Daenerys was only too happy to put her book down when she heard the knock on her door. She hadn't really wanted to read - it was a bargain she struck with herself in a less than successful attempt to keep from counting every second until Arya arrived.
She was anxious, wondering if they would finally get the opportunity to talk, about the kiss and everything else. Missandei had offered to busy herself elsewhere so they could be alone. She hated the idea of sending her friend away but agreed anyway. Arya wouldn't open up to her if there was someone else listening. Seven Hells, there was the distinct possibility Arya wouldn't open up to her if they were the last two people left in the world.
Her emotions swung from excited to frantic with moments of utter terror thrown in for good measure. Was this normal? If it was, how did anyone confront the person they were interested in? The longer her conversation with Arya loomed on the horizon the more Daenerys considered crawling back into bed and hiding under the covers until tomorrow. Behaving like a child felt safer than what she was contemplating.
Since she couldn't get her mouth to cooperate, Missandei made an invaluable contribution. "Come in," she said for the panicked Princess.
Her heart increased its speed as she prepared to see Arya again, her dark, slightly overgrown hair, those expressive eyes, that body concealed by immaculately maintained armor. When she originally offered to get Arya Targaryen gear, she'd been thinking of it only as a practical matter. She hadn't considered the underlying significance. Why would she? To her armor was armor regardless. After hearing Arya's reasons for declining however, she gained a new perspective. It showed the guard's loyalty and character that she didn't want to wear another house's sigil, even for a short time. Although she still felt that way, Daenerys couldn't deny her desire to see Arya wear a Dragon, so everyone would know she was marked as Daenerys's.
Her wayward thoughts, which were unhelpfully comparing Arya in her armor and out of it, stopped the instant the door swung open. It wasn't Arya at all. Since their disagreements, she kept her interactions with Jorah to a minimum. They saw one another of course, but when they did, Daenerys was terse, slightly cold, and formal. They limited themselves to pleasantries, unimportant issues like the type of day she was having, or his opinion on the cook's last meal? She steadfastly avoided all of Jorah's attempts to talk to her alone, not wanting to provide him another opening to try and manipulate her. She was confident she would see it coming this time but wasn't in a rush to put her newfound observation skills into practice.
He hadn't come to her chambers like this since the morning after their return to King's Landing. "Ser Jorah, hello."
He ducked his head. "Princess."
Whatever he'd come for, be it new business or old, he wasn't earning himself any grace. He ignored Missandei completely, his eyes never leaving Daenerys.
She provided a chance for him to explain himself, but he didn't so she was forced to ask. "Is there something you needed?" A little pointed maybe, but she was still angry with Jorah. He tried to use Arya's injury to take back the job he wanted and when that failed, he conspired with Rhaegar to corner her in the throne room. It came back in flashes, blaming Arya for being attacked, then his arrogant presumption that only those of means were suited to be guards, and finally leading her away so her brother could question Arya. She remembered everything and she wasn't ready to forgive.
"I thought you knew," he said, moving deeper into the room. "I thought she would have told you."
Daenerys peeked at Missandei to see if the handmaiden had any idea what he was going on about. She appeared equally confused. "Who would have told me? Known what?"
"Arya," he answered and suddenly Daenerys's anger melted into fear. What was wrong with Arya? Why would she go to Jorah of all people if she had a problem? Arya was too smart not to notice the contempt Jorah held for her. She was hurt too, though she tried not to dwell on it. If something was happening, why hadn't Arya told her, come to her?
Missandei was there, providing support with her presence. She took Daenerys's hand and with a squeeze reminded her that she wasn't alone. It helped. Fears and exaggerations weren't required, Jorah had to have more to tell. She turned to the knight and braced herself for what was coming. "What about Arya? What is going on Ser?"
Jorah moved to stand beside her. She could see he was eyeing her empty hand, the one Missandei wasn't holding, but he didn't reach for it. She was glad, she didn't want his comfort, she wanted his information. "Arya came to see me this morning," he explained, "it was early. She said she had business and would be unable to act as your guard. She asked that I serve in my old post until her return."
Just like that, her debate over what to say to Arya, about their kiss and the future was insignificant. Arya was gone! Where would she go and why would she leave without telling Daenerys about it? With a brick in her stomach she wondered if kissing Arya the day before had propelled her to leave? If that was the cause, Daenerys didn't think she'd be back.
Missandei asked one of her many questions. "Did she tell you where she was going, Ser?"
He answered without looking away from the Princess. "She did not, she seemed to be in a rush however and last I saw, she was going in the direction of the stables."
Just like that Daenerys was paying more attention. The stables? The horse, her first gift to Arya, although the Dornishwoman didn't know it yet. Arya was honorable and fair. She believed the horse was a loan and as such wouldn't steal it. If the horse was missing from the stables, then Daenerys could reasonably expect Arya would be coming back at some point.
Missandei was still trying to gather the facts. "And she said nothing about the reason for the trip, or when she expected it to finish?"
"I'm sure she's fine."
Daenerys erupted, living up to her dragon blood. "Answer her!" she demanded of the knight. "What do you know of this?"
His eyes flickered to Missandei for the first time but didn't stay there. They bounced back to Daenerys a moment later. "I know very little Princess, she was vague, almost intentionally so. She mentioned some business she had to attend to."
What business could Arya have? She didn't know anyone in the capital. "That's it?" she verified.
Jorah nodded and tried to redirect them. "She will return, until then, I will act as your guard, so what would you like to do today?"
If that was all the information he had to share, then she would discover more on her own. Where would she like to go? To wherever Arya was, but in the meantime, they'd start at the stable. "The stables," she answered, already moving toward the closet where she kept her cloak.
"Princess, it's raining quite hard and although the grounds are vast, do you really want to risk falling ill before your nameday?"
"Yes," she lied. She had no intention of going for a rain-soaked ride but telling Jorah her true intentions would take time she wasn't willing to waste. Every second she was there with him, was another she had to wonder about Arya.
