hi everyone! thank you for the surprising response regarding chapter 1! i'm so glad you liked it! i would've liked to answer each and every review, but when i reply, it counts it as a comment, so i felt it would be misleading for future readers. sorry!
anyways, i just wanted to say thank you, and to announce that i'm accepting requests and prompts! all you have to do, is go onto my tumblr ask, and request whatever you want, or just ask me questions that are weighing on your mind. also, you can now submit headcanons or aesthetics about this fic, also in on my tumblr, right here. the user is acropclis and the link is in my bio!
thanks again to alee for the gorgeous aesthetic (you can find it on tumblr), and the betaing!
now, wihtout further ado...
The huge, sparkling violet eyes blinked once, in surprise, snapping Arya out of her daze.
She found herself staring unashamedly at the person in front of her, disbelief slowly heightening her senses in alarm.
The woman in front of her was small, with a beautiful heart-shaped face, startling eyes, and short, haphazardly cropped silver hair that barely passed her chin.
The woman was a copy of the late Queen.
… Nothing but a copy. Maybe this was someone who looked like her a lot? Maybe even another faceless man, with the Queen's face, somehow? Arya refused to believe otherwise.
The person who looked like the Queen raised an eyebrow. "Arya?"
The young wolf gulped. She had told the Queen not to call her Lady Stark in one of the few exchanges they had back at Winterfell. Could it be that she still remembered? Arya felt oddly honored.
'Are you mad, Stark?' she chided herself, hoping with all her might to wake up from this horrible nightmare. 'The Queen is dead.'
'Then, how do you explain this?' she countered, and she found that the Arya in her head had a point.
Her silence had apparently stretched on too long, since the queen was looking at her with concern now.
"Are you well? Did you hit your head?" she asked, leaning closer to Arya, squinting at her, trying to find a wound.
"I think so," Arya mumbled to herself, standing.
How else was she going to explain the miraculous survival of Daenerys?
The Queen followed her lead, standing up herself, dusting the dress she was wearing, self-consciously.
The dress in itself was something the Queen she knew would not be caught dead in —the irony was almost funny— with its flowing sleeves, and light design. It was pink, with golden swirls and flowers decorating its sleeves and bodice.
She looked absolutely stunning in it.
She was holding a stack of yellowed papers, and a piece of… was that charcoal?
Was the Queen drawing?
"How… How are you alive?" Arya asked when she finished staring down the woman, and belatedly realized that Daenerys was doing the same to her.
She anxiously brushed a hand through her unruly hair and cursed herself for not actually combing it that morning.
Daenerys looked oddly uncomfortable with the question. She played with the papers in her hands, folding and unfolding the edges. At that rate, she was going to ruin whatever she was drawing.
"I was… brought back," she answered back in a clipped tone, her eyes warning Arya not to prod further.
The wolf was a bit pleased to see the old Queen manifest herself, taking the place of that… that fragile, young woman that was there before her.
But Arya Stark was never one to back down.
"Brought back how? Like… like Jon?"
Daenerys visibly flinched at the name, taking a step back, her shoulders hunched to her ears. She started ripping small pieces of the corner of her paper.
Arya's eyebrows were almost touching her hairline. Who was this person in front of her?
"Yes," she finally conceded, not offering any other details.
The silence between them stretched on, awkward and heavy.
The wind picked up, lifting Daenerys's hair gracefully, while Arya's tangled and got into her eyes. Typical.
"So you're just staying here?" Arya asked, her voice rising slightly. The sheer enormity of the situation was catching up with her, and hitting her full force.
The woman before had burned thousands of innocents, unashamedly and mercilessly.
Arya remembered walking through the streets of King's Landing, bruised and battered, the smell of rotting and burnt flesh overwhelming her nostrils. Reminiscing that memory always came with the urge to empty the contents of her stomach on the ground, then to cry herself to sleep.
She remembered the doll she had found in front of a house, singed around the edges, and still glowing a mean red. She remembered the tiny socks she found aflame on the corner of the street. She remembered the screaming —gods, she still had nightmares about those hellish screams, that still echo around her head every time she closed her eyes. Her sleep had been troubled ever since that day, and honestly, she didn't see that changing any time soon.
