They found the young man bent over his desk studying a map. Blocks in the shape of numbers were sitting at various intervals. Arya knew immediately what he was calculating, she watched Oberyn do the same thing before they left for Essos. He invited them to enter but finished his current measurement before turning to greet them.
He smiled when he saw Daenerys and it didn't falter much when he noticed Arya was with her. "Dany, come in, sit down. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"What are you doing?" she asked, bypassing a chair to get a look at the map.
Arya voiced a far more interesting question. "Where are you going?"
Daenerys was suddenly unsure of where to set her eyes, so she rotated them between the map, Aemon and Arya? "You know what this is?" She traced the wooden '2' with the tip of her finger before continuing. "What do these numbers mean?"
She filed another detail about the Princess away for later, she didn't like to be the only one who didn't know something. "If I had to guess I'd say Aemon is planning a trip," she explained, "the blocks represent where he'd like to be by the end of each day of travel." She pointed and drew Daenerys's attention to the '1' block, it was situated just North of King's Landing.
Once she understood Daenerys looked at the map with renewed interest and tried to deduce the eventual end point that Aemon had yet to reach. It wasn't difficult to guess. His path was taking him North, toward Arya's former home and beyond to the Wall. Daenerys understood this too. "He agreed to let you go?" To Arya's ear, Daenerys sounded both excited and devastated.
"Not yet, but soon he will. He knows I have no reason to stay and I can't wait forever."
For a second time he offered them a seat and this time Daenerys accepted. Although she could have occupied the chair next to them Arya chose to stand back and let them have some privacy. "I want you to stay, but I don't blame you for wanting to leave. I'd go too if I could, but I don't think the Night's Watch takes girls."
"I'll miss you everyday," he promised.
"You better write too," Daenerys decreed with authority.
Unbothered by her tone Aemon chuckled and agreed he would.
"I'm sorry about dinner," Aemon said, after they hugged and returned to their places. "I wanted to say something, but you know it would've only made things worse."
Daenerys patted his leg with her hand. "It's not your fault. There is nothing you could have done." One look at Aemon made it clear his aunt's forgiveness was important to him.
They talked for nearly an hour before Daenerys broached the reason for her visit. "I need some of your clothes," she told him bluntly.
"Oh, okay, why?" he asked, already getting up to comply.
"Just the old things that no longer fit, or that you don't wear anymore."
He got to the closet and opened the door. "There is plenty of that in here," he assured her. With his head hidden he asked again, "Why do you need them?"
"I took some of my old things to the orphanage today, but I realized I didn't bring nearly enough for the boys, so I was hoping you'd donate some of your things."
"I'd be happy to, but my clothes will not fit any of the children."
Arya went to the closet and offered to hold the items Aemon was willing to give away. In no time, her arms were full.
"They won't," Daenerys agreed, "but one shirt of yours could probably make two or three for the children and the same with your pants."
He stopped working and looked at the elder Targaryen. "That's a great idea."
With their bounty stacked up near the door to take when they left Arya went back to the map and waved Aemon over. "Be careful once you're in this area," she said using a thin finger to point to the area North of Winterfell. "Depending on the weather, your horse could be slowed by heavy snow and it could extend your journey by days or even weeks. Make sure you have enough supplies to last, they'll certainly have need of them on the Wall if you don't use everything."
Aemon's brow wrinkled as he concentrated and then he nodded in agreement. "You're right, I've been reading a lot, trying to find information about the towns and castles in the area, but there is still a lot I don't know."
"Have you ever been to the North?" Daenerys asked her, coming to stand opposite Aemon.
That was a dangerous question. She made one error already when she mentioned her sister to Daenerys. It was out of her mouth before she knew it, and there was nothing she could do to take it back, so she told a half-truth. She did have a sister, and she was gone. She knew Daenerys assumed Sansa was dead, and she let her, it would be easier than trying to explain. Still, she didn't enjoy lying to her friend, even if it was for a very valid reason. She was walking down a treacherous road and she needed to be careful, lest she made another mistake. "A long time ago," she said vaguely. To prevent Daenerys from asking the follow up questions that were surely burning her tongue Arya engaged Aemon. "Have you been to the North yet?"
"No, never. I've always wanted to, but Father wouldn't allow it."
Arya didn't doubt that. The North may be under Bolton control but the North Remembers. He had a long list of faults and sins, but being stupid wasn't among them and therefore, it was unlikely that Rhaegar Targaryen would permit his son to travel freely in the Realm's largest kingdom. There was simply too much that could go wrong, with deadly consequences.
"Well if your father agrees, you'll get your chance," she said, providing subtle encouragement. "You'll get to see much of the North on your way to the Wall."
Cheered by the idea he gave Arya a smile. "I'm sure Dany here keeps you busy, but if you ever have the time and would like to spar again…"
Arya could see he was struggling so she interrupted him and sought to put his mind at ease. "I'd love to, as long as Daenerys doesn't have need of me, I'm happy to help."
When they were done, Arya went first, carrying the clothes, letting the Targaryens say goodbye. In the hall Daenerys fell in step beside her guard. "That was very nice of you, he's really excited about all of this. He told me you're the best sparring partner he's ever had."
It would be a lie for her to say it didn't feel good to hear that, but she still directed the conversation back to Aemon, where it belonged. "He's very good, a little too impulsive sometimes, but when he stays calm and thinks before he strikes, there isn't much I can teach him."
"He's been learning the sword for years," Daenerys recalled. "Rhaegar says he's a natural."
"He is," Arya said stiffly, not liking having to agree with the Prince. She moved on quickly. "Where to next?"
Daenerys thought for a moment. "We'll start with my chambers and put those clothes down, then we'll go see if Tyrion is still in his office."
That sounded reasonable. Arya almost asked why Daenerys needed the Master of the Coin, but it wasn't her business and she'd find out soon enough anyway.
R-C
Tyrion was in his office, despite the late hour. He was behind the desk with a book open in front of him. Instead of reading from it, he was holding a scroll in one hand, while his eyes moved across the page. Although he had a goblet of wine within reach, he didn't seem to be enjoying it.
"Another one," he muttered to himself as he set the lone page down off to his right. He hadn't noticed them yet, so he was clearly talking to himself.
