Chapter 3

Gendry, his mouth agape and eyes wide, merely sputtered at her. Arya rolled her eyes. "I knew you'd recognize me, now go and tell your bloody queen."

"—how did you get here?" he said, shutting the door behind him and stepping closer. He still smelled of soot and steel, stronger than before.

"I took a ship," she said simply. "It's easier than you think, Gendry. To get around in this world."

He swallowed, crossing his toned arms. "Why'd you come back? I'd thought m'lady hated this place. They took your father's head…and your sister—"

"What? Tell me, Gendry." Arya grabbed his arms, forcing him to look down at her. "Tell me what they did to her."

Gendry shifted uncomfortably in her grip, but did not seek release. "Everything I know I learned after the queen reclaimed her throne. It's the best truth you're gonna get," he started. "After you left, the Lannisters married her to the Imp, Tyrion. But when Joffrey died she was stolen by Littlefinger. Bastard's dead now," he added. "I heard that he'd had plans of marrying her off to some lord in the Vale, or maybe he'd marry her himself. I don't know, it don't matter anymore. Then the dragon queen arrived, and your sister's first husband with her."

"Her prisoner, you mean?"

"Nay, her advisor."

Arya widened her eyes, releasing his arms to step back. She began pacing, one hand rubbing the back of her head. "Is that why she keeps the Kingslayer?" It seems this queen has a strange fondness for lions, she mused.

Gendry spat at his feet. "No one 'cept the queen herself knows, I reckon. She's a good ruler, just. But to forgive the man who killed her father…"

"And what of my sister? Where is she now?"

"She's with the Imp, m'lady. The queen handed her back over. None of us have seen her since the septons had 'em redo their vows. I'd imagine she's with him at the Rock."

She's safe then, away from the capitol. Arya stopped her pacing, looking up at him, remembering. "The queen said something about my brother. Does she mean Jon?"

"I've not heard, m'lady."

"I'm not your lady, Gendry," Arya snapped, eyes flashing.

Gendry grinned back at her, and Arya suppressed a smile despite her pleasure. It's been so long since I've seen a friendly face…I had no friends like this back in Essos. "Of course, m'lady."

She ran up to him, playfully smacking his arm. "I'm not ten anymore, Gendry."

Arya expected him to hit her back, but his hand fell short, falling limply back to his side. She frowned at the failed reciprocation, pulling her own hand back to awkwardly smooth down her skirts, pressing harder and harder as the pleats refused to give.

"Look at me, Arya," he said, catching her hands in his own. Arya looked up, for some reason embarrassed at the situation. At herself. Why am I acting like this? I've dealt with men before, I…I know how to handle them. She pushed those thoughts back, focusing on his somber eyes.

"I know you're not ten. Any man could see that." Arya noticed how his eyes flicked down. "But you are a lady, now more than ever. Things can't be like they used to."

Just as she opened her mouth, Gendry leaned forward, planting a light kiss on her cheek. Arya stood frozen as his lips moved away, heat rushing to her face. Gendry squeezed her hands once more before stepping back, softly closing the door behind him. Arya brought her fingers to the spot, hoping that her cool flesh would quench the fire burning under her skin. No luck. Reaching down her bodice, Arya pulled out the dagger hidden against her ribs. She raised the flat steel to her cheek, praying that the blade would take away whatever Gendry had left behind.


The next morning her door finally opened again. During the night a servant had drifted in, carrying a tray of boiled potatoes and salted pork. She had eaten this greedily, having nothing to fill her belly since she left the ship this morning. Back to Pentos, was it? Or maybe Myr?

A guard beckoned her out, proceeding to escort her to the throne room. Arya smoothed a hand over her messy braid and now deflated pleats. As she the door parted the inky skulls leered in the grey light, no longer ominous without their fire and darkness. The queen sat as before on her throne, this time dressed in a strange looking garment wrapped intricately around her thin frame. A tokar, she remembered, thinking back to her trip to Slaver's Bay. The ship she'd ridden in had just been passing through, but Arya had seen a few nobles at the port, scattered about as they fussed over the incoming trade ships.

