Of course, he gave her dragon eggs! What else does one get for the Targaryen who has everything? Daenerys seemed to like them and why not? They were one of a kind, or three of a kind in this instance, the last three known to be in existence. She was being handed a piece of history. She had cause to be thrilled.
Even in Winterfell where her father encouraged a heavy dislike for all things Targaryen Arya loved stories of the ancient Kings and Queens who ruled with their dragons. Countless nights in her youth her final thought before falling asleep was imagining herself flying into battle on the back of a magnificent dragon, sword in hand. She was riveted whenever Nan told her of the Dance of Dragons, hanging on every word. She wasn't supposed to like it, but she couldn't help it, it was exciting.
As she watched Daenerys and Missandei admire the dragon eggs Arya was overcome with dread. What was she thinking, buying Daenerys a gift? She'd never be able to compete with people who had near limitless amounts of gold at their disposal. She'd been so proud of what she'd done, so sure Daenerys would love it and now she was debating if she should give it to her at all. Surely no gift was better than a substandard one, right?
Near where Daenerys was greeting her well-wishers was a long, rectangular table, similar to the kind used to eat off of. It had been empty when they walked down the stairs that morning, but now it was almost full. Full of boxes, and bags, of ribbons and bows, it's where Daenerys stored all the presents she received, the ones that needed to be opened later. Arya learned only the most important visitors were worthy of having their gifts opened immediately, guests like the Magister or the emissary who came on Olenna's behalf. If the examples she'd seen were a representation of the whole, Arya predicted her pathetic idea would be forgotten by morning.
"These are amazing," Missandei gushed. Her hand was on the smallest egg, touching it with care, as though it might hatch if she applied too much pressure.
"They are," Daenerys concurred, "I just wish they came from someone else."
Well that was unexpected. Arya assumed the Magister would be high on the list of Daenerys's favorite people right about now. She moved closer and paid more attention to the exchange.
"Did you not like the Magister?"
It was a simple question, with an easy, yes or no answer, but the Princess erupted. She threw up her hands and huffed in frustration. "He brought slaves here, can you fucking believe that?! How dare he!"
The small room where they were taking a break was suddenly smaller as Daenerys began pacing. Clearly upset Daenerys's feet stomped on the floor as she tried to release her excess energy. Taken aback by the abrupt change Missandei and Arya looked at one another in silent question. Apparently Missandei was as surprised as the guard.
"I thought that was in poor taste too," Arya supplied, in support of Daenerys's feelings.
"The poorest," Daenerys insisted, before stopping in front of the eggs, "and then there are these."
"I didn't know such things existed," Missandei remarked.
"Me either. I want to be fascinated, I want to research them and study them and try to find out where they came from. I want to be excited but right now I'm only angry."
Again the handmaiden and the guard locked eyes, deciding which of them would respond. Arya didn't need encouragement, she hated seeing Daenerys like this and wanted to fix it. It didn't matter that she didn't understand what was wrong. "Angry about what?" she asked, going to her lover and placing her hand on Daenerys's. She was touching the egg, so Arya's hand pinned hers in place.
"It's my own fault," Daenerys went on, "I knew better than to trust it, but he made me want to believe."
She'd been there for the encounter, she'd seen and heard it for herself and she couldn't recall anything that would shake Daenerys's faith in Illyrio. Arya hadn't liked him, but she blamed that on the fact that he was rubbing her nose in how different they were, as if she didn't already know. Arya's dislike was rooted in the fact that even if she excelled as a soldier, even if she rose to the rank of Commander one day, she'd still never be able to give Daenerys the kinds of things a man like Illyrio could. "It's not your fault," Arya disagreed, not caring that what Daenerys was taking the blame for remained a mystery. Whatever it was, she wouldn't let the Princess shoulder it alone.
"I knew better, he's just like all the rest."
Missandei picked up where Arya left off, trying in her gentle way to solve the riddle in front of them. "How is he like them?"
"Didn't you hear, he has an upcoming meeting with my father, some sort of trade agreement or something." She lifted her hand off the dragon egg but maintained contact with Arya. She turned her hand over and pressed their palms together, weaving their fingers. With her other hand she gestured to the dragon eggs, "None of this was for me," she said with a heartbreaking certainty. "It was all so he could impress the King." She laughed humorlessly. "It'll work too. By the time they meet the castle will be buzzing with talk of the Magister who brought dragon eggs to the Princess's nameday. Given his fascination with dragons, Father will agree to whatever Illyrio wants."
Not for the first time today, Arya wished she could do more than just be there for Daenerys. Someone Arya cared about was suffering and she was powerless to stop it. She hated it. "Fuck Illyrio, he doesn't matter. He'll be back in Pentos soon and you'll never have to see him again."
Daenerys rewarded her efforts with a smile, before she said, "I almost told him to keep the eggs."
"Why didn't you?" Missandei wondered.
Daenerys's happiness became more pronounced. "I was going to, but then I decided that he didn't deserve them. He shouldn't get to use me and keep the present too."
Suddenly Arya saw the back and forth between Daenerys and Illyrio for what it was. Her friendly tone and accommodating demeanor wasn't appreciation for the Magister's gift, she was manipulating him, as he had her, letting him believe his plan worked. She played the part of naïve, unaware Princess to perfection. Arya couldn't help but be proud.
"I'm ready for this day to be over."
Arya couldn't disagree with that. She squeezed Daenerys's hand and tried to find a bright spot in their situation. "We're closer now than we were an hour ago."
"That's true," she acknowledged. She took a deliberate breath and squared her shoulders. "Okay, let's go back out there and finish this."
"I'll be with you the entire time."
