Arya woke once again with tears running down her face, only this time her nightmare wasn't about her father's murder. She hadn't dreamt about what happened the morning Ned Stark had been killed, rather she dreamt she was in one of the passages of the Red Keep. Led there on the pretense of being taken to see Rhaegal, Jon's Dragon.
But she had never made it to the pit where Rhaegal and Drogon were kept. Instead, somewhere in the bowels of that accursed Keep she had felt a dagger pierce her back. When she had looked down, she had seen the tip of the dagger protruding from her chest.
She knew in that moment that she would die and die she had. She had felt her heart cease and just before all life seeped from her body a voice said 'A dragon doesn't forgive betrayal'.
She left her bed and crossed to where the full-length mirror was kept. After loosening the laces of her shift she pushed the material back to reveal the scar she still bore. A testament to the treachery she had suffered at the hands of a Targaryen. She knew who her attacker was, yet she wasn't sure about who had ordered the attack.
'A dragon doesn't forgive betrayal'...the words were seared onto her brain. Yet only three dragons had survived through Robert's Rebellion and of those three, two still lived on. Jon, her Jon would never be capable of something like this she knew. Arya traced the scar and felt the skin around the wound, such a wound should have killed her, she thought. Yet here she stood, alive and well.
What betrayal was she accused of she wondered. Perhaps a more important question was who had saved her. Who had taken her unseen from the tunnels of the Red Keep to some precarious inn along the meandering streets of Kings Landing. She had awoken there, all alone with her chest aching like the Others had danced upon it.
After gaining consciousness, she had barely been able to move for first three hours. After much toil she had somehow managed to drag her self to a mirror to see herself dressed in her leather pants and her chest covered in white strips.
When she removed the bandage and the cotton beneath tentatively, she saw only what she could see in the mirror even now. A deep scar towards her left breast at least 4 inches long.
She had only managed to drag herself to Lord Davos's chamber in the Tower of the Hand well past midnight. She told him all that had occurred and Lord Davos wanted to go to Jon then and there. Arya had managed to convince him to wait till the following morning and asked him whether she could stay in his room for the night, while he guarded the room.
Lord Davos being Lord Davos had accepted all that she had said, not wanting to see the scar nor did he ask any other questions. He simply believed.
He had managed to get some broth in her before finally allowing her to sleep, claiming she would need her strength. Yet what had occurred the following morning had given her more pain, she thought, than any dagger to the chest could have.
Before she could think about anything else a knock sounded at her door. Arya quickly pulled the material back into place and gave Nan permission to enter.
"Your Grace, your breakfast has been readied. Shall I ask the servants to prepare your bath before you eat", Nan asked.
Arya smiled, "The bath first, please Nan"
"Of course, Your Grace", Nan replied as she went to follow her Queen's request.
No one in the North knew of what she had suffered during her trip to Kings Landing after Jon's coronation except herself and Lord Davos.
She still wondered though about her saviour. Who was it that had brought her back, a red priest or priestess ? But they knew better than to come near her, after all she had made her hate of Melisandre more than clear. Yet whoever it was had been strangely familiar.
She had not seen who it was but whoever it had been, he or she was no stranger to her. She could recall very little of the dream she supposed she had while she lay suspended between life and the Great Beyond.
She had felt her father's loving presence and had felt safe. After a lifetime of war it felt like she had come home. But Ned Stark had kissed her forehead and said only,"You will be a Queen". Next thing she knew she had awaken only to wish she never had.
After having dressed for the day with her crown upon her head as armor, she went towards the message she had received from King's Landing. The seal broke easily enough and she unrolled the parchment. She could have recognized that writing anywhere, the raven was from Jon.
Little Wolf,
it seems forever since I last saw your face. It seems even longer since I've heard from you. I know I hurt you that day. At least give me a chance to explain myself to you.
We've always been close Arya. You know I could never dream of harming you. Please come to Kings Landing. Talk to me, allow me a chance, just one.
Please Arya.
Jon Snow
She rolled the raven back again and tossed it in the fire. Sitting down at her desk she took a piece of parchment, dipped her pen in ink and wrote:
Your Grace,
I believe it was you who clearly stated that the Starks never fared very well when they ventured beyond the North to go South. I now know this to be true. Naturally, you will understand my sentiments when I decline.
Arya Stark
Queen in the North
Arya rolled the parchment and sealed it. She handed it to the Maester and asked him to send it to Kings Landing to His Grace Jon Targaryen.
As she walked to meet Sansa, she wondered how much longer would Jon continue to send these ravens. Not for much longer she thought, if Daenarys Targaryen had her way.