All of that was caused by the woman standing in front of her. She had thought she had gotten what she deserved when Jon killed her, but apparently, dying didn't stick with those two.
'Maybe the second time's the charm?'
It took all of her mental restraint to stop herself from pouncing onto the woman and ripping her to shreds, especially when she uttered her answer to Arya's question.
"Yes, I am. It's… the only place I feel safe."
Arya lightly fingered the dagger strapped to her side. 'Not for long, Mad Queen.'
"What brings you here?" Daenerys asked finally, apparently desperate to change the subject.
"Adventure," Arya answered lightly, her hand now fully resting on her dagger.
Daenerys' eyes dropped to her hand, then she looked up at her Arya's face again, as if completely unfazed.
"I'm glad you're getting to see the world. You didn't strike me as a Lady when we first met," Daenerys replied with a small smile, and Arya almost thought it was genuine.
Arya hummed distractedly, her thoughts swirling with smoke, fire, and ash, destruction piling up on the streets, bodies unrecognizable—
"You killed them."
Daenerys physically startled at that. She took another step back, bringing her papers closer to her chest.
"They had surrendered, the bells of the city were ringing, and you-" she had to pause for a second, to gather herself.
She couldn't break down, not now, not in front of her.
"You killed them."
Daenerys gulped, casting her eyes to the ground. Arya sensed that she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent.
She decided to continue on. "I saw a child missing half of his torso. I saw a woman with her face so mutilated, so burned, that she was unrecognizable. She didn't even look of the living." Arya stopped, watching for the effects of her words.
Sure enough, the Queen's breathing had gotten heavier, her hands clutching the papers so tightly, they were trembling.
"Do you know how much Jon tried to convince us to trust you? Do you know how much time he spent with Sansa and I, cooped up in father's office, talking about you? The disrespect," she sneered, "the blatant disrespect to his memory, now that I think about it. Talking about trusting a Targaryen, right in his home."
The silence that reigned for a few seconds was only interrupted by the Queen's even heavier breathing. She sounded physically in pain, and for the life of her, Arya couldn't understand why.
"Your father burned my grandfather and my uncle alive! And yet, your crimes are even greater. I'm sure that your father must be very proud of you, from wherever he is watching."
The Queen squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to block Arya's voice away. The young wolf went on, unfazed.
"I can't believe Jon trusted you. What did you do to him? Did you seduce him into your bed?" Arya paused, taking her dagger out of its sheath, and twirling it expertly between her fingers.
The Queen eyed her movements, her eyes becoming less and less afraid, and more… hopeful?
'What in the-'
She continued on, nonetheless. "Then again, Jon always was the… simplest Stark."
The fire in the Queen's eyes seemed to reignite at that. "He's anything but simple," she snapped, angry and defensive, like a cornered dragon snapping its jaws at its attacker.
Arya was stunned for a second. "You're defending him?"
That was seemingly all it took for the Queen's fire to be extinguished, and for her resigned, sad silence to come back. Arya didn't know if she liked being listened to, or if she hated the fact that she wasn't getting a reply. She didn't want it to be that easy. She needed that godsdamned monster to be the monster everyone knew she was.
Not this… scared, sad looking creature.
"I just want to know," she continued on, softer, despite herself. "How could you do it? I saw how you treated the children at Winterfell. I… Jon fell in love with you. There must be a reason."
'I admired you… I looked up to you, I wanted to be like you. A strong, powerful woman that made men and women alike cower in her wake. You inspired respect, authority. You inspired.'
Daenerys seemed to ponder her question for a moment, all sadness disappearing from her gaze, making way for that terrifying void Arya saw when the Queen was giving her infamous speech— she had picked up some Valyrian from her stay in Braavos, but it wasn't practiced enough for her to fully understand what the Queen was saying. Breaking the Wheel, was one of the few phrases she had understood. But, as far as Arya could see, the only thing the Queen managed to break, was herself.