"What do you want to do about these?" Missandei asked, standing next to the box containing the eggs.
"I could take them up to your chambers, if you wanted," the guard proposed, leaving it up to Daenerys to decide where her gift ended up.
"Would you mind?"
"Not at all, I'll be right back." Knowing full well the dangers, she bent down and placed a peck on Daenerys's closest cheek anyway.
As Arya debated the best way to carry the box alone, Missandei had more to say. "She won't know where to put them. You should probably go with her and show her where you want them displayed."
It was pretense and they all knew it. Arya had a fondness for the handmaiden right from the start, but her value was increasing more with each second that passed. Missandei knew her friend was struggling, knew she needed a break and concocted a way for her to get it. She had to know that once the lovers got behind the closed door of Daenerys's bedchamber where to put some dragon eggs would be the last thing on their minds.
"I'll tell everyone you are taking a break to tend to the eggs. I think it'll take at least ten, maybe fifteen minutes, right Princess?"
Daenerys dropped Arya's hand like it burned and flew straight into Missandei's arms, hugging her fiercely. Words spoken were in High Valyrian, but she didn't need to understand to get the message. Daenerys was thanking her and Missandei was minimizing her contributions.
Unsure of how to admit she'd need help carrying the box, she kept trying to lift it by herself, long after she knew it would be impossible. Missandei wasn't done saving everyone either. She opened the door, stepped out into the hall and flagged down two patrolling guards. They helped Arya carry the eggs up the stairs, to Daenerys's room where they carefully set them on the floor at the foot of the bed.
While Arya opened the lid to ensure none of the eggs were damaged in transit, Daenerys was busy thanking the guards, and sending them out. It was probably rude for the Princess to close the door in the faces of the helpful guards, but Arya wasn't going to complain. She was still checking on the eggs when she heard the satisfying click of the lock.
Daenerys was at the door, Arya by the bed, they opted to meet in the middle for the sake of expedience. "Gods, it feels like years and not hours since we've done that," Daenerys confessed after their first heated kiss.
She ran her hands down Daenerys's back slowly. "I know it's been a hard day, but you're doing great. Just a few more hours and it'll be dinner."
"You mean the feast," she corrected with a whine.
"A feast with speeches," Arya corrected, "long speeches that you only need to pretend to listen to."
Smirking, Daenerys kissed her again. "Devious, I like it." One kiss became two and then three. "When they are talking, I'll be thinking about this."
Arya would need to remember to thank Missandei later. Daenerys wasn't the only one who needed a reprieve. "Do you know what they're serving?"
"Not really, probably a little bit of everything. You know my father, it's not a true feast unless we waste enough food to feed Flea Bottom."
"Well what would you choose if you could have anything?"
Daenerys had been relaxing with her head on Arya's shoulder, but she straightened up and gave her a quizzical look. "What?"
She needed to know what Daenerys's favorite meal was, and since she wasn't being particularly forthcoming, she'd need to share a little bit of her past. "When I was a girl, before my family…" she stopped and shook her head. "On my nameday my mother would let me decide what we'd have for dinner."
Daenerys was mesmerized by the trivial recollection. "Really? That's so sweet."
"I guess it won't seem like a real nameday to me unless I know what you'd choose."
She got a kiss before the answer she needed. "I'd pick beef, I think. I like it best, with gravy. potatoes and carrots."
"Mmm that sounds good."
"It does." Daenerys agreed.
"You have good taste."
"Yes, I do," she said eyeing her lover suggestively. If there was any doubt they weren't talking about food anymore, she ended it with a searing kiss.
"It's really unfair," Daenerys complained as they were getting themselves ready to go back downstairs.
"What's not?" she asked as she tried to tame her hair. Daenerys's fingers had done damage and she was sure anyone who saw would know exactly how it happened.
She was expecting a comment related to her dislike of namedays, but Daenerys had a whole other grievance to raise. "You're always wearing your armor. I at least have the courtesy to wear a dress, one you can easily slide your hand underneath."
Arya blushed, because it was true. She was committed to telling Daenerys who she was before they did more than kiss, but sometimes her hands had a mind of their own, roaming her back, squeezing her ass or stroking her leg.
"It's inconsiderate when you think about it," she noted, "wearing impregnable steel all the time, it's quite rude."
Somehow Daenerys managed to get through the whole of her complaint without cracking, not a smile, a chuckle or a smirk, even her eyes lacked the usual warmth they got when she was teasing someone. She was really committed to selling this.
With her hair as presentable as it was going to get, Arya gave up on it and fell to her knees in front of the royal. "You're absolutely right," she said, looking at her lover from the floor. "I have been, what was it, oh yes, rude and inconsiderate. You're right and I need to atone. What would you have me do Princess?"
That question sparked the fire in Daenerys's eyes. It burned brighter than Arya had ever seen it. It was stunning. "Take it off," she commanded.
The many guests waiting for Daenerys, the feast, the King and his Prince, none of that mattered to Arya in that moment, only Daenerys existed. Consequences be damned, she reached for the first strap that held her armor in place.
Daenerys's face split into a grin. She put a hand on Arya's wrist to stop her. "Not now," she clarified, "but when we're alone, you shouldn't wear it."
"Consider it done. Anything else?"
"Yes," she said, sounding breathless, "stand up."
Daenerys gave her a hand, and she took it, without rising off her knees. "Why?"
With a fresh blush of her cheeks she justified her choice. "Because if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to forget all about my nameday. I'll say, 'fuck it' and spend the rest of it right here with you instead."
She popped up onto her feet. "Oh." What else could she say? She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror and noticed a cocky smirk curling her lips, one even Oberyn would be envious of. Normally she'd bury those feelings under a blank mask, but not this time. How could she be anything but smug after making Daenerys feel that way?
