Author's Note: I was writing more of Man's World and got sidetracked thinking about the different reasons Daenerys might want to hide her identity from Arya. Here's one I came up with.
R-C
What was it about her that made her crave what was undeniably almost impossible to achieve? Whether it was the Iron Throne when she was an ocean away in Essos, without a Khal to lead her army, or now that she had all that, her sudden wish to be anyone, anything but the ruler of seven unruly kingdoms.
If someone asked her why she did it, she wouldn't know how to answer them. Leaving the castle without protection was both reckless and foolish. What was worse was that she knew better. She had many enemies now that she ruled the Seven Kingdoms, she'd seen firsthand how real the threats were, but that wasn't enough to keep her in the Red Keep a moment longer. After a long day of trying to solve problems and settle grievances that existed long before her, she was exhausted. The weight of her choice to return to Westeros and claim the Iron Throne was heavy on her shoulders. Just for a few hours, she wanted to go somewhere where she wasn't a Queen, some place where she could blend in and just be another woman in the crowd. Maybe then she'd find it easier to breathe.
The stablemaster was visibly caught off guard to find her alone but didn't object to readying her horse for her. She thanked him with a sincere smile, her first of the day, and rode off. Without a particular destination in mind, she guided her horse out of King's Landing and then let him lead. It didn't matter where they went as long as no one called her, 'Your Grace' when she got there.
The farther she travelled the better she felt. The hours on horseback reminded her of a time long before she crossed the sea. At the head of a khalasar things seemed simpler somehow. She doubted they were, but it felt that way to her now. For a few minutes she tried to count the stars in the sky before she gave it up as a fool's errand. The air was cool, crisp and clean, very different from how it was inside the Red Keep's throne room. She inhaled deeply and savored the chill that seeped into her bones.
Her conscience gnawed on her as she let hours pass with nothing but her own breathing and the sound of the horse's steps in her ears. She tried not to think about everyone who would be furious with her when she returned. Jorah would be upset that she left without him to watch over her, Tyrion would be mad she told no one where she was going and Missandei would want to know why the Queen hadn't shared her secret plan to escape. She pushed it all to the back of her mind, but that area was getting crowded. Life at peace was more complex than any day at war and it had her longing for when her problems could be solved by asking Drogon to burn anything in her path.
When her horse began to slow she knew she'd need to stop soon and let him rest. She petted him gently on his neck to reassure him she'd tend to him at the first available opportunity. She looked around and tried to assess her location. She didn't have a clue. Since leaving the gates of King's Landing she'd been actively trying not to see which way they were going. As if knowing where she was would detract from what she was trying to accomplish. It was nearly a half hour later, she'd guess, down that same worn road that she saw billows of steam rising from a chimney.
When she laid her eyes on the two-story building for the first time, she knew she'd found the right place. The hitching post outside was lined with horses, only a pair of spots remained unused. Moving closer she heard the loud commotion from within even before she reached the door. Music came out through the windows nearest her, but whatever song was being played was easily overshadowed by curses and laughter. This was perfect. This was the last place anyone would expect to see Daenerys Targaryen.
Her legs were slightly unsteady as she climbed out of the saddle. She was glad the Dothraki hadn't been there to witness it. She tied up her horse and leaned back to try and stretch her sore muscles. The pain made her question how long she'd been riding. Even out of practice it shouldn't have been quite so painful. It had been just after sunset when she'd snuck away and now it was late into the night, with a full moon over her head.
A fresh wave of laughter from inside the tavern reminded her of why she'd come. She raised the hood on her cloak before she stepped inside, just to be safe.
Typically, when she drank it was inside the castle, with Tyrion, Missandei, or Jorah. She rarely took part in the drinking games the Dothraki preferred and was never invited to the gatherings the servants had at the end of long days tending to others. She'd been in taverns before, in Essos and Westeros, but never alone and never one like this.
She looked around quickly, her eyes struggling with what to stop and watch. There were colors, sounds and smells coming from all directions, be it the women's dresses, the thick scent of mead in the air, or the drunken laughter of a group of battle-weary soldiers. A man played the lute in the corner of the room but from what Daenerys could see he was largely ignored by most of the guests. Tables were arranged in a horseshoe shape around the middle of the room, but oddly enough only on one side. She noted most of them were full. Serving girls brought drinks and a short, middle aged woman stood in the doorway to the kitchen with her hands on her hips, overseeing everything.
Suddenly the volume in the room rose without warning. Cheers and cursed mixed together and Daenerys couldn't help but wonder why. She tried to trace the source but couldn't see much, just a thick cluster of people all facing the same way. They were on the opposite side of the tables, as if they'd purposefully been stationed there so not to block the view of those sitting. She approached cautiously, unsure of what was happening. When the yelling quieted she heard a rattling sound she couldn't make sense of. She carefully began to wind herself through the sea of people, working her way to the front. Being small, she'd need to be in the earliest row to observe anything of value.
Another wave of crude comments passed through the group before she was in a position to learn why. Once she had a suitable vantage point, she had to admit it wasn't particularly illuminating. In the center of the room, under the watchful eye of the crowd a lone figure sat perfectly still, unbothered by the nearby upheaval. Several feet away was a clay pot with the lid attached. There was a sudden stomping on the floor and a fresh round of yelling began. Behind her and beside her on both sides, bets were placed, coins passed, and bargains reached. She couldn't say what they were betting on exactly, but she did understand that the stomping must signify something meaningful. She looked past the sitting figure to the tables and noticed many of them placing wagers with the pretty serving girls Daenerys assumed only brought them their drink.
