In the darkness, the torchlight had dwindled to a small dot, and the voices of the two men faded until Arya could no longer make out their words.
Only then did she dare to creep after them, carefully following the echo of their footsteps.
"…need…more little birds…"
"…I can arrange…"
"…young…literate…"
"…safer…risk…"
Arya didn't dare follow too closely, nearly losing them several times as she tiptoed through the shadows, barely avoiding stone walls and nearly kicking loose stones. She wasn't sure how far she'd come—it felt like miles. Finally, she lost their trail entirely, left alone in the cold dark corridors.
Her only option was to continue feeling her way forward, clinging to the walls until, after an unknown amount of time, she finally saw a faint light.
The salty scent of sea air hit her nostrils as she hurried towards the light. When she emerged, she found herself overlooking the vast expanse of Blackwater Bay.
Seagulls flew over the bay's shimmering waters under the evening sun, while countless white sails crowded the harbor, like a field of flags in the wind.
Only then did Arya realize she'd left the Red Keep entirely.
Thankfully, with the Red Keep towering above Aegon's Hill, she knew she could find her way back. She quickened her pace, eager to avoid missing supper and risking another scolding from her father.
However, as she reached the castle gates, a Gold Cloak guard blocked her path, looking her up and down with disdain.
"Move along, boy. This isn't a place for the likes of you."
"But I live here!" Arya protested.
The Gold Cloak laughed loudly, "And I'm the king."
Arya knew she must look a mess, covered in dust, hair tangled, and missing one shoe—hardly like someone who belonged inside the castle.
"I'm Arya Stark of House Stark," she insisted, "My father is the Hand of the King. I really do live here."
The guard sneered, "Nice try, but Arya Stark's a girl, you're not fooling anyone. Now move along, unless you want a taste of my fist!"
"I'm not a boy!" Arya snapped. "Let me in, or I'll have the Hand of the King throw you all out!"
"Out, I said!" The guard lifted his fist to strike, but Arya dodged it nimbly.
"Stop."
Arya turned, recognizing the voice behind her. Her face brightened with joy as she saw who it was.
"Lord Samwell!"
"Arya? How'd you end up outside the Red Keep?" Samwell took in her disheveled state and couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "Ever the little troublemaker, aren't you?"
"I was chasing a cat and ended up in some dark, twisty place…" Arya hesitated, then left out what she'd overheard. "…and somehow, I ended up outside."
Samwell's eyebrows rose thoughtfully. She'd probably stumbled upon one of the Red Keep's secret passages. Quite the discovery!
"Come on then. I'll take you inside." Samwell took her hand, leading her back towards the gate.
The Gold Cloaks recognized him immediately, bowing respectfully. They exchanged looks of surprise as they realized the scruffy little "boy" really was the Hand's daughter.
"Were you off on an errand, my lord?" Arya asked as they walked.
"Yes," Samwell replied. He'd heard that Petyr Baelish had been attacked in the street by Oberyn Martell, so he'd gone to watch the commotion. Sadly, he'd missed it—the Hand of the King had already taken both men into custody.
Samwell had heard Petyr had lost an arm to Oberyn's spear, which amused him greatly. But he knew this wasn't the end for Petyr Baelish—his trial, for his alleged involvement in Jon Arryn's death, was still to come. Samwell was eager to see if Petyr could wriggle his way out of this.
Inside the Red Keep, Samwell suddenly asked, "Arya, would you show me where you were chasing that cat? I'd like to see it."
"Sure! Right now?" Arya's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Yes," Samwell replied, barely containing his own excitement.
If his hunch was right, that passage could lead him to some extraordinary things.
Following Arya's lead, they soon arrived at a small, hidden entryway. Samwell had to crawl through the narrow passageway, grateful that he'd lost enough weight to squeeze through.
After the tight tunnel, they emerged into a wider, darker space.
"Over here, Lord Samwell! Look, monster bones!" Arya called, her voice echoing in the gloom.
Once his eyes adjusted, Samwell followed her through another doorway—and saw a row of dark, looming shapes.