From the closet she grabbed two of her thickest fur-lined cloaks, one for Missandei and one for herself. She was putting hers on when Jorah responded. "Daenerys, be reasonable, you'll catch your death if…"
"I am going to the stables," she declared with finality, "I may be confined to the castle, but that doesn't mean I must remain locked in my room."
"I was not suggesting…"
She didn't feel obligated to let him finish. "Ready?" she asked Missandei, checking to make sure the woman from Naath was sufficiently bundled up to protect her from the elements.
While they were speaking, Jorah was still trying. "There are many things we can do indoors today and then tomorrow if the weather clears…"
Tomorrow? He was already planning to make his reassignment permanent. She'd correct his error later, for now she had something of the upmost importance to do. When the women turned for the door Jorah was positioned directly in their path. "You should probably find a cloak Ser, I fear it's raining."
He stared at her dumbfounded and in other circumstances Daenerys might have been amused. He was taken aback by her blatantly sarcastic comment. She never spoke that way to anyone and certainly not him. "Princess," he said, "it is not safe for you to be going out in a storm like this."
She'd had her fill. "I'm going," she told him, "whether you come along is your choice, but with or without you, I'm going."
"You can't leave your chambers without a guard," he reminded her. She could see he was growing exasperated with her defiance. "You promised the King and the Crown Prince you'd abide by the rules."
How dare he?! Telling her of the rules she was required to follow, using them as weapons to control her. Invoking the titles belonging to her father and brother as if he himself could wield the corresponding authority. She didn't care if he didn't like it, she didn't care if he didn't understand, she didn't care if he came along or not, but she was going to the fucking stables and she was going to find Arya, no matter the cost. "You are not the only guard in this castle," she noted aloud.
He flinched at her words but didn't relent. "You can't simply choose to show your independence by going for a ride in the rain. You have obligations to the Realm and you're too important."
He was doing it again, telling her what she couldn't do. That wasn't for him to decide. She felt taller as her anger burned every inch of her. She stepped forward, away from Missandei and toward the knight. She had to look up to meet his eye, but she didn't mind. "Unless I'm mistaken you Ser are a member of the Kingsguard, sworn to obey and safeguard the King and his family." Her volume rose as she continued, "I am Daenerys Targaryen, a member of that family."
He made a feeble attempt to calm her. "I know that Princess."
"Do you?" she pressed. "You are a knight. You don't get to say where I can go, or when I can go there. I'm done! Are you coming to the stables, or are you leaving?"
"Daenerys," he implored.
"Which is it? I've been delayed long enough."
"What about Missandei?"
So typical, he ignores Missandei until she's useful and then he treats her like a tool to achieve his goal. Daenerys was prepared to give her friend the choice, she could stay inside and remain dry or join her. She didn't get to even make the proposal.
"The rain reminds me of home," she said plainly, as if the two people she was speaking to weren't in the midst of the worst fight they'd ever had. "I'm going with the Princess."
Missandei was always saying or doing something remarkable, something inspirational and this was no exception. She was fully willing to march out into the rain without knowing Daenerys's plan.
With the handmaiden's allegiance clear, Daenerys levelled Jorah with a single word. "Move," she commanded, and he did. She paid Jorah no mind, having wasted too much energy on him already. While descending the stairs it become obvious that he was going to be accompanying them. There would be consequences for this, Jorah wouldn't stay silent for long, but that knowledge didn't give her pause. She meant what she'd said, she was done, and she didn't just mean with the conversation or Jorah, she was done with all of it. She was done living like a prisoner in the nicest castle in the Seven Kingdoms. She was done doing her best to be perfect, done trying to earn her father's attention, Viserys's respect or Rhaegar's approval. She was done living a life where hers was the only opinion that didn't matter.
R-C
"What is the plan?" Missandei asked as they walked toward the stables. The wind was blowing in their faces and the rain was every bit as unpleasant as Jorah warned, but Daenerys knew she was doing the right thing. There wasn't even a shred of doubt anywhere in her. She needed to solve the mystery of where Arya had gone. To do that, she needed to know if she planned on coming back. If she wanted to go why hadn't she said goodbye? Did she fear Daenerys would try and stop her?
"Plan?" she tried, hoping to sound more casual than she felt. "I just want to take my horse for a ride around the grounds." They were conversing in High Valyrian, a language Jorah did not understand.
They looked at one another for one moment and then two. Daenerys cracked first, smiling. "I know you didn't come out here without a plan."
That was true, but the bond they shared went both ways. Just as Missandei knew she was lying, she knew her handmaiden hadn't exactly been honest either. "And I know you," she countered, "I know for a fact rain does not make you think of home, because the rain here is nothing like the rain you remember from Naath."
Missandei's smile became a smirk. "Whatever you're doing, I want to help."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I just need to know if Arya's coming back. That's why we are going to the stables."
Missandei caught on right away. "Her horse."
"She doesn't know it is hers yet, so she wouldn't take it."
Instead of nodding along with the Princess's logic, or grumbling about the cold, Missandei beamed with pride. "That's clever, Princess, you're good at this."
"Let's hope I don't have to be for much longer, maybe Arya is already back." It was wishful thinking, but Daenerys felt entitled. She cared about Arya and didn't want her to be gone.
Missandei knew exactly what Daenerys needed to hear and provided it. "She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you."
"I don't think so either, but what else explains this? She doesn't know anyone in the city."
As they neared the stable a young boy came running out, passing right in front of them. He had his head down and something in his fist, sprinting for the warm, dry castle.
Daenerys wanted to hear what Missandei thought, but they reached their destination, so the High Valyrian stopped and they slipped inside. The handmaiden sighed in relief and one drop at a time puddles began forming under all three of them. They were soaked. Jorah was in the worst shape since Daenerys didn't stop long enough for him to get a coat or a cloak. His armor could withstand swords, arrows and all manner of deadly tools, but it provided only minimal protection against the downpour. She'd never worn armor but guessed the excess water would only make the plate harder to carry. Daenerys herself felt ten pounds heavier and was certain she looked ridiculous. Her shoes squeaked against the floor as she tried to shake off a fraction of the accumulated water. Missandei's usually bouncy curls were substantially flatter.
