Disguise and Eavesdropping in Eel Alley
Eel Alley in Braavos was always damp. The salty sea wind blew from the Narrow Sea, carrying the stench of the fish market and the sour smell of ale from the taverns, clinging to Arya's roughspun sleeves.
She lowered her head and rubbed her nose with a flour-dusted hand—this was the habit of "Allie," an apprentice who worked at the Blue Lantern Tavern, missing half of her left index finger (the pigskin wound hadn't fully dried yet), and speaking with a soft Lysene accent (it took three months to get rid of the rolled 'r's from Winterfell).
"Another pint of ale!" The merchant ship captain at the next table slapped the table, his bronze dagger clanging against the wooden mug at his waist.
His companion was an Eastern merchant dressed in silk, with the sun pattern of Meereen embroidered on his cuffs, wiping his plate with a piece of bread dipped in olive oil, "Is it true what you say? That Mother of Dragons really has three dragons?"
Arya's hand, holding the clay jug, paused, and a few drops of ale sloshed out from the bottom of the jug, landing on the scuffed toe of her shoe.
She bent down to wipe it, but her ears were taut like a bowstring, catching every word from the merchant—the word "dragon" hadn't appeared in her world since she heard the old jailer say it once in the dungeons of King's Landing.
"Absolutely true!" The captain took a big gulp of ale, the liquid flowing down his chin and into his roughspun collar.
"I stayed in the port of Meereen for three days and saw with my own eyes a black dragon fly over the city walls, its dragonflame burning the slaver ships like torches!
That woman—Daenerys Targaryen, they all call her the Mother of Dragons—freed all the slaves and even made a Lannister imp her advisor!"
Lannister. Arya's nails dug into her palm, flour scattering to the ground.
Her "list" churned in her mind: Joffrey (dead, choked by poisoned wine, heard it was the little rose who did it), Cersei (still in King's Landing, sitting on the iron throne), Ilyn Payne (cut off her father's head, now Cersei's executioner), Walder Frey (the executioner of the Red Wedding, still drinking ale in the Twins)... Now there was another "Lannister imp," and though she didn't know his name, as long as he was a Lannister, he deserved a spot on the list.
"A Lannister?" The merchant frowned, picking a fish bone from between his teeth with a toothpick, "Didn't Cersei Lannister put a bounty on all Targaryens? How could a Lannister be helping her?"
"Who knows!" The captain scoffed, pulling a crumpled piece of parchment from his Huai.
"Look at this, I picked it up outside the council hall in Meereen, it has three dragons and a wolf drawn on it—I heard that the imp said he wants to unite with the remaining House Stark in the North and fight their way back to Westeros."
Wolf. Arya's heart gave a sudden lurch, as if needle had sharply pricked it.
She touched her waist—needle was hidden in her roughspun belt, wrapped in thick wool, the blade against her skin, familiar and cold.
This was the sword her father gave her, a memory of Winterfell, the only thing she couldn't lose, even though the Faceless Men's mentor, The Kindly Man, had said, "To become no one, you must lose yourself."
"House Stark?" The merchant took the parchment, squinting at it for a long time, "After the Red Wedding, weren't all of House Stark wiped out? King Robb, Lady Catelyn... and that little daughter, heard she was kidnapped by the Hound, no news of her for ages."
"Who knows!" The captain took another swig of ale, his voice becoming slurred, "But I heard there's a Lord Commander of the Night's Watch on the Wall, a Stark bastard named Jon Snow.
That Mother of Dragons sent people to the Wall, wanting to form an alliance with him!"
Jon. Arya's eyes suddenly welled up, and she quickly lowered her head, pretending to cough, covering her face with her sleeve.
Jon was alive! On the Wall! She remembered when she was little, Jon teaching her how to hold a sword in the Winterfell training yard, saying, "Girls can be sword fighters too"; she remembered when he left, he secretly slipped her a dagger, saying, "Use it if you're in danger."
So he was still alive, and had become the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
"Alright, stop talking about that!" The merchant put away the parchment, stood up, and pulled a few copper coins from his purse, placing them on the table.
"I need to get back to the ship, I'm going to King's Landing tomorrow—Queen Cersei wants to buy a batch of wildfire from the East, she says it's to deal with the Mother of Dragons and the rebels in the North."
wildfire. Arya's nails dug deeper, a sharp pain in her palm.
She remembered the Battle of Blackwater Bay in King's Landing, wildfire burning on the river, like a sea of fire; she remembered Cersei standing on the castle wall with a cruel smile on her face when her father was beheaded.
