women caressed, kissed, and otherwise attempted to entice her into their embrace. She remained steadfast, standing like a statue.

"I am not interested. Leave me."

One of the women said, "We cannot. We have been commanded to please you."

"You will please me by leaving."

"We cannot. Our purpose is to give you pleasure. Let us show you. We can give your body all the delights imaginable."

"You cannot delight me. I have no need or desire for your company."

She could tell that there was fear creeping into their eyes. "Please, we must obey. Allow us to pleasure your body. Allow us to give you ecstasy."

"I do not wish to hurt you. But I will if you do not leave. Tell your mistress that I commanded you to leave. Tell her also that if she objects than she can come and speak to me herself."

The women were confused, not understanding her meaning. Still, knowing they could not change her mind, they got up and left. Arya closed the screen and went to bed.

She awoke the next morning to find the three women back in her room. With Dom. And a man. A giant man dressed in nothing but a loincloth, sandals, and a leather mask covering his head. He might have even challenged the Mountain in sheer size. He also had a giant sword that reminded her of her father's great sword Ice.

Arya leapt to her feet. The slave women looked little like they had the night before. The makeup and coiffed hair was gone. In their place was blood and bruises. The women had been horribly brutalized. Black bruises covered much of their skin. Their faces were swollen. Their eyes were black and bloody. Naked as they still were, Arya could see that their backs had been whipped until their bones showed. A sick grin was on Dom's face.

The three slaves crawled to Arya. They held up their hands, begging her to let them pleasure her. They asked in the most explicit terms, pleading that she indulge her lust on them. Arya was horrified. Her gorge rose, threatening to spew everywhere. She retreated to get away from them, but the women followed. Her retreat ended when she rammed into the wall. The women clawed at her armor, their pleading only becoming more urgent. More desperate.

Faster than a snake, Arya ripped Visenya's Dagger from her sleeve and threw it… at the executioner. She caught him right in the throat. With a strangled gurgle, the man collapsed.

All the women remained frozen for a second. The spell was broken when Dom laughed uproariously. She waved her arm and the slaves fled the room.

"My congratulations! I had thought there was no way you could get out of this."

"Just be glad I did not aim it at you," Arya spat out. She went to retrieve her dagger.

Dom wasn't the least bit offended. "You would not risk my father's wrath. You are no fool. Reckless yes. A fool no."

Once again, Dom tried to take Arya's arm. This time though Arya allowed it. Dom led her out the room and down the stairs.

"Your resistance is remarkable."

"Why do you think that? Are you so used to people being corrupt?"

That actually caused Dom to pause. "Perhaps. Honor as you understand it is not common here."

"Mayhaps that's because you don't encourage it."

A burst of anger flashed in Dom's eyes. But it was so brief that Arya might have imagined it. She was silent for some time. "Perhaps that is true. We must consider it."

She led Arya into a dining room. Arya was pleased to see that there were no naked slaves waiting for them here. It was too much to think that Dom had given up her game. But for the time being at least Arya would not be bothered with it. Instead the serving women wore normal garb. They served the usual compartmentalized platers of food and tea. The two were entertained by a woman who played an instrument much like a dulcimer, though this one was as long as she was.

This was easily the most pleasant time Arya spent in Carcosa. Unfortunately, it did not last. Long after they had eaten, having spent several hours listening to the woman play or others who sang or danced or played flutes, the Emperor entered. The slaves exited quickly.

As before, Dom stood rigidly. "Leave us Dom," the Emperor commanded.

Arya could see the other woman was livid, but she did not dare protest. "Yes father."

"Come with me."

The Emperor left, obviously expecting instant obedience. Arya wasn't in the mood for defiance. The Emperor led her down several corridors, talking all the while.

"You wished to speak with me."

"Do you normally leave your guests to your daughter?"

"When I have guests. Most 'guests' as you might say do not appear before me willingly. They usually go straight to the dungeon. I do apologize for her crude manner. She does not know how to entertain in a civilized way."

"Odd. I had the impression she was acting on your orders."

"Yesssss." The long drawn out word seemed to carry the hint of displeasure. "Her notions of pleasing are rather limited."

Though his tone was unchanged from the previous day, Arya was sure she detected anger. Who it was aimed at she could not tell.

"Was it really so necessary to hurt those people?"