"Problems Lord Tyrion?" Daenerys inquired from just inside the doorway. Arya was a full step behind, still in the hall.
"Princess Daenerys, please come in." She couldn't see him, Daenerys was blocking her view, but he sounded genuinely happy she interrupted his work. As she moved deeper into the room Tyrion kept talking. "I received word earlier today, your order will be ready by the end of the week."
"Oh," Daenerys responded, tensing and looking down. "That's great Tyrion, but it's not the reason I came."
There was a tension in the room that Arya couldn't make sense of. She didn't know what package Tyrion was referring to, but then again, she was just a guard. If Daenerys needed something it was likely Missandei and Tyrion working together that procured it.
"Oh, and you've brought your new guard with you, how wonderful."
"Do you know Arya?" the Princess asked him.
"Not nearly well enough," he answered. Arya struggled not to find him endearing and charming, very easy to like. "My brother Jaime tells me you're quite talented, and he isn't easily impressed, so it must be true."
"Arya is quite talented," Daenerys confirmed, emphasizing the word 'is' in order to second the Kingsguard's opinion.
"Well then, I know who to hide behind if there is trouble," he comments casually. With a wave of his hand he beckons them closer. "Sit, I'll fix the drinks."
Once all three were seated with a fresh glass in hand, Daenerys brought them back to her original question. "Having trouble?"
"Nothing serious," he guaranteed her, "just a Septon requesting more donations. I just met with one of them last week, and the week before that, but there is always another heartfelt plea I must address."
"Does the treasury not have enough money?"
Tyrion flashed her a smile before his goblet hid it. After his sip he replied. "The money isn't the issue, we have more than enough to satisfy his needs, I just don't have the time to meet with him." He paused for a moment and then decided to elaborate. "He won't just arrive, take the gold and go, he'll insist on talking for at least an hour, about all the good deeds he'll accomplish with the new surplus of gold, and then once he has the coin, he'll spend another half hour thanking me. I won't have an opening in my schedule until next week, but enough about me, how are you two? What brings you to my little corner of the Realm?"
Though Tyrion was speaking, Daenerys looked at Arya. She seemed uncertain all the sudden, likely because she intended to ask for gold, just like the Septon and after hearing Tyrion's frustrations, now she was doubting her course. She nodded slightly, hoping to provide reassurance. It must have worked because Daenerys turned her focus to Tyrion and spoke with confidence. "We can talk about that in a moment, first would you like me to meet with the Septon?"
"Wh… what?" he sputtered as he set his wine down. He could be forgiveness for his less than articulate response, after all it wasn't everyday that someone walked into your office and offered you help while asking for nothing in exchange.
"I could meet with him for you," she proposed.
"Really?"
"Sure, I have plenty of time and you're right, he probably will want to talk to you at length before and after he has the money. If you provide me with the purse, I could present it to him."
"Are you certain she has the time?" He was speaking to Arya for the first time since their negotiation began. She understood why she was being consulted but that didn't make her hate it any less. Daenerys was intelligent enough to make her own decisions on how she wanted to spend her time. She'd be doing Tyrion a much-needed favor and still he felt obligated to check with the guard before he accepted. If Arya said no, Daenerys's generosity would be for naught, because the Targaryen had little say in her own life.
She tried to answer in a way that still left the final decision up to Daenerys. "If the Princess wishes to meet the Septon on your behalf, I'll come by and pick up the gold for her the morning of the appointment."
"I'll have it ready," Tyrion said, "and thank you both."
Daenerys wasn't done extending a helping hand to the busy Lannister. "Do you have many similar meetings?"
Tyrion smiled. "More than a few," he admitted. "Unless there is a cancelation, I'm currently scheduling as many as three weeks in advance." Flipping a page in his book he showed the women a chart of his upcoming meetings, there was writing in almost every square with very little open space.
"That's a lot to do," Daenerys noted accurately. She said nothing, but privately Arya agreed. She had no idea that the Master of the Coin was so busy, but it made a certain amount of sense – gold made the world spin and Tyrion held the purse strings for all of Westeros. Surely that made him popular . "I'd be willing to meet with others too," she offered, "if it would allow you to spend your time on more important matters."
Arya wasn't surprised by her willingness to do something to improve someone's day, she'd come to expect it. Tyrion wasn't as used to Daenerys as Arya was and his surprise was visible before he corrected his expression. "You don't need to do that Princess, I'm sure you have affairs of your own to keep you occupied." As he said this, he glanced at Arya to silently verify that Daenerys was too busy to take on an extra burden. She subtly shook her head and there was another flash of shock on his face before he buried it. Daenerys was a Princess and a member of the ruling family of the Seven Kingdoms, she should have been struggling to fit the many claims on her time into the limited hours of the day, but she wasn't. Since she wasn't involved in many aspects of governing, it afforded her plenty of time to assist others. "You don't have to do this," Tyrion made perfectly clear, "the Realm will not crumble if there is a slight delay dispensing donations."
Daenerys laughed at his tone. "I know, but I'm in the castle anyway, with little to do, there is no reason I can't help you."
Arya jumped in to try and prevent the back and forth she could feel coming. "I can stop in and see Tyrion each morning on my way to meet you," Arya suggested. "If he has anything that requires our attention, I'll collect the money and the names of people you'll need to meet with."
"That sounds perfect, thank you Arya," Daenerys gushed.
"Thank you both," Tyrion amended, "with your help I may be able to get out of here at a reasonable hour. You've made many women and one dwarf incredibly happy."
She tried to swallow down the laughter she felt bubbling up, but she was unsuccessful. Beside her Daenerys didn't even make an effort, she chuckled and blushed while Tyrion showed off a devious smirk. He seemed beyond pleased that he'd gotten a reaction out of them both.
They spoke for a few minutes about nothing in particular. Daenerys asked him how he liked life in the Red Keep, and he made a comment about how it had more variety than living in the West. Aware of his reputation, she read between the lines and guessed he was speaking about the whores he had available to him. Arya paid little attention to rumors, but the whispers about Tyrion were so prolific and so consistent, she tended to believe they were accurate, exaggerated most likely but rooted in some truth.