A groan that was a mixture of pain and frustration left Daenerys's mouth and she took her first step toward the door before turning back. "Kiss me one more time and then get out before I decide you're worth upsetting my family and every other influential Lord downstairs."
She did as instructed. They shared one final kiss, in which Arya tried to convey all of her feelings. In those few seconds she worked to help Daenerys forget all the reasons she had to be unhappy, trying to replace her pain with a single, good memory. Following the orders to the letter Arya left the Princess speechless, heading for the stairs.
R-C
Daenerys had finally reached the end of the receiving line. It had taken most of the day and involved much more pointless conversation than was healthy, but she'd done it. In fact the last hour was her favorite, because the men and women who waited to wish her well weren't nobles, they weren't born into prominent houses and they didn't hold lands, they were citizens of King's Landing, who spent all day waiting for the chance to meet their Princess.
She had no idea where they got the idea from, or who permitted them entry, but she didn't care. She savored every moment with them. She thanked them sincerely for coming to celebrate with her, and then when they went to leave, she invited them to stay. She asked about their lives, their jobs, their families. She learned who had children, what their names were as well as their ages. She sat in her chair and relaxed. There were no more nobles to greet, no more compliments to accept or insincere thanks to offer. The mountain of unopened gifts next to her was temporarily forgotten and not even the looming threat of the upcoming feast could dampen her mood. She was happy.
When it couldn't be avoided any longer Daenerys said goodbye to her new friends and excused herself. She expected Arya to move with her, but she didn't. The guard said she would walk the group to the gate.
It was a kind gesture and one Daenerys wished she could take part in, but she'd already lingered too long. The feast would be starting soon, and she still needed to change.
"That was nice," Missandei stated as they went down the hall.
"That was perfect," Daenerys amended. "I have no idea how they came to be there, but I'm so glad they were. That was exactly what I needed."
The way Missandei avoided her eye was telling. She knew something. "Missandei did you arrange that?"
She shook her head, sending some of the dark curls bouncing. "No, I believe it was Lord Tyrion's doing."
Tyrion? She hadn't seen him yet, but that was hardly surprising, he was a busy man. He had pages and pages of numbers to contend with, and they didn't stop just because it was the Princess's nameday. It made a strange sort of sense for Tyrion to be behind it, he knew how much she enjoyed meeting the less fortunate. What began as an occasional meeting was now an almost daily occurrence. The more she was willing to do, the more opportunities he found for her. It was the basis for a strong friendship.
"I'll need to thank him."
"He'll be at the feast, I'm sure."
Yes, he would be, but knowing Tyrion he was liable to hate it just as much as Daenerys. He had an even lower tolerance for long-winded speeches and self-important nobles than she did.
A soldier in armor came toward them from the opposite direction. Daenerys didn't give him a second thought, worrying instead about what she'd wear to dinner.
That proved to be a fateful decision, because it denied her the chance to recognize the man and prepare for what was coming. As it was, he was in front of her before she noticed, pulling her into his arms. "I knew you'd be here." He tightened his hold on her. "Fuck I've missed you."
Too stunned to speak or even move she just stood there, with her arms at her sides. He took her silence as compliance and lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss. Suddenly she wished for the crowds back. He wouldn't try kissing her if anyone other than Missandei was there to see it.
The feeling of his familiar lips jolted her into action. Everything about this was wrong. He wasn't who she wanted to be kissing anymore. Pressing both palms flat into his chest she pushed as hard as she could. "Daario, what are you doing?!"
R-C
Arya was feeling pretty good as she left the commoners at the gate. In addition to escorting them out, she also wanted to make arrangements to see them tomorrow. Tomorrow would be what Arya was calling 'Daenerys's real nameday.' Rhaegar promised her they could have the day and Arya was determined to pack in as much as she could, to give Daenerys an experience so memorable it might replace everything she had to endure today.
Before heading upstairs, she stopped by the kitchen and made a request for lunch. Since everyone knew she served Daenerys, no one questioned her. Her words carried the authority of Daenerys's title, even when the Princess wasn't present. It was assumed that she wouldn't be asking if Daenerys didn't tell her to. It was a misconception Arya made no effort to correct.
Tyrion was waiting when she exited the kitchen. It was as if he knew she'd be there, a considerable accomplishment considering Arya didn't know until she pried Daenerys's favorite meal out of her. "Did the Princess enjoy the surprise?"
It took a moment, but she put the pieces together. "Those people, you got them in."
"It's the least I could do," he assured her, "after all Daenerys has done for me recently. I'd be much busier if she wasn't willing to take on some of my meetings."
Normally she would have felt uneasy sharing Daenerys's secrets, but in this case it seemed forgivable. "Trust me when I tell you those meetings are the high point of her day. If not for them, she'd have very little to do."
"Every time I see her, she asks if there is anyone else I can add to the schedule," the Lannister realized.
She smiled, amused by Daenerys's eagerness. "Since today isn't really the sort of thing she enjoys, we're going to celebrate her nameday again tomorrow, with her friends, doing the things she wants to do. We'll be having lunch around midday in the courtyard the Unsullied use for training. If you're not too busy, come by and let her thank you directly."
"I'll be there," he promised, like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. "There are only so many hours one can stare at ledgers before your vision starts to blur." He flashed her the smirk he was famous for. "There will be wine, right?"
"Definitely, but feel free to bring more."
His smirk grew into a full grin. "Good thinking Arya Sand, there is no such thing as too much wine."
"I'll see you at the feast," she said after a chuckle.
"Yes, the Princess is probably wondering where you are. You mustn't keep her waiting, not on her special day."