"Ah yes, I do forget that you Westerosi value peasants more than we do. Discipline must be maintained. Though I would have instructed Dom to be gentle if I had known it would displease you so much."

For once Arya was able to grasp that he was lying. She was wise enough not to show it.

He led her into another dining area. Two slave women were in the act of coupling as they entered. Four male slaves stood around them waiting. The four wore silken hoods over their heads and spiked collars on their necks. Otherwise they were totally naked. As with the other male slaves here, their members were large. The entry of the two appeared to be some kind of signal. The four men joined the women and the six continued to engage in various acts of love.

There were cushions scattered all about the room. The Emperor seated himself on some and Arya followed suit. More slaves, these women, came in and placed food before them. Arya noticed that even though the slaves served him too, the Emperor made no effort to remove his mask or taste the food.

Although his eyes remained fixed on the 'entertainment' he gave no sign of being aroused or attracted to it. It was as if he were a maester observing the coupling of cows. He never once looked at her as he spoke. Arya kept her eyes fixed on him.

"You wished to know more about me."

"You never set foot in Valyria, did you?"

"Did I say so? There are many ways to observe."

"Glass candles." He did not dispute it. "Hastur didn't save your father, did he? He was the one who let your enemies in, wasn't he?" Once more the Emperor did not dispute the contention. "Is that why you killed him?"

"I did not kill him. I owed him much. He may have been involved in my family's death. I do not deny. But I was indebted to him. My father told him he was no longer welcome. I know not what became of him."

"Did he kill your father?"

There was a long pause. "I know who killed my father." He did not elaborate and Arya was left to ponder his answer.

Their conversation went on for some time. He talked about his family and the history of Yi Ti. It was what he didn't talk about that she found most interesting. He never said a word about his sons or Hastur. And he did not mention the Elder Gods until she brought them up.

"What was the God-on-Earth? Was he an Elder God?"

"You wish to know about them? That is understandable. For they are the true power. The source of all magic. It is they who walked the earth before mankind. It is they who built Asshai. It is they who made the dragons. Many eons ago they created the greatest dynasty the world has ever known. They shaped all life to their will. The Valyrians were but pretenders to their arts."

"Dom said they gave birth to the Valyrians."

"Indeed. It was they who took the First Men and gave them fire. They taught the ancestors of all mankind how to build and shape tools."

"When you say First Men, you don't mean my ancestors."

"I mean all ancestors, for all of mankind were their servants and slaves. They used our kind as workers. And for pleasure. They interbred with their slaves to make half-breeds. It is these half-breeds who became the ancestors of the Valyrians."

"Why?"

"Who knows the mind of a god? They enjoyed mating with their slaves. Those comely enough."

"What happened to them?"

"They possessed great power, but also great pride. Each was a power in his own right. Each was a king, you might say. Each wanted to rule. They made war upon one another, using weapons so great and terrible that even the largest dragon would be as a mouse."

Arya remembered the city she had discovered in the glacier and the stories she had heard about Yeen.

"They were never very numerous. And they also preferred mating with human women to their own from all I could gather. Such is the way with gods. Perhaps they could not stand the company of their own."

Arya chose not to comment on this observation.

"How did they die?"

"Their children rose up against them. The half-breeds they had so diligently produced discovered that they could control the beasts the gods had made. Their godly blood no doubt. When their children turned on them the Elder Gods were too few and divided to fight back. It was their children who created the Empire of the Dawn."

"The God-on-Earth was a half-breed."

"As were the Fisher Queens."

Once again Arya wished he wasn't wearing a mask. She was sure he was lying, and yet she just couldn't tell. Perhaps she was determined to convince herself.

"The children would destroy themselves too, just as their fathers did."

"The Bloodstone Emperor. I have heard stories about him. How many are true?"

"How many indeed? I do not know the surety of it. All I can say is that the people who became the Valyrians left the ruins of what had been the Empire of the Dawn and moved to Valyria. Whether they brought dragons with them or found them there I cannot say."

"How do you know all this?"

Arya didn't need to express her skepticism for him to know it was there. "Centuries of study. I have journeyed many places, across all the lands that made up the Empire of the Dawn. I have read many books that are now dust. Can I say for certain that everything I believe is true? No. But it does explain all that has happened since the fall of the Empire."

