In Braavos, learning at he feet of the Faceless Men Arya thought she'd been forsaken by the people of Westeros. For years while she honed her skills and recited her list she believed no one knew she still lived and perhaps she didn't. Perhaps Arya Stark was as dead as everyone thought. She'd been a good student, mastering her craft and becoming No One.
She left Arya behind when she got on the ship. It wasn't uncommon for her to go weeks without remembering who she'd been before she'd taken her first face. That's why it was so unexpected when as she strolled through the markets, trying to decide what she wanted to eat, she heard a voice calling to her former self. "Arya Stark."
The man who spoke the dead girl's name was clearly from her former homeland, a Southerner, but definitely from the other side of the sea. He wore the clothes of a middle station, a man of importance but not title. Such men didn't come to Braavos without cause. She immediately wondered who sent him. "Arya Stark's dead." With that said she forgot her hunger and turned down an alley, curling around a corner to disappear.
She heard him before she saw him, the heavy running footsteps as he tried to keep up, the panting breaths as she took him on a tour of her adoptive home. It would have been easy enough to lose him in the crowds, she was confident she knew the Titan City better than he did, whoever he was, but if she did, she wouldn't get any answers.
He came around the corner after her, looking in both directions and she pounced, putting her new abilities to work. A knee in his ribs forced him back into an unforgiving wall and the dagger at his neck showed she was serious. "Arya Stark is dead."
The terror in his green eyes couldn't be missed. It excited her in ways she'd come to not only accept but anticipate. His voice quivered, and he squirmed like an eel. "L…Lady Olenna Tyre… Tyrell of High…garden knows otherwise," he stammered.
When he tried to move his arm, she rewarded him with a knee to the groin. "Don't!" she cautioned after she'd already stopped him.
He would have fallen if her strong arms weren't supporting him. "No w…weapons," he said vibrating so much that he nicked himself on the tip of her razor-sharp blade. "Letter."
Why was anyone sending her a letter, and the Tyrells of all people? She knew of them, of course, but she had no friends among their family, no closeness to their people. "Where's the letter?" she demanded.
The courier was smart enough not to reach for it again. "Pocket, right."
She nearly tore the fabric to get inside, when she did it was as he said, a letter and nothing more. She looked at the Rose seal and her gut told her it was authentic. As suddenly as she grabbed him, she released the beaten man and he sagged toward the dirt. The assassin fled before he could recover, staying gone this time.
Behind a brothel, listening to the pleasured moans of strangers through the open window she broke the seal and read the news contained inside.
Arya Stark,
My name is Lady Olenna Tyrell from Highgarden. You do not know me personally, but I knew your parents. I counted your mother among my friends and knew her well before she went North to marry. I met your father while he served as Robert's Hand. I knew him to be an honorable man and not the traitor the Lannisters claim he was.
I write to you because I've become aware of where you've been and what you've been doing. Westeros is rotting, poisoned by those who rule. Your family has suffered greatly at Lannister hands and mine will too if we do not act.
My granddaughter is promised to Joffrey as your sister once was. I fear she will be forced to live with the same indignities as Sansa if something is not done.
It's treason for me to write this but I'm an old woman who has lived a good life and I'm not afraid. Joffrey needs to die. If you are interested in helping me achieve this, send word.
Sincerely
Lady Olenna Tyrell
She didn't know how long she stood there, the moans of the whores and their customers blocked by the thumping in her ears. Vengeance. That's why she hadn't succumbed to her wounds, to pain, starvation or exhaustion. She lived so she could one day return and punish those who betrayed her family. There was no question the Tyrell had her own motives, but did they matter? She spoke of Westeros being poisoned. What concern of hers was that? She wasn't there, and she had enough problems already.
When she could get her feet moving again she left the alley and dropped the letter in a fire on her way back to the House of Black and White. Westeros's difficulties were her own, Arya had enough going on.
