Arya led the servants from the kitchen toward the courtyard where they would present Daenerys with her favorite meal. On the walk, she thought about the gift she'd given Daenerys and how well it had been received. She'd had her doubts, concerned that nothing from her could compare to the elaborate, expensive, rare items Daenerys had been given, but the Princess seemed truly moved by Arya's choice. Her reaction gave Arya hope that they'd make it through the conversation they were destined to have that evening.
In order to get to that discussion though, she'd first need to endure a meal with the Crown Prince. It didn't require as much persuasion as she feared it might. She simply reminded herself she was doing this for Daenerys, and then led the servants out into the sun.
Once the food was on the table Arya dismissed the staff. Less than ten people didn't need half the castle waiting on them. They could get through one meal on their own.
When she saw it, Daenerys realized the significance of the food, as Arya knew she would. She got up from her chair and rushed to the guard, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. "Thank you so much. I can't believe you did this for me!"
"It's your day Daenerys."
"And I get to choose what we eat," she remembered from Arya's story.
"That's right, now let's go enjoy it, before it gets cold."
The food was not her primary concern. More pressing were the eyes she felt on them. She knew Rhaegar was watching their interactions carefully, and he wasn't alone. She assumed Tyrion and Aemon were as well. She needed to be seen as nothing more than Daenerys's guard, but the Princess had clearly forgotten their agreement. She hung on to the soldier for much longer than a typical hug between friends. A heartbeat after separating their bodies Daenerys latched onto her hand, pulling her to the table. Arya intended to let Missandei and Aemon have the seats next to Daenerys, but the Targaryen had other ideas. "You can sit with me," she decided happily.
She could have taken her hand back, put some distance between them both figuratively and literally, could have insisted she was fine further away, but she didn't want to do anything to spoil Daenerys's mood. There would be consequences for her choices later, she was sure, but for the time being Daenerys's smile was enough to keep Arya close.
R-C
"What did you do this morning?" Rhaegar asked as they ate.
"We went to the orphanage and I spent some time with the children there," Daenerys recounted with a grin. In her mind she relived memories of the happy, excitable children cheering and singing when they learned this was how the Princess chose to celebrate her nameday.
To his credit, Rhaegar smiled fondly as she described it. "I'm sure they enjoyed that almost as much as you did."
That made the entire table smile and laugh because it was true. "I hope so." She snuck in another bite before she told the next part of the story. "Then I met with some commoners."
Rhaegar was less thrilled by this admission. "What? Why? Who were they?"
"Many of the same people who stood in line for hours just to greet me yesterday," she told him. "I had to leave to get ready for the feast, but I wanted to keep talking to them, so Arya arranged for them to meet us again this morning.
Daenerys hadn't meant to put the blame on Arya, she was just explaining how things came to be. When Rhaegar turned his disapproval on the guard Daenerys felt guilty. She probably would have wilted under such a glare but not Arya. The Dornishwoman didn't flinch. She met the Prince's eye directly, even as her cheeks turned red.
"It was great," Daenerys said in an effort to ease the tension. It did not work. As she spoke, she slipped one of her hands under the table and took Arya's in a silent show of support. "They were gracious and welcoming."
His posture softened some, but Rhaegar wasn't ready to let it go completely. "I thought we had an agreement," he said to Arya. "You promised to keep her safe."
"Rhaegar Arya…" Daenerys began, ready to jump to her defense, but it wasn't necessary.
"She was safe," Arya stated calmly. "I was with her the whole time."
"How many people were at this gathering, huh?" he wondered aloud, growing more agitated.
"Ten," Daenerys answered, rounding down.
"Fourteen," Arya corrected truthfully.
"Exactly and what would you have done if one or all of these fourteen friendly commoners turned violent and wished my sister harm?"
Arya was unbothered by the question or Rhaegar's hostility. Her response was as calm and as straightforward as all the others. "Three of them were children, but regardless, I would have killed anyone who tried to hurt her."
The war survivor scoffed. "You think you could defend yourself, defend Dany against fourteen attackers, alone?"
Daenerys had had enough of this. After all Arya had done to give her a wonderful day, she wouldn't let her brother ruin it. She was rising out of her seat when someone else beat her to it.
"I wouldn't doubt her Father," Aemon said. "Much of the progress I've made in my training recently is because Arya has been helping me."
She watched a myriad of emotions pass over her brother's face before he settled on shock. "You've been training with him? Why?"
"He doesn't require much training," Arya clarified, minimizing her contributions as she so frequently did. "His instincts and natural ability serve him well, I just help where I can."
"But why? Your job is to guard my sister, so why aid my son?"
