DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 1 - GAME OF THRONES

Arya VI

Arya led Gendry through the winding alley, a secret passage guiding them to the inconspicuous entry of the Steel Inn. Ascending a staircase, they emerged into the upper rooms reserved for temporary lodgers. With an abrupt swing, they entered the unadorned chamber previously occupied by Arya and Theon.

Inside, Theon savoured a substantial morning meal, relishing in the combination of bacon, bread, and ale. The delectable scent enveloped Arya, stirring her own hunger and prompting the acknowledgment of her empty stomach.

Arya made the introductions with a flair, "Theon, meet Gendry. Gendry, Lord Theon Greyjoy," evoking a genial laugh from Theon.

Gendry offered a respectful nod. "Milord," he addressed.

"You can call me Theon," Theon declared, biting into a piece of bacon with relish.

As Arya filched two bacon pieces from Theon's plate, she inquired about logistics, "Did you arrange for a mule to carry the chests to the docks?" She handed one bacon piece to Gendry, who consumed it eagerly.

Theon affirmed, breadcrumbs scattering, "And what's our plan for the ship? Are we sailing on the one I found yesterday?"

"I'm not sure, you found it. What time does it set sail?" Arya asked.

"Early afternoon, I think. I can't remember, I've drunk wine and slept since then. They said to board before noon," Theon said.

"If that ship is packed, alternatives await us on the docks. So long as it's bound for White Harbor, my coin purse can handle it. Let's convene downstairs and collect our belongings."

Arya hoisted the chest pilfered from Littlefinger. A grunt left her lips, as she wrestled the weight to her waist—burdensome for her twelve-year-old form. Once, the sinewy strength of her eighteen-year-old self would have rendered such exertion effortless.

"I'll take care of that for you, milady," Gendry offered, effortlessly lifting the weighty chest from Arya's grip. Typically, Arya would decline, emphasising her independence. Instead, she found herself momentarily silenced by the impressive show of his muscular strength.

Gendry remained unaware of Arya's contemplations, but Theon wasn't. Knowing Arya's actual age, he spotted her ajar mouth. He tapped her chin, urging her to close it, earning a playful swat from Arya in return.

Theon dipped his head close to Arya's ear. "Is he the one you bedded in the previous life?" Arya blushed. Theon raised his hands in a placating gesture as Gendry vanished from the room, carrying the hefty chest downstairs. "I shall keep mum about it." "Best you do," Arya warned, sliding Needle into her sword-belt with a dramatic flourish. Theon's expression fell at the sight of her theatrics. He knew well enough that Arya's skill with the little sword far surpassed his own. In a bout with her, he'd be outmatched. Arya swung her saddlebag across her shoulders, as well as the satchel containing the myriad faces within. Beside her, Theon carried their trunk from Queenscrown. Following Gendry, they descended to the side entrance of the inn.

Under the open sky, Steffon, the innkeeper, held the reins of a chestnut mule, while Gendry and Theon loaded the chests onto its sturdy back.

"Handle this one with care," Steffon advised Theon, handing him the reins, paying little attention to Arya. "Mary can be quite obstinate. A real troublemaker."

"I'll keep that in mind," Theon said, pulling three silver stags from his pocket. "You mentioned three, didn't you?"

"Aye, that'll suffice," Steffon accepted the coins from Theon. "When you're done, stow her in the stables. I'll fetch her later." He shifted his attention to Arya, bearing a parcel. "Here's the fare you requested." He handed her an apple. "For Mary, in case she wants to act up. An apple sweetens her disposition."