"Lady Arya Stark of House Winterfell, the Girl Lost to Time," the dark-skinned girl called out, rising as she addressed the budding court. The few lords and ladies stood, turning as Arya strode down the aisle before halting before the steps. The Kingslayer was not there, only the old knight and a handful of guards.

"I see someone has persuaded you. And I like the title, was it your idea, your Grace?" Arya questioned, picking up her skirts as she bowed her head.

The queen's violet eyes flashed in annoyance at the jest. "It was not, Lady Stark," she replied curtly, ignoring Arya's tone. "But I am told that the Westerosi like these names. I have many myself, you see."

Arya smiled despite herself. "Then I thank you, your Grace. If that is all—"

The queen rose, a small hand clutching the tasseled fabric at her waist. "One more thing." She took a tiny step forward, as if balancing in the narrow dress. "My court is dismissed," she called out. The light crowd began to shuffle and move at once, still groggy in the early hour. "I will speak to Lady Stark alone," she said, looking at her council and personal guards.

"Is that wise, your grace?" the old knight whispered, glancing suspiciously at Arya.

The queen gave him a small smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I was once a young girl as well, Ser Jorah. She will do me no harm." The knight, presumably Ser Jorah, nodded before taking his leave.

"Follow me," the queen said, turning to walk down the steps. Arya rushed forward to help her, afraid that she might trip, but the queen waved her off. "I have had years of practice." Arya followed her past the throne and into an adjacent room. The walls were lined with books, the air musty with only one window. The queen sat down at the oak table, beckoning Arya to join.

"I apologize for last night, Lady Stark. I hope the chambers were acceptable," she said, pouring herself a cup of iced wine from the brass pitcher.

"I'm used to worse, your Grace."

The queen responded by waving her hand as she drank. She set the goblet down, proceeding to pour another for Arya. "You needn't use the formalities in here, it's just Dany. And from what I've heard, courtesy was never your thing."

"Aye. But I have learned a thing or two over the years." Arya picked up her wine, wincing as the bitter liquid washed over her tongue. Despite her years traveling from city to city in the East, Arya had never acquired a taste for the drink.

"I want to know," Dany started, swirling her cup, "what you did these past years. How does a young girl from the North survive on her own?"

"The only thing a woman can do. I worked for men, the same as you."

Dany narrowed her eyes, setting down her cup. "Do you take me for a whore?"

Arya shrugged. "No, I take you for a queen. But all women work for men in this damned world, a queen most of all. Just as I served the men of the East, you serve the men of your kingdom."

"And how did you serve these men? Not with your body, I presume."

"Not usually," she replied, mimicking Dany as she set down her full cup. "I killed other men," she put simply, looking up through her lashes at the queen's hard expression. "I traveled the world, serving. From Braavos to Volantis, New Ghis to Naath, I served."

Dany sucked in a breath, staring at Arya. "Why." It wasn't a question.

She pondered this, staring out through the small bubbling glass. "I had no where else to go. My home was stolen, my family, the north." Arya snapped her head back around. "I left my tears behind when they murdered my father. That is why I left."

A small hand reached towards her own, gripping it firmly. "I see your strength, Arya. You are not unlike myself in that way."

Arya saw the kindness in her violet eyes, masked by the hard façade of the dragon queen, but still she quietly drew back her hand. "What will you have of me?"

Dany stood up, still clutching her tokar. Arya followed her silently out of the room, past the empty throne and onto a balcony overlooking the city. "Do you see this, Arya?" She gestured to the sea of tiles covering the streets. "I have been looking for someone like you for quite a while. Someone who has traveled the East, someone who has proven their strength and stealth." Arya cocked her head, trying to make sense of her words. "Perhaps it is time that you serve someone else. I need your help."

The rooftops flashed under the rising run, winking in the heat. The place still smells of shit, she couldn't help but think. Facing the queen, she replied, "What with?"

"There is something you will find for me. I require something of great importance, hidden in the Shadow Lands. This mission must be done in the upmost secret, do you hear me? A ship will carry you from here to Braavos to begin, and you shall be accompanied by Ser Jaime and a handful of guards." Dany leaned forward, resting her palms on the railing as she overlooked her city. "You leave in a moon's turn," she added before shuffling away as gracefully as a queen might, leaving Arya staring out at the stinking city.