When the time came for Daenerys to make her request, she explained that she needed gold so the orphanage could hire a seamstress. With passionate she spoke about how with a minimal contribution, they could take the donated clothes she collected and convert them into things the orphans could wear for years to come. Tyrion didn't hesitate, he flipped a handful of pages, wrote a short note and then opened a drawer on his desk to retrieve the coins.
They stayed until long after their wine was gone. "Shall I schedule the meeting with the Septon?" he asked as he walked them to the door.
Daenerys looked to Arya for confirmation. It wasn't up to her, but if the Princess wanted her opinion, she'd provide it. "Not tomorrow, unless you wish to postpone your…"
She didn't even get to finish. "No!" Daenerys said a little too intently. Obviously, she didn't like the idea of anything delaying her day outside the castle. Arya didn't blame her. She thought about it a moment and calmed. "Anytime except tomorrow," she ruled, "you can ask the Septon to visit the keep at his leisure, I'll meet with him then?" It was her choice to make, but uncertainty had it sounding more like a question, and she was once again waiting for Arya's permission.
"I'll make sure I have the gold with me before your first appointment," Arya said, committed to helping Daenerys make this work.
Pleased by the agreement the Princess smiled accordingly, while Tyrion watched them closely. "I'll have it waiting."
Daenerys went out the door first and when it was Arya's turn Tyrion stopped her by asking, "How do you like your new job? Is it better than training?"
"Different," she said simply. She was finding it easier to guard Daenerys than she predicted. She still yearned to be out swinging her sword, practicing her technique, but life in King's Landing wasn't torture either. "In training, that was all there was. We woke before the sun and didn't stop until long after it was gone, there were lessons, conditioning and sparring, day after day. It's different now, I spend a lot of time standing around."
"I understand," he confirmed with a nod. Tyrion leaned toward her and lowered his voice to a whisper that wouldn't make it to Daenerys. "Now all you have do is follow the beautiful Princess around and keep her from harm, what a terrible hardship," he teased. "I'm sure the reason I saw Mormont pouting was because he missed how boring his duties were."
After some internal debate, she decided it was probably safer to end the conversation there rather than risk prolonging it with another comment. She wouldn't admit it to Tyrion, or anyone else, but in her mind, she was able to acknowledge that Daenerys's company was probably one of the main reasons she didn't hate her time in King's Landing so far.
R-C
Daenerys was standing over her bed picking through the pile of clothes Aemon gave her. She wanted to see exactly what she had, so she could make certain she took enough for every child to receive something.
"Why did you agree to meet the Septon?" Arya asked her from her spot just inside the closed door.
She heard the question perfectly but needed time to try and organize her thoughts. Why she had done it was quite complicated. She set down an old shirt she bought for her nephew and rotated her body. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Why did you agree to meet with the Septon? Why agree to take some of Tyrion's meetings?"
When it was happening, Daenerys believed Arya was on her side. She was supportive and offered to act as a courier between Daenerys and Tyrion. Now that they were alone, would Daenerys learn how Arya really felt about the new job she'd committed them to? She would regret her attempt to help, if it resulted in Arya being upset with her. "I'm sorry I agreed without speaking to you about it, I was just trying to do Tyrion a kindness. If you don't want to do it, I'll inform Tyrion that he'll need to take the meeting himself."
She shook her head slightly, though it seemed to be more involuntary movement and less message. "I don't mind, I think it's a good idea. I'll meet Tyrion, Rhaegar and whoever else you need me to, I was just curious why you wanted to do it?"
Her emotions were all over the place. Making matters worse, Arya was still waiting for an answer. Why had she done it, what compelled her to take on additional responsibility? The truth was whether she knew it or not, Arya was to blame for this.
"You," Daenerys said, before she was ready, the lone word slipping out between barely parted lips.
Arya stood a little straighter. "Me? I don't think I said more than two words before you and Tyrion…"
Daenerys cursed internally. She knew Arya would need more information than that to understand. She abandoned the clothes and went to where Arya was. When she noticed Daenerys approaching, she took a step to make the trip shorter. They met in the middle, closer to the door than the bed. "No," she amended, taking one of Arya's hands and savoring the warm, rough feel, "no, it's nothing you said, I was just thinking about what you would do, and that's what made me offer."
"I wouldn't have agreed to meet with Septons," Arya countered.
She said it so plainly, that there was no refuting it. Daenerys chuckled. She was doing a terrible job of explaining herself. She took a deep breath and made another attempt. "No, you don't meet with Septons, but you do track my brother down each morning and ask for permission to leave the keep." In her rush to justify her feelings she left shortened pauses between each word, until there was almost nothing.
One look at her grey eyes and Daenerys could tell Arya didn't make the connection between Arya's visits to Rhaegar and Daenerys's sudden willingness to dispense donations from the Crown. "I gave you my word I would help you," Arya remembered.
"You've done great," Daenerys insisted, "better than anyone could have expected of you, better than I expected of you. Most people would promise to help me and then do nothing or make one half-hearted attempt before giving up forever."
"I'm not most people," Arya noted, stating the obvious.
"I know," Daenerys promised, unable to keep from smiling. "How many times has Rhaegar refused you? How many times did Barristan send you away?"
There was an extended silence stretching out between them. Daenerys tried to coax a reply from Arya with a comforting look. Finally, she admitted, "A lot."
"Exactly, and you kept going anyway, for me. You wanted to help me, and you did. Thanks to you, we had a great day in the city and tomorrow will be even better. That only happened because you kept trying."
"Oh… I… "
Arya's stammering was as unusual as it was cute in Daenerys's opinion. Part of her wanted to say nothing just to see how she'd eventually respond, but there was a question she still hadn't answered, and she wanted to, because that was the whole point of telling Arya all this. "I was thinking about you when he was telling us how busy he was," she confessed, "I was thinking about how kind it was of you to get Rhaegar's approval and how because of you, I was going to get to spend another full day outside the walls. That never would have happened if you didn't keep pushing. I realized that if you want something, sometimes you just have to take it."
Her features settled into a smirk that was even more attractive than seeing Arya flustered. "That's not a bad lesson to learn. The world isn't going to give you what you want just because you ask for it."