This woman not only wanted to kill the Targaryens, but also the people of the North, and burn everything with wildfire.
The captain also stood up, swaying as he followed the merchant out of the tavern.
Arya watched their backs, her fingers slowly moving towards needle at her waist—the blade beneath the wool seemed to be faintly warm.
Should she follow them? That merchant was going to King's Landing, to see Cersei, and perhaps he could help her get close to that woman and complete the most important entry on her list.
But she quickly calmed down again.
The Faceless Men's training taught her that impulsiveness was a killer's biggest taboo.
She was "Allie" now, an apprentice from Lys, not Arya Stark of House Stark.
She had no weapons (except for the hidden needle), no intelligence, no help; following them rashly would only lead to her death beneath the walls of King's Landing.
"Allie! What are you staring at?" The tavern owner's voice came from behind the counter; he was a one-eyed fat man with a rusty scimitar at his waist, "Hurry up and fill the buckets in the backyard, if you delay tomorrow's breakfast, I'll dock half a copper coin from you!"
"Got it, boss!" Arya quickly responded, picked up the empty buckets in the corner, and hurried to the backyard.
The backyard was small, piled with bundles of firewood and a dilapidated brewing barrel, and in the shadow of the corner, a black cat was staring at her, its yellow eyes like two small lanterns.
She put down the buckets, leaned against the brewing barrel, and slowly pulled out needle.
Moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the patterns on the blade—they were the Direwolf patterns of Winterfell.
She gently caressed the patterns, whispering, "Jon is alive, on the Wall. Cersei is still in King's Landing, using wildfire. Daenerys has dragons, in the East."
Her list seemed to have a new direction.
No longer secretly assassinating alone, no longer hiding in the alleys of Braavos.
Perhaps she could go to the Wall to find Jon; perhaps she could go to the East to find that Mother of Dragons; perhaps she could unite them to overthrow Cersei and avenge her father, Robb, and Catelyn.
But first, she had to leave Braavos.
Leave her identity as "Allie," leave the House of Black and White, leave this damp city without Direwolves.
2. Tracking and Assassination at the Docks
Early the next morning, Arya got up early.
She hid needle in her trousers, put on a roughspun jacket, and stuffed the dozen or so copper coins she had saved into the sole of her shoe—this was all the money she had saved from working these past few months.
She didn't say goodbye to the tavern owner, but left a note on the kitchen table that read, "Allie has gone, thank you, boss" (written in Lysene script to avoid revealing her identity).
The docks of Braavos were bustling.
Ships of all sizes were moored along the shore, sailors carrying goods scurried back and forth, merchants haggled in the dockside tents, and several people in the black robes of the Faceless Men stood at the end of the dock, seemingly looking for something.
Arya quickly lowered her head, blending in with a group of porters, and hurried towards a merchant ship docked at the very edge—it was the ship the Eastern merchant had taken yesterday, its sail painted with the sun pattern of Meereen.
She hid behind a pile of wooden crates, watching the merchant direct sailors to load heavy wooden crates onto the ship.
The crates were sealed, stamped with the Lannister lion sigil.
Arya's eyes narrowed—these crates must contain wildfire.
The wildfire Cersei would use against the Mother of Dragons and the North.
Just then, a man in a brown leather jacket walked up to the merchant and whispered a few words.
Arya noticed that the man's cuff was embroidered with a small House Frey twin towers sigil.
Frey! Arya's heart gave a sudden leap, her fingers clenching into fists.
At the Red Wedding, it was the people of House Frey, along with House Bolton, who killed Robb and Catelyn.
After speaking, the man turned and walked to the other side of the dock.
Arya followed without hesitation.
She hugged the wall, her footsteps light, like a cat stalking its prey.
The Faceless Men's mentor had taught her how to hide herself in a crowd, how to use shadows and obstacles, how to become an "invisible person."
The man walked into a secluded alley, which was filled with garbage and reeked of a pungent odor.
Arya hid behind a trash can at the alley's entrance, watching the man pull a roll of parchment from his Huai and lean against the wall, examining it carefully.
She slowly drew needle, its blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
"Who's there?" The man suddenly turned around, his hand on the dagger at his waist.
Arya held her breath, motionless—she knew that as long as she didn't move or make a sound, the man wouldn't discover her.
The Faceless Men's mentor had said that a killer must be like a stone, like a shadow, like air.
The man looked around, found nothing unusual, then turned back to continue reading the parchment.
Arya seized the opportunity, rushing forward like a gust of wind, needle stabbing straight into the man's back—that was where his heart was, the "fatal point" taught by the Faceless Men.