Sarcastic or not, Arya wouldn't feel better until she was back with Daenerys again. She took the stairs two at a time to speed up the process. She'd been gone for a while, so she expected Missandei and Daenerys to already be inside, to be changing clothes, or hairstyles while talking. It was a shock to see them in the hall, wearing the same clothes they had been in all day. More concerning was the man with them. He wore armor and carried multiple weapons. From a distance Arya could see a scabbard on his back and some sort of curved blade hanging from his hip. He didn't appear aggressive or angry, but Arya wasn't going to take a risk, not with Daenerys. She hurried down the hall, preparing to intervene if necessary.
When she was close enough to hear, it wasn't especially illuminating. "… it's your nameday, of course I'm here," the stranger was saying.
He offered what Arya could only assume was a charming expression that failed to sway the Princess. "I haven't heard from you in months. You can't just show up like this and expect…"
"I'm sorry it took me so long," he said moving closer to Daenerys. "I didn't think it would take that long, but I'm back now." When he reached to touch her Daenerys backed up, bumping into Missandei as she did.
That was all the proof Arya needed. "Step back!" she demanded with her left hand resting on her sword, just in case.
He didn't move, he just looked at her, rolled his eyes and then made another attempt to touch Daenerys. "Do you have difficulty hearing?" she asked him rudely.
That did it, he turned on her and abandoned his interest in Daenerys, a fair trade in Arya's opinion. "Who are you?"
"The Princess's guard, so do as you're told and back up."
Amused he twisted to face Daenerys again. "What happened? Did Mormont finally drop dead?"
He was joking, and when no one laughed, his expression changed to something more intense. "Seriously, did something happen?"
"Jorah is fine, he is just no longer my guard," Daenerys explained, recovering her voice. "Arya is my guard now."
"Really?" He looked from face to face, expecting someone to correct him. When it was clear no one would, he moved on. "Well I for one won't miss him." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper before he asked, "Do we like this one?"
It was obvious Arya could hear him, which meant he was probably trying to be funny. It was Daenerys's words and not this annoying man that made her smile. "Arya is great, my favorite guard by far and one of my dearest friends."
She wasn't bothered by being labeled a friend, their relationship was a secret, so she could hardly confess their romantic interest. That left Daenerys with admittedly few terms to classify Arya. 'Friend,' suited her just fine.
After Daenerys's approval, the man rounded on her again, appraising her with new dedication. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, if you're serving as guard, we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
"And you are?"
It was Daenerys who answered. "Arya this is Daario, he's an old friend of mine."
She could tell that Daenerys was tense, but she blamed it on the nameday festivities more than anything else.
She was proven wrong almost immediately. "You said she's your friend, so we can tell her." He looked at Daenerys, trying to convey something Arya didn't understand. "Missandei knows," he added, "and think about how much easier things would be if we had a guard looking out for us."
She tried to follow along but couldn't. Arya looked between the Targaryen and the warrior. "Tell me what?"
Daenerys's mouth opened but the man's voice is the one she heard. "I am Daario Naharis," he declared, extended his hand for Arya to take, "mercenary, pit-fighter, general scoundrel and of course the Princess's consort." He said the last too words in another of his fake exaggerated whispers.
He continued speaking after that, but she didn't hear any of it. It was as if she'd been kicked in the stomach, by a horse. Her vision blurred, the conversation happening around her sounded far away, breathing became a chore and then there was the pain, so much pain. Daenerys already had a lover. If she did, why pursue Arya? Was she bored, was it a game of some kind, a test? She tried to think back, to spot a sign she missed but there were none. Even knowing his name, she couldn't recall Daenerys mentioning Daario in any context, let alone that he was her lover. Arya wasn't sure of much right then, but she was confident she would have remembered that. Earlier she felt stupid for buying Daenerys an inferior gift, now that was the least of her mistakes. What was she thinking? It was too good to be true and now she knew why.
She rejoined the conversation while Daario was speaking. "Just let me go and clean myself up and I'll meet you."
"No, I need to speak with you first," Daenerys insisted, "then you can go and do whatever you want." She opened the door to her room and stepped inside. In the hall each person wore a different expression. Missandei was sad, Daario curious and Arya didn't need a mirror to know her hurt was visible.
Daario entered next, clearly comfortable there. He walked in as if it was his room as well, and maybe it was, what did Arya know? To her surprise the door didn't close once the lovers were alone, Daario disappeared from view, but Daenerys remained next to the open door, waiting. Missandei clearly wanted Arya to go first. She'd pick drinking acid over going in there. "You should go Missandei," she said in an unconvincing tone, "we both know she won't be able to decide what to wear without your help."
"Aren't you coming?"
"I think I'll stay out here." She managed to get the words out but wasn't foolish enough to think either woman believed them.
"Arya," Daenerys pleaded from the doorway, "please just let me explain."
"No need."
"You're my guard," Daenerys reminded her.
If it was meant to sway her, it didn't. "I'll guard the door," she countered, "I'll make sure you and your friend are not disturbed."
Missandei was the first to realize she wasn't going to change her mind. She passed the guard and went to Daenerys.
"Arya," she tried again.
"You should get ready Princess, the feast will be starting shortly."
It was difficult to watch Daenerys fight back tears. Her every instinct told her to help, to comfort her, but she couldn't. That wasn't her job, and it never would be. She had Daario for that. She turned her back on the door and began searching the hallway for potential dangers.
"Come now," Missandei urged, "you'll see her later."
When the door finally closed Arya's shoulders slumped and she leaned back into the wall, not trusting her legs to keep her up. How had everything gone so wrong?!