Also, was Arya imagining things, or was this expression practiced? It didn't seem natural, it didn't seem like something the Queen actually felt, rather a mask she forced onto her own face.
"For the throne," The Queen simply stated, not even deigning to acknowledge all the hurt and chaos she caused.
"For the throne?" Arya repeated incredulously.
Secretly, in her heart, she was relieved. That was the Mad Queen. That was someone she could kill without remorse.
Still, 'Something sounds wrong.'
Daenerys nodded, her eyes hard as steel, her grip on her papers even harder.
Arya's fingers froze, the dagger perfectly ready to kill in her hand.
"You destroyed people's lives," she stated nonetheless. She couldn't allow the vision of the scared Queen get the better of. She would not let it disturb her faith in herself, in her beliefs. In her sister's beliefs.
No reaction from the other woman, who continued to stare at her vacantly, as if she did not fully comprehend the horror of her actions.
"You burned innocents alive, for a chair."
Still, the Queen did not deign to answer.
"You broke my brother's heart."
'You broke mine.'
Daenerys's face broke a bit at that, wincing and slightly angling her body away from Arya like she was conflicted about wanting to turn her back to her.
"He pierced mine with a dagger," she muttered, a hollow, haunted ring to her voice.
"After you did what you swore you wouldn't do! You said you were different from Cersei!" Arya's anger got the better of her, and she took a few steps forward towards the Queen, who jumped three steps back.
She was more terrified than she let on, and Arya found herself very smugly pleased.
"Are you going to kill me?" The Queen whispered, her eyes fixated on her dagger.
Arya chose not to answer but instead got even closer to the other woman.
"So you were hiding here, all this time? You're a wanted criminal!" Her grip on her dagger tightened. She would not kill her, not yet. She needed her to repent first. Beg for forgiveness, cry for mercy. Then, Arya would slit her throat. That would prevent her from coming back to life, certainly.
'Do you really want to do it?'
The Queen took a deep breath and straightened her posture. "I am." Her voice was forceful, but not quite as majestic as when Arya had first heard her speak, as the Queen, not a guest at Winterfell.
She remembered the words she had spoken then, as clearly as if it was a few minutes ago. "Whatever they want."
She took another step closer, but the Queen stayed firmly rooted in place this time. "You killed thousands of innocents!"
A pause. The Queen nodded her head once, solemn. "I did." But not at all regretful.
Finally, Arya spoke what has been on her mind since the beginning. "You're- You're supposed to be dead! You deserve to be dead!"
A smile that bared the Queen's shattered soul to the young wolf stretched her lips. "I wish I was."
Everything seemed to stop then. The slight breeze, the trembling in the Queen's hands, and Arya's breathing.
The Queen barked out what could've been a laugh, Arya wasn't certain. "Well, then, all those theatrics, and you're not going to kill me, Lady Stark?" She taunted, a mad glint in her eyes.
That… was not expected.
"What?" Arya asked, her heart squeezing painfully. She couldn't stop and ask herself exactly why that happened, because she feared that she may break going down that line of questioning.
She elected to ignore it, as she did many of her feelings towards the Queen.
Sansa was right. Sansa was right. Sansa was right.
… Right?
Arya wasn't dense. She knew the Queen was trying to trick her into killing her. The question was, why? If she went through all the trouble of being revived, why would she willingly ask Arya for death?
Things were starting not to add up, and Arya did not like that.
The Queen seemed to take her silence as something it was not. "Are you… hesitating?" She said the word as if it was worse than burning thousands of innocents to their deaths. "The mighty Hero of Winterfell, hesitating to end the miserable life of a criminal who deserves it?"
Another one of those laughs that sent shivers down Arya's spine.
"I thought you were better than that, Arya of Winterfell. Will you still be called that, when word gets out that you had the chance to kill the Mad Queen and you didn't? Will you still be accepted into your home, by your precious siblings?" She spat the last word out with all the disgust she could muster, making Arya's skin bristle.
She tried to calm herself down, repeating her reasoning over and over in her head, that the Queen just asking for death like that was not logical, that things didn't add up, but the other woman was making it rather difficult to root for her.