It took less than a week for her to change her mind. In that time, Arya Stark's memories made themselves known more frequently and even with the letter gone, she could recall the words exactly. In the end, her decision was made not out of decency or kindness. She wasn't going to help because Lady Olenna asked her to, or because it was the right thing to do. She was going to help her kill Lannisters because she wanted them dead and she'd be disappointed to learn they died without Arya being able to claim involvement.
R-C
Letters were exchanged, a plan formed and then a package sent from Braavos to Highgarden. She spent most of her gold on trusted couriers and the necessary supplies, but it was more than worth it.
When word came not only that the King didn't live to survive his wedding day, but also that Tyrion Lannister was imprisoned for the crime Arya felt pride. It hadn't been as rewarding as if she'd gutted Joffrey with her own sword, but it was better than nothing. He was dead.
The letters slowed then but didn't stop. Arya was offered a place at Highgarden. Protection from her enemies and a role among Tyrell soldiers. It was a tempting offer. As a girl accepting such a proposal would have been the fulfillment of all her dreams but things were different now.
It was more than a year after King Joffrey's reign ended that she finally made it back to Westeros. On duties from the temple she was sent to a small settlement near The Neck to give the Gift to a minor noble who'd tested the Iron Bank's patience.
Before she returned to the Free Cities she took a detour to Highgarden to meet Lady Olenna personally. By coincidence she was away from King's Landing and back home, handling affairs for her family. In the time since they sent their first letters her granddaughter had married Tommen, a Lannister, but by all accounts, the lesser evil.
She was escorted to a private terrace, where Olenna had food and drink waiting. "Arya, my friend," she said embracing the younger woman. "Such a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Lady Tyrell."
The old woman chuckled and motioned for Arya to sit. "Olenna please, we've been through too much together to stand on formality."
They ate and talked together but the conversation remained light. Neither one broached the murder they'd schemed together. When the meal was concluded Olenna called for a servant who brought three large purses of gold. "Payment for services," she said. "Please accept this with my undying gratitude for all you've done."
Even without looking inside or feeling the weight Arya was certain she was being overpaid. Taking the gold would have not only replenished her savings but doubled them. She didn't even consider it. "Keep it."
The wrinkled face showed her shock for only a moment. "I'm aware of the risks you took to help me Arya. I also know that your order are not only the most talented assassins but also the most highly paid."
That was true and while Jaqen would be repulsed by her refusal she hadn't done it for coin. "I'll kill Lannisters for free," she said, her voice cold.
For several seconds, Olenna considered objecting but didn't. "Very well. Should you change your mind or have need of anything, I am in your debt."
"Thank you," she replied simply.
"Will you stay? Surely you miss your home."
"No." She didn't attempt to specify which question she was answering.
"Are you returning to Braavos then?" she guessed.
It was quiet for a time until she answered. "I'll be back when I'm ready to finish what we've begun."
A weathered hand settled over hers on the table. "Arya, I understand your pain, I do, but there is more to life than revenge, trust me." She slipped her hand out from under Olenna's carefully so not to injure her. "Your parents would want more for you than that."
Arya didn't want to hear it. She thought it hypocritical that Olenna was preaching the values of peace now that her problem was solved. She also had little interest in hearing someone speak of her parent's desires. They were dead, they didn't want anything. "You may be finished, but I'm just getting started."
"Do you have more in your life than your hate?"
She thought about the answer. She didn't. Her work for the Many Faced God occupied some of her time, but even that was a means to an end. Her training was so she could cross every name from her list. The people she gave the Gift to along the way were merely practice. Jaqen was her only real friend and even he, she was certain would cut her throat without hesitation if the Kindly Man ordered it done. "I have enough hate to go around," she admitted after a long wait.
"And that's enough?" Olenna pushed. The gentle way she spoke, the clear concern reminded Arya of the books she read as a girl, the kind with the doting grandmother, fretting over those younger.
"It is today," she assured her.
"And what about tomorrow?" Olenna wondered.
