"What's the use of going back other than delivering one more head?"
Petyr Baelish analyzed calmly, "Listen, child, if you want to save your father, there is only one way. Leave King's Landing immediately and go back to the North. Go find your brother Robb, tell him everything that happened here, and have him gather his army to march south as soon as possible. Only when the Northern army is at the gates can we force the Lannisters to release him, or at least keep them from acting rashly. If they are caught, I will find a way to stabilize your father and persuade him to temporarily bow his head to buy time."
"Ravens can be used to send messages to the North."
"That old man Pycelle is a Lannister man. If you want to use a raven to send a message back to the North to have the army march south, the letter will fall into Cersei's hands before it even flies out of the Maesters Tower."
Jon was swayed. Petyr's logic was impeccable, and he acted like someone who truly wanted to help, even though Jon felt an instinctive rejection of him deep down.
So, that night, Petyr arranged for him to sneak onto a merchant ship belonging to House Manderly of White Harbor in the North.
On the ship, Jon worried day and night about his father and sisters. It wasn't until the ship just entered White Harbor that he breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Jon intended to find House Manderly to borrow a raven to send the news to Winterfell as quickly as possible, but he suddenly heard a commotion.
Jon inadvertently caught a few words: "King... beheading... Stark..."
He pushed violently into the crowd.
"What did you say? Who was beheaded?"
The man was startled by his appearance and muttered, "News from King's Landing, it happened just two days ago. The former hand of the king, Lord Eddard Stark, was executed for treason by King Joffrey. The whole city saw it."
The surrounding sounds seemed to vanish instantly, and Jon felt his world spinning. His father was dead? Beheaded?
No, it's impossible. Petyr promised he would stabilize his father and wait for Robb to march south.
"I heard House Stark has already called its banners."
"The North is going to rebel."
"War is coming."
Jon staggered back, bumping into a cargo crate.
He looked up toward the south, toward King's Landing, and for the first time, a cold fire burned in those grey Stark eyes.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms. A debt of blood must be paid in blood.
He had to go home, back to Winterfell. The war had already begun, and he was a member of House Stark.
In King's Landing, inside the secret passages of The Red Keep.
Arya had been staying here ever since she saw her father beheaded. Every day, someone would come punctually to bring her food.
Unfortunately, no matter how she questioned them, the visitor never spoke a word to her.
However, just today, someone unexpected arrived.
"My condolences, Miss Stark."
A soft voice sounded without warning.
Arya sprang up like a startled cat, looking warily in the direction of the voice.
From the shadows, a man slowly walked out. He was plump, wearing soft robes, with a faint scent of lavender about him. His face was smooth and hairless, bearing a look of pity.
It was Varys. The eunuch who was always smiling and always speaking in riddles.
Arya looked at him and said, "Was it you who helped me escape? Was it you who arranged for the person to bring me food and water these past few days?"
Varys nodded slightly. "It was I. I am sorry to meet you this way, Miss Stark, but right now the walls of King's Landing have ears and eyes."
"Why?" Arya stared at him, her eyes sharp. "Why help me? What do you want to get?"
"What I want?" Varys sighed softly and sat down on an overturned wooden barrel. "What I want is simply for this kingdom to bleed a little less, for innocent children not to die in the game of thrones. Is that reason enough, Miss Stark? Or perhaps, far too little?"
He looked at Arya's distrustful eyes and added, "You don't have to believe me. You only need to know that at this moment, I do not wish for you to die. King's Landing is a cesspool that has drowned too many people more valuable and more innocent than you. A little wolf pup like you shouldn't rot here."
"Sansa." Arya suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve, saying urgently, "If you can help me, you can save Sansa too, right? She's in The Red Keep, she's terrified. And Jon—I haven't seen him since he went out that day."
She thought of her sister fainting in the square and of the person she loved most in House Stark, her heart filled with worry.
Varys slowly pulled back his sleeve and shook his head.
"You needn't worry about Jon; as far as I know, he has long since boarded a ship back to the North. As for Sansa, if I were to try and take your sister away, tomorrow morning there would be two more heads hanging over the gates of King's Landing: hers and mine. The Queen keeps her closer than any jewel now. She is a hostage, a bargaining chip, a leash to keep the North 'rational.' Saving you alone was already a risk; saving her—that is a price we cannot afford right now."
Arya's eyes dimmed, but she bit her lip and did not cry.
"Then are you going to keep me hidden here forever? Or send me back to the North?" She thought of Winterfell, of her mother, brothers, and sister. Home—she only wanted to go home now.
"The North..." Varys mused for a moment. "The road to the North is now full of checkpoints, with every Gold Cloak looking for 'the little Stark lady.' Riverlands are not peaceful either. Child, if you trust me, I will send you to a better place. A place where you can survive, and perhaps one day, take your revenge personally."
A few days later, on a moonless night, Arya was led by the person who had been bringing her food—a mute girl.
They passed through deeper, more winding secret passages underground and came to an abandoned small pier by the Blackwater Rush.
A merchant ship was quietly docked there. Varys came down from the ship and handed her a small bundle.
"There are clean clothes inside, and some coins. This ship's destination is Braavos. There is a cook on board who owes me a favor; she will look after you. Stay in the hold and do not come out unless necessary."
"Braavos?" Arya had heard the name—a distant Free City, famous for assassins and trade.
"There, no one knows Arya Stark," Varys's voice was very low. "You can learn, you can grow, and you can decide for yourself whether or not to return to the North."
Arya took the bundle and looked up at Varys's blurred face in the darkness.
"I will remember you," she said, then turned and walked up the gangplank without looking back.
The hold reeked of salted fish and cheap wine.
Arya was settled in the innermost cabin, listening to the shouts of the sailors from the deck above. The ship lurched, left the pier, and began to sail slowly toward the unknown East.
She closed her eyes, and the list surfaced in her mind again: Joffrey, Cersei, Ilyn Payne... she would not forget a single one.
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