Night fell as she sat next to Sansa, sipping wine Podrick brought them at his Queen's request. Sana looked good, better than the last time she'd seen her, in the days after Jon's death. She appeared to need a restful sleep but given the circumstances that could be forgiven. She didn't know it yet, but Sansa needn't worry any longer. Arya would rid the world of all who opposed her.
Sansa peppered her with questions while Brienne guarded the door to ensure they weren't disturbed. It was understandable that Sansa had a lot to ask about. Where she'd been, how she escaped and how she'd survived, were just some of her inquires. Each time she broached an uncomfortable topic the assassin had a lie on the tip of her tongue. The Faceless Men had taught her more than murder. She mastered lying too. Strangely she found she didn't want to lie to Sansa, even if it was for her own good. The truth was ugly. Was it best for Sansa to hear a compelling story in which Arya hadn't struggled or suffered?
She relied on vague half-truths and expertly timed questions of her own to steer Sansa away from the worst of it. Where she'd been? Everywhere. She freely told Sansa about the places she'd seen, places her sister had only read about in books. She avoided mention of what she'd been doing. Explaining she travelled the world killing strangers for her newfound God was a detail for later, if ever.
How had she survived? With help. She thought of long ago and the people who'd kept a wild Wolf alive when she had no one else. Syrio who faced Lannister guards with only a wooden sword to facilitate her escape. Yoren who smuggled her from the city. Hot Pie and Gendry who were her friends when she was alone had no others and of course Jaqen who taught her that service and death could be one in the same.
How had she survived? That was more complicated. "After I met Brienne, I left Westeros," she summarized, looking toward the door to see the woman from Tarth listening intently. "I travelled to Braavos."
"Why?" Sansa asked. "Why didn't you go with Brienne?"
"I needed to learn," she said, minimizing just how much Jaqen had had to teach the unruly girl she'd been.
"Learn what?"
"The sword for one." For the first time since they sat down, she told the truth without leaving anything out. "I wanted to learn to kill all the people who wronged us, wronged our family."
"Did you?" the Queen asked tentatively.
She nodded. "When I came back, I started at the Twins." She leaned closer as she recalled Walder Frey's gruesome death. Even years removed from that night it brought a smile to her face. "Before the end he knew who I was and why he was going to die, for mother, for Robb and everyone else."
Sansa had been taking a sip of her wine while Arya confessed. She sputtered and struggled to keep from spitting, swallowing awkwardly. She wiped a droplet of sweet liquid from the edge of her lower lip with her hand. "T…that was you?"
It took a moment for Sansa to make sense of what she was learning about her sister but when the pieces came together, she was angry. "That was years ago! You've been back for that long?!" Her accusations had Sansa red faced and glaring at the younger woman. Arya was glad Sansa didn't give her a chance to respond. She couldn't very well tell Sansa she'd spent time with her wearing other faces. That would only make things worse. "Why are you back now?"
Seeing Sansa so mad at her, reminded Arya of a simpler time when they shared a home, and a room. Some things never changed. She waited for her to settle before she said, "I heard you're having trouble. I came to help."
"Help?" Sansa shouted. "You're kidding right? Do you have any idea what's happened? Jon's dead! Rickon's dead. Bran's dead! I've been alone all this time and you decide to come and help now?"
She reached out and took her sister's hand. She didn't want to fight. "I know. I mourn them too, everyday."
Her anger was dying out to be replaced with hurt. "But you didn't come back."
"I was no use to you here," she admitted honestly. "You're the Lady Stark, not me. You're the Queen. That was never who I was."
"What are you saying?"
She smiled knowingly at the Northern royal. "I couldn't help you lead Sansa. I can't help you make policy or sway nobles. I can do a lot, but not that."
"But you can help me now? You can help me hold Winterfell against whoever is doing this to us?"
"I can and I will."
"Well I don't need your help," Sansa said bitterly. She crossed her arms over her chest and pinned Arya with a disapproving look that reminded her of their mother. "The Queen is sending troops. They'll arrive any day."
Arya was relieved. She knew she could count on Dany. "The Unsullied are good, better than good even, but there are things I can do that they can't. Dany's men…"
When she was interrupted, she expected Sansa to resist the notion that she capable of anything trained soldiers weren't. She hadn't caught her misstep. It was a novice mistake. "Dany?"
She removed the emotions. "Dany, Daenerys, the Targaryen, the Dragon Queen, the one you bent the knee to."
"I've never heard anyone call her Dany," Sansa provided helpfully. Arya couldn't let her learn the truth, they had other matters to contend with first.
"Whatever we call her, her men don't know the North. They'll need someone to lead them."
It would go against Sansa's instincts to put Arya in danger, but this wasn't up for debate. She hadn't come to Winterfell and put on her own face to stay behind the walls while others risked their lives. One look at Sansa and she knew she didn't plan to back down either.
The test of wills between siblings was delayed by Podrick's arrival. This time he wasn't bringing wine, only news. "Lady Starks, word has come from one of the scouts. A large group of the Targaryen's freed men are marching North. They should arrive tomorrow if the weather holds."
"Thank you Podrick," Sansa said kindly.
The squire ducked his head and retreated. Of all those she'd seen so far, it was Podrick Payne who changed most since her last day in Winterfell. Then, Brienne had been training him tirelessly to craft him into a capable swordsman. From his walk and posture alone Arya could tell she succeeded.
Sansa turned back to her sister as soon as Pod was gone. "See, soldiers will be in Winterfell tomorrow." Surely, she knew Arya well enough to know that wouldn't be enough to change her mind.
In the interest of keeping the peace, Arya bargained. "I'll wait until the Unsullied get here before I go out hunting.," she said, "but I am going." She let Sansa come to terms with that fact before she asked, "Can you tell me what you know?"
R-C
The situation was far worse than Arya thought it would be. She'd been wondering the whole way North what could be so bad it would compel Sansa to seek Southern aid. Now she knew.
After she'd heard from Sansa, she tracked down Podrick, Brienne and a handful of the men who'd managed to return alive. Little was known beyond the obvious. People were disappearing. She heard plenty of theories from bandits to slavers to Wildlings, but something just didn't feel right. When she confirmed that only Stark soldiers were missing Arya knew this was more serious than bandits.
She returned to Sansa with her conclusion. "Keep the gate sealed and bring as many people inside as you can."
The Queen was immediately on edge. "Why? What did you find?"
"I know some think it's animals or creatures from beyond the Wall but it's not," she said. "I saw signs of fighting on the way in and there were no bodies, no discarded shields or dropped weapons, just blood on the ground."