Arya woke from her dream, from her memory with a jolt. The closer she got to her destination the more often she thought of Olenna. The King Slayer had been added to her very short list once she learned that it was he who'd given Lady Tyrell the poison that killed her. Even knowing Highgarden had little value without its gold or grain she still considered going to reclaim it. Olenna would have hated having her home fall in Cersei's hands but others needed her more. Olenna was dead and she would be avenged, Arya would see to that, but there was a chance some still lived. Yara had been saved, Ellaria Sand remained captive.
Every step she took closer to King's Landing tightened the knot in her stomach. Rest was harder and harder to come by, while events from the past, long dealt with reared up for a fight. She wanted to kill Cersei more than anyone else but knew now was not the time. If she wanted to save Lady Sand, she couldn't have every Gold Cloak in the Red Keep hunting her. It would be challenging enough to sneak the prisoner out from under the noses, she couldn't complicate things further by being reckless. Before she met her God, she'd spit on Cersei's corpse but not until everything was ready.
There were no shortage of dangers sneaking into the Red Keep, but the rewards were plentiful. Arya wasn't opposed to risk. The Dornish army mourned their lost Queen and three of their Princesses. Their hate for the South and for Cersei Lannister in particular ran deep, dating back far longer than the most recent transgressions. Daenerys had tried to capitalize on that to strengthen her armies and she'd found a willing co-conspirator in Ellaria.
After learning of the captures, Arya expected controlling the surviving Sand Snakes would be difficult if not impossible, but she'd misjudged. Oh, they wanted blood on their spears undoubtedly but with the strongest most powerful of Oberyn's daughters dead or in chains the remaining few were paralyzed by indecision. Not even promises of revenge from the Dragon Queen could set them marching. They chose to wait, sending negotiators to King's Landing in a fruitless effort to save those they loved.
That was why Arya was willing to risk her neck going to the place she hated. If she, and by extension Daenerys could return Ellaria or Tyene to Sunspear, they'd earn favor in Dorne and definitely another capable and motivated army for the wars.
R-C
After their talk about Arya, Jon and Daenerys fell into an easy pattern. Discussing her between them was rare, but not non-existent. If Daenerys wanted to speak of her past with Arya, to relive it, she went to Missandei who was a faithful friend, always available to listen. Jon did however tell her the story of how he'd had a sword crafted specifically for Arya, before he left for the Wall. "I just wanted her to have something to remember me," he'd said. Having heard the tale from Arya's side, she knew the gift meant more to her than just a remembrance. To Arya, having a sword of her own was a confirmation of who she wanted to be, permission from the brother she adored to be who she was and not what the world told her she needed to be. Talk of Arya brought both happiness and hurt, usually in equal portions.
Arya was never far from her thoughts and Daenerys's worry was almost permanent, but she knew Arya capable and trusted her to survive. In the weeks after Arya's letter, confirming that she wouldn't be returning, Daenerys found it easier to accept Jon's affections. It was more duty and obligation than want but she was committed to their plan. In the process Jon came to accept things as they were, never making her feel guilty for her lack of love for him.
Over time their arrangement became normal and Daenerys could separate her feelings for Jon from her love for Arya without diminishing either. She enjoyed the time she spent with Jon, she liked his generous spirit, his unshakable goodness and his dedication to the things he felt were right. Everything was happening for them in the wrong order. They started as lovers, then married and now were slowly becoming friends.
After several more attempts Sam, Jon's friend and Maester confirmed for them again that she still wasn't pregnant. Daenerys was furious. She wanted to summon Bran, to confirm it was still a part of her future to have a child, but he remained on the Wall, beyond her reach. With no other option she ordered Melisandre brought before her to answer for the lack of progress.
"Stay calm," Jon cautioned as she paced waiting for Jorah to deliver the Priestess.
"Calm? Calm!?" she shouted, "We've been married for months. She promised us a child and she's going to explain herself. If she lied, I'll take her head myself."
"That won't be necessary, my Queen," Melisandre said from the doorway, a step ahead of Jorah.
This was a conversation that needed to happen in private. She'd already dismissed the Unsullied and Dothraki from the room and now she sent Jorah away. "Thank you, Ser. Can you please find Tyrion and ensure everything is going well with the fleet?"