In hopes of learning what was happening she studied the person everyone else was so captivated with. It was a woman Daenerys decided after some internal debate. Although she wore no dress, there was a slight shape visible under her shirt. Her hair was nearly at her shoulders, dark as a raven and tied back with a simple band as one might a horse's tail. Her feet were bare, and the fabric of her pants was riding up nearly halfway to her knees. She sat with her legs folded under her, and her hands resting on her knees. The stomping happened again, this time two distinct stomps instead of one. The crowd grew rowdy and all eyes looked to the woman in the center. It was then for the first time that Daenerys picked up on the slight lift in the corner of her mouth. She was otherwise expressionless, so it was difficult to be certain, but she got the impression that this woman, whoever she was, was enjoying herself.
Suddenly a man came from the side of the room that held the tables and approached the center. She wondered what he intended to do but couldn't bring herself to ask anyone. He ignored the woman completely and picked up the clay pot. Holding it in both hands he raised it over his head and began shaking it. She heard a rattling sound coming from inside. She recognized it as the same noise she didn't comprehend earlier.
Once it was sufficiently shaken he set the pot upside down in front of the sitting woman. The crowd around her was leaning forward in anticipation and Daenerys knew that whatever was going to happen, would be happening soon. He lifted the bottom of the pot away from the top, spilling the contents out in front of the calm woman.
She gasped when she saw it, a collection of snakes, many the same colors as her dragons. She tried to count them, but it was difficult with them all wound together as they were. She guessed there were at least six, possibly more. In addition, there were a handful of wooden carvings that were scattered amongst the snakes.
For a long second neither the snakes nor the women moved. Then seemingly at once, they both did. The snakes spread out and the woman, opened her eyes to study them. When the woman finally moved her hands off her knees the shouts were so loud Daenerys feared for the long-term health of her ears. A particular vulgar slur had her looking over her shoulder to see who said it, but that only lasted until a hiss and a snap forced her attention back to the sport. A snake had lashed out and tried to bite the woman, who remained seated and perfectly at peace. By the time Daenerys could make sense of it, she was pulling her hand back, holding one of the carved figures. She placed it on the nail of her thumb and flipped it up into the air, only to catch it easily, causing more adoration from those watching.
Daenerys was as transfixed as any of the others. Too quickly for her eyes to follow or her brain to understand there was a flurry of movement. Snake and woman alike both blurred as they raced. Without warning the woman had reached for another figure and a pair of snakes meant to oppose her. Daenerys gasped again, holding her breath as she waited to see if the woman was injured. "They're betting on how many tokens she'll recover," she said to herself when she understood.
She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud until she heard the man next to her respond. "She'll get them all. I've never seen one with such quick hands."
The loud room seemed to unsettle the snakes even more than they already were, and they began fighting themselves as much as the woman. The third token was taken with barely any resistance but the fourth was different. Even before her hand went to get it, a snake was eyeing the same prize. Sensing he was being threatened he turned his tan head and lunged. When the battle was over she couldn't help but agree with the man on her right. She really was fast.
She saved the hardest for last and Daenerys guessed it was partially because she wanted the exact reaction she was getting now. The entire room was screaming for her to win or lose, depending on the wager they'd made. The last figure was trapped in the center of three very large snakes. As if they understood their role, they were each facing a different way, blocking any potential road of approach.
"She'll get bit this time for sure," someone said at Daenerys's back.
"She better, or my wife'll kill me for losing the day's wage," another added.
If the smirk she wore was any indication the sitting woman heard what Daenerys had. She let out a shrill whistle to get the snake's attention and when she had it, she gave the audience their money's worth. It was over quick, but it felt much longer to Daenerys.
As her arm came back in, she didn't appear to show any signs of being bitten but Daenerys couldn't imagine she'd evaded all those eager snakes successfully. She flipped the last token as she had the first and caught it just as casually. The crowd applauded and cursed in equal measure.
"Show us!" a man several feet from Daenerys demanded.
For the first time the woman stood. She turned her back on the snakes without hesitation and pushed up the sleeve of her shirt. The flesh was littered with scars of various sizes, but Daenerys saw nothing fresh, no obvious bite marks at all. She couldn't help but ask how such a thing was possible.
The same man who shook the pot, returned and examined her outstretched arm on behalf of the gamblers. "She's clean!" he shouted, after running his thick hand over her skin to be sure.
Once the declaration was done he went to work gathering up the snakes in the same clay pot they'd been in when Daenerys arrived. The woman walked toward the tables, to the less crowded side of the room, ignoring calls for her attention the entire way. Purses of coins moved back and forth as the bets were settled. Daenerys had trouble believing what she'd seen. If she hadn't needed a drink before, she did now.
On her way to the counter she pushed her hood off, finally satisfied that she wouldn't be recognized. This was hardly the type of place people who associated with royalty would frequent. The thought cheered her more than it should have. She'd worked hard to become Queen and suffered no shortage of hardship. She waged wars, she'd sent men to their deaths and on her command, dragons burned thousands. It had seemed worthwhile then, but now, she couldn't help but second guess her decisions. Would she have been better off in Essos?
"What'll it be?" a man asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Wine," she answered, after a slight delay.
"Fancy choice, I'll have to go dig some up from the back," he said without any serious malice.
Daenerys almost let him go, before she chose otherwise. She'd come here to get away from being Queen, so she could experience life as a common woman. "Wait!" she said too loudly. When he turned back she explained herself. "What do most people drink here?"
The man was clearly amused but did what he could to hide it. She might have missed the signs if she hadn't been trained by Tyrion to spot every unspoken gesture. He thought it made her a better leader if she understood the true motives of those who came before her, but apparently it had other uses too. He'd be so proud to see her now. "The rum is good, and the mead always sells."
She'd tasted mead before and wasn't particularly fond of it. She didn't know if she was brave enough to try the rum however. She knew that rum was the favored drink of the sell-swords Daario led, as well as many of the Dothraki. "I'll try the rum," she said before she could change her mind.
