The Butterfly Effect

The cold felt like a familiar old friend as she stepped off a ship and onto dry land for the first time in a moons turn. Of course, the cold could be felt on the Narrow Sea as well as on land, but the sight of endless snow somehow made it seem even more so. Still, she was farther South than she would have preferred, docking in Gulltown rather than Oldtown as was her desire. Ships, it seemed, weren't going that far north often enough for her to be able to wait- not under the circumstances in which she'd fled Braavos and the House of Black and White.

It took a surprising small amount of coin to secure a hot meal of watery stew, a room for the night, and a horse come morning, but she supposed the ongoing war made desperate men everywhere and a little coin was better than none at all. She also managed to trade for a pair of thick woolen black trousers and a plain spun black cloak with a deep hood. When she saw the beast she'd purchased the next morning, she felt a mixture of annoyance and pity for the scrawny thing, but she supposed grass was as hard to come by as anything else that grew under the snow.

Feeling a small surge of gratitude that she was still light enough to not cause her horse much of a burden, she mounted. The motion was odd, like stepping into a shoe that didn't fit quite right anymore. She hadn't been on a horse in years, after all. She turned it around and set off towards the Kingsroad, hoping it might make for easier passage than the deep snowdrifts she could see all around.

The first week passed by easily enough. She dared not camp on the road at night alone and so instead would move off and find a secluded clearing to rest against the nag for shared warmth. On the fourth night, she was lucky enough to find a small and broken house with most of a wall missing. Even still, it provided her and her mount both with more shelter than they'd managed thus far, and even more luckily, she found a half-dozen bundles of hay stacked away that still seemed dry enough for it to eat.

She took the quickest route north, a burning need to get to Winterfell and join the King of the North and the great gathering of troops that was being spoken of even across the Narrow Sea. They said the Crown and the Lannister/Tyrell alliance were marching North after having declared a formal cease fire so that they may join forces with the King in the North and the army of Wildlings that had passed through the wall in order to defeat the enemy that threatened them all. With them was the Dragon Queen, said to have an army of freed slaves, sell-swords, and Dothraki savages at her back, alongside the aforementioned dragons.

Most in Braavos considered it a flight of fantasy- tall tales bore of dullness and monotony often found in the deep winter, but she knew better as soon as she caught the whispers. Jaqen had just offered her a second chance at proving herself after her previous failure and so she'd made her way back to the Theater to observe the Lady Crane. It was there she heard her brother Robbs name- something that never failed to grab her attention despite her lingering unhappiness with him and her mother- and even more so when they whispered of her bastard brother and his army of wild men and cannibals.

She had already been faltering in her will to kill the actress- for why would a good woman die simply for the petty jealousy of another? She had truly accepted the teachings of the house and vowed to service the Man Faced God however she might- but she found she couldn't be a mindless assassin, killing anyone without question over a bit of coin. Perhaps it was her Stark blood, or the voice of her deceased father she still heard whispering about honor in the back of her head, but when she heard the outlandish talk her decision was settled in an instant.

The thought to warn the Lady Crane of her impending assassination crossed her mind, but she knew it would be pointless- 'once a name is spoke a man is dead already, he simply doesn't know it yet'- echoed through her mind and she knew the Lady would meet the May Faced God one way or another. Better to allow her to live out her numbered days in blissful ignorance than for her to spend them looking over her shoulder and waiting deaths call.

No, instead she broke discreetly from the crowd, unaware of the Waif watching her go with calculating eyes, and made her way back to the front of the temple. She found where her sword was still hidden inside the rocks and began to dig it out. She retrieved it quickly and then made her way to the harbor to find a ship going West. There was but one ship sailing for Gulftown and none going farther North, so she settled for a longer foot journey once she arrived and made her way aboard.

Hardly more than a month later and she was back on familiar grounds, making her way back home. It was almost difficult to believe- she'd been close once before but had turned away in the pursuit of Jaqen and the teachings of the House once she heard the Northern Bannermen talking in pity of her betrothal to one of the Frey men.

She knew the Hound had heard them too, as they trudged their way past the smaller camps trailing behind the main troop, because he'd shot an indecipherable look at her before turning his chin away riding on. Her mind had raced at the new knowledge and she'd kept her ears open as they sought shelter for the last night before they'd meet up with the bulk Robbs army. The Frey's had wanted Robbs hand to join with a woman from their own to join their families in marriage, it was said, but he offered his youngest sister and uncle both as a substitute for an alliance instead of himself.

She'd been so angry that night. She hadn't seen her mother or brothers in so long- hadn't truly known if she'd ever get to see them again- and yet their only concern for her was in bartering her absent self off for a handful of men to add to their numbers. She knew the Hound had every intention of trading her back to her family in exchange for a payout, and that he likely wouldn't agree to turn away from their course, not when they were finally so close. The knowledge that she was naught but a price to all who knew her for her name left her choking on her bitterness, and so she did not let her captor turned savior know she was leaving before she did. Instead, she snuck away in the night and had fled to White Harbor on a stolen horse, where she found passage to Braavos.