R-C
Just when she's beginning to think she'd gotten through the worst portion of her day the Gods prove her wrong. Daario! Why did he have to come back now or at all? She hadn't thought about him in weeks, not since… Arya. A knot already tied in her stomach twisted violently as she thought of the woman she's grown to care so deeply for. They were only separated by a wooden door and a few feet, but it felt as insurmountable as the Narrow Sea in the midst of a ferocious storm.
She hadn't told Arya anything about Daario, not that they were lovers or that he existed. She hadn't meant to keep it from her, not really. Admitting to Arya that she invited Daario into her life and her bed because she was lonely would have been difficult, but she would have done it, eventually. When the time came, she would have explained that Daario was a distraction, a brief respite from the profound sadness her life had become. She would have found the words to show Arya that although she'd been with him first, he meant nothing, because she never felt for him a fraction of what Arya made her feel. She was with Daario because she tired of being alone, because she wanted to feel something, anything, even if it was fleeting. In contrast, nothing about Arya felt fleeting. Happiness wasn't reserved for when Arya kissed her or when she was nestled in her strong arms, she felt it all the time, by just occupying the same space. Long after Arya returned to Dorne, Daenerys knew her feelings would remain.
Everything was fucked up, made worse by the way Arya found out. She should have heard about Daario from Daenerys, the Princess owed her that, and she failed. She shuddered to think what the guard thought of her now. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. She'd cry when it was over, when she knew for certain her relationship with Arya couldn't be salvaged. Until then, she had work to do.
With one last look at the door, Daenerys turned and found Daario waiting. With an easy smile and open arms he tried to embrace her. She put her hands up to protect herself. "What are you doing here?"
He lowered his arms, but his smile stayed. "It's your nameday, I knew the King would be having a celebration for you, where else would I be?"
His words grinded down on her last nerve, annoying her well past what was fair or reasonable. Most of the anger she felt was directed at herself and not him. It wasn't his fault she hadn't told Arya about them, just as he wasn't to blame for the fact that she'd been too caught up in Arya to remember he might reappear someday. "I need to get ready for the feast."
"I thought you wanted to talk."
Right, she had said that. "I do, we need to talk, but I'm already late. Stay here," she said, pointing to one of the chairs, "I'll go change and then when I am done, we can talk."
In addition to being a decent plan, it afforded Daenerys the chance to speak to Missandei alone. She had a favor to ask of her best friend.
"Or," Daario said closing the distance between them, "I could help you get ready."
His counterproposal made her skin crawl. Not only because she didn't want it, but also because not too long ago she would have gladly taken him up on that offer. She didn't need to wonder what changed, the answer was obvious, she had. Daenerys was no longer the person she'd been when Daario left.
"Just sit down," she said flatly. "Missandei, I was thinking the black dress would look nice for the feast." She didn't have an opinion on the black dress honestly, but it provided the necessary shift from Daario to Missandei.
The handmaiden played along. "I know exactly where it is, follow me."
The closet was big enough for both of them to fit inside with plenty of room to spare. Missandei didn't wait until the door was closed before inquiring, "Are you okay?"
"Not even close."
"It's going to be okay," she said softly.
Daenerys trusted Missandei in most things, but this time she had her doubts. "She's going to hate me," she said in High Valyrian. "I never told her about Daario, and I was going to ask her to stay with me tonight. I think she would've said yes, and now I'll be lucky if she looks at me."
"You didn't know he would be here," Missandei pointed out, as if that made her misdeeds more tolerable. "It took us all by surprise. Arya will forgive you once you tell her the truth."
"What truth?" The truth was ugly, and it definitely wouldn't help anything. The truth was she'd been so entranced by Arya that she forgot Daario was in her life. The truth was that although she planned to end things with him months ago, she never did, and then she met Arya and pursued her. It made her sick to think about it. She asked Arya to trust her, to have faith in her, faith in them. She asked her to risk her heart and take a chance and within days this is how she is repaid? She didn't deserve the guard's forgiveness. Every bit of scorn and hate Arya felt, Daenerys knew she earned.
"That you don't love Daario, that you never did," Missandei supplied gently. She took one of the Princess's sweaty hands and opened the tightly closed fists. Daenerys missed the painful sensation of her nails digging into her palms. She deserved the pain
"She won't believe me," she predicted, knowing it was true.
"How did you feel when you saw Daario again?" Missandei questioned. "Did you want to kiss him, were you glad he was back? Did it make you change your mind about wanting to end things with him?"
"What!? No! No, of course not. I want to be with Arya, only Arya. I haven't heard from Daario since he left. Right after he did, Father brought up the trip to Sunspear and we were busy, then…"
She trailed off, but Missandei wasn't about to let anything go unsaid, "Then?" she prompted.
"I met Arya," she confessed with an accompanying sigh. "I met Arya and I never thought about Daario again."
Missandei smiled in the dark confines of the closet. "Tell Arya that, and she'll believe you."
"Will you go check on her for me?" Daenerys asked. It had been all she could do to leave the door closed between them. She couldn't say so out loud but she worried Arya wouldn't be there when she was needed at the feast. "Tell her I'm sorry, and that I'll explain everything if she'd just give me the chance."
"I'll go see her," Missandei agreed, "the rest is up to you."
"Thank you."
"Your dress?" Missandei asked, bringing them back to the pretense for their private conversation.
"I'll pick one and get ready."
"Do you need help?"
"I'll be fine," she said as convincingly as she could. She didn't feel fine but having Missandei's help getting into a new dress wouldn't change that. Until she talked to Arya, nothing would change that.
"And Daario?" Missandei wondered with her hand on the doorknob.
"It's been over for a long time. I never should have let him leave without telling him so."