"Exactly!" Daenerys exclaimed, pleased someone else got it. "I have always tried to be so proper, to do what was expected of me, to be polite and quiet. I speak only when spoken to and never cause trouble and look where it's gotten me." She took a deep breath and enjoyed the way the air tasted. "If I want things to be different, to be better, I'm the one that needs to make the change, because no one else is going to do it."
"How does meeting the Septon and delivering Tyrion's gold accomplish this?"
"I've always wanted a bigger role here," she explained slowly, looking down at her hands as she spoke. "I want to be the kind of Princess that does some good. I know I'll never sit on the throne and I'm fine with that, I don't need to be Queen to improve people's lives." Her mind was suddenly filled with countless memories, all the times she tried to get a foothold in the business of the Realm, only to be rebuffed. Most often, she was told 'no' outright, but on a few occasions, she was permitted to attend a meeting or two. Somehow those were worse, because no matter how intently she studied before hand, no matter how well prepared she was, no matter how logical or relevant her points, she was marginalized and overlooked. Eventually she gave up, deciding she'd stay in the background, where she belonged.
Foolishly she thought that if she obeyed all instruction and proved compliant then eventually someone would notice and give her a position of importance. It was a childish dream, a girl's dream, and she was done with it. If she remained in the background much longer, she'd never leave it. She needed to make a life for herself. It may not involve leaving the keep as often as she would like, it wouldn't include sailing her own ship or filling a prominent post, but she could still find ways to do her part, if she was willing and committed to seek them out.
Arya had worn Rhaegar down with perseverance. She imagined it was much the same when she went from being a servant to a soldier. Once, early on, Daenerys told Missandei there was a lot she could learn from Arya and she'd been right. If Arya could teach her to bend Rhaegar's will, Daenerys would gladly soak up all the wisdom Arya was willing to pass along.
"Thanks to you, the Septon will get the gold he needs much sooner than if he had to wait for an opening in Tyrion's calendar. That's going to help a lot of people, Daenerys."
That made her smile, but she needed to confirm one final detail. "And you're sure you don't mind, checking with Tyrion and bringing the gold? I could ask Miss…"
"I don't mind."
That lifted a weight off her chest. She wanted to do this, but she wasn't sure she could without Arya. Not only because Arya's dedication helped birth the idea, but also because she needed someone to oversee things, someone who could provide advice when necessary, someone she could trust, someone who wouldn't be afraid to speak her mind even if she disagreed with the Princess. Given the long list of requirements, Arya was the only suitable candidate.
Once the business with Tyrion was settled, Arya moved them to something they could talk about more easily. "So, what are we going to do tomorrow?"
R-C
Arya sat up a little straighter and like a jolt realized she hadn't been paying attention. It took a moment for her to place her location. She was in the Princess's bedchamber. In a rush all the memories came back; getting Rhaegar's permission to take Daenerys into the city, the docks, the orphanage, dinner, Aemon, Tyrion. She knew why she joined Daenerys in her room, when usually she'd have left by now, Missandei had been given a break. She wasn't there to assist Daenerys, so Arya remained.
"Is everything okay?" Daenerys asked, her voice dripping with concern.
"I'm sorry, I got lost in thought." That wasn't entirely truthful, but it did sound better than admitting that she dozed off in the middle of a conversation. "Did you say something?" she asked, hoping it would encourage Daenerys to repeat whatever she missed.
The smile didn't falter. "I just said that you don't need to stay. You must be tired."
"I'm not that tired," she exaggerated.
When she stood up without comment Arya thought she meant to send her away, forcibly if necessary. She didn't, instead she went to a rolling cart and poured two glasses of wine. "If you're going to stay," Daenerys said on her return trip to the chair, "do so as my friend and not my guard. Have a drink."
She couldn't deny that she was tempted. Wine wasn't her favorite drink, but she'd take it. It was like fire under her skin when Daenerys's fingers brushed hers. Her touch was unlike anything Arya had experienced – warm, soft and inviting. She sipped her wine in an effort to hide the blush she couldn't keep off her cheeks. "Thank you."
Once she was settled Daenerys sampled the wine too. "Mmm," she purred as she licked her lip, "not bad huh?"
She had to swallow down the moan that threatened. The combination of the sound and the stroke of a pink tongue wetting her upper lip had the hairs on the back of Arya's neck standing up. Did she even realize what she was doing? She tried desperately to not be attracted to Daenerys, but the longer she acted as her guard, the more time they spent alone, the harder it was to convince anyone, especially herself. Her beauty was obvious, but that wasn't what kept Arya balancing on the edge of a sword. What really held her was Daenerys's inherent goodness. She was a Targaryen, so it stood to reason that she should be evil and cruel. Despite her name, Daenerys was kind, generous and fair. In her early days watching the Dragon, those words would have felt like treason to consider, but she'd come to accept them. It was just how things were, like the sun rising and the wind blowing, Daenerys was good. When necessary she reminded herself that this wasn't her first time handling an attractive, disarming Targaryen who seemed to show an interest in the unworthy foster. She'd managed to fend off Rhaenys's affections easily enough, yet it was harder with Daenerys, everything was harder with Daenerys. At this point, it would have been more unexpected if Arya didn't catch herself wondering about the flavor of Daenerys's lips. She would never find out, for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which being that Daenerys believed Arya was a Sand and not a Stark. Her desires would remain hidden, just like the truth about her identity. It was the only way. She took comfort from the knowledge that it wasn't forever. It would be easier to ignore her longing once she was back in Dorne, thousands of miles from the Princess, or at least she hoped so.
She rudely ignored Daenerys's question, leaving it unanswered, asking one of her own instead. "Why have you never married?" Arya couldn't stop the curse that escaped as she heard the inquiry in her ears. She had wondered about that but didn't intend to ask. "Forget I said anything," Arya pleaded quickly. She took a quick sip, realizing too late that more wine was likely the last thing she needed when she was already struggling to keep her private thoughts inside. How much wine had she had? A glass with Tyrion and another with Daenerys, that was hardly enough to explain her behavior, but she had no other excuse. She hadn't eaten since lunch, but that too didn't justify anything. Since arriving in King's Landing she'd grown accustomed to eating late, after Daenerys was safely in her room for the night. With one meal already in her stomach, she could go until morning without anything more if required.