"Are you sure?"
"It's not slavers, bandits or thieves either," she continued. "Brienne tells me no other Northern House is having similar problems."
"They aren't," Sansa confirmed. "I wrote to each of them when the second group went missing." She was done and then for whatever reason chose to justify her wise action to Arya further. "I needed to warn them."
She nodded to show Sansa she understood. "It was good thinking, but none of them reported anything."
"I found it strange," she lamented, "but I considered it good fortune more castles weren't plagued by the same torments."
"Slavers would take anyone and everyone they could get their hands on," Arya supplied, getting them back on track. "They wouldn't limit themselves to a single town or area."
"Bandits then?"
"Bandits, even well-organized ones would leave the bodies where they fell. They wouldn't take them. Same is true of thieves."
"Perhaps that means the men are still alive," Sansa guessed, her worried tone laced with hope.
"You've received no ransom demands. If it's kidnapping why wait? It's been weeks."
"What are you saying?" Sansa snapped, reaching her limit.
She wished she could give the worried Queen some good news, but she had surprisingly little. "Someone is targeting Stark troops and Winterfell, this is about us."
It took several long seconds for Sansa to reply. When she did, she threw up her hands. "It never ends. Cersei's dead, Ramsay's dead, Frey's dead and people are still after us. We're cursed." She mumbled the last few words into her hands as she covered her face.
"I'm going to fix this," Arya promised.
She tensed. "Arya if you're right, they're after Starks. You can't go out there."
"Arya Stark died a long time ago," she said with no feeling. "No one else knows I'm alive."
"You need to be careful, whatever this is, people are dying."
"I know," she confirmed. "That's why I need to help. It's what father would do, or Robb or Jon. I need to protect you, protect our home, protect our people."
R-C
It wasn't a coincidence that Arya challenged Podrick to a sparring match within view of where Sansa was standing. The sun was shining brightly, and Arya thought it prudent to teach Sansa once and for all that she could take care of herself.
Twice already she'd tried to convince Arya to remain in Winterfell while someone else escorted the Unsullied in search of the missing men. It would have been easy enough to sneak out, whether Sansa ordered her to stay or not, but she was attempting to minimize her sister's worry, aware it came from a good place.
"Want to spar?" Arya proposed, coming up from behind while Podrick practiced his form on a training dummy.
He was taken aback enough to put a wave in his blade's typically smooth stroke. "Y…you wish to train La…Lady Stark?"
She nodded. "It's been a while since I've had the chance."
He was unsure of the proper course and took a look around in hopes of guidance. Brienne and Sansa were together, above them, too far away to hear the details of the conversation. They were with the Maester, his wife and son. Although she didn't know his name Arya recognized him as a friend of Jon's. Sansa had given him a place in Winterfell after the Night King was defeated. "Are you certain? I could find someone else…"
She didn't want someone else. She needed to spar with someone Sansa respected. It was the only way to give Sansa confidence in her abilities. "You'll do fine."
He wasn't convinced. "Lady Stark…"
"Is up there," Arya said using Needle to point to the balcony. She'd let it pass the first time but wanted to break the habit quickly. She was no Lady Stark.
"Arya…"
"One match." Her hand flashed out. The blow was hard, but accurate, hitting Podrick's blade and not him. "Come on," she encouraged.
He hissed and shook out his sword-arm. She smirked wickedly, hoping to entice him into the sport. It worked. He readied his blade and Arya's smirk spread to a full grin.
They circled one another slowly. She guessed Podrick still wasn't ready to take a swing at a Stark, so she went first. She didn't try to miss exactly, but she wasn't using all her talents either.
When Podrick's sword finally came at her she danced away with a little more flourish than was strictly necessary. This was fun. It had been too long since she'd gotten to do this. She could feel the eyes on her.
The differences in their bodies and swords forced them to approach the match differently. Given Needle's narrow design, it couldn't contend with Pod's broad steel sword directly. She needed to use finesse and speed if she was going to best him. On the other hand, he could deflect her attacks easily with brute force.
She let Podrick lead. He swung for her arm, without much enthusiasm. She didn't move until the last possible instant. She retreated just before his sword collided with where she'd been standing. Her first attempt went for his head, trying to motivate him to give the fight his all.
Podrick ducked to avoid being cut. She took another purposeful step back while Pod stalked closer. Swinging again she was able to keep his eyes on her sword and off her feet. While he was distracted, she tripped him as soon as he got too close. He recovered well but the stumble was all she needed. She moved around him and again made him chase her. He brought his sword around an instant after his body and she was ready for him. Needle slapped against the inside of his wrist, striking the steel guard he was wearing with a satisfying clinking sound. She grinned at him wickedly as it dawned on him how skilled she was.
He tried harder then, no longer fearing he'd hurt her. Around and around they went. It took longer than she would have guessed to create and exploit an opening. Brienne really was a fine tutor. The match was so exciting that when it was over several of the onlookers clapped. Podrick was breathing heavily, smiling despite his defeat. He bent to pick up the sword he'd dropped just before Arya claimed victory. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that."
"You're better than I thought too," she told him truthfully.
He blushed, looking much younger. She remembered why she'd started the match to begin with. On the balcony Sansa and Brienne were speaking quietly, although both were looking at her. Good, she'd been seen.
"Thanks," Podrick said, reminding her he was still there.
"Same time tomorrow," she proposed. He nodded and from the corner of her eye she saw Sansa leave to go inside. Brienne remained. "Excuse me," she said to Podrick. She met Brienne at the base of the stairs. "Where did Sansa go?"
"She'd like to see you."
"How angry is she?" she wondered.
"Not angry exactly," Brienne corrected, "a little confused." They were going through the doors when she asked, "Who taught you to do that?"
"No One," she said with a private smile.
R-C
She had retired to her tent. The day was largely wasted as heavy rains forced them to make camp early. For Daenerys, who was already thinking about Arya, the rain provided an intense reminder. Whether it was a downpour or a sprinkling, rain always brought one particular night to the forefront of her mind. She ate dinner in her tent, alone with her thoughts.
By the time she was growing tired, she'd given up on trying to focus on anything that wasn't Arya. She crawled under the covers, rested her head on the pillow and went back weeks.
It started when she was comfortable in her bed, in the Red Keep, with an open book across her lap. Try as she might, the words of some dead author detailing the histories of prominent Westerosi families did little to hold her interest. Her attention went to the rain falling outside her window and stayed there. The storm had come on quickly, just after dinner. She'd been outside when the first surge of lightning lit the sky. The clouds opened in the next instant causing Daenerys and Missandei to sprint for cover to keep from getting soaked.