"What would they say, if I got up on Drogon's back, flew back west, and burned down your precious Winterfell with all its inhabitants in it, including your 'family'? You would have had the chance to kill me and save them all."
Arya's grip tightened further on her dagger, biting her lower lip, absolutely torn.
"You're lying," she said because all her instincts were screaming at her that it was the case.
"Are you willing to take that chance?" A smirk. "I did say I was going to Winterfell next."
That was all it took. Arya threw herself on the Queen, her hand closing around her throat, pouring all her anger into her deathly grip.
The Queen's cocky and mad demeanor seemed to have melted away, leaving behind only a ghost of what she once was. The dark circles under her eyes were even more noticeable now that Arya was up so close, and her cheekbones were more prominent than before, her chubby face more skeletal than Arya had ever imagined it could become.
She raised the hand that was holding her dagger, screaming at herself that it was the right thing to do, that it was the only thing she could do, when a terrible, monstrous screech echoed from the skies above.
Arya let go of the queen reflexively, turning her head around to look at the source of the noise.
All was quiet for a few seconds, then the Queen's biggest dragon appeared out of nowhere, his form getting bigger and bigger with every passing second.
Arya realized with horror that he was zooming down on her.
Her mouth opened to scream in terror, and the dragon's opened to scoop her up, but at the last second, she was pushed to the ground, a heavy weight falling on top of her.
The dragon flew by just above her, so close she could almost touch his scaled chest.
That was more than a close one. Her survival was almost a miracle.
She heaved a sigh of relief, then grunted when the weight resting on her felt heavier.
She looked down and found the Queen clutching tightly at her, sprawled out on top of her.
Did she… did she just save Arya's life?
'Why is everything going so wrong?'
She tried dislodging herself from under the older woman when she felt something wet and sticky touch her fingers. She raised them up to her face, and gasped when she saw the scarlet staining them, almost an accusation.
'She deserves it.' The reasoning that sounded like Sansa echoed in her head.
'She just saved my life.'
'That doesn't absolve her-'
'There is more to the story.'
She pushed the Queen off of her, laying her down gently in the grass beside her.
The dagger she was previously holding was lodged in the queen's shoulder, the wound oozing blood faster than what Arya would've liked. At that rate, the Queen would be dead in an hour, if not less.
Cursing all the gods she knew of, Arya kneeled beside the other woman, trying to shake her awake.
The weakened, bleary violet eyes opened, and all the tiredness and self-hatred the Queen must have been feeling suddenly became as clear as crystal.
The knot in Arya's stomach, the one that hadn't untied itself since King's Landing, tightened further, and she gulped, trying to get ahold of her panic and concentrate on Daenerys.
The Queen was breathing heavily, her hand going up to her shoulder. She touched the hilt of the dagger, almost reverently, before smiling at Arya, the first real, genuine smile Arya had ever seen from the Queen.
"Thank you, Arya," she breathed, not more than a whisper. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and onto the grass, and a drop of water splashed right under her left eye, making Arya wonder if it was raining.
Was the world mourning the loss of Daenerys Targaryen?
She then realized that it wasn't the world at all, rather her own tears dripping down on the Queen's face.
Her eyes slowly drifted shut, and Arya choked on a sob. "No," she whispered, trying to shake her awake again. "No, no, no…"
Her choked sobs turned into full-on wails of anguish, as she clutched the Queen's body tighter to her chest. "NO!"
She took a breath, trying to calm herself down, to think logically. All wasn't lost. Maybe she could still save her, somehow?
Her thinking was interrupted when she heard the familiar bubbling of fire inside a certain dragon's throat. Apparently, the beast had turned around and come back for her.
Terrified, and still hugging Daenerys firmly to her chest, she looked up and stared into Drogon's fury-filled gaze.
'I just killed his mother,' she thought. 'Fuck.'
that was it! i really hope this lives up to your expectations!
constructive comments and reviews do help a lot and are really appreciated :) they make me really happy! i love you guys!
don't forget to follow the tumblr, and especially like alee's art because she deserves it! see you!