"Of course, Khaleesi."
Any softness that formed in her posture or words while addressing the knight vanished when the door closed, leaving she and Jon were alone with Melisandre. "You promised us a child!" Daenerys reminded her. "Said your Lord of Light would grant us one if we united our families!" Her lips curled in a sneer as she mentioned the supposed 'Lord'. She was beginning to have her doubts about His accuracy.
"Dany, relax," Jon urged.
"I did," Melisandre confirmed. "The Lord of Light gave me signs you'd bare a child, his child," she said turning to Jon. "Your brother confirmed it."
"Has anything changed?" Jon asked calmly before she could yell again.
"Yes," she said, a single word was like a sword through Daenerys's heart. "She has."
Two sets of eyes settled on her. "Me?" she verified, getting a nod in reply. She was suddenly too hurt to maintain her anger. It was her fault, just as it had been when she lost her son. All the fury deflated out of her and she grew dizzy. She wouldn't be having a child after all. Her chest felt like it was being flayed.
"Is it the Witch?" Jon asked. "Is it the magic she used?"
The silence seemed like an eternity to her. "No, your combined bloods, fire and ice will combat the dark magic that tainted her womb."
Daenerys didn't understand. What was she saying? "So, what's the problem?"
Melisandre looked to the Queen and then Jon. "She isn't trying."
Her anger was back in full force. "We are trying damn it!" she screamed, taking a large step toward the red- haired woman. Who did she think she was? Not trying? She left the woman she loved and married another all because of her alleged prophecy. "Don't you dare say we aren't trying. Maybe your Lord of Light is full of shit!"
"Dany," Jon tried.
"It's all right," the Priestess said, unbothered by Daenerys's outburst. "Your body may be trying," she said looking at the Queen as if she saw through her, "but you are not!"
Even Jon had reached his limit. "Enough with your riddles. Get to the point."
She addressed Jon as though Daenerys had vanished. "Your wife's body may be in your bed, but her heart and mind are elsewhere. Too much distance exists between them for a child to be conceived.
Calm was a request she couldn't honor. Was this bitch serious? "You're telling me your precious Lord won't give us a baby because I don't love Jon?" she roared. Upon hearing her words in the air, she added, as an afterthought, "Enough!" Yes, she decided, that was better. It was because she didn't love Jon enough, not because she didn't love him at all.
Guilt melded with her rage and she couldn't keep her eyes off her husband. He was doing a much better job of not looking at her and she knew she'd need to apologize to him later. He didn't deserve that. They'd decided together. It wasn't right to punish him for not being Arya. He'd been far more understanding than most in his situation would be.
"Bring the girl home," Melisandre directed.
Arya! Somehow, she knew about Arya. The married couple shared a look and Daenerys didn't need a mirror to know the pain that was carved across her face. Jon, being the man he was, hurried to her defense. "Be very careful," he warned his former friend. "Choose your next words wisely or I swear I'll fulfill the promise I made the day I banished you from the North."
The reply came after a dark, humorless laugh. "Worry not Jon Snow, my death approaches quickly, but not yet." No one spoke for a time and although there was so much she wanted to say, to ask, to scream, to curse, no words came. "Close the void between your heart and your body and the Lord of Light will give you what you seek."
Without being dismissed or escorted out, she turned and went. When Daenerys collapsed Jon caught her and they stayed like that late into the night.
R-C
The following days brought clarity and more pain. Daenerys had been so focused on what Melisandre said that she hadn't thought much about the implications. With the aid of distance, she could see it was a trap no matter which way she turned. If she wanted a baby, she needed to convince Arya to return but if she did, she'd be forcing the woman she loved to come back and witness she and Jon together. She wanted Arya back with her, not only for the sake of her perspective child, also because she missed her, but she couldn't be selfish this time. She'd put Arya through enough.