She worried about Arya as a rumble of thunder felt close enough to shake her bed. Arya's camp lacked even the most basic protection from the elements. She didn't have a tent or any other way to stay dry. 'Arya could take care of herself,' was the mantra she'd been repeating constantly to subdue her panic but as the rain continued Daenerys was becoming less convinced.
Would she be out in the Kingswood tonight? Would she seek shelter at an inn or tavern given the conditions outdoors? Arya was a smart woman, she'd have a strategy for nights when the weather was uncooperative. At least Daenerys hoped she did. She looked with renewed purpose to her book repeating the words she saw in her head. When she got to the end of the page, she'd read every word without retaining any of them. With an annoyed huff she slammed the book closed. She set it on the bedside table next to a half-burned candle.
Her eyes closed and she tried to command her body to sleep. Deep breaths slowed her pounding heart and calmed her nerves. She thought she was getting somewhere. Her eyes were heavy, her muscles slack and her mind empty of her worries. She might have slipped into a dream if the room hadn't been brightened by a sudden flash of lightening and an almost immediate surge of thunder. Suddenly she was wide awake and unwilling to sleep. She couldn't leave Arya alone in this rain, she wouldn't.
Unwilling to waste time, Daenerys dressed in the same clothes she'd worn that day, picking them from the pile that was due to be cleaned in the morning. It took her several minutes of rummaging around in the closet to find the cloak lined with fur she'd had made before her first trip to the North. It wouldn't be as cold as it had been beyond the Wall, but too much protection was better than not enough. When she was ready, she stopped and went back to the desk, scrounging for gold. She collected enough to rent Arya any room in King's Landing. Daenerys would invite her back to the castle, but she'd need a secondary plan in the event Arya was unreceptive to her offer.
Ready to go she turned for the door and was halted before she could really begin. "Going somewhere?" Arya asked, amused.
Daenerys hadn't heard the door, or any footsteps. She could have blamed the rain for drowning them out, but that would have been disingenuous. There was no question Arya had been out in the rain for a long time. Her hair was dark and flat, with beads of rain water trickling down onto her face. Her clothes dripped carelessly onto the floor, forming a puddle under her. Daenerys had been right to be concerned. She wasn't wearing a jacket, just a drenched blue shirt and black pants. When she stepped Daenerys heard her boot squeak. How had she not heard Arya coming? What was hardest to ignore though was the expression on her face. She was grinning like it was her nameday.
"Going out to play in the rain, your Grace?" Arya jested when Daenerys couldn't fashion a reply.
That did it. She reached out, grabbed Arya's wrist and pulled her toward the largest brazier in the room. The chill she felt when her warm hand came in contact with Arya's wet skin propelled her faster. "By the Gods, you're frozen!"
Her smile didn't falter. "It's just a little water," she said dismissively. "Where were you going?"
Did she truly not know? "I was coming to make sure you didn't drown or freeze in the KIngswood!" Daenerys exclaimed. "You'll catch your death if you stay out there tonight!" Arya's casual approach to all of this was unsettling. She shouldn't be the only one concerned about Arya's health. "Get undressed!" she instructed forcefully. "I'll find you some warm clothes."
She pulled firmly to try and guide the dripping woman to the fire, but she stood her ground and wouldn't budge. "I didn't come here to warm up Dany."
She didn't? Looking at her, it was hard to imagine Arya wasn't searching the capitol city for any place she might find shelter. If she'd been thinking clearly, she might have been flattered by the fact that Arya chose the Red Keep, with her, over the other options. "Arya, I'm serious. Warm yourself, before I send for the Maester."
"There is nothing wrong with me," Arya retorted. "I didn't come for your royal protection, Dany, I came to see if you wished to join me."
"Join you doing what?" she spit out harshly before she could catch the words. "Arya it's a downpour out there. Anyone in their right mind is inside, next to a fire."
Instead of offending her, her proclamation only strengthened Arya's unique point of view. "Exactly. You've been in King's Landing for years, right?" She didn't answer, because it wasn't a serious question. Arya knew well, she had. She waited to hear what nonsense came next. "How many times have you seen the streets empty? How many times have you walked and been the only person your eye could see?" She was struggling to keep up with Arya's excited message. The city was always busy, so what? "Tonight, on the way here," she said, "I passed only a handful of other people. Two men running for their homes, and a few of your guards, but that's it."
"So?"
She held out her hand in invitation. "Come with me. See your city in a way I promise you never have before."
Was she serious? She wanted Daenerys to go out there just because the streets were nearly empty? She was going to refuse, emphatically, until she saw what she could only describe as hope in Arya's eyes and it caused her to hesitate. She really wanted Daenerys to join her. She'd come all the way from the Kingswood, not for shelter but to invite Daenerys on a strange outing. "You came all the way here to get me, for this?" she asked, already knowing the answer. She made a sincere effort to take the sting out of her words.
Arya's grin didn't shrink an inch. She nodded proudly. "It's no fun playing in the rain alone," she noted seriously. "When I was a girl, I had my brothers to play with, now I have you."
That was an odd compliment, but in truth, everything about this was odd. Not even in her youth did Daenerys play in the rain nor wish to. When the sky opened up, she preferred to be inside, next to a fire. That hadn't changed as she got older, so why was she considering this? "Only for a few minutes," she said in resignation. Arya's triumphant expression made her make another point perfectly clear. "I'm not doing this so we can play in the rain Arya! I wish to see the streets empty as you described, that's all."
"Whatever you say, your Grace," Arya said with a childish laugh. As soon as Daenerys took her hand the taller woman was pulling her out the door. Before they were outside, she heard the hard-falling rain. She was glad she'd gotten her cloak before she engaged in this madness. What in the name of the Gods was she thinking?
She hated to admit it, even to herself, but Arya had a point. There was a certain serenity to the streets of King's Landing when they were quiet. When she spotted the first of her guard, Daenerys turned her face away and pulled up her hood to keep her identity secret. Enough rumors were whispered about her already, she didn't need to spark more.
Arya ran down the center of the street, twirling dramatically, with her palms up, and her face tilted toward the sky. Daenerys's only condition when she agreed was that they avoid Flea Bottom, where she knew rain caused the gutters to overflow with waste. There were limits to even the Queen's generosity.