Arya was left with much to think about. The 'entertainers' had long since finished the 'performance'. The Emperor commanded a slave to take her back to her room. As before the woman offered herself, but she made no argument when Arya told her to leave.

The next few days found Arya abandoned to her own devices. Neither the Emperor, nor Dom, showed themselves. Whenever Arya asked one of the slaves the answer was invariably she would be sent for when wanted. Arya wandered the palace freely, but couldn't get out. Even though the glamor was gone, the doors would not open. She was unable to find what locked them shut, but they would not budge no matter how hard she pushed.

Whenever she entered any of the multiple dining areas slaves were always waiting to offer food or tea. But never wine. The slaves would also offer themselves, whether man or woman. She would always decline. She was successful in finding a bathing area, which even the endless efforts of the slaves to couple with her could not detract from. They washed her clothes and brought her new ones to wear. She wouldn't allow them to take her armor.

Finally, after spending five interminable days in this velvet prison, she found Dom waiting next to a sitting room. Dom beckoned her in. Inside she found an actual table with real chairs. They were so old that the wood had turned black. The table was small and circular. On it was a tea set. A small bronze bowl with a lid was set in the middle.

"I hope you enjoyed your rest," Dom said sarcastically.

The two sat and Dom herself poured the tea. First she took a lit taper, lifted the lid, and ignited the contents of the bowl. A fine white smoke rose from it which Dom breathed deep. It was a foul smelling incense that Dom appeared to find pleasing. She suddenly blew it into Arya's face, then laughed.

Arya waved the smoke away. "Must you?"

Dom served as she spoke. "You have been a most entertaining guest."

"Not half so entertaining as the performances I have been subjected to."

"Quite."

"Was that really necessary?"

"It was a test. A test of whether you were someone we could work with."

"Manipulate and use you mean."

"If you like. We could have worked well together."

"How? I would be the one winning your battles. I would be the one killing your enemies. What would you be doing for me? I don't need or want slaves. If I wanted a paramour I have hundreds begging to be mine. I have food and fine clothes. And I don't care about gold. What do you have that I want?"

Dom was silent for a moment. "You are right. We did not think through our approach. I had thought you a fool, to refuse what was so freely offered. I see now that you are a woman of strong will."

"Did you really think I would believe your 'gifts' were truly free?"

"They are. I assure you, we were not planning on demanding anything from you."

"I did not want them. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"Yes. Why not take them? It is not as if your husband would have known. Why not enjoy the pleasures you were offered? Many would."

"I am not many. I am Arya Stark."

Once more Dom was silent. "So I see. You are indeed incorruptible. That too is of use."

Too late Arya saw the danger she was in. She leapt to her feet, her hand going for Visenya's Dagger in her sleeve. The sudden racing of her heart activated the drug in the incense. Her vision blurred. She reeled with vertigo. She felt her legs go out and she crashed to the floor. Her last conscious awareness was of Dom laughing.

When she awoke she was cold. There was nothing on her bare skin. She tried to open her eyes, but the light was blinding. She was strapped naked to a frame. Leather straps so thick even the Mountain couldn't have broken them held her down. They were on her legs, wrists, and neck. The frame was metal and cold. She was being held upright, at a slight angle, suggesting she wasn't on the floor.

She slowly opened her eyes. As they adjusted she realized it was actually quite dark. The only light was from a single lamp on a table. Dom sat at the table. The Emperor stood over her.

"Good. You are awake," he said.

Arya knew she was in a dungeon. The place was dank and smelled of death and rot. In the dim light she could see the remains of other unfortunates, what little was left of them. The room she was in was an octagon, with passages extending from three of the walls outward. There was no clue as to which led to the exit.

The Emperor leaned close, his face blocking her view. His blue eyes filled her vision. She could only think of one thing:

Hastur.

"You are most clever, Arya Stark, but not clever enough. As I am sure you have guessed I have a great need for you. One which no other could satisfy. You need not fear defilement. That is not my purpose. You have asked what happened to my sons. You are about to find out.

"I am not willing to be a puppet of higher powers, as are the Red Priests. Nor do I wish to be a shambling corpse, host for another spirit, as was the Drowned Crow. I will keep my soul. My body on the other hand is more disposable. There are many ways those with the secret knowledge use to keep themselves alive. The one I have chosen is simple. I will not be consumed by another. I consume them. I bred sons for their bodies. They served no other purpose for me."