She assumed Jon would side with her, but to her surprise, only a week after Melisandre's summons Jon told her he intended to go and find Arya. In a rush, all the anger she felt because of their circumstance was aimed at him. "You can't mean that!" she yelled when she understood what he planned to do.
"You heard what she said," Jon justified as he strapped his sword to his hip. "No matter how hard we try, it won't work until we bring her back."
"We don't even know where she is," Daenerys contested, choosing that instead of the more serious reason for not going.
"King's Landing," Jon said, as his face heated with color.
"What?!" Daenerys shrieked. How did he know that? Why hadn't he told her? "What the fuck is she doing there?"
"I don't know," Jon admitted, "Bran's letter just said that's where she was."
Dread filled every inch of her. "We have to stop her. She's going to try and kill Cersei, to end the war…"
"I don't think so," Jon said, forgetting his preparations. He went to her and pulled her into a hug. "I'll go get her, I promise."
Daenerys resisted the comfort, pushing hard against his chest. "Why else would she go there? She hates it there."
If she'd been thinking clearly, she might have known the answer as Jon did, but her anger clouded everything, her worry doubly so. "Her first act upon leaving was to go and rescue the Greyjoy. I think she's going to try and save Ellaria next."
"That's madness!" she yelled. "Varys says she's in the Red Keep's dungeon. Not even Arya can sneak in there. She'll be killed!"
"She won't be," Jon said, setting a kiss on the top of her head. "She won't be because I'm going to go and get her and bring her back here."
Daenerys hadn't changed her mind. It was wrong to ask more of Arya than they already had. They asked her to accept the marriage, then Daenerys self-centeredly asked her to stay. Arya didn't need the added burden of being responsible for the creation of their heir as well. She was in agreement Jon should go get her, to keep her safe, but that's where the concession ended. "Go then," she said, stepping back out of his embrace, "but we can't ask her to come back. Get her out of King's Landing and then let her go."
Her eyes closed, and she said a silent prayer that Arya would remain safe until Jon could locate her. When she looked again, her husband was angrier than she'd ever seen him. "What was it all for then?" he demanded to know. When they answer didn't come, he kept going. "Why have we done this, the alliance, the wedding, all of it?"
"For the good of our people," she answered without pause, repeating the justification she'd been telling herself for months.
"Our people need an heir!"
She wringed her hands together. "We can't do it!" she said with certainty. "It's too much. She's your sister. We can't ask her to come here and watch us together, that's cruel and wrong."
"Do you not wish her return?" he asked, his voice lowering while maintaining its edge.
"Of course, I do," Daenerys yelled with no such restraint. "I miss her every day, just like you but it's not fair to place this on her shoulders." Daenerys felt exhausted. She shouldn't have to explain this to him. He should understand. He should agree.
"Do you want a child?"
Her grip on her hands tightened. "You know I do, but at what cost?"
"And you know Arya would come back if she knew," Jon commented, hitting her with a blow they both knew she couldn't deflect. She was powerless because it was true.
"That's because she's selfless and good, no matter how she sees herself." She was growing frustrated with her inability to sway him. "She's your sister! How can you suggest we do this to her?!"
"It's for the good of our people," he declared, using her own words against her.
"The price is too high! We'll find another way to choose an heir. It doesn't have to be like this."
Just when she thought she was getting through to him she realized how wrong she was. "Would you have married me if Melisandre and Bran hadn't said we'd have a child?"
"Perhaps," she said softening the truth slightly. "it has strengthened both of our kingdoms and added stability when it was badly needed."
"We've come this far Daenerys," he said finally relaxing. "The damage is done. Now we just need to see it through."
Words failed her. He had a point, but that didn't make it right. Arya's suffering was not something Daenerys would ever take lightly. Watching him prepare to leave she understood that for the first time since they were wed, he wasn't asking her opinion, he wasn't open to convincing, he'd made up his mind and he was going.
"Be careful," she said when she realized any other attempts would fail. "You're not Cersei's favorite person either.
