DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Arya VIII

After witnessing the executions of Stannis and Selyse, Arya staggered back to the brothel, her stomach churning with the echoes of death. She'd grown accustomed to its presence, even been its architect too many times to count, but standing on the steps of the Sept of Baelor, reliving the moment of her father's demise, was an ordeal unlike any other she'd endured.

The need to cleanse herself of the grim spectacle drove Arya to the nearest bath, where she sought solace in the steaming water, hoping to wash away not just the grime of King's Landing, but the haunting memories that clung to her like a shroud. Her clothes and shoes were dispatched for cleaning, leaving her free of reminders of her father's fate.

As she soaked, Arya's thoughts turned to Tyrion, his impending trial looming like a storm on the horizon. It wasn't the first time she'd plotted a way to save the imp, but each plan seemed to hit a dead end. Rescuing Tyrion from the black cells would require discreet help, something she couldn't orchestrate from her current position. The key, she knew, lay in the trial's aftermath, a window of opportunity between condemnation and discovery.

In another life, Tyrion had confided in Sansa about his trial and escape, but this time around, the circumstances were different. Sansa was absent, and there would be no Shae to betray him. Still, Arya did not doubt his impending guilt; the powers that be would see to that. He'd been given a choice: plead guilty and take the black, maintain his innocence and face execution, or, as Tyrion had opted in the past, demand trial by combat. But with Oberyn Martell en route north, that last option was no longer viable.

Arya's mind raced, seeking a solution where none seemed to exist. Tyrion's fate hung in the balance, and she was determined to tip it in his favour. But with Varys and Jaime both out of reach, her options were dwindling by the day.

An idea ignited in Arya's mind, a precarious gamble teetering on the foundation of Tyrion's animosity toward his father and Cersei. With Jaime's help, it could just work. But first, she needed to gain the skill of forging Varys' handwriting, a task made workable with access to his letters, with the help of Jack. Then, a clandestine meeting with Jaime Lannister would be arranged, where his persuasive powers would be crucial in convincing Tyrion to plead guilty and take the black.

But that wasn't the extent of Arya's scheme. There was the delicate matter of securing Tyrion's pardon in exchange for his cooperation with Jon Snow, a detail she couldn't divulge to Jaime. Yet, as Sansa often reminded her, every lie has a kernel of truth. And then there were the Freefolk, another piece in the intricate puzzle Arya was assembling. Her plan was far from foolproof; countless variables could derail it. But for Tyrion, it offered the slimmest hope of survival.

But before any of that, Arya needed a face. So she waited for the skies to darken before she set to her task.

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Selecting the right face was never a straightforward endeavour, and assuming the guise of Littlefinger only compounded the challenge. His face was notorious throughout King's Landing, making Arya's task twice as hard. Venturing out as Arya Stark risked attracting unwanted attention from those inside the brothel, she opted for a less conspicuous approach – the back window.

In Littlefinger's chambers, one window overlooked a small yard, providing Arya with a discreet point of entry and exit. This access, reserved for Littlefinger or those he invited, afforded Arya the freedom to come and go undetected, provided she descended via rope from the balcony.

Equipped with a sack containing essential tools – rope, knives, and cleaning supplies for the delicate task ahead – Arya left Littlefinger's face in his chamber, hidden in her secret pouch. Then she tied her shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail and donned a humble disguise: a dingy grey linen tunic paired with brown breeches.