Arya was reveling in the empty market. Daenerys was much more interested in her companion. She tried to be annoyed that she'd been coaxed out of her warm bed, but it was a difficult façade to maintain. Once her clothes became thoroughly soaked the rain didn't bother her so much, and after about twenty minutes Arya returned from five steps ahead and took her place at Daenerys's side. She was cold, and wet, but Daenerys felt only warmth when Arya's arm wrapped around her. "Aren't you glad you aren't missing this?" she asked, her child-like grin still in place.
Daenerys smiled along. The empty streets were unique but that wasn't what kept her there. Seeing Arya so free, so joyous was what prevented her from returning home. She held her arm out suggestively toward what was usually a busy corner. It was deserted. Daenerys's focus didn't go past Arya's gorgeous rain-streaked face. "Yes, I am," she admitted.
Thunder echoed and startled her. She wasn't scared exactly, just surprised. Arya responded by holding her a little bit tighter. A totally worthwhile trade in the Queen's opinion.
Another block up, they came upon a tavern. She paid it little mind until Arya's steps slowed and she guided Daenerys inside. The room was bright, but more empty than full. A few patrons sat at tables, while one serving girl rushed around to tend to them all. Behind the counter a man with light brown hair and a burn scar on his cheek prepared the drinks. She'd been here before and remembered it filled to the limit. It seemed the rain kept all but the sincerest drinkers away. She savored the way the tavern's walls protected her from the wind, and how she wasn't being pelted by fresh raindrops. She took a step toward the fire and Arya moved with her. She used the back of her hand to clear away some of the excess water. Every eye in the room was suddenly on them, though Arya didn't care. Did they recognize her? This wasn't the tavern where Arya wrestled the snakes. She couldn't expect to go undiscovered. Arya pressed a kiss to Daenerys's temple and then released her. "Go sit in the corner," she said using her chin to direct her to the right one. "Keep your hood up until you get there, and I'll get you something to warm you up." Her eyes were lit by wickedness. "Rum or wine tonight?"
"Rum," she declared at once. Wine might taste better, but the rum promised a warmth that Daenerys desperately craved.
"Good choice," Arya commented before she sent her lover in the opposite direction.
It hadn't been random that Arya chose that table. Sitting there, she was facing the backs of almost everyone in the room. It drastically decreased the chances any of them would realize who she was. She sighed in contentment as the nearby brazier began to heat her back to a reasonable temperature. Seeing Arya approach so gracefully with a drink in each hand and a smirk on her lips, raised the heat even more.
She set the glasses down. "Here you go," she said as she prepared to take the seat across from Daenerys's.
She knew the dangers. It was possible, if not likely that someone in the tavern had recognized her already. If they did, they also saw her cuddling to Arya's side when they entered. The kiss she pressed to Daenerys's head was gentle and brief but not secretive. If she'd been identified rumors about the Queen's newest consort would begin tomorrow, rain or shine. She didn't want Arya to have to endure that, but it was equally unappealing to have her lover seated so far away from her. Choosing which was least offensive didn't take as long as it should've. "You won't be able to keep me warm from all the way over there," Daenerys said, moving her chair to make room beside her.
"Are you sure?" Arya asked. Daenerys knew her concern wasn't for herself. She was worried for Daenerys. It was sweet to be fretted over, but the risks were acceptable. The rain had Arya's thin clothes clinging to her body and without the rain to keep her attention it was becoming difficult for Daenerys not to stare.
She shrugged out of her cloak. "Positive," she assured her. To emphasize her point she picked up her glass of rum and took a healthy sip.
"You're playing with fire Daenerys," Arya said playfully as she sat next to the Queen and settled in.
Arya's teasing had her smiling too. She was cold and she was wet, but she didn't care in the least. She had Arya and that was better than a night alone in her warm bed. "I think I'll survive."
The morning would bring business of the Realm and she'd need to be rested and focused. That's why she told herself she was only staying for a single drink. Just long enough to enjoy Arya's company before they returned to the rain for the walk back to the castle. It was a good plan, if a bit naive. When her glass was empty, she convinced herself two drinks wouldn't be so bad, and then three. Arya kept her laughing and smiling as they drank. She'd never had anyone notice the way her hair looked when it was dripping rainwater onto the tabletop before, but Arya somehow made it sound like a genuine compliment. They held hands under the table and Dany forgot why she'd ever want to be somewhere else. Her night had not gone according to plan, but since meeting Arya she learned just how pleasant that could be. She emptied the rum from her glass for the third time and set it down, feeling more than a little drunk.
Arya was drinking slower, more interested in keeping Daenerys amused than getting intoxicated. She held Daenerys's empty hand under the table, resting it in her lap. Miraculously she kept her thumb moving in lazy circles around the back of Daenerys's hand, without missing a single opening in their lively discussion.
Was it the rum, her unending passion for the Northern woman, or her interest in remaining warm? Daenerys couldn't say for certain but why she'd done it wasn't important enough to dwell on. She slipped her hand from Arya's and immediately placed it on the top of her nearest leg.
That got a response from Arya as she was regaling Daenerys with a tale from her childhood. "I should have known better than to challenge him," she was saying. "My brother could climb anything, no matte…"
Grey eyes studied her as Daenerys licked her smiling upper lip slowly. She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Your brother what?" Daenerys prompted as she began to massage the firm muscle under her hand.
Her eyes were almost fully closed now, and Daenerys could tell her breathing had sped up. "My brother could climb anything, no matter how high," she continued. Her words were rough, and Daenerys enjoyed being the reason why.
"Aww did Arya lose a race to her brother?" she pouted playfully. "Poor baby." Her mocking caused Arya to resist. She sat up a little straighter, opened her eyes again and worked to block out Daenerys's touch. "I'll make you feel better," she promised deviously as she lifted out of her chair to claim Arya's lips. She knew anyone looking in their direction could see. Perhaps they knew who she was, perhaps not, it didn't matter. The kiss was hot, and hungry, designed to drive Arya wild. Under the table she was increasing her efforts too. Her hand had begun closer to her knee than her waist but now it was stroking across the inside of Arya's thigh openly, pressing the wet material of her pants into her flesh. With every pass of her fingers she grazed Arya's crotch. The more often it happened the harder Arya had to fight to remain in control. She was defiant. Unwilling to submit and that was fine with Dany because she was enjoying their game too much to stop.