He went to her for another hug and before she knew it was happening, they were kissing. It wasn't passionate or even romantic but when his lips met hers she kissed back, to tell him all the things she couldn't find words for, to apologize for her unreasonable anger and to show him they were going to be okay. "I'll be back soon."
Her thoughts were scattered, so much so that she almost didn't comprehend the implications when she heard her husband speaking from the hall. "She's all yours Tyrion."
R-C
Her two weeks in King's Landing had felt more like a year. In that time, she'd purchased information, listened in shadow, lied, and stole. She created and dismissed no fewer than five strategies for safely extracting the Sand woman and was growing increasingly annoyed with her lack of output.
It would have been simple enough to kill and take a new face, but it wasn't necessary. She'd been gone from this pit a long time and few remained who would remember that Arya Stark once lived in the Hand's Tower. Fewer still would recognize that girl if they came across the woman she'd become.
Gaining entry to the Red Keep wasn't as hard as she expected it to be. Despite Daenerys's nearby presence, King's Landing was largely unaffected. Arya noticed more guards, a lot more, more soldiers, more towers and more patrols. The smiths on the Street of Steel seemed to be working non-stop in preparation for the coming war. As she passed Gendry's former forge she thought of her lost friend. No, getting in was easy, getting out would be the challenge.
In a tavern late one night she heard a drunk telling the man at the next table he'd come from the Westerlands, bringing goods especially for the Queen. He was a bald man with a fringe of white hair just above his ears. He had to have at least fifty summers behind him and had deep blue eyes that reminded her of cheap imitations of the White Walkers Jon talked about. Arya sensed her opening and approached. After a round of drinks were enjoyed in silence she made her move. "You're going to the keep? You're so lucky. I've always wanted to see the inside."
"It's beautiful," the merchant said, "gold everywhere the eye can see. Gold lions in the hall, gold forks for the Queen to eat, golden coal buckets in the royal chambers."
Unless a lot had changed, she knew he was exaggerating, but played her part well. "By the Gods I'd love to see that. Will you tell me about it Ser?" she asked him. "I'll gladly buy you another drink if you'll tell me what it's like."
The old man laughed and waved over a server. "What's your name girl?"
"Lanna," she said, calling on a former identity she used.
"Bren," he said to the waitress. "This is my new friend Lanna and we'd like a couple of drinks." As the dark- haired woman went to fetch the order his blue eyes never left her ass. "Pleasure to meet ya, Lanna, I'm Myran."
"Pleasure's mine Ser."
"So, you wish to know about the Red Keep eh?"
"Oh yes," she said, sounding eager and naive, "more than anything."
R-C
She worked hard to contain her emotions before she turned to face him. "Is there something you need?"
"Just bringing news," Tyrion said.
"Let's have it," she said, waving him in. Truthfully, the distraction would probably be good for her, but she knew Tyrion and knew she wasn't going to get off that easy.
"Word from Pyke," he said, holding out the scroll. When she didn't take it, he side stepped her to place it on the table. "Apparently the Iron Islands are secure enough for Yara to travel. She's coming here with more troops to help us prepare for our wars."
Looking down into his eyes she could see the questions he was dying to ask, but she wasn't in the mood. "Anything else?" she asked, keeping the focus on royal business only.
She knew they were venturing into the personal when his demeanor changed. "About what I overheard…"
She reached up and wiped sweat from her brow, closing her eyes against the rapidly approaching headache. "Not now Tyrion, please," she begged.
"Of course, it's just that… well, I didn't know." There was a pause and she knew that despite his words he wasn't willing to postpone whatever was on his mind. "I wouldn't have…"
"Yes, you would've," she said harder than she meant to. She worked to lighten her tone. "You would've," she tried again, "because that's your job, to look out for our people."
"You could have told me." She knew his issue was with her choice to keep it hidden rather than any feelings she had for Arya. She'd always known he would learn the secret eventually. It was inevitable. "It'd have made things easier to understand."