This, he didn't need to go and find. He pulled a bottle from the shelf behind him and poured it into a mostly clean glass. He smiled, and she produced coins to pay him. The exchange made she was turning away, rum in hand when a new voice said, "Let me buy that for ya darlin'."
Daenerys sized up her potential companion. He was handsome enough, about her age, and had a light dusting of hair on his chin, as if he'd forgotten to shave that morning. Unlike her he appeared to be drunk and that alone turned her off. She had no desire to bed a drunken man before she'd had her first sip. "No, thank you," she said as diplomatically as she could. "I'm fine."
"Come on," he pleaded. "I won some gold on the game, I'd be happy to pay for it."
He thought she was a whore? Offended and more than a little angry she glared at him. How dare he!? "Not every woman you see can be purchased!" she told him hotly. "You'd be wise to remember that."
Agitated, she didn't want to waste another moment on this man and marched away. With the competition over for the night, many of the guests were already taking their leave. Others had begun to group together to talk and drink. Daenerys made her way toward the tables, hoping to find a spot to rest her legs. When she spied it, she couldn't believe her luck, the only empty table in the whole room. She took a seat quickly before anyone else could claim it. Since she was sitting right next to a brazier she was warm enough to take her cloak off entirely, revealing the silver silk dress underneath. She lifted the glass to her lips carefully, unsure of what to expect. She took a tentative sip and winced a little as the liquid scorched its way down her throat.
"Does it burn?" a smooth voice asked from the other side of the table.
She set her drink down and raised her eyes to find the woman from the game. She looked unchanged after her encounter with the snakes, except for the fact that she had put on a pair of leather boots. Only when the woman eyed her expectantly did Daenerys remember that she owed her a response. She thought about lying but didn't see the point. She'd never return here again, so she was free to be honest, about her drink at least. "It does a bit. Rum isn't what I usually drink."
"That's how you know it's working. Drink more," she advised wisely, "it'll burn less."
Daenerys was sure her distaste for that logic showed on her face, because the woman tilted her chin toward the glass, urging her to test the theory. She couldn't believe she was taking drinking instruction from a woman who played with snakes, but she was. She picked up the glass again. She tried to deny it but couldn't in good conscience. It really didn't burn quite as bad as it had the first time. Again, her face must have given her away because the woman's smile wasn't slight anymore and she looked rather smug. "See, I told you so."
She assessed the woman as she set her glass in front of her. Up close she was taller than Daenerys expected, having more length in her strong legs than the Queen predicted. She had both sleeves of her blue shirt up past her elbows, exposing a matching pair of sword-scarred arms. Daenerys took time to confirm for herself that she hadn't in fact been bitten during the competition earlier and came to the same conclusion as the judge had. She'd avoided the angry snakes somehow. She was attractive in her unique way, with sharp, well-defined features and a long face. What was most noticeable about her was the stormy pair of grey eyes she had. The snake-woman rarely blinked and unlike Daenerys seemed to easily be able to take in everything around her. She had a drink in her left hand, which Daenerys noted she hadn't tried. "Am I drinking alone?" Daenerys asked suggestively. To emphasize her point she raised her rum to her lips for a third and final drink, emptying the last of the dark liquid. In doing so, she proved the woman right. It burned far less now.
"I don't know you," she countered.
"I'm Dany," she said, knowing using her true name would give her away. Feeling bold, she stood and pulled out the empty chair on her right. "Sit, and I'll get us more to drink."
The stranger seemed amused by her, once again smirking in that barely noticeable way of hers. "You don't know me," she contended.
Daenerys was unbothered by the resistance. All things worth having, she'd learned, took effort. The same could be said for lovers. "Who are you, then?"
The woman appeared to be holding back a laugh. "You don't know?" she verified.
"I've never been here before," Daenerys confessed. "So, will you tell me your name?"
"Arya," she said simply.
She smiled at the concession she'd been granted. "Very well, take a seat Arya and I'll get us more rum."
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"I've only had one drink," she informed her new friend. "I can handle it."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
Rather than answer Arya emptied the contents of her glass in a single long drink. She'd obviously had more experience with rum than Daenerys did. "I'll go get us our drinks," Arya said, picking up the empty glass and carrying it away.
Daenerys watched her go, so graceful and confident. The crowd actually parted to make room for her and Arya passed through easily. She counted no fewer than three different men and one woman who approached the brunette as she made her way to the counter, and although she spoke to all of them briefly, Arya was quick to move on, regardless of what they'd said.
When she came back Daenerys could feel the smile on her lips. "Will you sit this time?" she asked as she took the offered drink. She made a point to brush Arya's hand with her own more than was strictly necessary in the process.
"Would you like me to?"
It was Daenerys's turn to smirk. Two could play this game. "Do you always answer a question, with a question?"
"Why do you want to know?" Arya challenged, just because she could.
Daenerys laughed, a rare thing for her these days. "I'm curious," she said, as she lifted her glass to see if her tolerance for rum had grown.
"I told you my name," Arya reminded her. "That was a question I answered without a question."
Daenerys nodded to the empty seat beside her. "Sit down already, we both know you're going to."
"Do we now? That's mighty presumptuous of you Dany." Her eyes twinkled with untold mischief and there was something in the way Arya said her name that had her heart picking up speed in her chest. "Better?" she confirmed, once she was seated.
"Much, now tell me about yourself Arya. What do you do when you aren't wrestling snakes?"
She appeared to be considering the question before she answered, a trait Daenerys found appealing. "A bit of this and a bit of that. Whatever pays, really." In the wake of her words they just stared at one another for a time. It could have been seconds or days, it was hard to tell. "What about you, what do you do?"
The question made her more comfortable. If Arya was asking it meant she hadn't recognized Daenerys. Like Arya she tried to think about her reply. What did she do? Lately it seemed like all she did was listen to rich men whine. She'd become Queen to change things but change appeared to be a slow process. She wondered if she had the temperament for it. "I listen to people complain, while I imagine how much better things would be if they'd just stop talking."
