𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒚 𝑶𝒖𝒕

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐗𝐗𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫

꧁ CHAPTER XXI ꧂

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"The Names We Bare, The Faces We Wear"
301 After Conquest

꧁ Arya ꧂

Like a ghost, the girl drifted in and out of existence and conscious. From peir to peir, dock to dock, abandoned house to hidden back ally, the girl hid. The girl cried. Her feelings, those she tried to drown and bury and burn away, had come back with a vengeance. A hateful vengeance for being neglected and ignored, and for every moment spent..pretending they did not exist, she suffered for it.

She had meant to return after that night. To slink away and disappear back into the night, back to the House of Black and White. She still remembers the way. To return from the north, a girl must go south. Past the Iron Bank..

..the girl must not enter the Iron Bank..

..turn west at the Moon Pool..

..a needle and thread, water shan't be tread..

The Moon Pool.

It was there, still, she hoped. The fountain stood in the center of the square, with the market and shops surrounding it, and overhead, to the north, the Iron Bank stood as its shadow. The urge to return was weighing heavily, but her scattered and broken thoughts forced her to stay, now among the people gathered about the square, she was but another face in the crowd, a shadow on the wall. Grey eyes stared ahead and lingered on figures who danced. No sweet words were sung, no. The only song that played was the sword song, and the only dance was death.

Water shan't be tread..

"Arya, girl, I am Syrio Forel, once the First Sword to the Sea Lord of Braavos..now, humbly, your dancing master."

"Dancing?"

A scoff escaped her lips, but then she flinched when she watched once of the Water Dancer's cry out in pain from the thinly sliced cut that came from his opponents sword slashing his cheek. She thought then to the man, thought to his wooden sword, to his unarmored body and how he stood against knights all.

"Greatest swordsman in the world slain by Meryn fucking Trant?"

The Dancer cried out again, seething from another cut. Blood splattered onto the cobblestone..

"Meryn had armor, Syrio didn't. Meryn had a fucking sword, and your little Braavosi didn't. When are you going to wake up and see the world for what it truly is, girl?"

"I am going to kill you!"

"Good luck with that, girl. I truly mean it."

Blood, blood, blood... It splattered, it stained, it remained. Blood never went away. She watched it fall like rain from that heavy greatsword, red staining dark grey rippling waves. She watched it pour like wine from a bottle from the wolf's headed corpse atop his horse. From the dog's exasperated lips from sickening, broken and choked coughs fighting for his last breathes. She watched it come from swift cut after swift cut from the Water Dancer before her, and she flinched from it.