With a light laugh Daenerys shook her head. "Maybe I don't want to forget," she replied, placing her empty hand on Arya's forearm. Incapable of speaking, she stared dumbly and waited for Daenerys to continue. "I don't know really," she admitted, "Tywin and my father have brought it up several times, but they lose interest before they begin trying to pair me off in earnest."
It was uncommon for a woman of Daenerys's age to be unmarried, but upon closer examination Arya could see that finding a match for a Princess might be more difficult than the standard. Daenerys couldn't marry just anyone, it'd need to be someone respectable, from a good family, probably with lots of money and a flawless reputation. It occurred to Arya that she possessed none of those qualities herself, one more reason she could never tell Daenerys of her feelings. "I shouldn't have asked," she said, trying for a second time to apologize.
"I don't mind," she assured her worried guard. "I've never wanted to be married, so I'm not in a hurry." She thought for a moment and then picked up where she left off. "There have been offers but none my father gave serious consideration to."
Arya didn't doubt that Daenerys had suitors. An ugly Princess would still attract all manner of men who wanted to improve their own standing by attaching themselves to royalty and Daenerys was not ugly by any definition of the word. She hadn't encountered any men seeking Daenerys's hand during her time in the Capital, but it hadn't been that long. "Marrying someone from outside the Crownlands might provide you with the excuse you need to leave," Arya pointed out.
"It might," Daenerys confirmed quietly, "but it's just as likely that my father will insist my husband move to the Red Keep, and then I would have married for nothing."
"It's custom for the woman to move to the lands of her husband."
"it is, but my father isn't the sort to bend in the name of tradition."
That was true. As it was with most things, Arya found Daenerys's opinions on marriage to be articulate and well thought out. "You're right."
She was prepared to let the matter drop but Daenerys had more to say. "My dream is to marry for love one day, but as long as I'm the King's daughter, I doubt I'll get the chance."
Again, she agreed with Daenerys's logic. She doubted Aerys would let a minor detail like love sway him when it came time to bind his only daughter to another house. That said, she felt compelled to try and give Daenerys some hope, however brief. "Who knows, you might get lucky. Perhaps the husband you want to marry will be the same one your father selects for you."
"Who knew you were an optimist," Daenerys teased. Never had anyone accused her of that. Arya smirked at the Targaryen and raised her glass to her mouth. She tilted her head back farther than usual to get the last of the liquid from the bottom. As she was doing so, Daenerys posed a question the guard wasn't prepared for. "Why have you never married?"
She rejected the premise entirely. Unlike Daenerys, Arya was not a Princess, nor a prime candidate for marriage. She was the daughter of traitors and a ward, there wasn't a long line of men eager to attach their name to hers. Without permission she tried to respond, to oppose Daenerys vehemently, and it caused her to choke on the wine she'd been drinking. Shaking violently, she coughed, using an arm to protect her stomach as she struggled to retake control of her body.
By the time she finished coughing Daenerys had one hand rubbing her back tenderly while the other hung in the air, looking for a place to rest. "Are you okay?"
Confident the worst was over, Arya lifted her head and met Daenerys's eye. She intended to apologize, and to ensure the Princess that she was alright, but she didn't get that far. A single drop of wine had leaked from her mouth as she coughed and while Arya hadn't noticed it, Daenerys had. She leaned closer and with a swipe of her thumb, collected the wine from its place just below Arya's lower lip. She shivered and instinctively took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but it was counterproductive. Inhaling deeply only reminded her that Daenerys was close, filling her nostrils with the unique scent of her perfume. Not long ago she was thinking about what it would be like to kiss the woman she guarded and now, it appeared she was going to find out. Daenerys leaned in, and her eyes fluttered closed as her lips neared Arya's. What was going on? How much had Daenerys had to drink? More than Arya, certainly, since she had wine with her dinner as well. Did the alcohol explain what was happening? She didn't want to stop it, but she probably should. She was in Daenerys's service and she needed her trust. If she took advantage of her and allowed this kiss to proceed, especially when she suspected Daenerys was intoxicated, she could damage their friendship. Just before she reached a decision it occurred to her that if Daenerys wanted to kiss her, and Arya refused her, she'd likely damage things just as severely. She hadn't made up her mind, but she was out of time. Indecision was a decision, and Arya was about to kiss Daenerys Targaryen.
The door swung open wide and slammed against the wall. The two women leaned in different directions, leaving a distinct void of open space between them. Daenerys straightened up and rotated to the door at the same time Arya wiped her face with her sleeve to make certain there was no more wine, then she was on her feet.
The Mad King was red-faced and enraged as he looked past his daughter to the guard. "Who are you?" he demanded to know, using a finger to point.
The lie was on the tip of her tongue. 'Arya Sand' she meant to say. Before she could, she was overrun with memories of sitting on her father's knee, learning of their failed rebellion. An instant later, she was walking the hall of the Red Keep, in the center of a formation that included every member of her family. They were surrounded by Kingsguard, on their way to meet the Dragon King. She was terrified and knew it was visible to any who cared enough to look. From a step ahead Robb glanced back and gave her his best attempt at a reassuring smile. She couldn't copy it, she didn't even try. The fear that consumed her then was nothing compared to what came later, when she was kneeling in Stark blood, before a King determined to punish every Wolf he could find.
Reliving that moment again, she was back in the throne room again, avoiding his eye just as she'd done that day. She did her best not to see the blood under her, not to feel it pooling against her legs, staining her skin. That was when it dawned on her that she was wearing a sword. It was strange, but not unwelcome. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall where the weapon came from? She hadn't had a sword on the day she was sent to Dorne, had she? When the Mad King stepped down from his throne to pass judgement on her, Arya was ready. With bared teeth she reached for the sword and lunged at the Targaryen. His lazy guards were too far away to interfere. She'd die soon, but she wouldn't go alone. The King's reign would end, by her hand and her last act would be avenging her family.
She was proud of her actions as she lined the sword up with the center of Aerys's chest. Just before the blade pierced his thin skin the form in front of her changed shape. The next thing she knew it wasn't the Mad King who stood before her anymore and the sword she was wielding was gone. Her hands suddenly empty, as a voice called her name. "Arya!"