On the outside she was relaxed, unaffected by the woman next to her. Inside was a different story. She may have been the one that started this, but Arya wasn't the only one enjoying it. Her self-restraint was tested when Arya opened her legs wider, wordlessly giving Daenerys access to what she wanted. It would have been so easy to open her pants, cup her hot center directly and make Arya moan for her. She couldn't. Not because people might see, but because she refused to give Arya the satisfaction. All too clearly, she could picture how wet, warm and swollen Arya's lips would be. She was very familiar with how they'd clench around her fingers as she neared her climax. Daenerys wanted to feel that more than anything, but not until Arya relented. To her, it was entirely worth the risk of falling asleep on the throne tomorrow if staying there all night caused Arya to break.
"I should get us another drink," Arya said, finishing off her rum in a greedy gulp.
Daenerys wouldn't let her get away that easy. "I'm not thirsty anymore," Daenerys replied seductively, moving her hand just a fraction closer to the center of Arya's thighs, "but thank you for the offer."
"I…am…" Arya insisted as Daenerys applied a little more pressure between her legs.
Arya's commitment was impressive. Dany would have been a quivering mess by now if the roles were reversed. "I have rum in my chamber," she said, the implication clear. "Don't you want to get out of your wet clothes?" She leaned close enough to let Arya feel her breath against her ear and asked, "Don't you want to get me out of my wet clothes?"
"I'm not that cold, actually," she said. If she didn't know her so well, she might have believed her.
"Come on," Daenerys encouraged, finally putting her hand directly over Arya's pussy and squeezing it. She bucked her hips into her touch and kept them there. Daenerys sensed her impending victory. "Give in and we can go someplace quiet where you can make me scream."
"Fuck it!" Arya decided roughly. She was out of the chair before the words were done, bringing Daenerys with her.
"Thank the Gods," Dany hissed as Arya all but dragged her from the tavern out into the rain.
R-C
As she was coming to the end of her memory Missandei's voice reached her from outside the tent's opening. "Are you awake, your Grace?"
Sleep wouldn't come easy with Arya on her mind, so she saw no reason to send Missandei away, or let her linger in the rain. "Come inside before you freeze," she prompted.
Missandei came in and shook off the rain, mindful not to dampen anything significant. Daenerys separated her two blankets and then passed one to her friend. "Come in and warm up."
"Couldn't sleep?" Missandei inquired as she shivered and pulled the blanket up to the very bottom of her chin.
"Not so much. We'll be in Winterfell in a few days, maybe it'll be easier then."
"Are you worrying about Arya?"
She didn't want to consider how Missandei knew that. Was she that transparent? "I just wish I could have told her where I was going before we left," Daenerys said sadly. That was part of what had been keeping her mind occupied. The other part, and specifically why she'll think of Arya every time she hears a thunderstorm, that was a little too personal for Daenerys to share with anyone, even Missandei.
"When you get back to King's Landing, think of how happy she'll be to see you." She gave the Queen a moment to imagine what she was proposing and then added, "It's said that distance makes one's feeling stronger."
Rather than focus solely on her relationship, Daenerys saw an opening to change the subject. "Does that work when Grey Worm is away?" It was a serious question, but she said it with a teasing tone.
"I'm always pleased when he returns," she said diplomatically. Her words may have sounded innocent enough, her face gave her away. "I realized I loved him when he was away," she remarked.
"When?" Daenerys pressed with interest. She knew that Missandei loved Grey Worm, and he her, but she had never heard this before.
She slouched down slightly to cover more of her body with the blanket. "When he went beyond the Wall to fight the White Walkers. That's when I couldn't deny it anymore."
"What do you mean?" Daenerys had been present for the progression of Missandei's relationship. She didn't recall a time when she was actively fighting against her feelings.
"I told myself I cared about him," Missandei explained, with a smile. "He was important to me, but I resisted calling it 'love'. I'd never been in love before, I didn't know if what I felt for him was love or not."
Daenerys listened. That was a very mature way for Missandei to assess her emotions. Daenerys couldn't claim she'd ever been quite so logical, or methodical about any of her romances. "What changed?"
"He went North of the Wall with Jon Snow and a bunch of those Wildlings," she reminded the Queen. "It was the first battle of the war."
"I remember," Daenerys assured her. She had been on Drogon's back that day. The fighting had been fierce.
"We spent the night together before he left. I wished him well. He told me I was his reason for fighting," she continued, wearing a private smile that left no doubt the love was real.
"What did you say?"
"I told him that he made me happier than I had ever been."
"But not that you loved him?" Daenerys clarified.
She shook her head. "I didn't think I did."
"So, when did you realize it?" It took weeks before the survivors, including Grey Worm made it back to Winterfell.
"The first night he was gone," she said quietly, looking down into her lap and staring blankly. "One of the Northmen propositioned me."
Daenerys couldn't believe she'd never heard any of this before. "What?!"
Missandei went on, uninterrupted by the yell. "He thought with Grey Worm gone I'd be in need of companionship."
"Who was it?" Daenerys asked. They would be in Winterfell soon, and the Dragon wanted to have words with whoever dared assume Missandei would just climb into bed with him like that.
"I don't know," she said, "I didn't ask, and I don't think he told me, but what his offer made me realize is that I didn't want anyone else. Not that night, or any night. Whether Grey Worm came back, was maimed or killed, I knew right then he was the only one I wanted."
"That's incredible," she said accurately. "You never told me."
"When you returned you had much more important things to worry about."
"I was planning the war, and you were busy making up for lost time with Grey Worm," Daenerys joked. "I remember him smiling a lot."
They giggled together, and Daenerys could see the unconditional love on Missandei's face. Just talking about Grey Worm brought it forward and made it impossible to overlook. Given how hard the early part of her life had been, Daenerys was happy Missandei had found someone she could share her life with.
"I've noticed you haven't taken anyone into your bed to keep you warm since we left King's Landing," Missandei said with all the subtlety of a Dothrak. Daenerys could see now that telling her about her own feelings was a path to lead their conversation to Arya. This was the second time since they left King's Landing Missandei had brought up her feelings for Arya, like this.
She gave the former slave an incredulous look. "The person I wish to share my bed with isn't here."
"The one person," Missandei amended.
"Yes Missandei, the one person," she said, rolling her eyes.
She squirmed under her blanket in an obvious attempt to get warm. "You could be forgiven, if you didn't want to be alone. We don't know how long we'll be in the North, and you shouldn't have to freeze just because Arya couldn't join us."
The thought of taking anyone other than Arya into her bed was unappealing to say the least. "I'll be fine," she insisted a little too firmly, "and I won't freeze, I have the blood of a dragon remember."
"So, you're saying that if Arya were here, you wouldn't spend the night cuddled up to her?"
The Queen wished she had a mirror close, so she could see if the smirk she felt on her lips resembled the one Arya made look so effortless and sexy. "I'm saying," she corrected, "that if Arya were here, the cold wouldn't be my priority."