Her headache arrived. "What would you have me say exactly?" she asked him. "No, I can't marry Jon because I am in love with his sister?" Things were getting out of hand, but she couldn't stop. He wanted to talk, so they were going to. "Should I have told you I hadn't been with Jon for months by the time you pressed the issue of marriage, that from the moment I met Arya I was hers and hers alone?"
He went to the wine cart and poured them each a drink. "I'm sorry Daenerys," he said sincerely. "If I'd known…"
She took the drink and emptied it before bothering to reply. "You'd have told me to marry Jon and keep Arya secret," she predicted.
"Why didn't you?" he wondered, his curiosity evident.
"You clearly don't know Arya."
He shook his head and took a slow sip. "She terrifies me. I'm certain she has plans for how to murder me and dispose of my body."
She gave her Hand a grim smile. She couldn't refute that. "Arya Stark is not the kind of woman to tolerate such an arrangement," Daenerys explained, leaving out the part where she'd asked Arya to do just that.
"And now?" Tyrion prompted. "Your marriage to Jon?"
She went to the cart to refill her glass, bringing the bottle back to save time. "Our marriage is not unlike yours to Sansa I suspect."
The mention of his former wife had Tyrion nearly choking. "I never intended to have a child with Sansa," he corrected, after a cough.
"I suppose it is not the same then." More drinks would be needed if they were going to continue this conversation. "You were with others, while sworn to Sansa, weren't you?"
"Yes," he stated firmly, but Daenerys could see there was more to the story, much more.
"Did you love her, the woman you were with before you were told to marry?"
"Yes," he said again, a mimic of his last reply. The troubled look on his face became even more severe.
"Did she forgive you?" Daenerys couldn't help but ask, "for what you had to do."
Tyrion's hand shook as he poured himself a fresh glass and then emptied it in a single gulp. "That was different."
Any hope Daenerys had managed to delude herself into forming vanished at the obvious denial. "She'll never forgive me," Daenerys complained. "I told her I loved her and then I married her brother. Now she has to return so we can conceive an heir."
By his expression, it was clear Tyrion hadn't overheard that part of her conversation with Jon. "What?"
She shook her head. She really didn't want to have to try and explain it. "It doesn't matter. All that matters, is she'll hate me."
"It's difficult to hate someone you love," he said wisely. "No matter how truly they deserve it."
R-C
It took several rounds of drinks and the promise of more in the future but Myran agreed to allow Lanna to accompany his small group of traders to the Red Keep. In exchange for granting her access, she promised to help him carry in his goods, do all the hard work and obey his every order. These were promises she wouldn't honor, but he didn't need to know that. Once she was inside, it would be relatively easy to slip away and learn where Ellaria was being kept.
She purposely wore her hair down, over her ears and as much of her face as possible, just in case. She didn't trust the guards would let her past without a search, so she left her weapons behind to be retrieved later. If she needed a blade while inside, she'd have to borrow one.
She was an hour early for their agreed upon meeting, but Arya was too afraid he'd go without her to tempt fate. While she waited she sat on the ground, with her legs folded under her. She went back in time. It was an early morning not unlike this, just days after she'd caught Daenerys unable to sleep. They hadn't spoken since. This time it was Daenerys who found her.
Five Months Before the Wedding:
"Something on your mind?" she asked as she took the same spot at the table she'd used before. Arya had chosen it this time because she hoped Daenerys might be back. She wasn't disappointed.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Arya insisted. From their earlier exchange she knew Daenerys was having troubles of her own. The last thing she wanted to do was add to them.
"Tell me anyway."
Arya couldn't hold back her smirk. She was coming to understand that the Dragon was particularly unmovable, despite her small size. Once she set her mind to something it was as if it were etched in stone. If she wanted to know, Arya might as well tell her, she'd save herself both time and aggravation. "Thinking of a friend," she admitted.