Arya smiled at her outburst and Daenerys felt rather pleased that she'd gotten such a reaction out of her. "Would you like me to stop talking?"
She chuckled at that. Arya had nothing in common with the rich, spoiled men who came before her to demand her help. Hers was one of the lives Daenerys could improve if the pompous court in King's Landing would just allow her to do as she wished. Instead she had to sit on her hands while Lords and Ladies bored her with talk about how these matters were typically handled under other rulers. Did they not understand that Daenerys had no desire to be anything like Robert Baratheon or Cersei Lannister? She'd scream if she had to endure one more lecture from Tyrion about the virtues of 'waiting for the right time.' "Please don't, you are nothing like the people I am forced to speak to most of the time," Dany admitted sincerely. If she'd ever spoken truer words, she couldn't recall them.
"Given how you speak of your usual company, I think I'll take that as a compliment."
"It absolutely is," Daenerys promised. "Where are you from?" she asked, eager to learn more about her drinking partner.
"I lived in Braavos for many years," she said slowly. "I just returned recently."
Daenerys suspected there was something to that story, but she didn't want to pry. Instead she chose to focus on the present. "What brought you to Westeros?"
"Fate," she replied. "None of us can run from it, can we?"
Daenerys considered her words. Was she fated to take the Iron Throne? She thought she was. She could have died a hundred times over, in Essos, on the journey across the Narrow Sea, or since landing in Dragonstone and she hadn't. She'd survived, and she'd won. Was that fate or luck? Was there a difference? She'd never been religious, but accepted others were. Was Arya? "Is it comforting or terrifying to think we all have a place in this world? Is it reassuring or unsettling to believe we're pieces in a game we can't see?"
Arya studied for her a long time, likely checking to see if the question was a genuine one. It was. Perhaps Arya would have some insight that would make her current struggles more tolerable. Also, Daenerys did want to know how Arya felt on the subject. "In Braavos I studied at a temple. They taught me that we are all wild beasts, staggering through a chaotic existence, but that if we accept life for the storm it is, it's easier to find our way."
The words echoed in Daenerys's mind. That would be something to save for later. When the rum wasn't making it difficult to focus. She took another drink before she responded. "You're a priestess then?"
Arya laughed again, sincerely and deeply, with one hand on her stomach. "By the Gods no, it wasn't that sort of temple, at least not in the way you're imagining it."
Daenerys liked seeing Arya smile, so she tried to make it happen again. "Do you think those who mentored you at the temple would approve of your hobby of fighting snakes?"
"I don't fight them," Arya said, before emptying her glass. "I outsmart them, and my mentor wouldn't disapprove, as long as I keep getting paid for my efforts."
With that Arya got up and Daenerys feared she planned to leave. She held out a hand, palm up. "Yes?" Daenerys inquired, not sure what she expected.
"Drink up," she ordered, "I want more, and I don't want to make another trip."
It had been a long time since anyone dared try and tell her what to do. In another situation, Daenerys might have bristled under those words, but she couldn't find it in her to be annoyed, instead she was amused. She looked at her glass, less than half full but still with a substantial amount left. She steeled herself for what was coming and then picked it up.
When it was empty she laid it in Arya's hand instead of back on the table. "Good work," the brunette praised.
Daenerys intended to pay for this round, but the rum she'd forced down made her cough and by the time she'd recovered Arya was already at the counter.
"Are you here alone then?" Daenerys asked after Arya had returned to her.
She smiled widely at the Queen. "Three drinks in and now you're suddenly concerned if I'm alone?"
Perhaps it was the rum making her bold, or her desire to be with someone like Arya, someone who had no idea who she was, either way she could live with it. "I just wondered if there is a husband I'm keeping you from?"
"Subtle Dany," Arya teased, "very subtle."
She was unrepentant. "What can I say? I know what I like."
She raised an eyebrow and then gave the Targaryen a look that made her doubt her sanity. "And you like me, of all the people you had to choose from?"
"Why not you?" Daenerys wondered aloud. She gave Arya another appraising once over and saw nothing unappealing about her. She was well-built, with angular features, was graceful, confident and good company, just to name a few. Her eyes were the sort Daenerys might get lost in if given the chance and her hair looked soft enough to run her fingers through, repeatedly. If that wasn't plenty there was also Daenerys's realization that she'd never encountered someone who viewed the world the way Arya did. If life was black and white, Arya was as grey as her eyes. Her comments about fate proved that.
"Why not her?" Arya said pointing unashamed at a redheaded girl seated three tables away. The stranger blushed under Arya's attention.
"Too soft," Daenerys countered privately, but seriously, "she looks fragile. That's not what I'm looking for."
Daenerys was a bit taken aback by the sudden turn in the conversation. She'd made her feelings known. Arya had seen through her transparent questions to the root of the matter and yet she still hadn't agreed. This wasn't something Daenerys was used to. Daario had pledged himself to her before climbing in her bed and he'd been clear about his intentions well before that. Drogo took her because she was his wife, and after, because he could. She'd never needed to ask him more than once. Even the various lovers she'd had since, all of them had been eager to accept her affections. What made Arya special? With a start, she realized the possible reason for the difference. Since Daario all of her lovers had known her as a Queen. Could it be that the reason it was so hard to coax Arya was because she didn't see Daenerys as royal? She'd wanted to experience life as a common woman and now she got more than she bargained for. The Gods did have a sense of humor.
"And I'm not fragile, not soft?" Arya prodded, clearly not offended by the assumption.
"Those are not words I'd use to describe you, no," Daenerys justified, without looking away from Arya's eyes.
"What if I'm a terrible lover?" Arya asked with a straight face and somber tone. "Have you considered that? If I am, it may be a waste of your night."