Daenerys was still gathering herself when the stablemaster addressed her. "Princess, how are you? Should I ready your horse? It'll just take a minute, we've been busy today despite the rain."
She gave up trying to separate her waterlogged clothes from her body and turned to reply to the kind man. When she did, she was stunned to find Arya standing next to her horse, calming petting his mane. She was drenched in a way that the others were not. She'd definitely been out in the elements far longer than the time it took to go from the keep to the stables. She looked miserable and beautiful.
A gasp came, likely from her and then she was gone. "Arya!" She was going to hug her, was looking forward to it actually but before she could Arya's arms extended, grabbing Daenerys by the upper arms and keeping them apart. That did not bode well. Arya had never refused to accept an embrace before. Sure, she didn't seem to like them as much as Daenerys did, but she didn't typically refuse them outright.
"Don't," Arya said quietly, looking deeply into Daenerys's eyes. "I'm soaked."
A humorless laugh escaped her lips. That was why she stopped her? As reasons go, it was one she could live with. "Me too," she promised, leaning in and trusting Arya would understand.
With a dramatic huff she allowed Daenerys to get closer. Had she not spent a considerable amount of time watching Arya, she might have missed the subtle lift in the corner of her mouth. She was supressing a smile.
When their chests came together Daenerys's arms wrapped around her and held on as though her life depended on it. This was good. This felt right. Moments like this made everything else worthwhile. "Don't do that to me again," she mumbled. "I thought you left."
The hug was abruptly over, though Arya didn't go far. She placed her hands on Daenerys's arms again and separated them just enough to see the Princess's face. "What? I told Jorah I had an appointment. He agreed to watch you until I came back."
With a little distance and low volume, they didn't need to worry about anyone listening in. "You told him you were coming back?" she verified.
"Daenerys what's going on? What are you doing out in the rain?"
"Looking for you!" she said a bit too loudly. "I didn't know where you'd gone or why, and I wanted to see if your horse was here."
Was it to prove the stallion was in his place, or to provide them more privacy? Either way Arya waved Daenerys over and they moved down the horse's body to stand near its hindquarter. "I'm sorry," she said to start, "I didn't want you to worry, I thought I'd be back before now. It took longer than I planned." She was petting her horse but turned her head toward Daenerys. "I would never do that," she said seriously, "I wouldn't leave without telling you."
Her sincerity was undeniable, and it eased much of what had been plaguing her since Jorah appeared. They still had a lot to talk about, but it was nice to know she'd been right one thing – Arya wouldn't' just disappear like that. "Where did you go?"
"I had to order something, like I said I thought it'd only take a minute, but he had a lot of questions."
Curiosity burned her. She wanted to know what Arya wanted to buy, she wanted to know, so she could get it for her. It must have been obvious how she felt because Arya said, "It'll be ready in a few days, and I'll show it to you then, okay?"
That was more than fair. Did she purchase a weapon for herself? Daenerys hoped not. Tyrion assured her that the blade she had commissioned for her guard was on schedule and due to be finished any day. She hoped her gift wouldn't be a duplicate of the one Arya ordered herself. Then she remembered how much gold she needed to pay the smith and that worry faded. There was no way Arya could have bought a sword similar to the one Daenerys had forged for her, not unless she had access to the royal treasury too.
"I'm sorry," Arya said again as they prepared to rejoin the others.
Daenerys took her hand, needing the contact. She overreacted when she learned Arya was gone, but now she was back. Daenerys could see her, talk to her, touch her, it was going to be okay.
Daenerys wasn't the only one happy to see Arya returned. Missandei greeted her warmly and Arya surprised them all when she gave the handmaiden a hug.
Just as everyone was preparing to step out into the storm the door to the stables swung inward, forcing Jorah to take a step back to accommodate the new arrivals. Daenerys recognized them at once, Ilyn Payne and three members of the Kingsguard. Unable to speak Payne went from face to face, looking at each of them in turn. He made a motion with his hand, one Daenerys didn't understand. He held up one finger and then pulled it through the air as if drawing some sort of circle.
One of the men spoke for Payne. "Apologies Princess," he said to her, "but the King requests your presence in the throne room."
Four men had to come to tell her that? Strange but okay. "Very well," she said, only to have Arya release her hand and take half a step forward. "Do I have time to change into dry clothes?" she asked. The prospect of spending hours dripping was unappealing.
"I'm afraid not, it is urgent, you're needed at once," the guard clarified.
Resigned, she nodded. Surprisingly Jorah of all people rose in her defense. "Surely the King can wait long enough for the Princess to put on dry clothes."
"It's okay," Daenerys assured him, managing a smile for the man who tried to do her a kindness, "I'll go."
"You all need to come," he clarified, "the King is waiting."
"All of us?"
"That is what he said Princess, I'm sorry."
The tension around them multiplied. No one complained on the walk back, not about the wind or the rain, no one said anything. Arya was on her left, with Missandei on her right. Jorah was behind her with one of Payne's men, and the stablemaster. When he said everyone, he really meant it.
Something was wrong. Her father rarely summoned her, but when he did, he didn't take the time to mention Missandei or Jorah, he typically just sent for her and expected they'd come along.
She went through her most recent sins, searching for the one most likely to have been exposed. Did her father discover she lied when she said she sent Missandei on an errand? If it was about that, why had they collected the stablemaster too?
To the best of her recollection, today was the first time they'd all been in the same room at the same time. Did that mean whatever was happening was related to today? She hoped not.
Every step carried her closer, to her father, to the throne. She dreaded being the center of attention, despised the way the court treated her, like an object more than a person. She hated it and she'd submit to it a thousand times if it meant the King's focus stayed on her and her alone.
