Arya Stark
She felt as though every step she took was being watched, but still her third attempt finally succeeded. It happened on the day news reached the capital that Daenerys Targaryen had landed in Sunspear alongside Oberyn Martell.
The castle erupted into chaos and agitation. Arya managed to take advantage of it.
Once again, she made her way to the harbor and found a ship that was due to depart for Gulltown within the hour.
That suited her. There, she intended to rent a room at an inn and take her time thinking things through: what to do next, and where, in fact, to go from there.
She reached Gulltown without incident. There, at an inn called the Wanderer's Rest, she began deciding her fate.
The room was warm and dry. She had just eaten fried flounder with fresh, fragrant bread, and now sat at the table, thoughtfully turning over in her fingers the coin Jaqen H'ghar had once given her.
On one side were strange letters, forming an intricate and beautiful pattern. On the other was an image of the Titan of Braavos, raising a broken sword to the sky.
She took a sip of wine from a clay mug and thought. Two paths lay before her. One led to the Wall—to Jon Snow. The other led to Braavos.
But what would she do at the Wall? She would be glad to see Jon, but he would not be able to help her. He would not give her men, nor would he start a war. He was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch; he had duties, and he had sworn vows. She would only waste her time there.
Though it would be good to see him.
The second path led to Braavos. She wanted to become one of the Faceless Men, to learn how to kill, and to find Jaqen H'ghar. There, she could gain power—and then take revenge on Joffrey, the Freys, and all the other enemies of her House.
And still, she hesitated. One part of her urged her to sail to Braavos, while the other tried just as hard to dissuade her.
So she decided to toss the coin. If the Titan came up—Braavos. If the strange letters—then the Wall.
The first time she flipped the coin, the letters came up.
"Chance," Arya said aloud, and tossed it again.
The letters came up again.
"No, that throw didn't count," she muttered, picking up the coin, taking a deep breath, and tossing it once more.
The coin struck the tabletop, rolled almost to the edge, described a wide arc, and spun in place.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, it fell. At last, Arya saw the Titan. For a moment, it even seemed to her that the figure frowned in displeasure. Of course, that was just the play of candlelight!
The next morning, in the harbor, she found a Braavosi ship. It wasn't hard to spot—the dark purple sail bore the image of the Titan, and the captain himself stood out: a man of average height with a blue beard, neatly combed into two points.
He looked grim and preoccupied, and roughly shoved her aside when she tried to speak to him. He didn't care in the slightest that she was asking for passage to Braavos.
But the moment she showed him the coin, everything changed.
"Where did you get that?" the captain asked, visibly shaken.
"Valar morghulis," she repeated the words Jaqen had taught her.
"Valar dohaeris," came the immediate reply. Then he added, "Please, come aboard. Your cabin is already prepared, my lady. We sail in an hour."
And so she sailed.
Gulltown had not yet recovered from the war and the recent assault. Many houses had been burned or destroyed. People bustled everywhere—hammering, building, mixing mortar, raising walls. Ships left the docks, and new ones immediately took their place. Trade was in full swing.
Arya looked back at the harbor, then moved toward the stern. Smooth, well-planed boards lay beneath her feet, and under her hand she felt the firm, sturdy rail. The wind drove leaden waves toward the ship. It plunged into them, sending salty spray up to her face, then rose again, lifting itself from the water.
The air smelled of approaching rain, tarred wood, and melons a merchant had brought to the city.
A sudden chill crept over her.
The girl drew the cloak Sansa had given her more tightly about herself. Almost without noticing, she drifted into a pensive haze, as if slipping into that borderland between waking and sleep.
"Turn back," the waves seemed to whisper.
But she didn't listen—everyone knew waves were fickle, slaves to the wind.
"Think again. Remember your family. Don't rush into revenge," the wind hummed in the sails.
But she dismissed it—the wind blew in every direction and changed its mind several times a day.
"It will all end badly," cried the gulls overhead.
But gulls were foolish creatures—who would listen to them?
She reached Braavos.
The city, set within a lagoon, amazed her.
Set upon a hundred or more small islands, it was a land of mist, muddy shallows, and brackish waters. There was little space, and almost no trees grew here. The houses were all built of stone—narrow and rising upward, three or four storeys high. Countless canals ran between the islands, forming a tangled labyrinth through which gondolas and all manner of boats glided without pause.
(End of Chapter)
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