She took a drink of her rum before she answered. Using the extra few seconds to craft a retort. She'd seen Arya with the snakes, she'd watched her walk to the counter more than once, and she'd studied her at every available opportunity. She doubted Arya was a bad lover, but even if she was, she didn't think the night would be ruined. "I'll take my chances."
Arya matched her drink with one of her own. "Fine."
She said it so plainly, so suddenly that Daenerys wasn't sure she'd heard it correctly. "Excuse me?"
"Finish your drink," Arya instructed her. "It'll help you forget if I'm terrible. I have a room upstairs."
"Just like that?" Daenerys asked before doing as Arya directed.
"Why not?"
"You didn't seem interested," Daenerys pointed out. She'd blame the rum later. She was getting what she wanted, so why was she questioning it?
"Patience Dany, I couldn't make it too easy on you, could I? You wouldn't respect me in the morning if I did."
Arya's smile took the sting out of the realization she'd been played at a game she thought she knew well. Not the sort to back down from a challenge she stared across the table at Arya. "Hurry up and finish your rum, I want to see this room of yours."
"You'll see it," Arya said before taking a sip, "part of it anyway." While she tended to her alcohol Daenerys was left to wonder if she was supposed to hear that. She thought Arya had unintentionally spoken too loudly, until she met her grey eyes and found them lit with passion. It was no mistake. She'd wanted Daenerys to hear every single word.
She and Arya finished their beverages at precisely the same time. Arya picked up the empty glasses and handed them off to a passing serving girl with a quickly mumbled, "Thank you."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Arya asked while escorting Daenerys up the stairs to the rooms on the second floor.
"If you're bad, I'll blame the rum," she joked from a step below. Her position afforded her a unique view and she took advantage of it. Daenerys's eyes lingered on the curve of Arya's ass for longer than was polite in civilized company but who was going to notice.
Arya it seemed, would notice. She looked over her shoulder at the most inopportune time and caught Daenerys gawking. "Patience," she said for the second time, smirking openly, entertained by the Queen's antics.
"Patience is not my strongest trait," she explained as her eyes drifted again.
At the top of the stairs Arya stopped and reached for Daenerys's hand. "Yeah," she said, pulling the smaller woman to her. "I'm starting to notice that."
Daenerys gladly held her hand out for Arya to take, but gasped in shock at the strength with which she was pulled in. Their bodies collided powerfully, eyes locked and darkening with lust. After ensuring she wouldn't fall, Arya slowly lowered her head for a tentative, sweet kiss. Daenerys lifted up to meet her. Arya's lips were rougher than she expected, but not unpleasant. She was quite talented as it turned out. Arya pulled away first. "We should take this to my room before we get carried away."
"You started it," Daenerys remarked. Arya took her hand and guided her down the hall. In front of the last door on the right, she stopped walking. "I knew you wouldn't be bad at this," she said before she lifted up onto her toes to continue where they left off.
Arya had been reaching into her pants for the room's key when Daenerys stole a desperate kiss. To her amazement she managed to keep kissing and still fish around for the key. She got the door open without forcing a break in their connection.
Once the door was open, Arya threw the unnecessary key inside wildly and then took advantage of her free hands. She picked Daenerys up with ease and carried her across the threshold. Her legs wrapped around Arya's middle while their lips met for another hungry kiss. The need for air forced Daenerys to break away before she was truly finished. Like the rum, kissing Arya got better with every attempt.
Daenerys didn't get much chance to notice the room before Arya kicked the door closed behind them. She pivoted and pressed Daenerys's back against the rough wooden door. Her tongue worked across the seam of Daenerys's lips until her mouth opened and then it pushed its way inside.
To her delight, Arya's hands- which started by holding her hips- moved to her ass. As she had that thought one journeyed to the outside of her leg, rubbing gently, while threatening deliciously to wander even higher. Arya ended the kiss just as her hand touched Daenerys's thigh for the first time and she moaned shamelessly in reply. It might be unbecoming for a Queen to act so brazen, but Dany wasn't a Queen tonight, not here, not with Arya.
Before her hand reached its destination, Arya spun them again, carrying Daenerys toward the bed. She laid her down with unexpected tenderness and care and then much to Daenerys's delight began stripping off her clothes while she stood at the foot of the bed.
Hungry violet eyes took in every detail. Starting with how Arya's thin lips were reddened by the aggressiveness of their kisses. When she pulled her shirt over her head Daenerys couldn't hold back the gasp. Not because she wasn't gorgeous but because the scars that she'd seen on Arya's arms were only the beginning. Her stomach, chest, and shoulders were all lined with gruesome, violent markings. She hadn't realized she was staring so intently until Arya's voice called to her. "Not quite what you expected, is it?"
"What happened to you?" While she waited for the answer she regarded a particularly thick scar under her neck. It must have been hidden by the very top of her collar to have avoided Daenerys's detection all night. She tried to guess what could create such a blemish but came away wanting. She'd didn't have much experience with weaponry.
Arya was already picking up her shirt. "You can go if you want, I wouldn't blame you."
What? Why would she want to go? She repeated the words she'd said in her head and saw how they might be misinterpreted. She sought to clear things up quickly. "No, you're beautiful Arya, and I'm where I want to be, I was just worried for you."
Her words caused Arya to hesitate covering her top half. "They're old, from a long time ago."
She didn't doubt that. Wounds that extensive would take years to accumulate and wouldn't fade for ages afterwards. "Come here," she said opening her arms in invitation. Arya looked unsure, so Daenerys prompted her further. "I don't care about your past, all that matters to me is right now, right here. You're perfect, I saw it before I even knew your name."
That extra bit of reassurance did its job and brought Arya to her. Daenerys met her halfway, hoping to put her worries at ease with a passionate kiss.