It was an odd circumstance to have to admit you're frightened of your own father. Not of his disapproval or disappointment, not of a slap or a cruel word, but of the very real possibility that he might murder you. As a girl she believed anything her father did, he did for the Realm and with the best of intentions. She heard what people said about him, but that was just because they didn't understand his burden. They didn't know what it was like being King, being a Targaryen. She assumed those she heard gossiping were bitter, jealous or both and she paid it little mind. With age came wisdom and clarity. The first time she watched her father burn a man alive she was sick for days. The second time, she cried so hard Rhaegar had to take her out. It wasn't until the third wildfire execution she witnessed that she remained composed enough to hear the King laughing as his victim screamed. That was when she knew, her father wasn't the good, decent, deeply misunderstood man she believed him to be, he was everything they said he was and worse. Unfortunately for Daenerys, whatever he was, he remained her one and only father. She couldn't just snap her fingers and stop loving him. It would've been easier if she could.
By her tenth year she understood why the people called him 'The Mad King.' It wasn't a permanent, all-consuming madness, but it was madness, nonetheless. He could be asking her about her studies one minute and whispering about betrayals and fire the next. She loved him in spite of the things he did, but she stopped trying to justify them. There was no excuse for the crimes he committed, yet no one objected because he was King, and his word was law. She cherished the good times, rare as they eventually become. In her youth, he'd summon her to a sitting room near the library and ask about the book she was currently reading. Aerys would listen to her opinion on the author, sharing his own if he had one. He'd ask for tea and snacks and they'd sit like that the remainder of the afternoon, allowing Daenerys to fool herself into thinking they were just like any other father and daughter in the Seven Kingdoms.
Once when she was almost fourteen, Aerys strung together nearly a full month of lucid, logical governing. Daenerys was thrilled, and she knew Rhaegar was too. More than once as she walked around the castle, she heard whispering voices. Instead of discussing who the King burned and why, they were asking 'is he cured?'
Until the first time she heard it, Daenerys never considered such a thing might be possible. Afterward though, she could think of little else. When her father smiled at her one evening and invited her to join him later to talk, Daenerys thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. He claimed he wanted to get to know her. It was as if everything she ever dreamed of was becoming real. She accepted and spent the rest of the day preparing, wanting to make a favorable impression, to make him proud of the young woman she'd grown into.
There was no guard, and the door was slightly ajar when Daenerys got there. She didn't think much of it to be honest, her focus was on Aerys and the evening they were going to spend together.
When she pushed open the door slightly and crept inside, it hit her like a wave, an immediate, inexplicable sense that something was wrong. For one thing the room was dark, not just poorly lit, but pitch black. To this day, Daenerys wished she had it to do over again. She would have refused the King's offer, or run from the room the moment she saw it dark, she would summon a guard, or ten, anything and everything except say the words, "Father are you here?" If she never said it, he'd never light the candle and the room's secrets would have remained hidden by the shadows. In a dark room she could've overlooked the body of the Kingsguard lying dead between her and her father. Perhaps it was her youth, her naivety or the shock of finding a man with a breadknife sticking out of his neck, but for whatever reason she felt compelled to offer her father the chance to explain himself. Maybe there was a logical reason, maybe he was defending himself. "What happened? Father are you alright?"
Aerys was sitting on the floor next to the victim's head. The pool of blood under the wound was large enough that the King was sitting in it, yet he made no effort to move. His fingers played with the blood as if it were paint, marking the floor randomly. "Everything is perfect. I stopped him."
"Stopped him from what?" she asked through tears.
"Killing you," he declared simply.
She looked at the man's face, at least the parts visible. He meant her harm? If he did, then the King was justified in his violent resolution. That delusion, however pleasant didn't last long.
"I heard him," Aerys said, no longer talking to her. "I knew what he was going to do, he was going to kill me, kill us all, he was a traitor and he deserved the fire."
Daenerys recognized the signs and she knew what they meant. Her father wasn't cured of anything. She cried and cried, for the dead man and his family, for her father, for the future she'd never get to have, one with a loving, rational father.
All at once he was in front of her, holding the candle dangerously close to her face. "You there," he said, poking Daenerys in the center of her chest, "go find the pyromancer. Tell him we have a body to burn."
He backed up then, taking the candle with him. Daenerys didn't need further encouragement. She ran and went straight to Rhaegar, telling him through sobs what happened.
A lot about that night haunted her long after the blood was cleaned, and the body laid to rest. She was tormented by nightmares in which the dead man asked her for help. No matter how strenuously she tried, she never managed to save him. After the nightmares came the disappointment. It took a long time for Daenerys to make peace with the fact that there was no cure for what afflicted her father. His illness would get worse not better. Most troubling of all though was the painfully accurate moment when Aerys addressed her and didn't realize she was his daughter. As his sickness grew more powerful, it happened with increasing frequency. but Daenerys never forgot that first time, the finger in her chest and the blank stare.
If she was just another random woman in the castle to him, was it inevitable that one day she'd be accused of a crime, like the servant last month or the member of the City Watch last week? Both were burned. Was that her destiny, to die at her father's hand? Would he wield the weapon or just give the order? Would he know he was killing Daenerys, his daughter and if so, would he care? Would he feel guilt? Would he mourn her? She didn't know. She's not sure it mattered.
Those questions echoed inside her ears as the doors opened and Ilyn Payne escorted her and many of her closest friends to a meeting with the King. The court was in place, watching, they turned as one to assess the wet, line of people. There was a Princess, a slave, a knight, a bastard and a stablemaster.
The man who helped arrange for Daenerys to give Arya a horse looked terrified and she couldn't fault him for it. She had no reassurance to give, because she knew better than anyone how right he was to be afraid.
