[Were this not a dream she might have shied away from the unsolicited touch. But she feels a kinship with this woman she doesn't even know. Feels she's precisely what Arya herself has always dreamed she might become as a child. Her story hadn't turned out the way she'd planned, but she found a way to make a path for herself. A way to become strong.
Her mother hadn't wanted her to fight. At least eventually, her father had learned she couldn't be stopped. That even if there were rules, they were wrong. If she wanted to learn to shoot a bow, he'd let her. He'd allow her to be taught to use a sword after she'd gotten hold of one. All because he'd known the futility of refusing his youngest daughter. She would have found a way, with or without permission.] But what if they can't ever understand? What if they're dead? What then?
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Her mother hadn't wanted her to fight. At least eventually, her father had learned she couldn't be stopped. That even if there were rules, they were wrong. If she wanted to learn to shoot a bow, he'd let her. He'd allow her to be taught to use a sword after she'd gotten hold of one. All because he'd known the futility of refusing his youngest daughter. She would have found a way, with or without permission.] But what if they can't ever understand? What if they're dead? What then?