Unable to lift Arya she settled for nudging her gently toward the bed. The bigger woman took the hint and climbed up, kneeling in front of Daenerys, who refused to end the kiss before it was absolutely necessary. Her hands went around to Arya's bare back and she felt what she was sure were more scars. She'd meant what she said, Arya was beautiful, and no scars could change that. They didn't matter one bit, not to her, not tonight.
When she got her hands on Arya's ass, it was every bit as firm and tempting as it had appeared on the staircase. She squeezed it hard before letting her hands roam up Arya's back to her shoulders. "Don't be gentle on my account," she teased as Daenerys's mouth moved to her neck. Well that was a challenge if Daenerys had ever heard one. Deciding to see what Arya's made of she curled her hands into claws and raked her nails down Arya's back hard. Instead of objecting, she leaned into the touch and let out the most erotic mixture of a growl and a moan that Daenerys had ever heard.
While she lavished Arya's neck and throat with attention she reluctantly pulled her hands away from their newest toy and reached for the straps of her dress. When she pushed the silk down off her shoulders, it slid down her body in a rush, puddling around her knees. As was typical Arya missed nothing. "Seven Hells, you're amazing," she said, pulling away from Daenerys's mouth to get a better look.
The Queen blushed under her approval, and then gathered up the silk from under her. She searched for a place to set it, and quickly gave up, letting it fall onto the floor somewhere near the key Arya threw. She was used to compliments but most came because of her title and position and not because she'd earned them. Arya didn't know her and therefore it meant more. "Thank you."
"I can't be the first to say so," she assumed, "you must have a line of suitors everyday, eager to tell you how stunning you are."
"Not as many as you think," Daenerys acknowledged wryly.
"I'll never understand people," Arya remarked with a shake of her head. "Their loss is my gain."
With that she pushed Daenerys flat onto her back and straddled her waist. In this position she was at a distinct disadvantage for most things, except removing Arya's pants, so her hands got to work on that, while Arya stared down at her with fire in her steel-colored eyes. The lust she saw, confirmed for her one final time that Arya wanted this just as badly as Daenerys did.
Rough, calloused hands reached down to Daenerys's breasts, covering them fully and massaging firmly. The same hands that avoided snake bites were also adept at other things. She teased Daenerys's nipples to hard points with her thumbs while the silver-haired Queen squirmed from the bottom. Her self-appointed task of getting Arya as naked as she was, was proving difficult since she couldn't truly focus. She managed to get the pants open and off her hips before she got distracted. Daenerys pushed Arya back slightly, to give her a better angle to reach what she wanted. It took some work, getting her hand inside the front of Arya's pants, but what waited there made it worthwhile. Her own arousal doubled when she felt Arya's, and Daenerys couldn't wait to be inside her. After a few quick strokes rubbing the length of Arya's opening she pushed two fingers in and was thrilled by the response. Arya's hands stilled on her breasts and her hips thrusted forward, into Daenerys's touch. Getting her pants down with only one hand was a test but Daenerys was determined. She'd nearly accomplished it, when Arya flattened herself against Daenerys's body, so their lips could meet again. Moving her busy fingers with Arya's weight on her was nearly impossible, so she settled for keeping them in place while Arya took care of the movement.
When Arya's mouth found her neck, Daenerys saw stars. She forgot about the nonsense with the pants and just wrapped her free arm around Arya's neck tightly. When she thought the dark-haired woman meant to pull away, she grabbed a handful of hair and held her in place.
Time stood still and all the things that had forced Daenerys away from the Red Keep couldn't have mattered less. Arya shaking over top of her was the beginning and end of her world in that moment. Arya's first climax came hard and fast not long after her teeth bit down on Daenerys's neck. She tore her mouth away, tossed her head back, and doubled her speed on Dany's fingers. Daenerys kept up the assault, circling her most sensitive spot with her thumb while her fingers tried to find new depths. "Fuck!" Arya hissed through clenched teeth when it finally overtook her.
With pride Daenerys pulled her fingers free and was in the process of thinking up a witty remark when Arya shocked her by rolling them both. She shrieked until she was overwhelmed by her new post on top of the larger woman. This, she could live with. She took some time to balance herself properly while grey eyes watched with unbridled hunger. Arya's hands went for her breasts again and Daenerys decided to deny her. She gripped her wrists and pinned them to the bed above her head.
She didn't think it was possible but by refusing Arya, she'd somehow deepened her want for the secret Queen. Daenerys had no illusions. If Arya wished to be free of her hold, she could have done it, and yet she didn't. Instead, she writhed on the bed, making Daenerys work to keep her arms flat, but never pulling hard enough to break her grip. More games, Daenerys thought with a grin. Her lover liked games; snakes, verbal jousting and now playful capture.
"Feeling rather in control up there, aren't you?" Arya jested as she looked up at the small woman straddling her.
"I am," she admitted. "How does it feel to be my prisoner." As she said that, she tightened her grip, expecting Arya to respond with a more vigorous attempt to free herself, but she was as unpredictable as she was intriguing. Her arms stayed flat while her lower body rocked from side to side. With a turn of her hip, she bumped one of Daenerys's thighs. Not hard enough to dislodge her, but close. Before she could recover Arya was rolling the opposite way, carrying all of her momentum with her. This time Daenerys was going to fall, and she cried out as she felt it starting to happen. She hadn't taken time to examine the floor, but she expected it would be unforgiving, hard and dirty. She closed her eyes in anticipation of being thrown off the bed, but the fall never came.
Arya's arms, no longer motionless held her securely as she dangled partially over the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded in her chest for a variety of reasons. Arya took the opportunity to claim her mouth, using her tongue to lengthen the duration and heighten the pleasure, all without returning Daenerys to the mattress fully. Hanging there, at Arya's mercy was exhilarating and Daenerys kissed back heard.