The ground beneath her shook and her body followed. The voice calling her grew more frantic. With repetition came clarity and Arya realized it wasn't her mother's voice she was hearing, or Sansa's. She blinked hard, working to clear the fog in her mind while she tried to source that soothing sound.
"Arya! Arya! Please wake up!" Daenerys chanted.
Her vision was blurred, so much so that she couldn't see anything beyond a figure she assumed was Daenerys directly in front of her. There was so much she wanted to know she couldn't decide where to start.
Daenerys didn't have the same impediment. "Can you hear me?"
"Where am I?" she asked, her voice scratchy and raw.
"You don't remember?"
On the word 'remember', she clamped her eyes closed as tightly as she could. The problem wasn't that she didn't remember, it was that she did, too well.
"You wanted to stay in my room tonight, since Missandei isn't here."
Now that she mentioned it, that did sound familiar. She had wanted to stay with Daenerys, partially because Missandei wasn't there, and also because Arya planned to begin her day early. Staying in Daenerys's room, sleeping on the floor would allow them to leave earlier than if she returned to the barracks.
Her eyes remained closed as she thought back to the beginning of the dream, if that's what it was. That exchange with Daenerys had really happened, the wine, the talk of marriage, the choking and the almost kiss. It hadn't been Aerys that prevented their lips from meeting, but Arya. She made up a weak excuse and retreated before Daenerys could make contact.
"You ha d a nightmare," Daenerys confirmed, "one minute you were sleeping, the next you were thrashing and screaming."
"Did I say anything?" she asked, as the knot in her stomach became painful. Had she revealed the truth to Daenerys in her sleep? Capable of opening her eyes now, she didn't want to. She was afraid of what she'd see. Would it be pity or knowledge that decorated Daenerys's features? She didn't know which she'd prefer.
"Not really, just a lot of yelling, it sounded like you were in pain or upset or something."
"I'm sorry I woke you," Arya supplied in a whisper. "I get nightmares sometimes. I should have thought of that before I asked to stay."
Daenerys's hands which started on her shoulders, were now rubbing lazily into her arms as they moved up and down. "Don't worry about that," she insisted. "I just want to make sure you're okay."
Finally, she cracked her eyes open again, seeing clearly for the first time since she woke. There was minimal light, but it was more than enough, especially with Daenerys so close. The fog that blurred everything was gone and she almost wished for it back when she tried to reassure Daenerys and was too startled to form a coherent statement. There, kneeling in front of her, close enough to touch was a very naked Princess. Conflicted she didn't know whether she should look away or seize her only opportunity and memorize every detail. Actually, that was a lie, she knew what she should do, she just didn't want to. She tried to force her eyes away from Daenerys's body as she responded. "I'm fine, I promise." She punctuated the words with an unnatural smile while she peeked at Daenerys's bare breasts.
Relaxing a little, she leaned back, sitting on her heels. "Are you sure? Does that happen often? Is there anything you need?"
In an effort to placate Daenerys, she rested one of her sweaty hands on top of Daenerys's. The contact caused them both to freeze. Still waiting for answers, Daenerys looked expectantly to the younger woman. She did made an effort to keep her eyes on Daenerys's face and nowhere else. "I'm fine," she repeated. She let that sink in, before she tackled the second question. "It happens sometimes," she admitted softly, neglecting to acknowledge that her nightmares had been more prevalent since she came to King's Landing. "And no, I don't need anything. You can go back to bed, I'm sorry I woke you."
"I can stay, if you want. Do you want to talk about it?" She didn't let Arya reply, choosing to answer for her. "Probably not," she guessed accurately. "Well, I can still keep you company, if you want to talk about something else."
With every passing second it became harder to ignore Daenerys's exposed skin. She had a remarkable figure. Arya had admired it through her clothes almost daily in recent weeks but stealing glimpses at Daenerys without the dress made it clear that even Arya's most elaborate fantasies paled in comparison to the real thing. From head to toe she was flawless. "Aren't you cold?" she asked a bit too harshly as she clung to her limited restraint.
Confusion came first, and Arya would have laughed had she not been using all her strength to keep from acting on her desires. After a moment that felt like years to the frayed soldier, Daenerys looked down at herself and seemed to notice for the first time how little she was wearing. "Oh," she said, jumping back, out from under Arya's touch. "Oh," she said again. She hurried to the bottom corner of the bed and pulled the blanket off, using it to cover herself.
Arya was both relieved and annoyed when the masterpiece she'd been trying not to appreciate was taken from her. Even mostly covered, Daenerys was still gorgeous. The blanket covered her breasts and hung down to the middle of her thighs, but there remained a sinful amount of her cleavage and legs on display.
With a little bit of distance, it was easier to think. Arya glanced down at her own body, checking to see what she'd been caught in. Although she typically slept nude, she chose to remain covered since she was sharing the room with Daenerys. She'd taken off her armor and had gone to sleep wearing only the thin, makeshift garments she wore to prevent the steel from rubbing directly on her skin. On her top half there was a band of fabric across her breasts and the bottoms had once been pants before she cropped them to stop above the knees.
Red faced and embarrassed Daenerys wouldn't look her in the eye. "When I heard you yelling, I didn't even think, I just wanted to help."
She wasn't going to complain about the unexpected treat she'd been given. She searched her brain for a way to show Daenerys she'd done the right thing, without admitting how much she enjoyed it. In the end she settled on one of those remarks that may or may not have been the truth. "You likely saved me from suffering far longer," she said, "if you hadn't shaken me like that, I probably wouldn't have woken up." She waited a moment before finishing. "Thank you, Daenerys, and again, I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
"Stop apologizing," Daenerys pressed, after a short chuckle that seemed only slightly forced. "I'm just glad you're okay. Would you like to talk, about the nightmare or anything else?"
She looked out the large window to assess the time and then she stood up, stretching her muscles. There, on top of the borrowed blanket she'd been using as a bed, she felt Daenerys's eyes watching her every move. Suddenly the large room felt too small and she needed to escape. "No thank you, you should go back to sleep, it's still early."
"Where are you going?" Daenerys asked. For an instant it looked as if she intended to drop the blanket she was using as a shield and physically prevent Arya from leaving. She settled for just extending an arm in Arya's direction.