They laughed again, the same way they had when it was Missandei's romantic life they were dissecting.
"Sometimes when I go to your chamber, the bed is unused. When that happens, I know you're with Arya and I make up excuses to keep the others from wondering where you are. "
Daenerys hadn't realized Missandei had been doing that for her. It wasn't surprising though. There was nothing Missandei wouldn't do for those she cared about. "Thank you, I didn't mean to put you in such a difficult place. I don't want you to have to lie for me."
"It's for a good cause," Missandei said with conviction. "Love is worth a few small lies."
Daenerys was conflicted. A large part of her wanted to accept Missandei's words and bask in the conclusion that Arya loved her, but doubts remained. Why would a woman like Arya choose her? It wasn't for the power, she didn't want any of that, so why? Could she feel strongly enough to be willing to tolerate all the things that came along with the Queen? "She's never said anything."
"Maybe she couldn't say so in words."
If Missandei was right and Arya did love her, what should she do? She was still a Queen. Being in love with the Targaryen would be complicated. There were times when no matter how badly she wanted to be with Arya, business of the Realm would need to come first. How could Arya accept that, how could anyone? Possibly more important, even if Arya was willing, didn't she deserve better?
"What should I do?" she asked, imploring her friend to help.
"What do you want?"
Daenerys tried to objectively look at the evidence. She cared about Arya a great deal, she missed her when they were apart. She thought of her almost constantly and yet she hesitated to call it 'love'.
"What about this scares you?" Missandei asked when Daenerys wasn't forthcoming with a reply.
"I can't love Arya," Daenerys told her, "what we have is great, but it can't last. Sooner or later she'll tire of coming second to the Realm, and she'll leave."
Daenerys had feared that day since her reunion with Arya at the tourney. If she was being honest, she expected it would have happened already. She wasn't perfect, and she'd make more mistakes in the future, no matter how hard she tried not to.
"I think she accepts you for who you are. She stayed after she saw you at your worst, why would she leave now?"
Daenerys wanted to believe that, but she lacked Missandei's optimism. Life hadn't been kind to her. The last time she was brave enough to love someone it ended badly, for him, and for her. When she was pregnant with Drogo's son, she thought she had everything she could ever want. Then it was all stolen from her. Childish as her logic might be, she didn't want to love anything if that was the result. She couldn't go through that again. She didn't think she'd survive it a second time. Proof existed to counter her argument, Missandei and Grey Worm for example were better together than separate but Daenerys feared she'd never be so lucky.
"She's not going to stay forever," she predicted, saddened by the mere thought of Arya going.
"Perhaps she will," Missandei countered, "if she has a reason."
Daenerys wasn't so sure. How much longer could she expect Arya to tolerate all the things she hated about Daenerys's life. When It ended between them it was going to hurt. Did she really want to make it worse?
"I'm already in deep enough," she admitted, more to herself than her advisor.
"Do you think it'll hurt less, just because you never said the word?" Missandei wondered.
She cut right through all Dany's crowded, disorganized excuses. She dropped the pendant she'd been twisting and gaped at Missandei with her mouth hanging open dumbly.
"It is still love, even if we call it something different," she continued in that deceptively gentle way of hers.
Missandei's arguments were always wise beyond her years. She thought of how she would lay awake in Arya's arms and dread the start of the day that would force them apart. She thought of how seeing Arya smile and being the cause would make her feel lighter. She remembered with clarity how every day she didn't see Arya felt longer and more challenging than the days she did. She'd been trying so hard to justify why she couldn't fall in love with Arya that Daenerys missed the moment she did. The realization that it was already too late made her worries meaningless. She loved Arya.
Solving one problem led to another – telling her. She didn't even know when she'd see Arya again. Would she ever see her again? It could be months before she returned to King's Landing, maybe Arya would have given up on her by then?
If there was a silver-lining to that cloud it was that Daenerys would have plenty of time to decide how she wanted to tell Arya of this new development. She could practice what she'd say or imagine different ways to let her know. Hopefully by the time she returned to the South, she'd have the perfect one selected. If she was going to confess her love to a woman like Arya, it needed to be special.
Missandei was quiet as Daenerys came to terms with things. Once she had, she picked up where she left off. "I for one, think it was worth all the nervousness I felt the first time I told Grey Worm, to hear him say it back. I wouldn't trade all the times he's told me he loves me for anything, and I think you'd regret it if Arya left and you weren't absolutely certain she knew how you felt about her."
That was true. She didn't like the idea of Arya never knowing. If Arya left before Dany confessed, she'd be left with questions. Did Arya know how she felt? Would it have changed things for them if she had? Did Arya feel the same way?
"Take a chance," Missandei encouraged kindly. "I don't think you'll regret it."
If only it were that easy. The Gods really did enjoy tormenting her, didn't they? Guiding her to the realization that she loved Arya only when they were separated by thousands of miles, with no way to communicate. It was cruel. Dany vowed she'd remain committed to telling Arya the truth at the next opportunity.
R-C
Arya was becoming frustrated. It'd been days since the Unsullied arrived, since Sansa let the men began patrolling again. Days she spent hunting and she had yet to catch a sniff of her prey. She was flat on her stomach in the grass overlooking a natural curve in the road below. The location was the perfect spot to ambush a patrol. The path narrowed enough to force the troops into a single-column and there was nearby high ground for archers. She'd been hidden for most of the day. Patrols passed every hour and one after another they continued on without interruption. They'd yet to see any sign of whoever it was taking Sansa's men.
Giving up she stood and made the short walk to where she'd allowed her horse to roam. She rode hard to catch up with the Unsullied as they looped around to head back to Winterfell.
Along the way they met up with two other hunting parties. Neither one had had any more success than Arya. Podrick ducked his head when he saw her. "Any luck?"
She shook her head and brushed a band of dark hair from near her eyes. "Six patrols today passed that bend in the road and none of them had a problem. I thought whoever was doing this would be eager to get back to work and that spot is ideal."
Pod gave her words consideration. "Maybe they didn't know your sister opened the gates and restarted the patrols," he said, fumbling around to explain their lack of progress.
His innocent justification of their failures helped Arya realize something. They were being betrayed. "When the first patrol went missing, did Sansa change the schedule?"
Her question was so unexpected that it took Pod a moment to answer. "Y…yeah," he mumbled. "We changed the time, the date, even the route and it didn't matter, the next patrol still vanished."