When she looked at Jorah, he was already watching her. He gave her a slight, sad smile and she responded with a nod of understanding. Somehow, he had for her what she couldn't muster up for the stablemaster. His reassurance was wasted on her however, she already what awaited them. The only things yet to be determined were the harshness of the punishment and who exactly would pay it.
Next to her Missandei was staring straight ahead. She was taking slow, methodical, breaths that were perfectly timed to match her steps. With her head high and her shoulders back, anyone watching would be forgiven for assuming Missandei was the same composed, unflappable woman she'd always been. Only Daenerys knew the horrible truth, that the King reminded her of the Masters who forced her into slavery. It was a comparison she wanted to reject but couldn't as her friendship with Missandei deepened. The Masters treated people like property and killed with impunity. If she tried to claim her father was different, she would've gagged on the words. He was every bit as bad as the Masters who had brought Missandei such pain, maybe Aerys was worse, depending on how you scored such things. Daenerys spotted the tiny quivering in her lip and the tension in her jaw as she kept her lips closed tight. She was scared, but brave. This was not Missandei's first time facing off against a tyrant, where the wrong word could result in death. Daenerys said a quick prayer to any God listening that Missandei would find a way to survive this one too.
She wanted to take her hand, to try and comfort her, but she couldn't, not with so many people paying such careful attention. As a poor substitute she began swinging her arm a bit as she walked down the center of the room. Halfway to the throne she brushed her hand against Missandei's stiff one. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Missandei tore her eyes from that one spot on the back wall and looked at the Princess. Daenerys hoped she knew how special she was, how much it meant to have a friend like her. There wasn't time to say so now, and she wasn't sure she'd get the chance later. They had run out of time.
Lastly there was Arya, like Missandei she was standing tall, willing to face what was coming. Where they differed was that when she checked, Daenerys couldn't see any hint that Arya was masking her emotions. She was tense but beyond that, showed no signs of fear. It didn't make sense because Arya knew what her father was capable of. She nearly lost her life to him once already and somehow, he still didn't intimidate her. As it'd done with Missandei, her mind taunted her with all the things left unsaid. She'd had much longer to show Missandei she cared about her, that she loved her, but she got only weeks with Arya. Would she know how Daenerys felt? How could she when Daenerys was too afraid to say it? Her early morning talk with Missandei about Arya was a cruel reminder of how fickle the fates could be. Then she was worried she wouldn't have the courage to reveal the truth, now she just hoped they all survived long enough for her to have the chance.
"Daenerys," her father bellowed, "take your seat next to your brother."
There was a fraction of a second, a sliver of a moment before she looked toward the throne and after Aerys spoke, that Arya turned to her, their eyes met, and she saw sadness in the grey.
It felt wrong leaving her friends and taking a seat next to her family but what choice did she have? Defying the King wouldn't help anyone.
Aerys had the highest perch in the room, but just below him, on an equal tier were an arrangement of chairs on both his left and his right. She belonged on the side reserved for family. They were arranged by age, Rhaegar first, then the empty spot for Viserys and lastly her. Behind Rhaegar Aemon sat, watching her approach sadly. Selmy stood behind the Prince's chair. Normally Arya, Missandei and even Jorah would occupy the same space behind her but not this time. She'd never realized how much comfort their presence brought her, but she knew it now, on the long, isolated walk.
Opposite the Targaryens was a section reserved for advisors. Tywin was there in his role as Hand of the King. Behind him, he had two of his three children. Tyrion and Cersei. She attended almost every meeting even though she didn't hold an official position. Jaime wasn't sitting but he was definitely present, likely near the King. In addition to the Lannisters, there was Varys, the Master of Whispers, Grand Maester Pycelle and most alarming Rossart, the alchemist. He rarely made an appearance unless he was needed.
She took her seat and didn't know where to look. Should she try and persuade Rhaegar to intercede? Should she be watching her father or was her time best spent on her friends?
Ilyn Payne and a small group of others left their positions around Arya and approached the King. Although she was relieved fewer men with swords were clustered around her friends, it was hard to see the good in this situation.
"Well done Ser," her father praised, as Payne knelt before the throne.
On his feet again he went to stand between the Clegane brothers. Daenerys swallowed hard. This inquisition was about to begin in earnest.
The room was on edge. There was no murmuring from the gallery, not one impatient noble tapping his toes, not a cough, a sneeze or a clearing throat, it was completely silent.
When the quiet ended, and the King spoke, it was every bit as bad as Daenerys feared. "Arya Sand," he said, "step forward."
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Arya did as she was told. She may have appeared indifferent as she left Missandei, Jorah and the stablemaster behind her, but actually she was busy wrestling with the demons of her past. This was all a little too familiar. There were obvious differences, the whole court was in attendance this time, and she was called on first and not last, but those minor details weren't enough to keep the memories at bay. The King's empty eyes observed her from his chair of melted swords. She felt like the same little girl she'd been the last time.
No, she wasn't that girl anymore and thinking about her wouldn't help Arya stay alive. She needed to focus on the here and now, if she wanted to save herself. She could contend with her past later, if she wasn't dead.
If there was a blessing, it was that neither Daenerys nor Missandei seemed to be included in whatever crime she was being accused of. Had he discovered she wasn't a Dornish bastard but actually a traitorous Wolf? Ashara Musgood hadn't arrived yet, but he could have heard it from another source, maybe one of the Spider's little birds sang.
As she stood before the Mad King of the Seven Kingdoms, she felt she was at the crossroads of many diverging paths. Why he wanted to see her was almost irrelevant. Did he know who she was? Did he have another reason, or was she just the next unlucky soul he decided to burn? She didn't care, there were more important things to decide with her remaining moments.
She sized up her opposition. Many of the best swordsmen in the Realm stood around the throne, including Jaime Lannister and Arthur Dayne. Between them, the Hound, and the Mountain, she didn't think she could get to the King before she was cut down. Also, Daenerys was in the room. How would she feel if Arya killed her father and then was executed for it? That was not how she wanted the Princess to remember her.