The man screamed and fell to the ground, the parchment scattering into the garbage.
Arya knelt down, covering his mouth to prevent him from making a sound.
She looked into the man's eyes, which were filled with fear and surprise.
"Are you from House Frey?" she whispered, a barely perceptible tremor in her voice.
The man nodded, muffled sounds coming from his mouth.
Arya's eyes turned cold; she remembered Robb lying in a pool of blood at the Red Wedding, and Catelyn with her throat slit.
"The Red Wedding, you were there too, weren't you?" she asked again.
The man nodded again, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.
Arya said nothing more; she forcefully pulled out needle and stabbed again—this time, into the man's throat.
The man's body twitched a few times, then stopped moving.
Arya stood up, breathing heavily.
She looked down at her hands, which were covered in blood.
This was the first time she had personally killed a man from House Frey.
There was no hesitation, no fear, only a sense of vengeful satisfaction, and a faint trace of sadness.
She was Arya Stark, not "Allie," not a Faceless Man; she was a daughter of House Stark, and she would avenge her family.
She picked up the parchment from the ground and unfolded it.
It read: "Lord Bolton has taken control of Winterfell, Miss Sansa Stark is a hostage in King's Landing, Jon Snow on the Wall intends to rebel.
Deliver wildfire to King's Landing quickly to assist Queen Cersei in suppressing the rebellion."
Sansa was alive! In King's Landing! Arya's eyes lit up.
Sansa, her sister, was alive! Though in King's Landing, under Cersei's control, she was alive.
And Jon, on the Wall, though described as "intending to rebel," he was alive.
The people of House Stark were not all dead.
Arya stuffed the parchment into her Huai and looked at the man on the ground again—she couldn't leave any traces.
She took the money pouch from the man's Huai, stripped him of his dagger and leather jacket, then dragged his body into the garbage at the back of the alley, covering it with a pile of rags.
That way, even if someone found the body, they would only assume it was some vagrant or thief, never thinking it was someone from House Frey, much less that she had done it.
She put on the man's leather jacket, tucked the dagger into her waist, and put the money pouch in her Huai.
The leather jacket was a bit big, but it perfectly concealed her figure, making her look like an adult man.
She walked out of the alley and blended into the crowd at the docks; no one noticed her—she was now a sailor in a brown leather jacket, not the apprentice "Allie" from Lys, nor Arya Stark of House Stark.
3. Intelligence and Decision on Board
Arya walked up to the merchant ship with the Meereen sun pattern, showed the parchment she had taken from the man (which had the House Frey sigil on it), and told the sailor, "I was sent by Lord Frey to escort this cargo to King's Landing."
The sailor looked at the parchment, then at her, found nothing unusual, and nodded: "Come aboard, the ship departs early tomorrow morning. Your cabin is on the lower deck, with the other sailors."
Arya nodded and boarded the ship.
The ship was large, divided into two levels: the upper level housed the merchant's rooms and cargo hold, while the lower level contained the sailors' quarters and kitchen.
She followed a sailor to a cramped room on the lower deck, which had four bunk beds.
Three sailors were already inside, dressed in coarse clothes and playing cards.
"Newcomer?" a bearded sailor looked up at her, holding a card in his hand.
"What do you do?"
"I was sent by Lord Frey to escort the cargo," Arya said, lowering her voice as much as possible to mimic a man's.
She knew that as long as she didn't speak too much or reveal her height (she was shorter than an average man, but her large leather jacket concealed it), she wouldn't be discovered.
"A House Frey man?" another lanky sailor chuckled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.
"A hero of the Red Wedding, huh! I heard you killed House Stark people, quite impressive!"
Arya's fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms, but she showed no emotion on her face.
"It was all for Lord Lannister," she said indifferently, then walked to the innermost empty bed and sat down.
Over the next few days, Arya stayed on the ship, speaking little.
During the day, she helped the sailors with chores—moving cargo, scrubbing the deck, coiling ropes—and at night, she lay on her bed, listening to the sailors chat, gathering more information from their conversations.
She learned that Cersei was currently in King's Landing, holding great power but also feeling very lonely.
She had killed many people, including her son Tommen (reportedly because Tommen helped Margaery Tyrell) and her brother Jaime (reportedly because Jaime tried to stop her from using wildfire).
Now, the people of King's Landing feared her greatly, secretly calling her "the Mad Queen."
She learned that Daenerys Targaryen was in Meereen, having assembled a powerful army of eight thousand Unsullied, three thousand Dothraki Riders, and three mercenary companies (the Second Sons, the Stormcrows, and the Windblown).