Skinchanger? Yet different from Bran. What did he do with the daughters I wonder? Or should I even ask?

"Your power makes you ideal. And you have a dragon. When I return to your Westeros with your body taking control of your kingdom should prove simple. And with Westeros and dragons I will be the most powerful being in the entire world!"

The monotone was gone and the madness shined through. Yet Arya did not feel fear. Nor even react at all. Instead, her mind reached out and touched another.

Watching from one of the corridors was a giant rat, the king of all rats perhaps. It was not angry or fearful. Merely curious of the funny creatures who fed it and its brethren which infested the labyrinth around them.

Arya's eyes rolled up into her skull and the Emperor stepped back puzzled. He had never seen this before. He suddenly became aware of eyes watching him. He turned to see the rat sitting there boldly as you please. Dom too looked at it quizzically.

The hallway behind it suddenly filled with hundreds of more eyes. Red eyes. Angry eyes.

The king rat raised its muzzle and screeched, as if giving a command. From all three corridors came thousands of rats. Dom screamed in terror, but it was too late. Both Dom and her father were buried in the swarm. Within seconds they had both been reduced to bone and gristle.

Arya was untouched. The king rat, blood on its muzzle, looked up in curiosity at the funny creature strapped to a frame. It wandered over to her, its pack following. They leapt upon Arya and got to work on the straps holding her down. Thick as they were it took only seconds to gnaw through them.

Arya came back into herself. She felt the nudge of multiple furry bodies on her skin, yet she felt no fear. One was clinging to her hand and she raised it up to her eye. The king rat sat in her palm looking at her. It was bigger than a cat, but even with it near her face she felt no terror. She gazed into its eyes. Even now they seemed to carry a hint of intelligence. The eyes that looked back were almost kind, understanding. The king reached out a paw and touched her nose. It lasted only a second or two, yet Arya felt sympathy from it.

Then the king jumped off her hand and waddled off into the darkness. Its swarm followed. Arya was alone, naked and shivering. It was not fear that made her tremble, for the room was freezing.

She pulled herself free of the frame. The straps had bitten into her skin, plus the rats had been unable to avoid cutting her getting them off. So she was both bloody and naked and there was nothing left in the room to cover herself. She spotted Visenya's Dagger on the table, which Dom had been playing with when she came to. After retrieving it Arya looked at the three corridors. The king rat knew these passages better than the Emperor had-

Perhaps I should refer to him as Hastur.

So Arya had been able to get a good idea of where to go. She went down the left most corridor and never looked back. The darkness was total for there were no lamps or torches. But she knew there was only one way to go. She ran her hand against the wall to orient herself. She passed by and ignored any doors or side passages she came to. She always headed straight.

Dagon stood in the entry room. He always did when his Lord 'entertained' guests. He did not know why, for none had ever escaped. But he never asked questions. Not about this or anything else. He obeyed.

The guards in the room took no notice of him. They never did. He never joined their games or conversation. Whenever any of them asked him anything his answers could usually be summed up by 'yes', 'no', or 'shut up'. Like him they didn't know why they were there. None had ever survived the Emperor's hospitality. So they were careless.

The door leading down into the dungeons rattled. This was a first. The Emperor always commanded they open it and no one else had ever laid hands on it. Not knowing who was on the other side, one guard got up and walked over to the spy window. When he looked out onto the corridor beyond he saw nothing.

He looked at Dagon questioningly. Not knowing what else to do, Dagon waved his arm and said, "Bwah."

Guessing that was a command, the guard unlocked the door. He had barely started to open it before Arya burst through. Her dagger took him in the throat. The other two did not live much longer. Though the only garment she wore was her own blood, her speed hadn't been impaired by the cold. Within seconds both were bleeding out their lives through slashed throats.

Dagon reacted immediately. He drew his sword, a recurved blade like the one Mupan had used, and held it at high guard. Arya waited for him to come at her. Yet he didn't move. She looked into his eyes and saw nothing. It was as if all his will had been burned out of him. Faster than he could blink, she reversed Visenya's Dagger in her hand and threw it. It took Dagon in the eye. He died without a sound.