"I'm going to go clean myself up," Arya explained, "I need to be ready when the Princess decides she wants to begin her day among the people."
"That isn't for a few hours yet, is it?"
With a shrug she took another step toward the door. "That's up to you. Once we're awake and dressed, we can leave as early or as late as you please."
The hour not withstanding, Daenerys was immediately overflowing with energy. "Really? I didn't think we would leave until after breakfast."
"We could find breakfast in the city I'm sure," she predicted.
With a wide grin, Daenerys lowered her outstretched arm. "In that case, you should probably hurry."
"I'll be back soon." She wanted to go, needed to, but before she left, she repeated one point to make it abundantly clear. "Thank you, for your help."
R-C
Usually the Targaryen Princess's life was tightly controlled. Someone always told her where to go, who to meet with and what to do when she got there. She didn't enjoy the lack of freedom, but she understood it, it was oddly comforting because it was familiar. With her unwavering determination Arya Sand flipped her highly regulated schedule on its head. Nothing felt normal now and it had Daenerys's skin prickling while her heart raced. She wondered if this was how everyone else felt all the time? So filled to the brim, with possibilities and potential.
Arya had gone to wash up and prepare, and Daenerys was supposed to be stealing a few more minutes of slumber. How could she sleep after everything that happened? The night had gone almost perfectly in Daenerys's estimation. After productive meetings with Aemon and Tyrion they retired to Daenerys's chambers. Once there, they shared a few drinks and laughed frequently as they discussed a wide variety of topics. Even when Daenerys suggested she leave, the guard remained. Sometimes it was difficult to tell how the people around her were feeling. Her position as Princess combined with theirs as staff created an almost unbridgeable divide. Most held their tongue to avoid upsetting her and the rest were quick to agree with anything Daenerys suggested, regardless of their own opinions. That said, she didn't think Arya stayed because she was sworn to the Princess, she did it because she wanted to, and Daenerys preferred that. Arya appeared content as they traded stories. Daenerys told of life in the Capital while Arya supplied tales about Dorne, Oberyn and the Prince's many daughters.
For a moment Daenerys thought her pleasurable evening would continue improving. She and Arya were side by side on a padded bench with a high back, each sipping wine. When talk turned to marriage, specifically why Daenerys wasn't wed, she was surprised to find she didn't immediately want to change the subject. Arya wasn't the first to ask. The older Daenerys got without being paired off, the more questions people had. Generally Daenerys's responses were vague and brief, something along the lines of 'I haven't met the right person,' or 'it isn't the right time.' With Arya she wanted to clarify.
After she shared her deepest feelings on the idea of married life, Daenerys posed a sincere question of her own, asking why Arya had never married. She knew her friend was a bastard, but that alone couldn't be the only reason, could it? She was skilled, funny, kind, intelligent and undeniably stunning, any man or woman would be lucky to have Arya's affection, Daenerys included.
When she nearly choked and began coughing, Daenerys was panicked. Arya kept her head down, hiding her eyes from the Princess who was desperate to confirm she was okay. She sat there like a fool. Should she summon someone? Did Arya require water or the Maester?
Their eyes meeting was a memory Daenerys would cherish. Arya was always beautiful, but in that moment, it was nearly overwhelming. The close proximity, the wine, the light pink color the vigorous coughing had brought to Arya's cheeks, it was all too much. When she saw a drop of wine hanging there just below her bottom lip, Daenerys knew she needed to act fast. Any second now Arya would realize the wine was there and wipe it away, Daenerys was determined to be quicker. She reached for it and felt a spark when her thumb made contact with the Dornish woman's skin. Once Arya's face was cleared of wine, Daenerys's pretense for touching her was gone, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. She kept her thumb moving, left to right, right to left, stretching it up closer to Arya's lip. That lip, had she ever seen anything more appealing? Daenerys didn't think so. Before she knew it was happening, she was leaning in. Her brain was sounding alarms, trying to caution against her current course but Daenerys continued. The prolonged lean only served to heighten Daenerys's need. She cared about Arya and wanted her around for as long as possible. She knew kissing her might cause irrevocable damage to their relationship, but it seemed like a worthwhile risk to discover if she tasted as good as she looked.
At the last moment Arya pulled away, mumbling something about wanting to wash her face after her cough. Daenerys was disappointed. What did that mean? Did Arya stop because she didn't want Daenerys to kiss her? That particular line of thought unsettled her, so she arranged a more favorable counterargument, maybe Arya was just worried because she was Daenerys's guard. She was probably hesitant because she didn't want to make things awkward between them. As she waited for Arya to return Daenerys noted that she'd gladly take some awkward tension if it meant she could get the occasional kiss.
She likely would have stewed in her doubts for the rest of the night if Arya hadn't come back and pulled Daenerys into an intense conversation. They picked up right where the left off. Neither brought up marriage again, but Arya was calm, relaxed and engaging. She gave no indication that the almost-kiss made her uncomfortable, leading Daenerys to speculate that she hadn't known what the Princess was going to do.
When she gave Missandei and Grey Worm their well-earned reprieve, Daenerys expected she'd be spending a lot of extra time alone. Typically, Arya returned to the barracks after Daenerys was in her chambers for the night. Sometimes Aemon would visit, or Rhaegar but more often than not, it was just her and Missandei. She intended to keep to their pattern.
It was a welcome surprise when Arya informed her that she planned to stay. Daenerys would happily take an evening with Arya over one alone. She learned quite a bit about Arya as the hour grew late. She did what she could to memorize every detail, wanting to keep them for later.
She expressed her wish to go to bed only when it couldn't be delayed anymore. If the coming day was one where she'd be confined to the keep, Daenerys would have stayed up all night, but since she needed to be alert and awake to make the most of her day in the city, she'd need some rest.
She thought Arya would leave but instead she only went as far as the closet. "What are you looking for?" she asked after a yawn.
"A pillow or a blanket," Arya replied without further explanation, she just kept rummaging through Daenerys's belongings. Other nobles or royals might have been annoyed that a member of the staff was messing up their things, but not Daenerys. If anything, she took it as proof that Arya was comfortable with her, aware she wouldn't be doing it otherwise.