After she was back in the center of the bed Arya reclaimed her perch on top. She started by once again straddling Daenerys's waist but didn't stay there for long. She was quickly slithering down the length of Daenerys's quivering body, leaving kisses, licks and even bites at random intervals. More than once Daenerys considered trying to return the pleasure she was receiving but she could never hold the thought long enough to act on it. Arya didn't seem to mind. While she taunted Daenerys with her mouth, she finished the forgotten task of removing her own pants, pushing them the rest of the way down and then kicking them away with relative ease, all without stopping or even slowing what she was doing.
Her small but forceful hands were holding the back of Arya's head, to ensure she didn't change her mind and end things before Daenerys had her fill. She wasn't sure she could survive that. Arya's hair, she noted, was just as soft as it looked- and she combed her fingers through it frantically as her breasts were lavished in kisses. While Arya sucked on one of Daenerys's hard, pink nipples the last Targaryen found the knot in the band that held Arya's hair and released it. She dropped the tie to the bed and continued to play. Over her Arya had switched to the other breast and was ensuring it received just as much affection.
Arya was definitely a fan of her breasts, it was the only reason she could think of for why the woman was stalling there. Daenerys subtly tried to encourage her head lower, to the place where she wanted it, but Arya wouldn't go. Finally, when she didn't think she could wait much longer she was forced to do something no self-respecting Queen should, she begged. "Lower, please Arya, I need it." Just one more thing to blame on the rum come morning.
Her words drew her lover's head up off of her breasts and she wore that same smirk she'd seen when Arya was opposing snakes. "I thought you'd never ask," she said, pausing for an instant to let her words sink in and then she ducked her head again, picking up where she left off, just under Daenerys's sensitive breasts and inching down.
She wanted to be angry that Arya was still playing games at a time like this, but it wouldn't have been honest. The sensations she was invoking made it hard to feel anything but lewd appreciation for bed partner. That and a large helping of anticipation as her mouth neared the center of Daenerys's thighs.
She was so close to her prize that Daenerys could feel her warm breath against her overheated skin. Arya avoided her lips and first placed a single kiss on the inside of each of Daenerys's thighs. She was going to complain when Arya skipped over her pussy again and returned to her leg, but her words died in her throat when Arya delivered a bite and not a kiss. The sharp, unexpected pain had Daenerys bucking off the bed while her heavily lidded eyes widened fully. Arya looked up to grin devilishly at Daenerys's reaction.
Just when she thought she was going to need to plead again to get her way, Arya lunged forward and landed right where the Queen needed her. Her legs, already spread, opened wider to give her companion room.
With the flat part of her tongue she stroked Daenerys's wet lips, from the bottom to the top, passing over her clit before she was done. She gave in far sooner than Arya had, crying out, from the first pass, confessing how desperately she wanted this. Arya stopped licking and looked at Daenerys with her lips a hair's breadth away from contact, making her wait again. Daenerys had been patient enough. She used her hands in Arya's hair to close the distance and then maximized the contact by thrusting her hips up to meet her mouth. The combination was enough to send her eyes rolling back in her head. By the Gods, how had Arya ever thought she'd be a poor lover?
"Yes, yes, yes," Daenerys chanted, in her own private prayer. Arya's rough fingers were a sharp contrast to her tongue when she separated Daenerys's lips and set her tongue between them. Before long she was spending more time with her ass off the bed, than on it. Her climax was approaching rapidly, and Daenerys fought to hold it back. She wanted, needed this to go on for as long as it could. She'd been relatively successful in prolonging her pleasure and Arya hadn't complained once. Her tongue, like her hands didn't seem to tire and she was relentless in her quest to see Daenerys explode.
Her eyes were shut in pleasure and she could think of nothing but Arya's tongue, so she was acutely unprepared for the sudden introduction of one of Arya's long, rough fingers. While her mouth and tongue sucked and teased her clit, she buried a finger deep inside her, thrusting powerfully. Daenerys screamed a wordless shriek that shifted into Arya's name before she was through. She lifted up into Arya again and once she was overwhelmed with pleasure she fell back on the bed. Instead of granting her reprieve Arya moved with her to ensure she couldn't catch her breath. When she finally removed her finger, Daenerys thought she'd be able to hold off the eruption that was threatening inside her, but it wasn't to be. As soon as she was empty Arya replaced the one finger with two, thrusting and curling them up to reach a point inside of her Daenerys wasn't aware she had. That combined with Arya sucking on her clit was too much and she gave in. The pulsing pleasure made her clench tighter and tighter as she felt her climax fast approaching. Wave after wave of satisfaction crashed against her, each one more intense and unforgiving that the last. Her voice was raw and horse by the time she was done. She was a panting, shaking mess. Seven-fucking-Hells, how had Arya known that was exactly what she needed?
Daenerys's breathing slowly calmed as she tried to recover. Her heart thudded in her chest and she was glad to know she was not the only one of them that could feel it. Arya moved out from between her legs and crawled up the bed to lie next to the spent woman. Daenerys watched her as she did, eyelids heavy, her body drained. Unlike her, Arya was still every bit as graceful and composed as when they'd started. The major difference being that now she was infinitely more sensual, as she cleaned the juices from around her mouth with broad strokes of the same tongue that had driven Daenerys wild.
Once they were level, she propped herself up on an elbow and faced Daenerys. "What are you thinking?"
That question, simple and innocent as it was, woke something inside her. She'd been on the edge of sleep only moments ago and then Arya had unknowingly tapped into a reserve of stamina and lust Daenerys had never needed before. She wet her lips as she'd seen Arya do and tried to mimic the smirk that had entranced her so completely. She didn't need a mirror to know the fire was back in her eyes. Arya had woken the Dragon and for once it would be a pleasurable experience for all involved. She was already leaning toward Arya before she replied. "I'm thinking, I guess it's my turn," she said, before their mouths connected. Daenerys could taste herself and it drove her to want to taste Arya next. Yes, she decided, she wanted Arya much more than she needed sleep.