Rhaegar was an easier target. Slowed by his injury, and less protected, she had a decent chance of getting to him. If she struck quick, and with the element of surprise, she could be on him before Selmy or any others could stop her. She could avenge her Aunt Lyanna and right one of the many wrongs the Crown Prince had done. It was tempting but her conscience picked at the flaws in her scheme. For one, Aemon was there. Would he oppose her to save his father? Would she have to kill him to achieve her goal? Even if he stayed in his chair, her plan required her to murder a father in front of his son. Was she capable of that? Just wondering about her limitations brought a fresh wave of horrid recollections. For a second time, Daenerys was unknowingly the deciding factor that kept a member of her family alive. Arya may think Rhaegar wasn't worthy to breathe but Daenerys loved him. He cared about her too, and the number of people who could say that were in dangerously short supply. Was it worth stealing her brother from her and causing her pain just to take revenge?
She was still searching for a suitable option when the King spoke. "Arya Sand," he began, "you stand accused of abandoning your post. Do you admit it?"
There was a gasp behind her from Missandei, but Arya kept her attention on the royal. The pieces were coming together. That was what this was about? With that little bit of information Arya knew exactly how she'd proceed. She'd face the King directly, tell the truth in a way befitting her father's daughter and then if he ruled against her, she'd choose a trial by combat and die with a sword in her hand.
She wasn't foolish enough to think she'd win against the Mountain but refused to make it easy for them. Maybe if the Gods felt she was owed a final gift, Aerys would name Jorah his champion and she could kill Mormont.
Her wet clothes and general pitiful appearance didn't matter anymore. She addressed the King with all the dignity she had left. "I deny it!"
A sickening smirk spread across his face, and she knew then that he was hoping she'd say that. "So, you guarded the Princess this morning as you were sworn to do? You did not leave her defenseless and vulnerable to those who would harm her?"
She chose her next words carefully aware they could be her last. "I did not guard the Princess this morning," she admitted, "but I did not abandon my post, and I certainly did not leave her vulnerable."
"Explain that," Tywin demanded. "You were either with the Princess or you were not."
She turned to meet the Hand's steady gaze. "I had business in the city," she said, hoping to keep her reason hidden. She wanted it to be a surprise. "I went to the knight Jorah Mormont and asked him to keep the Princess safe in my absence."
"So, you did abandon your post," Aerys accused, "you woke up this morning, ignored your obligations to my daughter and your King and slithered away like a snake."
She didn't think anything she said would convince him, but there were others listening who might be swayed. For Daenerys in particular, Arya kept trying. No matter the outcome, she wanted Daenerys to know exactly what happened. "No, your Grace," she corrected gently, nearly choking on his title, "before I left, I went to Lord Tyrion's office to see if he had any business that required the Princess, he did not. Then I met with Prince Rhaegar and asked if Daenerys could accompany me, but he advised she was needed at the castle so I went alone, but only after making sure Jorah was willing and able to act as guard in my place."
"Is this true?" Rhaegar asked.
At first Arya thought he was speaking to her, but behind her Jorah replied, "Yes Prince."
"And you?" Tywin asked his son. "She met with you as she claims?"
When she looked in Tyrion's direction, the Master of the Coin was waiting to give her a smile. "Arya visits me daily," he explained, "she comes on behalf of the Princess. Daenerys has been making sure those getting charitable gifts from the Crown receive them in short order, it's been a great help."
"Very well," Tywin said, sounding satisfied. "I've heard…"
"Are you lying!?" Aerys shouted suddenly. "Traitors lie," he said to himself, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Next Arya thought she heard him mumble, "Betrayers lie."
"No," she said simply. She hadn't lied. The only thing that wasn't the absolute truth was that she considered taking Daenerys with her. Since the purpose of her trip was to buy something for her in secret, she chose to go when she knew the Princess couldn't join her. Other than that, every word was accurate.
"What was more important than protecting my daughter from the assassins plotting to kill her!?" He was back to yelling again, growing increasing agitated.
"Nothing is more important than keeping the Princess safe." She wasn't as loud as the King, but she was just as passionate, on this point at least. "She had a knight with her when I wasn't."
"Then why did you go?"
Since Ilyn Payne showed up at the stables and collected them Arya had made an effort not to look at Daenerys too frequently. She was afraid of what she'd see on her face and in her eyes. She needed to stay focused on the King and the immediate threat, she couldn't do that if she was worrying about Daenerys. She broke her own rule anyway. As she feared, Daenerys was a mess. She was leaning forward in her seat with her hands on her knees. She looked poised to leap to the guard's defense at the first available opportunity. The rain made it impossible to tell if she'd been crying, but in those violet eyes Arya saw the pain she was feeling.
What was she to do? If she told the truth and admitted her reason, it would ruin the surprise of presenting Daenerys with a gift on her nameday, but if she didn't, she might not live to see Daenerys open any gifts. There were no guarantees. She was no expert, but it appeared Aerys was losing his grip on reality. The longer this went on, the more volatile he became. He was talking to himself as often as he did his audience. Would it make any difference at all if she told him where she was, or would he just continue under another pretense?
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Most of Daenerys's thoughts were so chaotic that she didn't have a chance to really take hold and think about them before they were gone. The only one that remained consistent, the only one that mattered was that she needed to get Arya out of this. She had to do something, to make sure Arya was safe.
It had looked as if Arya was going to be granted another reprieve but then her father started shouting and Daenerys knew this wasn't over. She wanted to defend Arya, but she didn't know how. She hadn't known where Arya was until they met at the stables. It was difficult to argue for someone's innocence when you had little knowledge of the events.
When her father called Arya forward and formally accused her, Daenerys felt as though her heart was breaking. She'd spent so much time, so much energy working to prepare herself for the possibility that she might one day become her father's victim, but she'd been guarding against the wrong thing. Daenerys would take Arya's place before the King in a second, if she could. The real concern she should have been obsessing over was not what the King might do to her, but what he might do to someone she cared about. First Missandei, now Arya, it was as if she couldn't keep those who mattered to her safe. What was the point of being a Princess, a Dragon if she couldn't protect them?