Servants and slaves fled the palace, for the mind which had dominated them was gone. As the guards rushed to surround the place they heard wild tales of the pale skinned girl who was rampaging through it. The men did not know what to make of it. None was willing to rush in and find out for their courage was gone. Mupan, having ridden hard, had only just arrived. He marched into the palace grounds, barking commands. His presence steadied the men. They formed before the great doors waiting for whatever came out.

What finally did was Arya, once more dressed in her armor and with her blades at her sides. This time she was wearing all her kit, helmet and gauntlets too. Mupan pushed through the guards, sword in hand. He yelled out challenges in his own language, which not even the guards could understand.

Arya didn't respond. It was almost as if she were sleepwalking. Mupan took this as defiance. He became enraged, screaming his challenges even louder. Arya was unmoved.

A giant winged shape passed overhead. All the men hesitated. They looked up into the sky and cries of alarm were heard throughout the city. The dragon passed by again. In various parts of the city idiots fired off arrows or ballistae. None of which came close to striking home.

Snowflake settled herself on the roof of the palace. She had grown so large that her eye was now larger than Arya's head. The guards retreated a step. Even Mupan was rendered speechless.

Arya voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible. "Dracarys."

Snowflake unleashed a torrent of flame. Mupan was in the middle of it, but his guards were not spared. On turning them all to ash, Snowflake took wing again, burning any and all the servants of the Emperor she could find. The people of the city realized quickly that they had no hope against such a beast. The gates opened and everyone who could fled.

There were exceptions however. Those deepest in their master's malign influence could not be so easily cured. Men such as Dagon, who had lost their souls to the monster, continued to stalk the death filled streets of the city.

Which is how Arya found them. She had wandered out of the palace grounds in a daze. Not even conscious of where she was going most of the time. She would never remember what route she took or how long she wandered. She only came to herself again hours later, having drifted into the central square of the city. It was small for such, but it was the hub of all the major thoroughfares in the place. Both her blades were in her hands covered in gore. Blood was spattered all over her too, but none of it was hers.

From all the approaching streets appeared men. These were the most fanatical, the most devoted, to their master. They were armed with a variety of weapons. And all wore the Yellow Sign upon their doublets. With a cry they charged, a half-dozen at least. And in just as many seconds a half-dozen men were bleeding their lives away on the ground. Leather jerkins and wooden shields were no match for Valyrian steel.

One man who faced her from directly ahead carried a crossbow. He smiled, cranked the mechanism, and let fly. Arya made no effort to interfere. Instead, even though she was barely more than twenty paces from him, she cut the bolt in two. This demonstration of speed was enough for the remaining men, who promptly dropped their weapons and fled.

Only now, when she was alone, did Arya take in her surroundings. She had thought in the dungeons of the Emperor she had seen the worst of his evil. She could not have been more wrong. Here, in the city square, she finally came face to face with depravity and degradation such as she had never believed was possible. Above the buildings people had been strung along as if they were banners. Their entrails had been pulled from them and tied together as if they were rope. Babies' heads had been cut off and attached in the most obscene ways on the bodies. Their very skin and been ripped and stretched from them as if to make a canvas. And other things besides more hideous and gruesome that Arya, literally, had no words to describe them.

She trembled, but it was not cold that caused her shaking now. She found it hard to breathe. She wanted to look away, yet she could not tear her eyes from the sight. She fell to her knees, put her hands to her head, and screamed. She screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

She did not see the great winged shape descend upon her. Nor the huge claw that snatched her up and carried her off. She was lost to all conscious thought.

Snowflake was not finished with this den of depravity. As she circled she unleashed her fires. First on the forest of stakes, then on palace, walls, and anything else that stood. Soon, all of Carcosa was a holocaust of flame. It would never be rebuilt.

Some of the people fleeing into the hills looked back upon the city with tears in their eyes, for the only home they had ever known. Others smiled and felt the weight of oppression gone from them at last. All knew they would never set foot in it again.

Arya stood on a hill gazing at the flames and felt only grief. She had thought she would never feel such pain again. Not after the horrors of the Long Night. She was wrong. Snowflake lay behind her. The dragon gave no hint of her own feelings. Arya stumbled back and threw herself onto her dragon's muzzle. She cried as if she would never stop. Snowflake looked down on her rider and it was almost as if tears were in her own eyes, save dragons can't cry. She laid her wing over Arya, like a mother comforting her child.