"Good luck. The door opened a crack, bathing Daenerys in light from the remainder of the room. "You can do this. Follow your heart and you'll end up where you want to be."
R-C
When the door opened all of Arya's emotions were buried deep, concealed behind a mask of indifference. She was a guard and nothing else. She was prepared to escort Daenerys to her feast and keep her alive regardless of who was on her arm. She could do this, it wasn't all that different from how she imagined guarding the Princess would be when she was first given the job. Then the prospect of following Daenerys about, listening to her, didn't seem so daunting. Before she got to know Daenerys, guarding her would have been annoying and a challenge, but one she was capable of. Now that her feelings were involved, along with all the memories of their time together, Arya felt as though a stiff breeze might take her legs out from under her. How had she let this happen? Why did she allow herself to care and why did it hurt to discover that Daenerys lied? She was a Targaryen, deceit was in her blood.
Just a few more hours and then she could be alone. She'd find a quiet, empty place to sit while she fought to regain control of her emotions. She'd survived more harrowing events than a nameday at the Red Keep, she was a Wolf.
She was prepared to face the Princess and her lover but neither one was there. She was both relieved and disappointed. The thick walls and heavy door made it impossible for Arya to hear anything happening inside, but that was probably a blessing, since she had no desire to hear Daenerys and Daario getting reacquainted. Had Missandei fled for the same reason?
"Can I talk to you?"
She answered with a scowl until she reminded herself that Missandei had done nothing to earn her contempt. She adjusted her face slightly. "You never need to ask, but if this is about Daenerys, it's unnecessary."
"It's not," the handmaiden replied, surprising Arya more than a little, "I have a favor to ask of you."
It was oddly nice to be able to think of something other than Daenerys and her hurt, so she knew before she heard the request that whatever Missandei asked of her, she'd do it. "What do you need?"
"Just listen," she implored, "I know you're upset, anyone would be, but you care about Daenerys, and I know she cares about you, so I'm begging you, just hear her out."
This time when the scowl settled on her face she didn't remove it. "I thought this wasn't about her."
She shrugged. "It isn't only about her," she justified. "You are my friend too, as she is. I want you both to be happy, that's why I'm here, asking you to listen."
She didn't really want to talk about this, but it appeared she didn't have a choice. They were in it now. "What does it matter? Whatever this was, whatever it could have been, it clearly meant something different for her."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. She already has a lover!" Arya spat hotly. "She didn't even tell me, I had to find out from him."
"Ask her why," Missandei instructed. Arya was sure her skepticism was written in her eyes, but Missandei didn't flinch. "When you talk to her, ask her why she never told you about him. Ask her all the things you want to know before you decide what you're going to do."
"What difference would it make?" Missandei was a good friend, and Arya felt for her, she was stuck in the middle between Daenerys and Arya and that had to be uncomfortable, but she just couldn't see the point. Even if her reason for hiding Daario was valid, it wouldn't change much, she'd still have a lover and Arya would still be left on the outside looking in.
"It might make all the difference."
"It won't," she resisted. "Viserys will be back soon, and I'll be gone." It would be awkward spending all her time with Daenerys until then, especially with Daario around, but some things couldn't be helped.
Missandei's tone hardened along with her posture. She moved into Arya's space and pinned her with a stare. "When I spoke for you to the King you told me I was in your debt, did you mean that?"
"Yes, but…"
"But nothing," she interrupted, "I'm not asking you to forgive her, I'm not telling you how to feel, all I want is for you to let her explain. Then you can decide for yourself what's next."
She didn't like it, but a debt was a debt and Missandei was owed. She would have preferred that she ask for repayment in some other way, in any other way frankly, but she didn't. "I'll talk to Daenerys, but I can't make any promises."
Smiling brightly, she stepped back. "Thank you, Arya, you won't regret this." She wasn't so sure about that. Uncertain as she was, she couldn't bring herself to drag Missandei down with her. If the handmaiden wanted to believe that what Arya and Daenerys had could be saved, she wouldn't correct her, yet.
R-C
Daenerys made sure she was fully covered before she stepped out from the closet. She got dressed in the dark, choosing a dress at random. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than changing in front of Daario and giving him the wrong impression.
She found her reflection in the mirror and checked herself before she turned her focus to him. The dress was fashioned from a bright red length of silk. Unlike her earlier dress this one had a strap on each shoulder. It was tighter too, at least in the upper body where it took the shape of her chest and waist before widening out some. The other major difference was that this dress had a large opening in the back. With her hair down as it was, she felt it grazing her spine each time she moved. She thought she looked okay, all things considered, but she also knew approval from the person whose opinion mattered was unlikely tonight.
While she was busy Daario made himself at home. He took off his armor and weapons and laid them on an empty chair. He also helped himself to a drink and was sipping it as he lounged in the same chair she directed him to wait in.
She took a moment to watch him before he realized she was there. He looked tired and in need of a bath. There was dirt and grime on his hands and arms as if he'd been riding for days. His beard was longer than the last time she'd seen it, as was his hair. With his shirt discarded she was afforded a view of every well-defined muscle. Wherever he had been and whatever he'd been doing, he kept himself in peak physical condition. That said, she had no desire to go to him and trace his skin with her fingers. She didn't ache for the scratching of his beard against her face when they kissed or yearn to feel his hands on her skin. She felt nothing at all. He was attractive, she could admit that, and while that alone was enough to tempt her once, it wasn't anymore.
She didn't want him, but she had no desire to hurt him either. Daario was important to her, even if it wasn't as important as he was or wanted to be. He'd been there for her when she needed him, and she was sad that this was going to cause him pain. If there was another way, she would have taken it, but there wasn't. She didn't love Daario and no matter how deeply he loved her he deserved better than a woman who couldn't return his affections.