Arya was as fearless as the day they met. She spoke to the King confidently with not even a tremor in her clear voice. Daenerys envied and admired her. Taking a chance and bringing Arya into her life was the single best decision she ever made. She couldn't let this be how it ended. She needed to do something.
As Arya's 'trial' continued Daenerys couldn't take her eyes of the criminal. She didn't look away when her father posed a question, when Tywin added his own, or when Jorah, Rhaegar, and Tyrion spoke. To her Arya was all there was.
When her father called Arya a liar, Daenerys knew she couldn't let things continue. Liars died, liars burned, she had seen it too many times to think today would be different. With no time for manners she leaned across Viserys's empty chair and touched her brother on the arm. Before his head could turn, she was hissing a message at him. "Stop this," she implored.
"I can't," he whispered back.
She didn't believe that. It was common knowledge that Aerys listened to exactly three people. He heeded some of Tywin's advice, but was just as likely to do the exact opposite of what the Hand suggested. Rossart the pyromancer was the King's single favorite person, but only because he didn't involve himself in politics and never tried to reign in the deadly impulses. Rhaegar was the third, and the only one Aerys listened to consistently. As a second born son, Viserys was marginalized, and as a daughter Daenerys was rarely considered at all, but Rhaegar was the heir, he was the child their father was proud of and so, it made him the most influential. "You can!" she said, a little louder than before. She was being rude, and people were sure to take note of it, but she didn't care. She was tired of sitting quietly and letting bad things happen. Did it occur to her brother that this was exactly what she tried to warn him about? This was entirely preventable. If he'd listened when she went to him, if he was willing to replace their father then Arya wouldn't be in danger now. He wasn't as guilty as Aerys but there was plenty of blame to go around. Since her pleas didn't seem to be working, she moved on to threats. "Do something or I will."
He had turned his head when she touched his arm, but quickly reoriented his eyes toward the action. Even as they went back and forth, he never faced her again, until she threatened to act. That had his attention. "Don't," he commanded.
She was sitting upright by then, just a proper little Princess listening to her father lead. "I won't let his happen," she told him bluntly.
Her conversation with her brother was temporarily put on hold when she heard Arya's voice harden. Her ears blocked out everything else and she was struck by how serious Arya sounded. More shocking was to realize she was the topic. When Arya said that nothing was more important than her safety, Daenerys dared anyone in the room to deny her sincerity. Nothing she'd ever done made her deserving of having Arya in her life.
Arya seeking her out was unexpected. Since the King separated them, Arya hadn't so much as glanced at the Princess, but now she was staring openly. Daenerys's worries multiplied. Was she trying to tell her something? If so, she couldn't read the message, but just because she couldn't understand didn't mean she couldn't send one back. "I'm sorry," she said, mouthing the words. It bothered her how insignificant and weak the apology was.
Arya responded with a sad smile that was gone as soon as it appeared. Daenerys glanced at Rhaegar and hoped to find him watching her. She wanted to know if he intended to intervene. He was once again focused solely on the King and of no use. Fine, if he wouldn't help Arya, then it was up to Daenerys to do it. She took a deep breath and did her best to calm her nerves. Hoping to gain strength from Arya she looked to the guard and found her staring even more intently than last time. Now it was Arya's lips moving. There was no sound, but she clearly mouthed the word, 'don't.' Did she know what Daenerys was about to do? How could she? If she didn't, why would she say that? Don't what?
Before she could comprehend any of it, Arya stopped staring, stopped passing secret and confusing messages and spoke to her father. "I went into the city to purchase a nameday gift for Princess Daenerys."
The murmurs started in the back and grew, until it was all she could hear. It was a struggle for the Princess to even breathe. She hoped Arya might turn again, but she didn't. Arya had gone out in the middle of a rainstorm to purchase her a present? Why would she? Sure, her nameday was near, but that was insignificant. Daenerys didn't need anything, and Arya did. She should be spending her gold on things she wanted, or things she needed, not wasting it on Daenerys.
One of the most critical pairs of eyes matched her own. Rhaegar who only moments before acted powerless now wanted his sister's time. She didn't give it, choosing instead to look behind him to Aemon. Her nephew nodded in a show of support.
"Quiet!" Tywin insisted. "Quiet now."
The court settled and Daenerys went back to studying Arya. "You were purchasing Daenerys a gift?" To an outsider it might appear to be a perfectly innocent question from the King, but the Princess knew her father well. She learned to recognize the slight shifts in his tone and used them to predict his mood. The way he was feigning understanding, it was telling. He did the same thing when he asked her if she denied the claims against her, he wanted her to deny them, just as he wanted her to confirm she went shopping. There was a trap coming, she could feel it, even if its nature was unknown.
"Yes."
"Very well," Aerys said, still sounding too sweet to be trusted. "This should be easy enough to resolve, present the gift to us, and prove you are not a liar and a deserter."
Daenerys's mind raced. Did Arya have a gift to offer? She didn't see anything, but then again, she wasn't looking either. Did she leave it in the stables, in her saddlebag perhaps? Seconds passed one at a time and began to pile up. Daenerys was going to be sick. If Arya had something to present to the court, she would've done it. She couldn't.
"I placed an order and paid to have the gift commissioned today," she said slowly, taking what felt like an extra long pause between each word. "I will receive a notice when it is ready to be picked up."
Daenerys had been stunned to learn Arya had bought her something, but with every revelation it got worse. Arya didn't just purchase an item, she had it made, especially for her. Her thoughts were interrupted by her father's hard voice. "So, we are just supposed to believe you? You want me to trust that you were out buying a gift, and not plotting with my enemies, yet you can't prove it."