Barely able to contain his excitement, he reached over his shoulder, unsheathing Dawn. The milky blade illuminated with a reddish-gold glow, casting light across the shadowed cavern.
"Wow! Your sword glows like the Red Priest's fire sword!" Arya exclaimed in awe.
Samwell didn't bother correcting her, for his attention was completely fixed on the shapes before him.
Dragon skulls.
He had expected them to be intimidating, even fearsome, but what he hadn't anticipated was their haunting beauty. The dragon bones were polished to a dark, onyx sheen that gleamed like gems, reflecting Dawn's firelight with an ethereal radiance.
"They're beautiful!" Arya whispered. Her fear had melted away, and she reached out to touch one of the smooth skulls. "Are these crystal sculptures?"
"No," Samwell replied. "They're dragon remains."
"Dragons?" Arya jerked her hand back, startled.
"Yes," Samwell said, a note of reverence in his voice. "These were the Targaryens' greatest weapons of war."
He brought Dawn closer to the skulls and noticed the blade seemed to glow brighter, as if the dragons' spirits were somehow resonating with its light.
Nineteen skulls, all different sizes, lined the shadowed hall.
Arya pointed to the smallest two, "Are these also dragon skulls? They're tiny!"
"Those were the last dragons the Targaryens tried to hatch," Samwell replied. "They were weak and deformed."
"Oh," Arya said. She then noticed the largest skull. "That huge one must be 'Balerion the Black Dread,' right?"
"It is," Samwell confirmed, stepping into the massive jaw of Balerion's skull to stand within its open mouth. "They say Balerion could swallow a bull whole. Looking at it now, I believe it."
Arya joined him, marveling that even with both of them standing in Balerion's mouth, there was still room to spare.
"He's huge!" Arya breathed. "Just his head is this big… I can't imagine how terrifying the whole dragon must have been."
Samwell couldn't help but imagine it himself. He pictured Balerion soaring through the sky, flames streaming from his jaws. He thought of Aegon the Conqueror, landing in Westeros with only a few thousand men. Alone, those men couldn't have stood a chance against Westeros's combined armies.
But Aegon had three dragons—Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar. Together, these dragons had burned armies to ash, establishing House Targaryen's rule over the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet just over a century later, the dragons were gone, and with them, House Targaryen's power.
Samwell looked over the dragon bones, his eyes alight with a sudden, mischievous thought. As someone who aspired to be a master of exotic cuisine, how could he pass up the chance to taste dragon bone?
He approached one of Balerion's immense fangs, raising Dawn high.
"What are you doing, Lord Sam?" Arya asked, curious.
"Just taking a souvenir." Samwell laughed, swinging his blade down hard on the tooth.
The blow rang out like a bell, and sparks flew. But Balerion's tooth remained whole, barely nicked, and the shock of impact reverberated painfully up Samwell's arms.
So, even Balerion's bones were this tough…?
Admitting defeat, Samwell shifted to the smallest skull, the deformed dragon that had been no larger than a hound. He hefted the entire skull onto his shoulder.
It wasn't Balerion's bone, but surely it would still make a fine broth.
"Ready to head back, Arya?" Samwell asked.
Arya hesitated, "It's a long way back, I might get lost… I was following two men earlier."
"Two men?" Samwell asked, intrigued.
"Yes. One was a fat man, and the other spoke with an accent like my dancing teacher from across the Narrow Sea. They mentioned Littlefinger, the Red Viper, the king's bastards, and even you and my father. They kept talking about magic and tricks… weird things."
Samwell felt both exasperated and amused. Little Arya didn't fully grasp what she'd overheard, but her mention of it had given him all the clues he needed.
"And do you remember where that passage exits?"
"Yes," Arya said, nodding confidently. "It leads out to a cliff overlooking Blackwater Bay, right above the harbor."
"Perfect." Samwell's eyes gleamed. "Let's get back for now. Next time there's a chance, I'll take you on another adventure."
"Sure!"
(End of this chapter)