"Daenerys and I have a bargain," she explained, "before we reached King's Landing, she asked me to do what I could to help the people she cared about. I told her that as long as it didn't interfere with my ability to protect her, I would. That's why I sparred with Aemon the first time, but after that I kept going back because I was confident that I could learn as much from him as he could from me.
That wasn't quite how Daenerys remembered things, that said, she was flattered Arya was willing to say something so complimentary when Rhaegar was behaving like a spoiled child.
From the chair next to his father Aemon beamed proudly, obviously affected by Arya's words. Before anyone else spoke they heard from a new voice. "Arya saved my life twice, once in the desert outside Sunspear and then again in the city when a thief tried to rob and then kill me."
"I hadn't heard about that," Rhaegar admitted. "Are you unhurt?"
"Thanks to Arya," Missandei answered.
As he always did when they discussed the day Arya rescued Missandei, Grey Worm bowed his head in a show of respect to the fellow soldier.
Her brother knew when to admit defeat. "I'm sorry," he said first to Daenerys, and then to Arya. "I worry about her safety."
"I understand." Arya was being much more accommodating than Daenerys would be in her place, but she bit her tongue and let everyone move on to a less volatile subject.
"What do you ladies have planned for the afternoon Tyrion asked, expertly restarting the conversation.
Daenerys could only look to Arya. The whole morning had been her design. She suspected the afternoon would be as well. "I don't know actually," she said looking down, "that's a large part of the fun."
For the second time during their lunch the guard from Dorne blushed. "Actually, this afternoon we are meeting with the man who made the gift I gave you."
She couldn't hide her excitement. "Really!?"
Arya nodded. "He's working on a new project and when he learned my order was for the Dragon Princess, he invited me to bring her back to watch him work."
Daenerys knew most around the table didn't know what they were talking about, because she hadn't shown them Arya's gift yet. Only Missandei knew how meaningful this was. "I can't believe he agreed to that, are you serious?"
"He agreed," she promised, "in fact he seemed almost happy about it, although it's hard to tell with him."
"Who is this?" Aemon asked on behalf of most of those listening in.
"Bevin," Arya said, finally looking away from Daenerys, "the shipwright. He's crafting a new vessel and will permit Daenerys to watch it take shape."
"That's remarkable," her nephew commented.
"That's quite a treat Princess," Tyrion added, "I hear he's a particular man who is very set in his ways."
"That is an understatement," Arya acknowledged, "when I went to him, I thought it would only take a few minutes, but he kept me over an hour asking questions."
"It was worth it," Daenerys gushed. "However long it took, it's perfect." She punctuated the words by squeezing Arya's hand which she still held under the table.
"What did she give you Dany?" Rhaegar asked. He was working to sound casual, but she picked up subtle hints of annoyance. She guessed it stemmed from having to ask what he probably felt she should have told him already. She suspected his restraint was an effort to avoid angering her by starting another fight with Arya.
"Drawings of a ship," she answered, "in incredible detail, there are measurements and specifications about the wood and the sails."
She would have kept talking but Arya squeezed her hand hard enough to make her stop and look at the guard. She cleared her throat. "Those aren't drawings exactly."
"They aren't?" She'd seen them, what could she mean they weren't drawings?
"They're plans," Arya elaborated, "plans for a ship. You take them to any shipwright, anytime, and he'll use them to build it for you."
Just when Daenerys thought her day couldn't possibly get any better. She was used to being spoiled, but not like this. This was different, everyone was giving her such heartfelt, meaningful presents. How did she get so lucky? Her friends, her family, Arya. Yesterday was dominated by her nameday celebration and still they were all willing to spend time with her today too, to help her celebrate again. Tears threatened just as they had when she first laid eyes on the gift Arya nearly died to commission. "Really?" she felt the need to verify.
"I hope someday you get to use them," Arya said quietly from her left. Daenerys hoped so too, more than she ever had before. Maybe, just maybe the future would be one where she'd get some say. It was a worthwhile wish to make.
R-C
Aemon and Rhaegar left first. Daenerys felt it had gone rather well. Her brother got a little overprotective and took it out on Arya, but she handled it well, and they managed to move past it. Perhaps sharing a meal with those closest to her could become something of a nameday tradition going forward?
She tried to picture how they would look the same time next year, and she immediately rejected what she saw. Her brain had unhelpfully reminded her that next year Arya wouldn't be with them. It felt wrong to Daenerys, the mere idea of celebrating without Arya, but she was determined to stay positive. Even if Arya was thousands of miles away in another kingdom, Daenerys would think of her each and every time she celebrated her nameday, in a way she wanted. None of this would have been possible without her. Daenerys would always honor and remember that.
Missandei, Grey Worm and Arya collected the dishes and the leftover food and carried everything away. Daenerys offered to help but they refused her assistance, telling her to relax and enjoy her wine.