Her three dragons had grown large, capable of breathing powerful dragonflame, and many slave masters feared her, fleeing to neighboring countries of Meereen.
She learned that Jon Snow was at the Wall, having united the wildlings and some small Northern families, preparing to resist House Bolton.
However, House Bolton had many troops and the support of House Lannister, placing Jon in a dangerous situation.
She also learned that the Lannister imp, Tyrion Lannister, was Cersei's brother and the former Hand of the King.
He was hunted by Cersei for "kinslaying" (killing Tywin Lannister), fled to the East, and pledged allegiance to Daenerys.
He was very intelligent, helping Daenerys govern Meereen and devising a plan to return to Westeros.
Arya committed all this information to memory.
She knew the current situation was complex: Cersei in King's Landing had wildfire and the Lannister army; Daenerys in the East had dragons and a powerful army; Jon in the North had the support of the Night's Watch and the wildlings; House Bolton in Winterfell had Lannister's backing.
And she, Arya Stark, was now on a ship bound for King's Landing, carrying the wildfire Cersei intended to use.
She had to prevent this ship from reaching King's Landing.
If Cersei obtained this wildfire, she would undoubtedly use it against Daenerys and Jon, against the people of the North, against all who opposed her.
Arya could not let that happen.
But what could she do?
She was alone, with only needle and a dagger she had taken from a House Frey man.
There were a dozen sailors and the Eastern merchant on board; she was no match for them.
Just then, the ship suddenly lurched violently, followed by a sailor's shout: "Storm's coming! Haul in the sails!"
Arya quickly ran out of the room and onto the deck.
In the distance, the sea was covered in dark clouds, the wind howled, and waves as high as mountains surged towards the ship.
The sailors were busy, furling sails, securing cargo, and checking the hull.
"Come help!" the bearded sailor yelled at her.
Arya nodded, ran over, grabbed a rope, and pulled it hard towards her.
The gale howled past her ears, waves crashed against the deck, and icy seawater soaked her clothes, but she felt no cold at all—a plan was slowly forming in her mind.
The storm grew fiercer, and the ship swayed more violently.
Several sailors accidentally fell into the sea and were quickly swallowed by the waves.
The cargo hold door was blown open by the wind, and wooden crates rolled out, some falling into the sea, others crashing against the ship's planks with loud thuds.
Arya saw one wooden crate hit a plank, its seal broken, revealing the wildfire inside—a green liquid glowing eerily in the moonlight.
She knew that a single spark would ignite this wildfire, blowing the entire ship to pieces.
Her chance had arrived.
While the sailors were distracted, she quietly slipped to the cargo hold entrance.
Many more wooden crates, all containing wildfire, were inside the cargo hold.
She pulled the House Frey man's dagger from her waist and used its tip to carefully scrape at the seal of one crate—she intended to break the seal and let the wildfire leak out.
Just then, the Eastern merchant suddenly appeared at the cargo hold entrance and saw her actions.
"What are you doing?" the merchant shouted, his hand on the dagger at his waist.
Arya didn't answer; she raised her dagger and charged at the merchant.
The merchant also charged, and the two fought in the cargo hold.
The merchant was skilled, and Arya could only barely defend herself.
But she knew she couldn't lose; if she did, the wildfire would be delivered to King's Landing, and Cersei would use it to kill people.
She remembered the "weak point attack" her Faceless Men mentor taught her—she feigned an attack on the merchant's chest but actually stabbed the dagger into his knee.
The merchant screamed and fell to his knees.
Arya seized the opportunity, snatched the merchant's dagger, and plunged it into his throat.
The merchant fell to the ground, dead.
Arya gasped, looking at the wooden crates in the cargo hold—the seal had been broken, and the green wildfire was slowly leaking out onto the ship's planks.
She pulled a tinderbox from her waist, which she had stolen from a tavern owner.
She hesitated for a moment—once she lit the tinderbox, the entire ship would explode, and she would be killed.
But she knew this was the only way to prevent the wildfire from reaching King's Landing, to protect Jon, to protect Sansa, to protect the people of the North.
She remembered her father's words: "House Stark never lies and never retreats."
She remembered Robb's words: "We are the people of the North; we must protect our home."
She remembered Jon's words: "When in danger, do not be afraid; be brave."
She lit the tinderbox and threw it onto the wildfire flowing on the ship's planks.
"Boom!"
A huge explosion erupted, the ship shook violently, and the wooden planks on the deck snapped.