She spent a few seconds trying to visualize the layout of her closet, to recall where Missandei and the others stored the specific items. "Top shelf, I think," she guessed. She watched as Arya lifted up onto her toes to try and reach the desired height. "What do you need them for?"
She turned toward Daenerys with two folded blankets and a single pillow in her arms. "You aren't the only one who needs sleep Princess."
Daenerys smiled at the use of her title. Over their hours together, Arya had called her 'Princess' only a handful of times and always with a tinge of humor or teasing. Had she not been focusing on her choice of words she might have understood the underlying message sooner. "You're staying?" She hadn't meant it as a question, but her uncertainty made it come out that way.
"I can go to the barracks, if you'd rather…" she started.
"No!" Daenerys insisted. "I don't mind, I'm just surprised," she confessed, "I thought after spending all day and night with me, you'd be eager to go."
Arya moved to the foot of the bed and dropped the items she was carrying. Daenerys got up from the bench and walked in that direction. In the process of spreading out one of the blankets on the floor, Arya said, "I'll survive." Her tone made it sound like she was suffering a hardship but her sly and oh so sexy smirk made sure Daenerys didn't take it too seriously.
"How very generous," Daenerys replied sarcastically. Arya was positioning the pillow where her head would be when Daenerys decided to venture into dangerous waters. "You know, the bed is big enough for two."
She dropped the pillow carelessly and pivoted to Daenerys. "The floor is fine," she assured her.
She meant to make another attempt, to try and coax Arya into her bed, even if it was only to sleep but she was distracted by Arya standing next to her 'bed,' unstrapping her armor. When she lifted it away from her body, Daenerys was treated to more of her flesh than she'd ever seen before. She knew she was staring but couldn't stop. When she was done, her armor was neatly piled on one side with her sword in its scabbard on the other. Daenerys said a silent prayer that Arya would keep stripping, but she didn't. She wondered if the guard normally slept in clothes or if it was being done for Daenerys's benefit. If so, it was utterly unnecessary.
Daenerys was going to return the favor and give Arya a display of her own to watch, but she waited too long. By the time she pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders, Arya was already lying down, with her back to Daenerys. She huffed quietly and pulled back the covers. Arya broke the silence, but only after Daenerys was resting comfortably. "Goodnight," she said.
Daenerys responded in kind. She didn't know how she'd be able to sleep with Arya just feet away, she just knew she needed to try. She refused to waste her day by sleeping half of it away. Although she struggled to calm down, Arya had no such problem, within minutes of Daenerys saying goodnight the soldier was breathing evenly. She listened and tried to match the speed. She smiled as she waited for sleep to come. They hadn't kissed and Arya hadn't joined her in bed, but she had stayed, and Daenerys liked having her nearby. That was the last thought she remembered having.
She slept soundly, with pleasant dreams of life aboard her very own ship. Missandei was there, along with Arya, Aemon, Grey Worm and Rhaegar. She thought it was a part of the dream when she heard Arya whimper. She didn't comprehend what was happening until she heard her friend cry out for her father. Daenerys awoke with a start, not in the belly of a ship surrounded by the people she loved most, but in the Red Keep, alone.
Except she wasn't alone. That became clear when she heard Arya muttering. She followed the sound, pushing off her blanket and crawling down the bed. What she saw made her heated blood run cold. Arya was thrashing wildly. Closer now, she could make out some of what Arya was saying. Daenerys didn't know who she was talking to, but heard something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'll kill you."
Without thinking she left the safety of her bed and went to Arya. She laid one hand gently on her shoulder, hoping to calm the violent spasms. She assumed she was successful as Arya stilled under her touch, but it didn't last. With her teeth closed tightly, Daenerys heard what she could only describe as a growl. What was she seeing? Was this a dream or something else? Unwilling to find out what would happen next, she said Arya's name gently, trying to rouse her. When it didn't work, she took hold of her second shoulder as she had the first. She lifted Arya partway off the blanket and shook her. Again, she tried to be gentle, but grew more intense the longer it went without Arya responding.
By the end, Daenerys was half yelling, half pleading for Arya to wake. When she finally did Daenerys was overcome with relief. She felt the urge to cry and likely would have given into it, had Arya not seemed so confused. Seeing the confident guard so vulnerable was unnerving, and it forced Daenerys to focus on Arya and not her own feelings.
Thankfully Arya recovered quickly. Before long the dream faded and she returned to herself, reverting back to the woman Daenerys couldn't get enough of. Just as things were calming, Arya pointed out her lack of clothes and the strain was back.
She'd wanted Arya to see her naked the night before, but that was when it was by choice, when it would've been her decision. This was accidental and not at all the way Daenerys wanted it. She grabbed for a blanket to cover herself. As she did, she felt more than saw Arya watching her. Embarrassed, she hid her body. They tiptoed around one another, trying to talk after such a strange turn of events. Daenerys watched Arya's eyes, making note of each time they strayed below her neck. As her tally grew, she felt braver than she had in a long time. Perhaps getting caught naked wasn't the worst thing.
Alone now sleep was impossible, regardless of Arya's instructions, she had too many questions. What was Arya dreaming about? Who did she want to kill? Also, she wondered what Arya was thinking now? Had she left because of the dream or because she was uncomfortable in Daenerys's presence? Did she like what she saw, because she definitely saw everything?
They were about to spend the whole day together. Daenerys hoped it could be like last night and not this morning. She wanted to see the happy relaxed Arya who could laugh and tease, not the one who was pained by a nightmare, who fled at the first opportunity.
She assumed they'd wake up, eat breakfast as usual and then leave, but Arya mentioned they could depart as soon as she wanted to. If that was true, then Daenerys was wasting valuable time. It would likely take longer than normal to get ready since she wouldn't have Missandei's assistance, but Daenerys didn't mind. She'd done a good thing by rewarding her friends with time away, she hoped they were enjoying it. If she had to fetch her own bathwater and style her own hair to give Missandei her first taste of freedom in far too long, so be it.
R-C
Author's Note: Not quite the romance most of you are waiting for, but I hope it was entertaining, nonetheless. Now that Arya knows what she's missing, I don't think her reasons for not pursuing Daenerys will hold up much longer. The next chapter has our favorite couple alone in the city.
I'll see you all then.
RC