Arya thought as much. She recalled the details from when Sansa first confessed the extent of the problem. She hadn't seen the connection then, but now it was clear. No one could know the route the patrol would take unless they had access to Winterfell, to Sansa. She needed to get back right away! Brienne needed to be a lot more careful about who she let near her sister.
She dismounted without bothering to tie her stallion up. There were Unsullied blocking the entrance, but Arya paid them no mind as she pushed her way through. Sansa needed to know one of those she trusted was selling her secrets. "Sansa!" she called.
They came around the corner together, side by side. Two Queens, speaking together. Arya's presence startled them both for very different reasons. Two voices said her name in the same breath.
"Arya, you're back. Your Grace, allow me to introduce you to my sister Arya Stark. Arya this is Daenerys Targaryen."
She hadn't thought Dany would come. She'd been so busy in King's Landing, it never occurred to her that she'd decide to do more than send her soldiers.
Arya tilted her head to the side and felt the smile curving her lips. She may not have predicted Dany's arrival, but she was hardly complaining. Sansa was safe, talk of the traitor could wait while she stared. Daenerys had forgone her usual dress for leather riding pants. She looked amazing. Arya's mind conjured up images of her peeling them from Dany's hips. "Dany, you didn't tell me you were coming," she said hoping no one else noticed the way her voice shook.
R-C
Could her eyes be believed? She'd been in Winterfell for only a handful of hours. She was walking with Sansa talking about the trip North when she heard a voice that couldn't truly be there. She might have blamed her imagination had it not been for Sansa's immediate reaction. She heard it too.
Coming face to face with an excited Arya, had Dany stunned. She'd been moving so fast she nearly bumped into the Queens as they rounded the corner. She was momentarily lost in thoughts of how sexy Arya looked with leather armor wrapped around her toned body.
The introduction was like being plunged into a bath of ice water. Arya, her Arya was Arya Stark? How could that be, wasn't Arya Stark dead? An inconsiderate voice pointed out the similarities she overlooked between Arya and Jon. She'd always blamed the shared eye color and mannerisms on them both being born in the North. Now she could see their connection was because they shared much more than a homeland, they shared an actually home. They were brother and sister. Arya was Jon and Sansa's sister.
"Arya Stark?" she felt the need to clarify. The confirmation was unnecessary. No longer ignorant to it, it shone like a beacon in the dark, startling her with its obviousness. "You never said."
"I didn't think it mattered," Arya said with that smirk of hers. Instead of soothing her as it usually did Dany was suddenly burning with embarrassment and anger. Learning the truth was one thing, doing so with so many witnesses was another.
"Do you two know one another, your Grace?" Sansa prodded. The fact that Dany didn't know how to answer made her annoyance even worse. Yesterday she would have said she knew Arya well. She'd never know everything, that was part of what attracted her in the first place. How stupid had she been thinking Arya was beginning to open up and share details of her life? The things she knew paled in comparison to the largest secret Arya had apparently been keeping.
"We met in the South," Arya explained to her sister.
Their audience was waiting for the Dragon to say or do something. All around her the expressions taunted her, Missandei's pity, Jorah's self-righteous distrust of Arya, Tyrion's surprise and Sansa's confusion at all of it.
"I knew when I saw you that you looked familiar," Tyrion said, "but I never would have guessed." Under other circumstances she might have appreciated the look of relief he wore at finally solving the puzzle, but she couldn't enjoy it in her current state.
"It was a long ti…" When Arya answered, as if there was nothing unusual about their situation Daenerys couldn't take it any longer. She grabbed Arya by the arm and dragged her down the hall to a spot where they could speak privately. Aware she was being rude she muttered a half-hearted apology as she took Arya away mid-sentence.
"How could you not tell me?!" she needed to know.
"I didn't think it mattered," Arya said, repeating her excuse from earlier.
It sounded even more hollow than it had the first time. How could Arya think the fact that she was the long-lost daughter of Ned Stark wouldn't matter? "What gave you that impression?"
Arya gave her a strange look as she raised an eyebrow. "You told me my past didn't matter, that you only wanted to talk about the present."
She had said that, but things were different then. That was when Arya was nothing more than a one-night lover she'd never see again. That was before she cared. "Were you trying to embarrass me?!" Daenerys snapped as her brain struggled to keep pace with the revelations.
Arya was immediately defensive. "Is that what you think? I didn't know you'd be here Dany. I left King's Landing as soon as I overheard Tyrion say Sansa was in trouble."
"You could have told me! If you wanted to help Sansa…"
"There wasn't time," Arya insisted. "I was going to tell you everything when I got back."
"Were you coming back?" Daenerys quipped. "I went to your camp in the Kingswood to tell you I was leaving but you were gone."
Arya's expression softened under Dany's question. "Of course, I was coming back. I just couldn't leave Sansa on her own."
The rational part of her brain was telling her Arya's reasons were valid. She had been the one to say the past didn't matter and she could hardly fault Arya for wanting to help her sister, but she couldn't just wish away her anger. She was Daenerys the Stormborn, the Last Targaryen and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms – nobody got to embarrass her this way. "You lied to me," she accused harshly.
Arya's gentle and conciliatory expression was replaced by something even and empty. "I didn't lie."
That may be right in the strictest sense of the word but that was hardly a distinction Daenerys cared about. "No, you just didn't tell me the most important details of your life."
"Dany," Arya said softly. She held out her hand.
She didn't take it. This wasn't a minor detail. She'd missed Arya every day. She'd slowly been coming to the realization that she loved the other woman and now it was obvious she didn't really know her at all. "We should go, the others are waiting."
"They can wait," Arya said. "I meant what I said, I was going to tell you when I got back."
"And that's supposed to make it okay?" she retorted. "You kept who you are a secret from me!"
"I keep it a secret from everyone," she said in explanation. It didn't help her case in the slightest.
"Oh, so I'm good enough to fuck, to take to bed again and again, but you don't think I deserved to know who you are?!" Every word took effort as she fought to reign in her feelings. She didn't know whether she wanted to cry, hit her, or both. She wouldn't do either. Since she struck Arya during her rage over Ronan, she promised herself she wouldn't do anything like that again. Even if she deserved it this time, Daenerys would reign in her temper. "I thought you cared about me. I believed what we had…" she couldn't finish.
"I do care," Arya said with feeling. Usually so poised, it was new to see her stumbling around for a foothold in the dark, looking for some way to lessen Daenerys's fury. The Dragon didn't think she'd find it. "I shouldn't have made a joke when I saw you, that was stupid. I should've…"
"I don't care about the joke!" she screamed. How could Arya think she was bothered by that stupid comment? "This isn't about you making a joke Arya!" she said defending her actions fiercely. "This is about me caring for a woman and thinking she cared for me too. We spend months together and I don't even know you."
