Chapter 26: Going Home

Arya's Point of View

I watched the Titan of Braavos gradually recede, the mighty warrior growing smaller and smaller until it was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. The wind whipped at my back, filling the sail as the bright morning sun streamed down, drenching my body in a layer of sweat.

My shirt clung tightly to my side, and Needle remained firmly strapped to my hip. It felt good to have Needle back by my side; my time in Braavos had been necessary, but now it was time to return home. I could barely believe the stories I'd heard in the tavern.

The sound of a harp filled my ears as a man delicately plucked his fingers against the golden strings, his voice sickly sweet as he sang "The Rains of Castamere" for some Lannister who sat in the corner. The song was somber, not matching the man's sweet voice. I said nothing and instead clung tighter to my horn of ale. The scent of stale air and mead enveloped my senses as darkness swirled around.

I had made my decision; I was going home to the South to kill Cersei, and now I only waited for the so-called captain of my ship to set sail.

We wouldn't be departing for a few more hours, so here I sat, absorbing the warmth of the bar, doing my best not to break into a sweat. I wouldn't miss the perpetual heat that made it feel like I was bathing in sweat all the time, but I would miss the scent of the sea and the lively atmosphere of the docks.

"I'm telling you, they said this Stark bastard has three dragons. He kept them hidden for two years," the man at the bar exclaimed. Stark bastard? I turned back to see a man in golden-red Lannister armor with lion sigils on his collar.

House Lannister was known for their deceit, but the gleam in the man's eyes told me what I needed to know. "Aye, we received a raven a few days ago. We're setting out. If you don't believe me, talk to the commander."

My body grew rigid, and I strained to listen to the words pouring out of the man's mouth. "What? The Targaryen girl is the one with the dragons. I heard she conquered three slave cities and is moving on to Volantis next."

Which was it? Did Jon have dragons, or did this girl? They couldn't both possess them, could they? I took a deep breath and sipped my mead.

The last time I saw Jon, he had given me Needle and told me to visit him on the Wall. The vows of the Night's Watch were for life, so he wouldn't just abandon them, would he?

"Aye, that might be true, but the supposed King in the North has three dragons, and he used them in the Battle of the Bastards. They say he burned 200,000 of his men." Jon would never do that. They might have been traitors, but he wouldn't have decimated the entire Northern force, and we didn't even have 200,000 soldiers.

I scoffed offhandedly, but it seemed they heard me, as their wooden chairs screeched against the ground. Slowly, two men approached me.

One had crooked brown teeth and pallid, almost colorless skin; his helmet was on, but from the sweaty brow, I assumed he had brown hair. His pale, cold eyes glared at me.

The other man came up on my left side, looking more like a Lannister, perhaps from a lesser branch. Faded green eyes met my gray, and his tousled, sweaty, dirty blond hair hung in front of his face. He would have been comely if not for the large red boil on his right cheek, from which white pus was beginning to seep out. I fought the urge to gag and focused on the man before me.

"What do you think about these dragons, girl?" His voice was cold and hard as he slowly lowered himself onto a stool at the bar. The other man did the same, and both looked like they had no intention of leaving me alone anytime soon.

I could only draw in a steadying breath and think about it. There was no proof that Jon had these so-called dragons. If they were mere rumors, they wouldn't be returning. And as for the girl, sailors, slaves, and soldiers had sworn she had dragons. "Both of them have dragons."

As I uttered those words, the men in the tavern burst into laughter. They didn't laugh lightly; their eyes sparkled with tears, and the boy with the boil even clutched his stomach, laughing so hard that it seemed he might urinate. But then they both got up and walked away. I didn't understand what was so amusing about it. Six dragons in the world... it made my heart race.

The salty wind snapped me out of my thoughts as I watched the ship's crew scurry across the wooden deck. We were headed for Old Anchor, where they would drop me off. I had wanted to be dropped off at King's Landing, but there was some sort of famine there.

I didn't know what was happening in Westeros. Once I had joined the Faceless Men, it was like a blackout; I wasn't Arya, so they had no reason to inform me about Westeros.

Even now, as my heart thundered in my chest and doubt filled my mind, I pondered what to do. Should I kill Cersei or head to Winterfell? But what awaited me if I did?

I sucked in a heavy breath as the coast of Braavos faded from view, replaced by the deep blue waters. My heart ached to see my family again, whether it was Jon or Sansa, but I was going home. Cersei could wait.