A bit of her was still angry, but she couldn't allow it to drive her away from her family anymore- not with what was apparently happening all around them. She needed to return, needed to keep them safe. They couldn't afford for her to be selfish or bitter any longer. That brought her to now, and the faint sound of horses she could hear as she approached the Crossroads and the Kingsroad true. The snow was becoming too deep and dangerous to navigate off the main path and so she was forced to press onward, hoping the men ahead were friendly.

When the noise was loud enough that she knew they would soon be in sight, she dismounted and secured the horse to the skeleton of a bare overhanging branch and crept farther forward to investigate. She found row after row of crimson and gold armor riding by, the Lannister flag scattered throughout the ranks leaving no question as to which army she was looking at. She could see the gold of the Baratheon flag being flown beside the Lannister red, and farther back the green and yellow of the house Tyrell. There were others, but she couldn't quite make them out from the distance. She must have met them as they moved to join the Northern ranks, she realized with an odd feeling.

Deciding she couldn't bare wait for the large force to pass and then to travel slow enough to remain behind them, she moved to retrieve her mount and was soon back in saddle. She pulled her hood farther over her bowed head, sharp eyes hidden in the shadows, and pressed forward. She waited and watched until there was a small gap in the ranks and then nudged her horse to join them. It was impossible to not be noticed in her all black clothing, the white blouse she'd been wearing since she left the theater was hidden beneath her cloak, with no sigil or color to identify her as one of them. Her frame looked petite, despite the skinniness of the black mare she'd been given, and it was fairly obvious she was either a woman or child. She would've preferred a white horse to better blend in, but it hadn't been an option and she would rather a black mount than no mount at all.

She nudged the mare forward and into a pace just slightly faster than the armored troops, keeping to the edge and moving steadily so that she could try to outpace the army without grabbing their attention. Despite her efforts, she could see the looks being sent towards her as the men questioned amongst themselves where she had come from. Still, no one bothered her and she was able to make a small amount of progress before it began to grow dark.

The troop stopped and began assembling tents at a wider swatch of the road. She had already decided that she would press on and try to clear the army before the nights end. The slow pace they were forced to maintain meant her horse wouldn't drop if they didn't stop, and she hoped the noise of camp would cover the sound of them still moving.

She made it clear to the head of the troop before she was stopped, and she curse silently in her head as she considered her options. She could see the clear road ahead, but she wasn't sure her mount would be able to outrun the much healthier looking destriers the army had and, for all her improvement, she wasn't so confident as to think she could take on an entire army by herself.

"What's your business here?" The armored man closest to her demanded as two more took place behind her.

"I'm just passing through." She replied calmly. "I don't mean to bother anyone here. If you let me pass you won't see me again." She assured, taking a chance and nudging the mare forward to see if they would let her pass with that but of course it wouldn't be that easy. Swords were drawn and drew the attention of even more men.

"What's the meaning of this?" A stern voice demanded from nearby. She glanced over to see none other than Tywin Lannister himself standing before a grand tent, his Kingslayer son standing beside him and looking over the scene boredly, dressed down and stripped of his armor for the night.

"We caught this one sneaking through camp, My Lord." The man reported. "She says she's just passing us by ."

She held her tongue, knowing the elder man would likely recognize her voice from the hours spent in her company whilst she acted the part of his cupbearer. Tywin looked at her with piercing eyes, clearing waiting for her defense. "Well?" He demanded at her continued silence. "Anything to say?"

"I'm just passing through, My Lord." She responded when it became clear she would have to. Still, she kept her answer brief and voice bland, hoping he might not recognize her. The hope was moot, for his eyes sharpened further and he searched over her person.

"Remove your hood." He ordered briskly. His son glanced at him and then at her, slightly more intrigued.

She closed her eyes for a moment, mind still racing. She honestly couldn't decide if she was pleased to see him or not. When she last had, he'd been riding off with his army and she'd been sure he was going to slaughter her brother. But here they stood, years later, houses soon to be aligned, her brother still alive and her sister also so because of the trade of hostages that would be spoken of in song for decades to come- the golden Lannister son for the fire kissed beauty of the North, once betrothed to a prince.

He cleared his throat pointedly and she knew she couldn't delay any longer. She reached up without further hesitation and lowered her hood. The top of her hair was pulled back to keep it out of her eyes, but it was otherwise loose to help better trap her body heat against her neck. It had grown longer, longer than he had ever seen it, reaching past her shoulders. Her face had matured and sharpened and she held the beginnings of a dark beauty she hadn't in her youth, but she still remained herself. "Lord Tywin." She greeted at the recognition lighting his eyes. "Ser Jaime."