Arya's posture hardened again, and Daenerys saw a flash of anger in her eyes to match her own. Good. If she found a soft spot, she'd know where to press. "I didn't lie to you. I may not have told you everything, but I didn't lie."
"Do you want praise for that? I thought you cared for me. I was going to…" She stopped again, not willing to reveal just how deeply she felt for the Stark. She'd been imagining how she'd tell Arya that she loved her, now she couldn't think of a time when she deserved to know.
"I do care… I…"
"Did you really?" Daenerys kept going. She was too far gone to stop. "Was anything you told me true?" She thought back. "At least I don't have to wonder why you hate the Red Keep anymore, or how you knew about the room where we had dinner."
"I…"
She didn't want to hear what Arya had to say. "Let's just go," she suggested. "Your sister is probably confused."
"I want to talk about this," Arya said, trying to salvage what she could.
Daenerys was less interested. She was getting angrier by the second and didn't want to prolong this conversation any further. With luck the presence of other people would keep her from saying or doing something too drastic. "I said, let's go!"
"You said?" Arya ridiculed, without any of the usual teasing. "If you want someone who is just going to do whatever you say, because you say it, why were you ever with me?"
Who did she think she was? It wasn't Daenerys who hid who she was. Daenerys wasn't the one in the wrong here. Unsure if she'd be able to stop yelling once she started, Daenerys decided not to reply at all. She returned to where the others were waiting, not bothering to look back and see if Arya was following.
The tension battered Daenerys's limited patience. She could practically feel all the unasked questions and she didn't want to deal with any of them. Tyrion had been keeping Sansa distracted but their conversation stopped abruptly when Daenerys returned. She was tempted to just leave but there was actual business that required her.
"Did you find anything?" Sansa asked.
Daenerys didn't understand the question, until she realized it wasn't meant for her. Arya was standing with her back against the wall. "I waited all day for them to ambush the men, but it never happened."
"You wanted to be ambushed?" Sansa quizzed as she shook her head.
She wasn't particularly happy with Arya, but that didn't mean she liked the idea of her putting herself in danger. Rather than confess that the mere thought of Arya being hurt sickened her, she kept her feelings behind an icy exterior. "You shouldn't be risking the lives of your men on a hunch."
Arya didn't respond to her gripe. "Who had information about the second patrol that went missing?"
"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. Daenerys was pleased she did, because it stopped her from having to do it.
"Podrick told me you changed the route after the first men went missing," Arya reminded her.
"I did," Sansa confirmed.
"Who knew of the changes?"
"What are you getting at?" Daenerys barked rudely.
"One of the people who knew the route was changed sold the information to whoever is attacking us," Arya explained.
"What?" Sansa said with a gasp.
"Are you certain?" Tyrion clarified.
"How can you know this?" Daenerys asked her hotly.
Her grey eyes sparked with mischief and Daenerys feared what she might say. Would she mention their relationship and expose something private to everyone? Most of them already knew the nature of Daenerys's relationship to Arya but that didn't mean she wanted the details shared. "The attacks are too well coordinated to be random. They'd need to know where the men are going and set up in advance."
"Makes sense," Tyrion agreed. "Gold has a way of shifting one's loyalties."
"I'll summon all those who had access to the information in the morning," Sansa decided. "We'll see if one of them will confess to selling the routes."
"I have a better idea," Arya said, flashing Daenerys that smug smirk of hers. "Let's let the traitor know about a patrol tomorrow."
"You don't know who it is yet," Jorah pointed out, his contempt for Arya bleeding through his otherwise valid point.
Arya was unbothered by his disapproval. "We'll inform each person of a different patrol. When one is attacked, we can track it back to the person who sold it."
"Clever," Tyrion acknowledged. She couldn't disagree. It was a creative solution to learn the traitor's name.
"I'll be waiting with a few dozen Unsullied to spring a trap of our own."
She couldn't say what made her do it, what possessed her to take a private disagreement with Arya and turn it into a public spectacle. Perhaps she wanted Arya to feel the shame Daenerys was, or maybe she was just desperate for someone to hurt. "You should remain in Winterfell," she said, knowing it would anger Arya to no end.
"Excuse me?" She studied Daenerys hard, as if her face held the key to understanding her motives.
"You heard me," Daenerys said, making it worse before she could help herself. "I think you should stay with your sister. The Unsullied can put your plan into action."
"That's not going to happen!"
There was a path to fix her relationship with Arya, a way to mend what was damaged between them. It wouldn't have been than hard, so naturally Daenerys had to do something irrevocable. "I could give you an order!" she proposed, an unveiled threat in her words. Arya had been right before. A large part of why she liked Arya was because she didn't submit to Daenerys simply because she was Queen. Arya's independence and defiance were part of the attraction, yet she tried to command her anyway.
"And you think I'd obey?" Arya challenged.
"I am your Queen," Daenerys said coldly.
Anticipating an angry outburst, she waited and braced herself for when it arrived. The look of hurt she saw snuffed out any perverse pleasure she got from upsetting Arya. She looked physically pained by Daenerys's use of her title to try and instigate a fight. "That's funny, I thought you were 'Dany'."
She couldn't have cut Daenerys any deeper if she used the sword on her hip. It was delivered with the confidence and bluntness she'd come to expect from Arya, but it was an illusion. She could see the signs. Whether it was the darkening of her grey eyes or the way she kept her lips tightly closed, Daenerys noted the tension. She even picked up on the way her shoulder was bobbing. Daenerys predicted Arya was flexing her already closed fist, tightening all the muscles in her arm at once. Any lingering doubts she might have had vanished when Arya chose then to take her leave.
"Arya!" Sansa reprimanded as the younger Stark fled.
Unlike Sansa, Daenerys was speechless. What had she been thinking? Of course, Arya wouldn't respond well to being manipulated by Daenerys's title. She'd known that when she started, and she'd done it anyway. She thought of her brother then, remembering how he'd make himself feel better by hurting someone else. She'd done the same thing, hadn't she?
"I'm so sorry, your Grace," Sansa said, "I'm not sure what's gotten into her."
"N…no apology needed," Daenerys stammered as she found her voice. Sansa didn't need to apologize the blame wasn't hers.
R-C
Author's Note: There it is, the reveal everyone has been waiting for. I hope it wasn't too disappointing.
Thanks for reading
RC