With the table largely empty Tyrion the Master of the Coins came and claimed Arya's empty chair at her side. "I have something else for you," he said.
"Tyrion no," she responded through a sigh. "I already have too much."
"You'll like this one," he predicted.
She sighed again. "What is it?" She felt no excitement or anticipation as she waited to hear what the Lannister had gotten her. In fact, it was dread she was overwhelmed by, it sank in her stomach like a stone.
"I received word yesterday that the smith has finished his work on that item you ordered."
The dread was gone the instant those words reached her ears. It was really done? It was finally ready to be presented to Arya and on the perfect night too. Now she'd have a way to show her lover how she felt, just as Arya had done with the plans for her future ship. "He's done? Are you certain because…"
"I've seen it," Tyrion confirmed. "I know very little about such things, so I asked for my brother Jaime's opinion and he said it was exquisite."
Daenerys was thrilled, not only that it was ready, but that it met the Lannister's approval. Still, there were other, more practical matters to contend with first, before she got lost in her excitement. "Did you tell him it was for me?"
"No, I said a friend had it commissioned and wanted to make sure it was worthy of being given as a gift."
"And is it?" Daenerys heard herself ask.
Tyrion laughed good naturedly. "Jaime said that if whoever it was meant for was dumb enough to refuse it, he'd gladly take it."
"That's great Tyrion, thank you. When can I pick it up?"
"No need, I'll have Aidan take it to your chambers. it will be there by the time you return from your visit to the shipwright."
Arya had promised her a day of memories and she was getting that and so much more. It made her anxious to see what was coming next. She doubted she'd be disappointed.
R-C
While Daenerys sat at her desk memorizing every detail in the plans for her ship, she made herself a promise that she'd have it built one day and she'd sail on it, no matter what it cost.
At the same time Missandei was standing next to the newly constructed shelf built specifically to hold her dragon eggs. "How much do you know about them?"
"Very little," she admitted, looking up from the documents. "I know dragons were once common, long ago in the time of my ancestors. Targaryens ruled because we had dragons."
"They must be very old," Missandei noted. "Dragons have been gone from the world for a long time, yes?"
"Yes, many years now."
"I wonder if all dragon eggs were this size, or if these dragons were bigger or smaller than the ones in the legends?"
Daenerys smiled. She should have known that her intelligent friend would want to understand as much as she could about the ancient items she brought into their lives. "I don't know."
"The colors are beautiful."
"Beautiful," Daenerys agreed, "but dead."
"I wish we could learn more about them, perhaps the colors tell us what manner of dragon they'd be."
Daenerys put down Arya's gift and walked over to the shelf. "We could look in the library. Many of the books there are from a time when dragons existed."
Missandei was instantly interested. "I'll look later and see what we can learn about the eggs."
"That sounds like a great idea," she acknowledged, "I'll help you. I used to spend a lot of time in the library."
"You hardly ever go there now."
She was a little embarrassed to have to explain the reasons, but she knew Missandei wouldn't judge her. "Before you came, I didn't have anyone to talk to, so I'd pass the time by reading books, often two at once. After you joined me, I didn't really need to escape into stories anymore."
Missandei turned away from the eggs and hugged her. "You are not alone anymore, you have me and Arya, Grey Worm and Tyrion even."
"I know," she said releasing her friend.
"What's that?"
Unsure of what the handmaiden had spotted she moved to get a better view. Missandei was standing next to the desk holding the grey ribbon Arya had used to bind the pages of her present together. She smiled at the memory. "Arya used that to hold the plans together."
Missandei's smile mirrored the one she felt on her own face. The day had been perfect. She learned a lot watching the shipwright and though he was sometimes annoyed by her endless questions, he never ignored her or sent her out. When the day came, and her ship was finally built Daenerys definitely wanted to be there to watch it happen. It was fascinating to see something that massive being crafted by mere men right in front of her eyes.
"That's not all it's good for," Missandei said as she wound the ribbon around her knuckles.
"What do you mean?"
"Sit down," she encouraged, giving Daenerys a gentle nudge toward the mirror and the stool.
As soon as she was sitting, Missandei went to work unwinding her braids. When her hair was free and straight Missandei gathered up a large portion and separated it from the rest. Then she tied the ribbon around one section of hair, securing it in place. Daenerys watched her reflection and smiled at the flash of grey she saw each time she turned her head. Now she'd have a reminder of Arya's gift with her always.
R-C
They separated at the completion of dinner. Missandei went to spend the evening with Grey Worm, but only after Daenerys assured her multiple times that she would be retiring early.
Arya escorted the Princess to her bedchamber and then left, claiming there were things she had to do back at the barracks. That may have been what Arya said, but what Daenerys heard was that she was going to gather her things, so she could stay the night.
