there’s something so primal about arya’s storyline. its the smell of rain and blood. the sound of wind and wolves howling in the night. the feel of the earth beneath bare feet. the taste of summer in a lake. its being completely exposed to the elements. its nature. and what is nature if not life and death? civilization shuns the scary truth of mortality but the wild does not.
sometimes life is violent and ugly. and theres only one way it ever ends. death is scary so people lie to themselves and each other.
but not arya. her house words are winter is coming and her own side mantra valar morghulis teaches the very same lesson. everyone and everything will die. the most fundamental of truths. of life and stories as grrm has said. and thats terribly important to portraying this war story with her. arya has to see things crystal clear so that the reader will understand: this is what war looks and feels like. no rose colored glasses like every other fantasy novel. this is not pretty. its a crying little girl with her face in the mud and screams and terror and death. i think thats why grrm has arya be the one who’s given, early on, the lesson about the true seeing from syrio. she absorbs everything through her senses very earnestly. theres little romanticizing in that regard from arya. but i think thats refreshing. arya is telling her story as truthfully as she can. and i love her for that.