Before Daenerys appeared, she'd been thinking about Olenna, specifically how unfair it was that she hadn't lived to see their mission through. As a girl she'd been forced to learn about all the Houses of Westeros and that included the Tyrells. Arya hadn't thought them particularly powerful, then. Wealthy sure, intelligent but not strong. Their army lacked the impressive qualities of a Lannister or Baratheon and their history was empty of the infamous heroes she treasured, like Nymeria who settled Dorne. With age came wisdom and Arya realized there was more than one type of strength. Just as a direct attack wasn't the only way to kill your enemy, a powerful army wasn't the only way to hold power. Lady Olenna was the embodiment of this lesson.
After her admission, Daenerys seemed to misunderstand what wasn't being said. "Arya Stark," she teased lightly, "are you smitten? Is there a boy out there somewhere awaiting your return?"
Was she smitten, perhaps, but she wasn't willing to confess that yet, not even to herself. "Not that kind of friend, your Grace."
"It's Daenerys, remember?"
"I do," she promised.
"So, who were you thinking of it not a love?" Daenerys poked. "Friends from Braavos perhaps or a girlfriend maybe?"
She'd been looking at the table, tracing the grains in the wood with her eyes but at the mention of a possible female lover Arya's head snapped up and she found Daenerys watching her closely, enjoying her discomfort. Arya was out of practice with jokes. As a child, she could rival Theon or Bran, but the years made laughter a luxury she couldn't afford. Now that she was home again, she was struggling to get back to who she'd been, even partially.
Sitting there, staring at the other woman she felt her own face shifting to match Daenerys's. The Queen really did have a beautiful smile. She could see why the line of men infatuated with her seemed to grow longer by the day. Jon, the Mormont, even Tyrion seemed unable to refuse her. The staff of Winterfell, male and female alike were only too eager to do her bidding. Lords, notorious in their opposition to any form of Southern occupation softened their stances after only a few minutes in the Dragon Queen's company.
"I was thinking of a friend who died recently," she said. "She was a friend of yours as well, as I hear it."
At this revelation Daenerys's eyebrow lifted. "Is that so? I believe all the friends we share are here."
"The surviving one's are."
"Who do you mean?" she wondered.
"Lady Olenna."
The flicker of emotions was fast, so fast she almost missed them. First there was recognition, then something akin to happiness and finally sadness. The pain remained, and Arya knew that it was true what she heard. Daenerys really did care for her allies. They weren't tools to be manipulated for her purposes. They were people and friends. "You knew Lady Tyrell?"
"I did." It wasn't an accident she stopped then. She wasn't quite sure how much of the past she was ready to share with Daenerys, or how much Daenerys might want to hear.
"Did you meet her in King's Landing when you were a girl?" she asked, answering at least half of Arya's doubts.
"No," she said, deciding to tell the truth. Daenerys had been open with her, about her past and her hopes for the future. The least Arya could do was try and do the same. Like humor, truth was something that no longer came easy, but she found herself willing to try. "I didn't meet Olenna until after."
"After?" Daenerys verified. "You told me last time we spoke you were in Braavos after your father was killed."
"I was, that's where Lady Olenna found me." She nearly left it at that but decided to give a little more. "The Many Faced God has needs beyond Braavos. I trained there, but I travelled as well."
She expected condemnation when Daenerys realized she meant her work as an assassin. Typically, Ladies frowned upon that as an occupational choice, but Daenerys showed only a flicker of surprise and absolutely no judgement or critic.
"So how did you come to know Olenna?"
They had reached a crossroads. Arya could lie or tell the truth. If she told the truth, she'd be telling Daenerys something no other living soul knew. The secret of her participation in the murder of a King died with Olenna. No one would ever have to know, unless Arya decided to reveal it. It was a shockingly easy choice to make. "I provided the poison she used to murder King Joffrey."
R-C
"Eager huh?" Myran laughed when he saw her there. Along with his cart of goods, there were three others, two men and a woman. Introductions were made all around. "I understand. I couldn't wait to get inside my first time. Ready then?" She got up and dusted off her pants before she joined in with the others helping organize the cart.
"Absolutely," she said, meaning it. The sooner she could leave this place, the better.
R-C
Author's Note: Thanks to the people who have stuck around. Next up Arya attempts another rescue and we've got a flashback from just before the wedding.