Every second felt longer than it should. She studied her appearance in the mirror, wanting to look her best. She smoothed out her dress and then adjusted the ribbon in her hair, even though it was already straight. When that couldn't distract her anymore, she moved on to considering where she and Arya would sit when the other woman arrived? Once she knew where they'd be, she thought about refreshments. The room had a cart filled with goblets and cups and every manner of drink you could imagine. She went to it to check her options. Would Arya want to have a drink? It might help with the nerves she was bound to be battling but Daenerys also knew Arya preferred to be clear headed. She set out two plain cups and a bottle of wine, just in case.
Her next tactic for staying busy came in the form of the package Aidan delivered. It was there, waiting for her, as Tyrion promised it would be. At first glance it didn't appear all that impressive, at least not when concealed by the scabbard. It was already attached to a new, black, leather belt. She traced the smooth leather with her finger while assessing the sword's grip. It was almost entirely silver, with a few bits of copper and bronze for color. She wasn't sure she made the right choice, but Arya didn't seem like the sort of woman to wear an elaborate golden sword. Silver suited her far better in Daenerys's opinion. Although she'd commissioned the sword, and paid for it, it felt wrong in her hand. It was never meant for her. Taking hold, she gave a sharp tug, to try and expose some of that famous Valyrian steel, people are always going on about, but the weapon didn't budge. Drawing a sword was harder to do than all the soldiers around her made it seem. She tried again, but this time used her free hand to hold the scabbard to the table. Gritting her teeth, there was a satisfying scraping sound as the sword separated from its sheath. With half the length visible, Daenerys had an ideal opportunity to assess the smith's ability. She wisely avoided the edge but ran two fingers down the center of the steel. It was smooth and cool, Daenerys liked how the light reflected off of it. She was no expert, but even to a novice of weaponry such as herself, the sword looked good. It wasn't as thick, long, or heavy as some others she'd seen but that was by design. She had it made with Arya in mind. She didn't need a big, scary-looking sword that was half her height and matched her weight, she needed something smaller, lighter, something she could easily control and manipulate with speed and accuracy. Daenerys was pleased. The Red Keep's smith earned his exorbitant fee and even more impressive than his skill with the hammer was his ability to keep his mouth shut. Miraculously none of the gossips had ruined the surprise before it was finished. Arya had no idea she was going to be receiving the sword of her dreams tonight.
She returned the sword's full length to the scabbard and then carried the weapon to her desk. Rather than setting it on the desktop where it would be readily visible, Daenerys placed it on the seat of the chair, and then pushed it in, effectively hiding it until she was ready to present it to Arya.
Minutes passed slowly and grew into a substantial total. She could help wondering if Arya had changed her mind and decided not to share information about her past? As curious as she was, her primary emotion was concern, for Arya. She knew her friend and lover had been tense lately and she suspected it was at least partially because of this conversation they were about to have. More than once she sat down determined to find a way to show Arya that the past wasn't nearly as important to Daenerys as her present, or the future but she'd decide on a strategy. Although Arya feared that what she planned to reveal might alter Daenerys's feelings, she had no such reservations.
She wished there was something she could do, to ease the burden Arya was being crushed under. In the end however the choice wasn't hers, all she could do was wait. Daenerys was trying to be patient, but it wasn't easy. First, she said she wanted to wait until after Daenerys's nameday, then it was after her second nameday. If she backed out again, Daenerys wasn't sure when or if she'd ever learn the truth.
When the knock finally came Daenerys invited the person in without bothering to check and see who it was. She stopped pacing, tried to calm her nerves and then made sure the sword was concealed before sitting down and hoping to appear calm. It wouldn't benefit either of them for Arya to see Daenerys anxious before they started.
Arya appeared tense, but was smiling when she walked in. Her eyes swept the room until she found Daenerys. The smile grew. "Everything okay?" Daenerys asked carefully, if only to get an understanding of her lover's current mood.
"Yeah," she answered, "I'm sorry it took me so long, I needed to grab my things and then I took a walk to clear my head."
"It's fine," Daenerys assured her. "You can set your things down anywhere and make yourself comfortable."
Without warning Arya's anxiety was getting worse not better. "Can I take my armor off? It's just that…"
Whatever she was going to say to gain permission was unnecessary. She wanted Arya to be happy with her, there, the one room in the giant castle where they didn't have to hide their feelings. "Please do, if you're hungry eat, if you're thirsty, drink. When you're here, what's mine is yours, you don't need to ask."
"Thank you." She set her bag down on the floor and then moved in the direction of the closet. When she reached back and began unstrapping her armor Daenerys forced herself to look away.
She went to Arya's bag and picked it up off the floor. By weight alone, it didn't seem as though it carried much. Daenerys placed it on a table where she determined it'd be safer. She fought the urge to peek as the amount of armor in the pile increased. To keep her mind and her eyes busy Daenerys rushed to the drink cart. "Would you like something to drink tonight, Arya?"