Lord Tywin had never met her before Harrenhal, having been ruling Casterly Rock when she resided in the Capital and so had no point of reference for who she might be. Jaime, on the other hand, had spent a significant amount of time studying the girl and her family for suspicion after he'd pushed her younger brother from a tower window, and so recognized her features immediatly. "Lady Arya?" He questioned, taking a step forward, the befuddlement in his voice clearing showing his own confusion at the girl who'd been missing and considered dead since the beheading of her father turning up randomly in their camp years later.

Lord Tywin's eyes shot over to his son and then back to the girl, peering closer still. "Are you sure this is the missing Stark daughter?" He questioned, voice light.

"Positive." Jaime responded, still sounding confused. "I remember her face from Winterfell and from the Red Keep. She was always scurrying around underfoot when her father was hand. But I thought her dead?"

"Everyone thought her dead." Tywin corrected, an odd note to his voice. Arya wondered then if he had suspected who she was all along. How many high born girls from the North could go lost and unclaimed, after all? She had denied being high born, of course, but she knew he never believed her lie. Still, he'd been kind to her, had taken her under his personal protection and had kept her fed and warm as well as he could considering their location in the ruins of the once great keep.

He'd spoken to her without looking down upon her, listened to her and showed her a sort of attention she hadn't felt since her fathers death. She'd become fond of him, as much as she would deny it, despite the fact that he'd been actively working to kill her brother and cull her remaining family as a threat to the crown. That fondness wouldn't have stopped his death had Jaqen been in the city when she needed him, but had lingered all the same.

"Come, My Lady." He offered, gesturing to the tent they'd exited from. "Sup with us."

Arya glanced around one more time before giving in and dismounting. A squire moved forward to take her horses reins and she allowed it after a longer hesitation. She could get by without the mare if need be, all her belongings were on her person after all, so the only loss would be the horse itself. She stepped forward silently, not even the snow crunching under her boot, and moved to join them in the brazier warmed tent.

She felt too hot almost immediately after a week surrounded by ice and soon had to remove her cloak, leaving her in her fitted white blouse, thick pants, and almost knee high boots. Whilst a normal and acceptable outfit in Braavos, the Lords of Westeros were unused to seeing a lady dressed so- only a thin white shirt covering her chest whereas most Westerosi ladies would wear thick and heavy dresses built of layers of ornate fabric.

The lack of layers allowed the curves of her newfound womanhood to be visible despite the blockiness of her pants and she noticed Jaime casting her discreetly appreciative looks as he settled off to the side of the tent. She turned her attention away and back to the one who had first gained it. "I am glad to see you still live, My Lord." She stated quietly, having accepted it as truth the more she thought about it.

"Are you?" The man questioned with a raised brow. "I was fairly convinced you wanted to kill me yourself most days."

A smile came to her lips unbidden. "Most days I did." She acknowledged. "It seems things have changed for the better in my long absence." She continued, hinting at the large scale alliance in the works.

"You might see it that way." He agreed with a small nod. "Have you eaten? We've stew left from supper."

"I haven't." She replied and then watched in surprise as he rose himself to gather a bowl and spoon out some of the mix from the pot sitting aside the brazier. "Thank you." She uttered when he handed it to her without a word himself. She began eating slowly, not allowing her hunger to drive her actions as it once would have. She'd been far hungrier blind on the streets before she managed to adapt after all.

Father and Son resumed their previous conversation and she filled her belly and only turned back to her when she had finished. "I wondered what had happened to you in my absence." Tywin stated from his own seat, cup of wine in hand as he observed her. "Our Army was recalled to Kings Landing before we could return to Harrenhal. I sent for you to be brought to the capital but my men reported your disappearance soon after I left."

"Does it truly matter where I've been, so long as I am here now?" She questioned in turn, feeling unwilling to share her recent past with anyone just then.

He seemed to sense her stubbornness, for he responded in the negative. "I suppose not. Still, it is late. I assume you are headed to the same place as us. Why not take your rest here tonight and then travel with us to Winterfell. It is much safer than a young woman traveling the Kingsroad alone in these times."

"I'm safe enough on my own." She disputed and then hesitated. "But I suppose I can travel with you for a time. I may not want to keep to the pace of the army though." She finished in warning. Perhaps she could use the time to gain a better understanding of all that had happened since she left so that she might be better prepared before reuniting with her family.

"For tonight then, at least." He bargained.

"For tonight." She agreed.

"You can use my tent." Jaime spoke directly to her for the first time since she'd joined them. "I won't be using it myself tonight and it's close enough that the men won't bother you. I'll show you to it." He pushed himself from his seat. She rose instinctually in response, turning to keep him in her line of sight. She glanced at Tywin and he nodded at her to follow his son.

