What was long lost

Arya

Arya walked through the crowded streets with her face hidden under a hood. She hadn't been Arya Stark in months. While she enjoyed being No One, she sometimes wanted nothing but to be the direwolf again. She had wolf dreams almost everyday, and today she wanted to be wolf for real.

Jaqen H'ghar had told her that she was to become Arya Stark for a day if she went back to becoming a Faceless Man by nightfall. Arya was good with hiding things, hiding who she really wanted to be, what she wanted to do, but when Jaqen told her this, she couldn't refuse. Somehow he had known her yearning to be Arya again. And she was surprised when he said this to her, because Jaqen never strayed from the rules of the House of Black and White and the God of Many Faces. But she couldn't lose this opportunity. When she said yes, Jaqen only replied,

"A man wants a girl not to forget her vows to the God of Many Faces."

"I won't."

Arya reached the docks and made her way to a familiar place. She searched for a pile of rocks and on finding it, started taking them out one by one. Her fingers touched something cold. Metal. Needle.

She hadn't looked at Needle for months. The last time she used Needle was when she had fought with Jaqen. The blade felt so skinny in her hands, she remembered Jon's words, stick 'em with the pointy end.

She missed her brother. She hadn't heard of Jon in a long time and sometimes she wondered if he thought of her now, if he even remembered her.

Arya took the blade in her hands and swung it a few times. The balance was always so perfect.

"Pretty girls shouldn't play with blades."

Arya turned and saw a man standing behind her and looking at her smirking. She touched her head with her fingers. Her hood had fallen off; she never has had attention on anything else while practicing with Needle.

"It is none of your concern what I should do or should not," she replied, her voice harsh.

His smirk widened as he started to take a step towards her but then a voice called from behind him. The man turned to look at the direction of the voice and walked away.

Arya sighed and put Needle back. She knew the nature of men. The times when she became someone pretty, she saw how they eyed her. She had kissed men too. It never felt good, only sticky and dirty but she had done it. She had never laid with one though. Whoever she was, if any man tried to bed her, it wouldn't take long for Arya Stark to take his c**k and cut in in half.

Arya started making her way back to the House of Black and White. The day was almost gone and she had to be back. By the next morning she would be someone else. She had put Needle back under the rocks. She couldn't take it with her. It belonged to Arya Stark and soon she would be No One.

She turned at a small alley when she heard voices. The Common Tongue, Arya thought. She stood still and tried to listen to what they were saying. People from Westeros usually bought news and Arya hadn't heard about the West in some time.

"The Queen's just a b***h. The only thing making everyone call her Your Grace are those dragons. Without them, she would just be a fair cunt."

"I bet the Lords would revolt again if she loses her dragons," A somber voice said, "The only thing keeping them away is fire."

"The North won't though." Arya's ears pricked up. "I heard the Stark boy is to be the Warden of the North."

"Not the bastard?" The first voice said.

"The bastard is not Stark. Only his mother-"

Arya heard a crash in the back of the alley and the men stopped talking. She waited hoping they would continue, but they didn't.

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"A girl looks different," Jaqen said as soon as she entered the House of Black and White.

"Nothing's different."

He caught her hand and turned her, pulling her towards himself.

"Tell me why you are sad," he asked her, his voice soft.

"I am not sad," she retorted.

Jaqen tilted her chin up with his finger and Arya took a slight intake of breath. His face came came close and he whispered, "Who are you?"

Arya moved away from him and went to the doors leading further inside the House of Black and White. But before she walked through the door, her voice came, a whisper, "Arya Stark of Winterfell."

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Arya tossed and turned in her bed but sleep wouldn't come. They were talking about Jon, she thought. She let out a small shout and got up from her bed. The room was full of candles, but most were away from her sleeping place. Arya had nightmares, and sometimes waking up she would burn herself so she kept the fire at the distance. The room was small, with a little bed at the leftmost corner. Arya sat up and closed her eyes. All the memories came back, as they always do at times like this, times when she wondered what her life would have been if her father would have been alive. All he had to do was refuse that stupid, fat king. Arya wasn't one to dwell on things that could have been, but hearing about Jon from the men's lips hadn't let her heart rest for a moment. His mother, they said. No one knew who Jon Snow's mother was. Only her father. But he is dead now. I was there when he died.

And just like that, Arya stood up from her bed. She was still in her skirts so she changed into her breeches. Then she took a candle and made her way up to the Hall of the Gods. She saw the Seven, the Weirwood Face and the God of Many faces. She knelt before Him and said a silent prayer. Valar Morghulis.

Arya slowly opened the door through which she had entered five years ago. She closed the door behind her slowly when she was outside. She was surprised no one had caught her. She knew that Jaqen knew. Maybe he was standing just behind her.

But she had walked out. And there was no going back. Only forward. Only home.