"Yes please," she responded, "rum if you have it. I'm going to need something stronger than wine for this."
It hadn't been intentional, honest. She was just surprised by Arya's request, so much so that it was only natural for her to glance at her to see if she was serious. She had her back to the Princess and was topless. Even the thin layer she wore under her armor had been removed. Daenerys could see every muscle in her back, all the way down until the cut off pants blocked her view. She should have turned away, but she was only a woman. Just as she was about to seek out a bottle of rum, Arya's hands went to her waist and began pushing the fabric down. She couldn't turn now to save her life. She watched as Arya wiggled out of the trimmed pants, bending slightly and sticking her firm, bare ass in Daenerys's direction. She'd seen Arya in the underclothes she wore beneath her armor, but that was child's play compared to this. She remembered thinking once that Arya's armor hadn't done her any favors, but now she could see that was perhaps the biggest understatement she'd ever uttered. Arya's body was magnificent, so strong and well-defined. It screamed of power without being blunt and Daenerys ached to feel it pressed against her. Not even the muscles could take away from the distinctly feminine curves, Arya was stunning.
She stared shamelessly until Arya stepped out of her shortened pants. Daenerys didn't want to be caught gawking, so she looked away in spite of every instinct begging for her to do the opposite. Her brain was little help, it was too clouded by what she'd witnessed. When she should have been thinking about where the servants might store the rum, all she could see was the way Arya's back flexed as she moved. When she should have been wondering what Arya intended to tell her about her family, about her father, Daenerys was mesmerised by how tempted she was to reach out and touch Arya's ass.
She stood there dumbly and tried to collect herself. It would be hard, but she had to pull herself together. She couldn't throw herself at Arya yet, no matter how badly she wanted to. She had to hear her out first, then set her at ease. After that, then Daenerys could get lost in Arya completely.
"If you don't have rum it's all right, just pour me whatever you're having."
She looked over her shoulder unsure of what she wanted to find. It would be easier to act civilized if Arya was clothed again, but there was a part of her, and not a small part, that hoped Arya had turned too, and was still dressing, then she'd get to see the front of her body too.
Arya was wearing a plain blue shirt and brown pants. She was adjusting the shirt on her frame, meaning it was a recent addition. It offered Daenerys a glimpse of none of the flesh she yearned to taste and touch.
With a shake of her head she tried to regain her composure. "No, I'm sure its here somewhere," she said, trying to think around the flashes of tanned, bare skin that were tormenting her. "Just give me a moment."
"Take your time," Arya replied.
She had just located the proper bottle and was reaching for it when Arya spoke again. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," Daenerys said at once, "anything."
"When you met with Lady Olenna, you said you wished to visit Highgarden, was that true or were you just being polite."
That may not have been the type of question she was expecting, but she replied anyway. "Oh, I meant it. Lady Olenna and the Tyrells are great. I'd love to go to the Reach for a few weeks and get away from King's Landing."
"Would it be before or after your brother's wedding?"
"I don't know, it's not as though I have a lot of business keeping me here. If I asked my father on the right day, there is a chance he'd agree." As she imagined the best way to get approval, she came to a realization about why Arya was asking. "Do you wish to see the Reach?"
"I would like it, I think."
Daenerys nodded. If Arya wanted to see Highgarden that was more than enough incentive for Daenerys to procced. She was genuinely looking forward to the travelling, and spending time with Lady Olenna and her granddaughter Margaery, if she could do that with Arya as her guard it would be all the better. "I'll speak to my father about it soon then, and we'll try and get the preparations started."
"I'd be in your debt," Arya said seriously.
Standing in front of the table, Daenerys set down the two glasses and the bottle of rum. She poured Arya's first and then her own. "You don't owe me anything Arya, I want to go too, and I'd much rather do it in your company."
Arya took the drink as soon as it was offered. "Thank you." She took a sip before commenting. "I didn't know you liked rum."
"It's not my first choice," she confessed, "but I don't dislike it."
Instead of sitting, Daenerys went to the desk, specifically the chair in front of the desk and retrieved Arya's sword. "What are you doing?"
"I'll be right there," she assured her. She was nervous as she hid the weapon behind her back and carried it toward her guard. "I have something for you," she told her as she stood next to Arya's chair.
Arya responded with a real smile, the kind that made it hard for Daenerys to remember what she intended to say. Luckily, it was Arya's turn to contribute to the conversation. "I don't know how things work in the capital, but I'm pretty sure you don't give gifts to other people on your nameday Daenerys."