Just as she was about to announce herself, she lost her nerve. Could she really do this to him and now? They had only minutes before the feast started. Wasn't it unfair to try and rush this conversation, knowing how difficult it was going to be? Maybe it would be better to wait until after dinner. Then she and Daario could speak at length and she could try and explain herself fully. Yes, that made a lot of sense, and not only because it delayed things by a few hours, it was the best option for both of them. It gave her more time to decide what she wanted to say, and provided Daario with a few more hours with the woman he loved. There really wasn't a downside to waiting, no one else knew about her and Daario anyway, just Missandei and…
All her thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt. Arya. Arya knew. How could she have forgotten about Arya? Now that she was back, occupying a large percentage of Daenerys's mind, it changed everything. She remembered the hurt on Arya's face when Daario introduced himself, and the cold way she used the word 'friend' when she elected to stay in the hall. Suddenly she had a reason not to wait until later for this uncomfortable conversation, a good one, Arya. With any luck, she'd be busy after dinner, trying to win the guard's forgiveness, there wouldn't be time to end things with Daario too.
With renewed purpose she cleared her throat. Daario had been watching the fire, but his head snapped up when he heard her. They were on opposite sides of the large room, him in a chair and her standing near the mirror. He set his empty glass down and stood. "It's not the black one, but I don't think any other dress would look better on you than that one."
She bristled and tried not to notice the way he was admiring her body. This would be hard enough without the compliments. A nagging voice reminded her she could postpone this, but she knew she'd waited too long already. They should have gone their separate ways months ago, but Daario disappeared before she got the courage to tell him so. She wouldn't make that mistake again. She wanted Arya and the only way that could happen was if she made it clear to Daario that they were over.
"We need to talk," she said. She held out a hand to the chair he vacated.
"So, you keep saying," he replied with a charming smile. For once it wouldn't get him what he wanted. "What's going on, you seem tense. Want some help relaxing?"
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What I'd like is for you to sit down so we can talk!" she said a little too forcefully. It wasn't his fault she was upset, but she didn't have the patience to fret over small details anymore.
He picked up on the change. "Whoa, alright then, sitting down." He took his seat and then asked, "What's going on?"
She'd had plenty of time to think about what she wanted to say. When she was changing, in the time since, even months ago when she and Missandei discussed Daario and her feelings for him repeatedly and still she was woefully unprepared. She waited a moment, hoping a clear path would reveal itself, when none did, she took another deep breath. Okay, she just needed to do it, get it over with. It wasn't going to get any easier. "Daario, we need to stop."
For the first time his smile slipped. Even when she was ordering him to sit, he maintained his confident exterior, but it was crumbling now. "Stop what?" he asked, though she suspected he knew exactly what she was referring to.
Daenerys pointed to herself and then to him, "This, us, our…" she stopped, unsure of what to call it. "I can't do it anymore. I don't want to."
"Is this because of the wedding?"
The wedding? This was about her and Arya. "What wedding? I'm talking about us and I don't think we should…"
"I heard your father arranged for Viserys to marry some woman from Dorne."
That was the wedding he was asking about? She supposed in a way Viserys's wedding was the reason, but not in the way Daario thought. If she didn't go to Sunspear when the wedding was formalized, she never would have met Arya and then she might be inclined to leave things with Daario as they were. "That's not…"
"That doesn't need to change anything for us," he claimed. He was done and then she saw the instant an idea came to him. "Is your father marrying you off next? Is that what this is because you don't need to worry."
"No," she said, answering the easier part of that statement first. "No, I'm not marrying anyone it's just…"
"Good, then what's the problem?" He answered his own question, "Are you worried someone is going to find out? They won't, I promise. No one will know, it'll be just like before, better than before."
"No, that's not why either. Daario, it's not what I want."
His eyes hardened at that. "I'm not something you want?"
She felt for him and tried to ease his suffering by reminding him they'd been on borrowed time from the start. "We both knew it could never last. We agreed we'd enjoy it while we could and then…"
"It could last. I don't care who you need to marry to please your father, I don't care where you need to live or how many children you need to have. All I care about is you, all that matters to me is you."
She believed him, and that only made her guilt more crippling. "That's not much of a life for you."
"I don't give a fuck," he proclaimed, "if I have you, it's enough."
That was the crux of their problem, because whether he knew it or not, Daario didn't have her. She may have been willing to give him a small piece of herself before, but now everything she was belonged to Arya. She had nothing left for him. "I do give a fuck, and you should too."
"Don't tell me how to feel," he growled through closed teeth.
She always knew this wasn't going to go well but the reality was worse than she imagined. She wasn't trying to tell him how to feel, she just wanted him to see he deserved better. Fine, if he didn't want to discuss his feelings, they'd talk about hers. "I can't be with you," she said as plainly as she could. "I'm sorry if that hurts you but it's the truth. I won't ask you to stay, I know you don't like it here, so go, go back to Essos, go back to the life you had before you met me."
"I don't want that life anymore."
She smiled in spite of their circumstance. "Yes, you do, you love that life, the roaming, the fighting, the fucking…"
"I'd give them all up for you, if you'd just let me."
All the sudden they were back where they started. She knew he cared, knew he was willing to sacrifice for her, but she wasn't willing to accept his terms anymore. If she was going to break them out of this repetitive cycle, she'd need to say the one thing she'd been hoping to avoid mentioning. "I don't love you," she said, as she expertly dodged his eyeline. "I care about you and you'll always be important to me, but I don't love you and it's unfair for me to…"
"I love you," he said as though that made his case stronger and not weaker.