R-C
The morning sun had already risen by the time Daenerys tried to untangle herself from Arya's side. Last night had been exactly what she needed and while she knew it was necessary, she wasn't ready for it to end. She took a long look at the woman beside her. She was relaxed in sleep in a way Daenerys hadn't witnessed when she was awake. She was always tense, watching, listening, ready and waiting for something to happen. She wasn't like that now, she looked younger, and dare she say, content. Daenerys hoped she played some small part in that. Without trying Arya had delivered exactly what Daenerys was seeking when she snuck away from the castle. She got to spend a few blissful hours not being a Queen and they were better than she could have predicted. For that reason alone, she bent down and gave her lover one final kiss, even if she wasn't able to appreciate it.
She got off the bed and went in search of her dress. The night before had left its mark. In addition to an ache that rippled through every part of her body she felt as if her mouth had stopped producing saliva. She swallowed hard to try and fix it. She did what she could to remain silent, so not to interrupt Arya's dream. They'd spent hours pleasuring one another and Daenerys lost count of how many times Arya had made her scream, she'd earned the chance to rest. It was a shame the real world beckoned, because she was incredibly tempted to stay. Unfortunately, she'd already delayed too long.
"Sneaking out on me, Daenerys?" Arya asked from the bed.
She'd had been adjusting her dress and thought Arya was still asleep. She fully intended to write a note before leaving. That is, until she realized something, Arya had just said her name, her real name, a name Daenerys never told her. "You knew!? When?"
"From the moment I laid eyes on you," Arya said. Although she wanted to deny it, there was a conviction in her tone that was impossible to refute. "The songs they sing about you don't do you justice."
"You didn't say anything," Daenerys said harshly, accusatorily.
"You told me your name was Dany, I figured it was because you didn't want me to know."
"You said you didn't know me…"
"I didn't," Arya confirmed. "Hearing some bard's exaggerated stories about a woman and meeting her are hardly the same thing."
Daenerys' anger was bubbling up. "Is that why you chose to speak to me, to come to my table, you wished to bed a Queen?"
"Your table?" Arya verified, her amused expression only serving to anger Daenerys more.
"You approached me!"
"Going to bed together was your idea, not mine and it was my table, or did you never ask yourself why no one was sitting there?"
"It was meant for you?"
"They leave it empty while I deal with the snakes," Arya explained. "I guess no one told you."
Her fury was melting away. "No, they didn't." She looked at the night before with fresh eyes. It definitely had been her idea to go to bed, but that was when she thought Arya didn't know who she was. She'd agree hearing about the Queen and meeting her were two vastly different things, but that wasn't an excuse. Daenerys was no one's fool. She wasn't sure how to feel. She recalled the amused way Arya had said her name, and how the table was indeed empty while all around it people were forced to stand. It was hard to refute the facts. Arya's memories had the ring of truth. Daenerys wasn't prepared to admit that just yet though. "You expect me to believe you knew I was the Queen?" she asked, her words colored with doubt.
"I knew you were the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I just didn't give a fuck."
Shocked, she tried to think back, to remember one person, just one who hadn't cared that she was royalty, but since she claimed the throne there hadn't been any. Until now. "You don't give a fuck?" she repeated back, in awed confusion. It couldn't be that simple, could it?
"Why should it matter?" Arya wondered. "I didn't take you to bed because you have a list of impressive titles, I did it because you're beautiful and because I wanted to."
She wanted to believe that, but she was having a hard time keeping up with her emotions. "Why? If you want gold…"
"Calm down Daenerys," Arya insisted. "I don't want anything from you, not last night or this morning."
"What's in it for you then?" Daenerys asked more harshly than was fair.
She shrugged her scarred shoulders. "I didn't plan this," she said gesturing to the bed where they'd spent the night. "I originally just wanted to talk to you."
"What changed?"
Arya took time to consider her words just as she had downstairs. "I have little use for Lords, Ladies, nobility and the like. I didn't think I'd enjoy your company, but I did." She paused briefly and then continued. "You're kind of hard not to like, you know; you're beautiful, talented, funnier than I thought you'd be and more interesting too. That's why I brought you up here, that's why I'm telling you the truth now. I know you have a life to live, kingdoms to rule and I'll never see you again, but I didn't want you to go before I got to say thank you."
"You want to thank me?" she heard herself ask. Why was it she felt the need to repeat everything? She'd never needed to do that with anyone else but in Arya's company it was almost as if she didn't trust her ears to function properly. Arya's words warmed her heart in places that had been cold for a very long time.
Arya pushed away from the pillow and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Sitting there she looked up at Daenerys, fully naked. "Last night was incredible."
On that much at the very least they agreed. "I enjoyed it too," she admitted. Was it better that Arya knew? She'd been angry at first but the more she thought about it, the less it mattered. They'd never see each other again, so what was the use in holding a grudge? Arya was still the same person who helped her forget her troubles, even if Daenerys's identity wasn't as secret as she thought.
When she turned to go, she felt almost guilty. "I would stay, but…"
"Don't start lying to me now," Arya said, smirking, as she pulled on the same pair of pants she'd taken off the night before.
Their odd situation aside, Daenerys was soothed by the fact that Arya was accepting of the way things had to be. She smiled. "I did lie about my name."
"That hardly counts," Arya assured her. "The rest was true. The important parts were true."
"Yes," Daenerys agreed as she opened the door, "they were." Maybe that was enough. It would have to be. "Goodbye Arya."
"Goodbye Dany."
R-C
Author's Note: I can't imagine this becoming something longer, but if people really like it then maybe I'd give it a try.
Thanks for reading
RC