She savored the light laugh that came from Arya. She was thinking through various arguments for convincing Arya to take the sword, when a strategy came to her. She smiled wickedly as she tested it out. "Actually," she said gently, "my nameday was yesterday, today, you told me I can do anything that will make me happy. Did you mean it?"
"Absolutely," Arya said without delay, just as Daenerys hoped she would.
"So, if it will make me happy to give my friend, a gift to thank her for all she's done for me today, for all the memories she's given me, then you wouldn't object?"
By the time she saw the trap she had already fallen in. "Daenerys," she said slowly. "I don't need gifts, I did what I did for you, because I wanted you to have a good day, I don't need thanks for that."
"Today was better than good," she justified, "it was perfect. It was the exact sort of nameday celebration I dreamed of having when I was a little girl and you made it real. You may think it doesn't deserve thanks, but I'll forever disagree. I'll never forget this Arya."
Wisely, Arya chose not to argue. "You're welcome, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
She could have spent the rest of the night helping Arya to understand that Daenerys didn't just enjoy it, her feelings ran much deeper, but that would have to come later. Other things had priority tonight. "As wonderful as today was, this gift isn't for that, I commissioned this weeks ago, and it was chance and not scheme that it was finished today."
"Okay," Arya said warily.
She moved her hands from behind her, revealing the sword, along with the accompanying belt and scabbard. After an audible gasp, the guard wasn't even looking at her, she was staring at the sword alone. Although her focus was singular, her eyes were in motion, trying to take in every aspect of the weapon that was visible. "I hear a soldier can never have too many swords," Daenerys remarked playfully. "I wanted you to have this one, as a gift from me, as a way to say thank you for all you've done."
She held it out for Arya, but she was uncharacteristically timid. Her hands twitched as though she was going to claim the offering before deciding against it at the last moment. "Daenerys, you shouldn't have," she said in quiet, awed whisper.
"I wanted to," Daenerys insisted. That was true when she and Missandei came up with the idea, and it was truer now. She had hoped she'd be Arya's friend by the time the sword was ready, now they were becoming something more, and it made the gift all the more significant. "Please, take it. It's one of a kind, I had it made just for you."
Arya finally took hold of the weapon. Daenerys had been holding it by the belt, but Arya gripped the scabbard. Running her thumb around the silver pommel, she whispered, "This is amazing."
"I don't know much about warfare," Daenerys acknowledged, "but I remembered what you told me on the ship, and I gave that information to the castle smith."
Arya's head popped up so abruptly it was a miracle her neck didn't snap. "This is castle forged steel?"
She didn't know how to respond to that. Was it? It was forged at the keep.
The room was silent except for the sound of steel being pulled from its cover. Daenerys paid the sword little attention, focusing instead on the blade's owner. Arya's eyes were wider than the Princess had ever seen them. Daenerys had carefully avoided touching the sharp edge when she admired the steel earlier, but Arya was less cautious. She brushed her finger across the steel and was satisfied, not alarmed when she drew blood. "This isn't just castle forged Daenerys," Arya told her, "it's Valyrian steel."
She had no idea if Arya intended it to sound like an accusation, but it had that quality to it. Daenerys didn't let it get to her. Not this time. She wanted Arya to have this, price be damned, all Daenerys cared about was if Arya liked it. "It's what you said you wanted," she recalled, "a one of a kind, unique weapon made of Valyrian steel."
"Yes, that was my dream, to one day have such a sword, I didn't mean for you to…"
"Well perhaps today is 'one day,' she tried.
Arya was conflicted, looking between the woman and the sword, unsure of what to say or do. "Daenerys," she began.
When nothing further came, she jumped in to fill the silence. "Please Arya, I want you to have this. What you've done for me, how special you've made our time together, I know you'll be leaving for Sunspear soon, and I wanted you to have something to remember me by."
She didn't think it was a good sign when Arya put the sword down on the table next to the rum. She went to Daenerys and took both of her hands. "I'll never forget you," she promised. "You say I've given you memories, but you've given me just as many. I didn't want to come here, you know that, but I'm glad I did."
Unsure of what to say, she gave up on words and leaned in for a kiss. Arya matched her intensity and before long Daenerys's hand was cupping the back of Arya's head, her fingers buried in the dark hair as she held on. While their tongues fought an epic battle, Daenerys tried to use the kiss to convince Arya to take the sword. She wasn't sure if she was successful but both women were breathless when they pulled apart.
"Do you like it?" Daenerys asked, hoping to start with the simplest question and work up to the more complicated ones. "There was a lot more involved in designing a sword than I knew, I didn't know all of your preferences, so I had to guess, I hope I chose well."
"You did great, it's gorgeous." Arya had finished answering but then pulled Daenerys in for an unexpected hug. "Truly," she said as they clung to one another, "it's the most beautiful sword I've seen in years."
"It's yours," Daenerys proclaimed, aware she was jumping right to the end.