Arya was thrown by the blast, crashing heavily onto the deck.
She felt her body ache as if it had fallen apart, but she smiled—she had succeeded; the wildfire had been detonated, the ship would soon sink, and Cersei would never get her hands on it.
The waves grew larger, the ship began to tilt, and slowly sank into the sea.
Arya grabbed a floating wooden plank and clung to it.
She watched the burning ship slowly disappear into the waves, feeling no fear, only a calm sense of relief.
She didn't know where she would drift, or if she would survive.
But she knew she was Arya Stark, daughter of Winterfell, of House Stark.
She would not die; she still had to go to the Wall to find Jon, to King's Landing to save Sansa, and to avenge her father, Robb, and Catelyn.
The waves carried her north.
There, the Wall, Jon, her family, and her home awaited.
IV. Encounter on the Coast and a New Journey
After drifting for an unknown period, Arya was finally washed ashore on a strange coast.
She lay on the beach, soaked, cold, and exhausted, almost losing consciousness.
But she struggled to get up, knowing she couldn't collapse there; she still had much to do.
There was a forest on the coast, and the sound of birds came from within.
Arya entered the forest, found a dry cave, and hid inside.
She pulled needle from her waist, wiped off the seawater, and then touched the parchment hidden in her clothes—the parchment with the news of House Stark was still there.
She stayed in the cave for two days, surviving on wild fruits and stream water.
Her body slowly recovered, and her strength returned.
On the morning of the third day, she emerged from the cave, ready to continue north—she was going to the Wall to find Jon.
Just then, she heard the sound of hooves.
She quickly hid behind a large tree, vigilantly watching the direction of the sound.
A dozen people dressed in black, riding horses, came along the coast.
On their clothes, the black raven emblem of the Night's Watch was embroidered.
The Night's Watch!
Arya's heart leaped.
Were they from the Wall?
Did they know Jon?
"There's a cave ahead; let's check it out, we might find water," a Night's Watch man said.
They rode their horses towards the cave where Arya was hiding.
Arya took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree.
"Are you the Night's Watch?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse.
The Night's Watch men were stunned when they saw her.
A man who looked like a captain rode over, scrutinizing her: "Who are you? How did you get here?"
"I am Arya," she said, not concealing her name, "Arya Stark.
I am going to the Wall to find Jon Snow."
"Stark?" The captain's eyes widened.
"You are from House Stark? Commander Jon's sister?"
"Yes," Arya nodded, filled with anticipation.
"Do you know Jon? Is he well?"
"Commander Jon is very well!" The captain laughed, dismounted, and walked over to her.
"He is now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, having united the wildlings and some Northern families, preparing to resist House Bolton.
We were sent by him to the East to seek news of the Mother of Dragons, hoping to form an alliance with her."
"The Mother of Dragons? Daenerys Targaryen?" Arya asked.
"Yes!" The captain nodded.
"We heard she has dragons and a powerful army, and we want to ask her to help us overthrow House Bolton and House Lannister and liberate the North."
Arya's eyes lit up.
So, Jon was also looking for Daenerys!
So, they all wanted to unite against Cersei and Bolton.
Perhaps she didn't need to go to the Wall to find Jon; instead, she could go East with these Night's Watch men to find Daenerys.
Perhaps together, they could form a powerful army, fight their way back to the North, back to King's Landing, and avenge her family.
"Can I go East with you?" Arya asked, a hint of pleading in her voice.
"I know the way; I know Daenerys is in Meereen.
I can also help you; I can fight, assassinate, and hide myself."
The captain looked at her, then at the other Night's Watch men, and nodded: "Good! You can come with us.
Commander Jon will be very happy to know his sister is alive."
Arya smiled, the first genuine smile since she left Winterfell.
She was finally no longer alone; she had companions, a goal, and hope.
The Night's Watch men gave her a horse and a black Night's Watch cloak.
Arya put on the cloak, mounted the horse, and followed them, heading East.
She looked back at the strange coast, then at the path ahead—the path leading East, to Meereen, to Daenerys, to hope.
She touched needle at her waist, then the parchment in her clothes.
She knew the road ahead would not be easy, with many dangers and difficulties.
But she was not afraid, for she was Arya Stark, daughter of Winterfell, friend of the Night's Watch, and ally of Daenerys.
She would bravely continue until she avenged her family, until the North was liberated, until House Stark's Direwolf banner once again flew over Winterfell's walls.
The sun set, casting long shadows.
Arya rode in the middle of the group, a determined smile on her face.
She knew her journey had only just begun.