"I know," Daenerys acknowledged. "I know you do and that's why…"
"I don't care if you don't love me," he retorted, interrupting her again, "just like I don't care if you marry some sniveling little shit and move to some far away fucking kingdom."
Why couldn't he see this was for the best? His logic was proving her side more than his own. "If you love me why didn't I hear from you for months?"
"That's what this is about!?" He jumped up out of his seat. "I had business, I told you that. We talked about it and then I left. I told you I was coming back."
She remembered their last conversation vividly and that was not an accurate representation of it. "No, we didn't talk about anything," she remembered, "you gave me a kiss and told me you were leaving. We didn't discuss anything."
"I'm sorry," he said, taking a step toward her. "I'm sorry," he repeated, softer this time. "I'm sorry I left like that, I didn't think it would be such a long trip. It won't happen again, I promise. Everything will be okay."
No, they were definitely not okay. The woman she cared about was outside the door, furious at her and in pain and instead of mending that relationship, she was with Daario while he tried to keep alive a relationship neither of them should have started in the first place. "You're not hearing me. I don't want…"
"My hearing is fine," he retorted, "you're the one who's not making sense. You can't just decide you don't have feelings for me anymore, because I left too quickly or was gone too long. Be reasonable Daenerys."
How dare he accuse her of not being reasonable! She wasn't the one fighting for something that was already dead. Anger bubbled up from her stomach and spread until it was warming all of her. It burned right through all of her guilt and regret, moving on to devour the concerns she had for Daario's feelings. "How many women did you fuck while you were away?" she asked without any sort of forewarning.
"Wh… what?" he stammered.
Daenerys pressed on. "You were gone a long while and the Gods only gave you two things to entertain yourself, right? You couldn't have been killing the whole time, so how many was it?"
"You're jealous? They meant nothing…"
"I'm not jealous," she declared loudly, and she truly wasn't. While he'd been with his other women, she'd been with Arya, or was trying to be with Arya. She didn't care if he bedded all of Westeros in the last few months, but she did care that he wouldn't admit defeat. "If you loved me as much as you claim to, if your feelings were as singular as you say, you wouldn't have needed those other women. You would have…"
"Daenerys." He went to her and grabbed her hand. "Believe me, you're the one I want. From the moment I saw you, it's only been you."
She tore her arm free. "Then stop interrupting me!" she shouted. He visibly recoiled and returned his hand to his side. "I don't know much about love, I haven't had many examples to learn from, but I know it's two-sided, I know it's mutual and honest. If you loved me, you wouldn't have needed those other women, whoever they were, and if I loved you, I would have missed you while you were gone. I don't know what we had, but it wasn't love and it's over."
Having spoken her mind, she turned to go. The feast had likely already begun. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled hard, turning her back the way she'd been. "No!" he yelled. "You don't just get to walk away."
She stared at him and made no effort to hide her rage. "Unhand me or I'll summon a guard to do it," she threatened.
"I just want to talk," he said releasing his hold. He smirked, more amused than fearful. "It wouldn't matter anyway, we both know I could beat any guard you have, I could beat all of them."
His cocky self assurance had been an attractive quality once, before Dorne, before Arya. "Not anymore," Daenerys spat bitterly, answering both her internal thoughts and Daario's pronouncement.
Something in her underhanded comment set him back. "What's going on?" he asked, bringing them back to the beginning. "Whatever happened while I was away, whatever has you acting like this we can…"
"Acting like what?" she growled angrily. What had happened to her? She thought back to the Water Gardens when a soldier took off her helmet and defied a King. "A lot happened," she said underselling it a bit, "and it showed me that I don't need to sit quietly and smile politely all the time." She saw memories in flashes then, Jorah and Rhaegar and the arguments they had since she got back to King's Landing. "I learned that sometimes you need to scream to be heard and that's okay, because I'm tired of being so fucking nice all the time." As she made her final point, she remembered the sight of Arya in chains, beaten and dragged toward the dungeon. No one listened until she got angry, but once she did, they all fell in line, even her brother.
"I don't know why you're so upset. It sounds like you've been busy, but that doesn't need to change anything for us. You and I can still be together."
Why was she upset? Oh, she could think of a few reasons. "I'm upset," she told him, "because although I've said it again and again you don't hear it. I don't want to be with you anymore!" By the end she was shouting, no longer caring if the whole castle listened in.
His face twisted in pain and for a moment she thought he finally got the message, but it wasn't to be. "I won't let you throw away a good thing, just because you're angry. We are great together and it'll be even better this time."
"I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen!" she reminded him in a thundering voice. "You don't let me do anything. You serve me. You pledged your loyalty to me." She let him reflect on the oath he gave her and then she continued. "We will never be together again, nothing you say or do will change that. You can stay and accept this, or you can go and live a different life, what you can not do, what I won't allow you to do for another second is keep me from living the life I want."
She might have enjoyed his stunned expression, or felt guilt at his clear and obvious pain, but she was too far gone. "I'm late for the feast. While I'm downstairs, take the time to collect any of your things that you may have left here."
She went to the door fully aware she'd only completed one of the two monumental tasks laid out before her. She'd dealt with Daario but still had to apologize to Arya before things could return to normal. Nothing and no one waiting downstairs was more important to her than earning Arya's forgiveness, but she was a Princess, and her obligations came first. She ordered the events in her mind – feast first, groveling second.
R-C
Author's Note: It was a celebration, naturally something had to go wrong. Dragon eggs last chapter, Daario this chapter. I hope people are enjoying it.
This version of Daenerys doesn't have quite the power of the Khaleesi or the Mother of Dragons, so I figured Daario would put up a fight, but it gave her the perfect chance to put everything she learned into practice.
See you next time,
RC