"A sword like that deserves someone worthy, not just a guard."
Daenerys used a hand on Arya's chest to push her back. It was much easier to alter her direction and show annoyance without having to strike a blow hard enough to be felt through her breastplate. "You were never just a guard," Daenerys contended, "you've always been more than that, to me. This is your sword Arya, if you don't accept it, I won't give it to someone else, I'll keep it, locked away in a trunk or chest where it'll never be used."
Honest as her threat was, she hadn't expected much of a response. She was already preparing her next argument when she noticed how stricken Arya looked all the sudden. Her lips parted but she remained silent. There was a pause and for several seconds Arya looked at the sword they were discussing. "You should give this to your brother, or Aemon maybe, as a gift for when he goes to the Wall."
Something about the sword never being used mattered to Arya. She didn't need to understand what, to seize upon it. "No, I told you, it's your sword, either you take it, or no one ever will."
"I can't."
"Why not?" That didn't make sense. Who cared if it was a nice sword, or worth a lot of gold? If Daenerys wanted her to have it, and Arya wanted to take it, why wouldn't she? "I want you to have this Arya, and not just to remember me by, but because you deserve it. You may be a guard now, and a soldier just done with training, but I know you'll rise through the ranks quickly. You'll excel and do many great things. That woman, the one you'll become, she should have a sword like this."
Arya's nod was the first clue that maybe Daenerys would get her way. "I'll make you a deal," she said, "if you still want to give me that sword after we finish our talk, then I'll accept it."
That wasn't agreement exactly, but it was close. "Nothing is going to change Arya, I know you're worried, but you shouldn't be. I care about you and no matter what it is, I'll always care about you."
"I hope so," she whispered under her breath. Daenerys couldn't say for certain, but she didn't think she was supposed to hear that.
Arya led her by the hand to the table and they both sat down in front of their glasses of rum. Daenerys wasn't thirsty and pushed hers aside.
Arya noticed. "Shall I get you wine?" she proposed, already rising from her chair.
Daenerys reached over and put her hand on Arya's arm. "Not at all, I want you to stay right here with me."
Arya settled and made short work of the rum Daenerys poured. When her glass was empty, she pushed it aside instead of reaching for the bottle. Daenerys wanted to take Arya's hand, but didn't think the contact would be welcome, so she folded her hands in her lap and waited to hear what was coming next.
"Before I begin, I want to apologize."
"For what?" She raced through recent events as quickly as she could. At the conclusion of the review she still had no idea what Arya was apologizing for. She'd done nothing wrong.
It was as if Arya hadn't heard her. She was looking down off to her left, her grey eyes bound to a spot on the floor, like she intended to stare right through it. "The things I said, the lies I told, it was before I met you, before I knew you, before I cared about you. I didn't think I had a choice."
What was she talking about? Lies? Before that moment Daenerys would have bet her last gold dragon that Arya had never lied to her. Evidentially, that was a wager she would have lost.
"To understand this," Arya explained, "you need to remember our first meeting. It was after your father summoned me to the Water Gardens and demanded I fight."
"I remember," Daenerys swore, she was confident she'd never forget that particular evening.
"I didn't know I was lying to you, I didn't know I'd become your guard, or that I'd like you, that we'd be friends, I didn't know any of that, all I knew was that I didn't want to die, not like that, not in front of your father like everyone else." She said the words in a rush, making Daenerys work to catch them all.
Despite her best effort to keep up she couldn't. Arya wasn't making sense. Of course, she hadn't wanted to die, no one would, but why was Arya so distraught? What was the lie she kept referring to?
"If I'd known," she continued, "that I would end up here with you, like this, I hope I'd make different choices, better choices, but when I think back, I don't really know what they might be. The truth would have gotten me killed." By the end Arya was agitated, like a wire pulled too tight, she was stretched to the limit and now it wasn't a question of if she'd snap, only when.
Daenerys wanted to be considerate. It was evident that Arya was struggling, and Daenerys didn't want to make it worse, but she needed more information. She had no idea what Arya was even talking about. "Calm down, it's going to be okay. Just talk to me, it's just us here, just me and you."
"Me and you," she repeated quietly.
"That's right." Daenerys put one of her hands on the table and left the palm up to see if Arya would take it. "Just us." She gave Arya a moment before she asked, "Who would have killed you?"
"Your father," she responded without feeling. "If he knew, if I didn't lie that day, he would have burned me or cut me or strangled me or…"
Daenerys had heard enough. Recent events made the idea of her father killing her lover all too real. With each of Arya's fears, Daenerys's mind conjured up an image of it happening. She saw Arya burnt in green flames, Arya cut down by Jaime Lannister's sword, then Arya being strangled by the King himself. She didn't need anymore similar ideas inserted into her head. She'd be haunted enough as it was. "Arya!" she said a little too loudly. "What lie did you tell? What couldn't he know?"