The Hound stared out at the ruins of Washo. In the week since the battle started the city had been reduced to ashes. Bodies filled the plaza, for none bothered to remove them. The stink was terrible. Asha sent men ashore from time to time to drag them away. The air did not cooperate and the smell still engulfed them.

Most of the combatants had wised up and avoided the strangers and their ships. But from time to time, people, whether wearing a yellow shirt, a scarf, or a blue tabard would attempt to seize the pier. The Hound and the Queensguards would always hurl them back.

But for the past day it was as if everyone else had fled the city. The Westerosi had seen no signs of anyone. Not even wharf rats or cutpurses. Something had changed. They all felt it. But none could find a word to describe it.

A lookout from one of the ships called out, "Something's coming!" The man pointed to the sky in the west.

Joella, who had the keenest sight among the Queensguard, soon echoed him. "There! Towards the sun."

It was nearing sunset and dusk would be on them soon. The tiny figure soon grew. A palpable sense of relief washed over them all as Snowflake alighted in the middle of the plaza.

It did not last. Arya did not leap off her dragon's back with her usual dexterity. She almost fell off, dropping her helm and not noticing. Nobody needed to be told that something was very wrong. They wanted to rush forward, but the specter that walked toward them looked and acted so like a ghost that many thought she was. Many a prayer passed frightened lips.

Arya's head was bowed, her hair pulled forward to cover her face. She moved as if in a dream. When she neared them she stank of death, even worse than the bodies around them. When she got close Brienne dared to reach out and touch her. "Arya?!"

The figure stopped. The head moved slightly and Brienne saw an eye so unblinking and lifeless that she almost thought Arya was a wight. The queen continued her progress, everyone moving aside to avoid her. Brienne sent Yimi to collect the helm before following Arya to the ship.

Within the main hold of Summer Arya sat at the table gulping down wine like there was no tomorrow. She held out her flagon to Maud, who sat next to her with the wine flask. After a scared look at Sandor, she refilled the queen's cup. Arya proceeded to empty it again and demand more. Throughout this entire time she had said not a word.

Brienne could not stand it any longer. "Arya, what happened to you? What's wrong?"

There was no answer. Marwin almost shoved his face into Arya's. "What took place between you and the Yellow Emperor? What has happened in Carcosa? We've seen the smoke in the west. Was that your doing?"

To everyone's surprise, Asha shoved him backward. "Leave her alone!" she cried. "Can't you all see what state she's in? Leave her alone!"

The last thing any of them had expected from Asha was sympathy. Brienne was reminded of Theon.

Whatever thoughts were in Sandor's head, he clearly agreed with Asha. "Everybody out."

Though reluctant, nobody was inclined to argue. As she slid from the bench Maud was suddenly grabbed by Arya. The queen wasn't looking at her, yet her grip was as iron. With a nervous look, Maud slid back onto the seat. Only then did Arya let her go.

Nobody else said anything and they all left. Once they were gone Maud said, "Your grace, perhaps you should sleep." Without a word, Arya climbed to her feet.

On deck Alys asked, "What could possibly have happened to her?"

Marwin answered, "You can be sure it has something to do with that cloud." He pointed at the column of smoke to the west that was rapidly vanishing into the dusk.

Asha said, "Who cares? What do we do?"

Brienne asked, "What do you want to do?"

Everyone knew Asha had wanted to turn back ages ago. And yet, this present event caused her pause. It was as if they'd be betraying everything Arya had suffered over.

It was Sandor who answered. "We keep going."

Asha nodded and turned to Crackjaw. "Haul anchor. Signal all ships to set course south. We leave with the morning tide." The Ironborn were quick to move.

Below in her cabin Arya was being assisted by Maud in undressing. Though she had inquired about a bath, Arya did not answer. When the two women had shed their armor Maud asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Arya just looked at her. Faster than a snake, Arya had pinned Maud backwards against the wall, her lips locked on the other woman's. Arya's hand ripped at Maud's clothes, desperate to get them off. Maud did not need to be asked. She gave in to her passion, long held in check.

On deck Sandor stared dejectedly as the last sliver of sun vanished beneath the horizon.

END CHAPTER 7