Daenerys was panicking. She didn't know how to stop this. Rhaegar had already decided against helping her, so she searched the room for a friendly face, anybody who might be able to provide her guidance. She stopped when she landed on Missandei. The handmaiden was standing next to Jorah, a step-in front of the stablemaster. She looked how Daenerys felt. She cared about Arya too and she knew where this was headed.
She wanted to scream! She was a fucking Princess and she was unable to help. She couldn't even tell her own father he was wrong and now an innocent woman was going to suffer for it. All the tears she managed to hold back since leaving the stables broke free and rushed out.
"I…" Arya started to say, but before she could truly begin Missandei of Naath stepped forward to stand at her side.
She cleared her throat and then bowed her head in reverence to the King. "Apologies your Grace, but I believe I have valuable information to contribute."
"About the girl's lies?"
Missandei's false smile didn't falter, not at all. Daenerys imagined it was an expression she perfected while dealing with the Masters of Astapor. "Actually, your Grace that is why I wanted to speak, because I can confirm Arya went into the city to buy the Princess a gift."
Daenerys's tears didn't slow when she listened to Missandei defend Arya. She cried harder because Missandei had managed to accomplish what Daenerys had been trying to do since they entered. Where she failed the slave succeeded.
"You can?" Tywin inquired.
"Yes m'lord," Missandei said, "several days ago I informed Arya about the Princess's upcoming nameday, she hasn't been with us long, so I wanted to make certain she knew of it."
"Go on," the Hand encouraged.
"She thanked me for telling her, confirming that she wasn't aware of the day's significance." Missandei paused and angled her head to look at Daenerys as she continued. "Arya asked if it was appropriate for a guard to buy the Princess a gift. I explained gifts were not required, but recommended she congratulate the Princess on the appropriate day."
Daenerys couldn't keep up. It all felt meaningful. Missandei was speaking directly to her, trying to tell her something important, Daenerys tried to listen, but her heaving chest and audible sobs were making it challenging.
Her father had no such hardship. "So, you say you advised her not buy anything, as I thought."
"I told her it wasn't required," Missandei corrected with steel in her spine. "She insisted she would get the Princess a gift, and we discussed several possible items Daenerys might enjoy."
"Do you have knowledge of the day's events?" Tywin wondered.
"M'lord, I knew Arya was going to go shopping. We've been so busy of late, that she hadn't had a chance before now."
Was this true? Did Missandei know all along? She hadn't been as bothered by Arya's absence as Daenerys was, but she did seem concerned. If she knew where Arya was, why did Missandei accompany her to the stables?
"Thank you," Tywin said, "you may return to your place with the Princess."
"At once, m'lord."
"Your Grace, while it is true the guard Arya Sand did leave the castle this morning, I believe the evidence shows that she did so without malice. She ensured the Princess would be protected by recruiting Mormont to replace her, and her motive was a good one."
"Yes," Rhaegar concurred, "The handmaiden's statement confirms where she was and Ser Payne found her in the stables, returning her horse, which also supports her account."
That Tywin and Rhaegar believed Arya didn't provide an ounce of relief. Daenerys knew only one opinion truly mattered. She held her breath.
"Very well then. Master of the Coin, you will dock the pay of guard Arya Sand, and this matter is closed."
She had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming. Even when he arrived at the right conclusion her father couldn't help but take a parting shot.
"I'll make the required adjustments," Tyrion confirmed.
That was the end. Aerys got up and left. He didn't apologize for the misunderstanding or make a formal decree about Arya's innocence, he just walked out with Tywin, Jaime, and the Mountain in tow.
It took a moment for Daenerys's brain to accept that it was over. In that time the court began to move freely. Some were leaving, but most were gathering together, talking about what they just saw. When she stood up, her legs were unsteady. She lowered herself back down into the seat and closed her eyes. Crowds had arranged themselves in such a way that they effectively blocked her path to Arya. She wanted to go to her, to check on her, to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but first she needed to pull herself together.
"Are you okay?" Missandei asked gently. She was squatted down next to Daenerys's chair.
"Are you? I'm sorry you had to do that. I wanted to say something I just…" The words trailed off because she didn't have a valid excuse. How could she explain that she was too frightened of her father to do the right thing?
"It's okay, I understand." She wasn't worthy of the relief those words gave her, but they eased the hurt some.
"Come on," Daenerys said, standing up successfully this time. "Let's go find Arya and get out of here."
Before they could begin the hunt, Rhaegar and Aemon were there. "Daenerys, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she lied, "now if you'll excuse me…"
"Wait, Dany wait, please. I'm sorry, I know that was difficult. I just want to talk."
Difficult didn't even scratch the surface of what that was. That was torture, and now he wanted to talk? Why did everything have to happen when and how he wanted it? He might be the Crown Prince, but she was his sister and when she asked him for help, he denied her. When she wanted him to speak, when she begged, he had nothing for her. She felt spiteful as she recalled his refusals. It wasn't the same thing, not even close, but she could deny him his request, just as he had hers. "I can't," she told him, using his own words against him. Bitterly, she hoped he found as little comfort in them as she had while she waited to see if Arya would die.
"What? Why not? Look I'm sorry, but I couldn't just…"
She didn't want to hear it. She walked quickly, confident Rhaegar was in no condition to chase after her. She passed through the people easily, bypassing all attempts to slow her with conversations, trivial or otherwise. She took Missandei's hand and moved faster. "I'm sick of this fucking place."
"You'll feel better once we talk to Arya."
R-C
Author's Note: After focusing on their relationship and its progress, I felt like they were overdue for a reminder about how deadly most of the people around them are.
Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, I wanted it to be slightly chaotic, especially the parts inside Daenerys's head, but as I was editing it, I started to worry that maybe it would be too difficult to read or follow.
Next up we'll have the aftermath of Arya's trial. I think a lot of people will enjoy Daenerys's response to nearly losing her. Ashara Dayne makes an appearance too.
Until then – Take Care
RC