She followed without argument and the tent was indeed close enough- neighboring to the right, in fact, the entrance less than a dozen steps away. He held open the leather doorway for her to pass but did not follow her inside. "Pleasant dreams, My Lady." He rumbled like the lion his family was known for and then left her be. She found herself standing alone in the richly made tent that was only slightly smaller than his fathers. It was bare for the most part, holding naught but a thick bedroll, another brazier, and a small traveling writing table with a folding stool. The mans armor was settled to the side of the bedroll, a large leather pack lying beside it. His weapons he still wore, she knew.

She removed her boots but settled otherwise fully clothed into his bed, the scent of masculine musk hitting her strongly but strangely pleasant to her nose. She was more comfortable than she'd been some time and she attempted to get some real rest. Unfortunately her instincts kept her too on edge and the noises from the camp kept startling her awake seemingly every time she managed to drift off.

After what felt like hours, she gave in and sat up to pull her boots back on. She moved her small dagger back from it's position under the thin pillow back to it's proper spot built into her left boot and then moved from the fading warmth of the tent. Most of the men had settled in to rest themselves, but she could still hear various conversations drifting on the breeze.

She moved further away from the camp and into the woods beside the road, more easily able to navigate the now on her own than she had mounted. The cold of the night numbed her face almost immediately and she kept her hands tucked together beneath her cloak as she moved through the moonlight night like a dark ghost.

The crunch of snow came from over a rise before her and she moved cautiously closer to investigate, fingering Needle's hilt without drawing it free. As she came to the top of the rise, she saw a small heard of deer standing below, nosing at the snow in an attempt to find grass hidden beneath. They were as scrawny as her horse, and she knew most likely wouldn't survive the winter. Wishing she had a bow, she instead drew her dagger silently back out of her boot and gripped it carefully in her hand.

She waited what felt like ages for just the right moment. Eventually a male wandered closer to her position, head tilted just enough for her to get a good shot. A moment later her knife was buried hilt deep in the animals eye, blade piercing it's brain and causing it to fall immediately like a puppet with it's strings cut.

It happened so suddenly that the other animals didn't notice immediately- didn't notice until an arrow pierced the heart of another. She jerked her head around to spot none other than Jaime around the other side of the small valley, watching her watch him. She huffed silently and then moved over the rise to retrieve her knife and her kill, the others now gone in terror.

The Lannister son joined her from his own position, lifting his own kill over his shoulder with an ease she envied as she worked out the best way to transport her own with her much smaller frame. He turned away to take his back to camp and she settled on grabbing it by its hind legs and dragging it across the frozen snow, wishing she had her horse with her as she normally would have while hunting. As it were, she wasn't sure where they had fenced the mare for the night, and she hadn't felt like traipsing through the camp to try and find it.

She was almost half way back when the blond returned and grabbed her kill the same way he had grabbed his own. "Hey!" She exclaimed in surprise. "I don't need your help."

"Perhaps not, My Lady, but my way's faster."

"You don't need to call me that, you know. I haven't been a lady since I was a little girl."

"You're the trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn of house Tully. You brother is a king. You're a lady if there ever was one.. Unless you'd prefer Princess?" He sounded pleasant enough, but she could hear the hint of mocking beneath his charming veneer. She shot him a glare that let him know she saw through his facade.

"I prefer Arya." She refuted, though even that seemed odd. She hadn't been Arya in a long time either, not openly.

"As you say, Lady Arya."

She shook her head at him and picked up her pace. He matched her step for step, his own longer stride making it easy for him no matter how much she sped up. They were quiet the rest of the way back and they handed off the second carcass to the men responsible for feeding the Lannister army. She ensured they would return one of the hide's to her, for she had need of it and didn't want it to be claimed by whomever broke down the animal. One of the men assured her it would be returned and so she found herself being led back to the Kingslayers tent.

"How did you find me?" She finally asked as he moved over to stoke the near dead fire.

"I followed you."

"I would have noticed you following me."

"I didn't follow from behind, I followed from the front." She glanced at him and their eyes met for a long moment.

"I see. That's clever. I won't miss seeing you again."

"Of that I have no doubt. You should try and get some more rest, Lady Arya. It'll be light soon and we'll be moving out."

"How long do you reckon it'll take to reach Winterfell from here?"

"Three weeks, maybe, depending on the weather."

Three weeks. Three weeks until she would see her family again.

To be continued

Notes:

Hello all and thank you for reading my newest story. I've had this plot in my head for a long time and things have slowed down enough at work that I finally have some free time again. I hope to update this story throughout the course of the final season of a Game of Thrones. I hope you've enjoyed reading, please let me know what you think! Thank you!