"Some of my first words were a lie," Arya confessed, "but only those, nothing that came after, nothing that I said to you was a lie. I never wanted to lie to you, only him."
Arya's first words to her father were a lie? What were they? Was that before or after the fight? It took a moment, but she arranged her memories in an order that seemed to fit. Arya didn't speak until after the match, when she refused to kill her friend. Was that what she lied about? No, it couldn't be, Arya hadn't killed him, and she risked her life to defy Aerys, she wouldn't do that if she secretly wanted the man dead. If it wasn't that, what was it? She scoured her brain for the earliest words she heard Arya speak. Her name! It had been her name. "Arya Sand," Daenerys recited proudly, too pleased at having solved the puzzle to notice Arya flinch, "your name isn't Arya Sand?"
The next sound she heard was Arya's chair scraping across the floor. She stood up and stepped back from the table. She took a knee in the middle of Daenerys's bedchamber. "I am not," she admitted, keeping her head down. "I was given the name Arya, but I am not a Sand, because I am not a bastard, and I was not born in Dorne."
What!? She had said that what she needed to say involved her father and her family, but Daenerys was still having difficulty believing it. Before she sorted through that mess, another issue demanded attention. She was curious about where Arya was from, and why she'd lie, why she'd take the name Sand if she didn't have to. Even after she had answers to all of that, Daenerys would still want to know how Arya came to be in Dorne. She took the necessary seconds to arrange her many questions, beginning with the most urgent. The first thing Daenerys needed to know was why telling the truth would have gotten her killed. "Why would my father kill you, if he knew who you were?"
There was a pause, but it didn't feel like Arya was avoiding the question, more that she was preparing her answer. "Because I am the daughter of Eddard Stark."
With those words Daenerys's whole world shifted. She knew who the Starks were. In her younger years, her father spoke of them often, saying they were the true power behind Robert Baratheon's rebellion. Aerys didn't believe Robert could have rallied the support of other houses to his side, and with only his vassals and his brothers for support, he was no match for the Targaryen army. Supposedly, it was Ned Stark who cautioned his inpatient friend to wait, to gather support, to forge alliances and strike only when they had the best chance of victory.
The Starks hadn't been spoken of in the castle for years. As the rebellion faded into history, her father spoke of it less and less. The Boltons ruled the North and the Starks were forgotten. "Your name is Arya Stark?" she verified, as she wrestled with all that this meant.
"Yes," she said simply. "I didn't want to lie…"
Yes, she did! She wanted to lie. She'd been lying from the start! Her argument with Rhaegar weeks earlier came to the forefront. She defended Arya when her brother thought she couldn't be trusted. "Rhaegar was right, wasn't he? You came here for revenge?"
"Absolutely not," Arya insisted. She looked up at the Targaryen for the first time and then stood. "I came here to protect you and keep you safe, that is the only reason."
As she spoke, she closed the distance between them, approaching Daenerys. There was nothing threatening about her movements, she appeared more broken than dangerous, but Daenerys wasn't taking any chances. "Don't touch me!" she snapped. "I'm such a fool, I defended you, and everything was a lie."
Arya took a half a step forward before Daenerys's glare reminded her to keep her distance. She retreated and then addressed Daenerys's latest claim. "I told one lie, one, everything else, everything that came after, everything with you was sincere, I swear it."
Angry as she was, there was a part of her, likely her traitorous heart that wanted to believe Arya was speaking true. Unfortunately for that part of her, the anger ruled her now. With her arms folded over her chest she put the guard on the spot. "Why should I believe you?"
"You shouldn't," Arya said, startling Daenerys and dulling her fury by a few degrees. "Don't listen to a word I have to say, trust yourself Daenerys, trust your instincts. What do you think?"
Why was she saying that? Why was she trying to turn this around on her? Daenerys wasn't the one who lied. "This isn't my fault…"
"No, it's mine," Arya acknowledged, "and if I lied once, how can you possibly trust anything I say now, right?"
That was perfectly in line with Daenerys's current thinking. "Right!"
"So, don't listen to me, listen to yourself. Do you really think I'd hurt you to avenge a family you had no hand in harming?"
"I thought you were a bastard from Dorne, I don't know what you're capable of."
Unbothered by the venom in Daenerys's words, Arya kept going. "Okay then, ask yourself this, if I wanted to kill you, or kidnap you or whatever vile act you wish to imagine, why haven't I done it? Think about it, we've been together for weeks, we've spent hours alone, I shared this room with you once, if I had ill intentions, what better way to take my revenge than to attack you in your sleep, when you're vulnerable?"
There was some truth in what Arya was saying, but it wasn't powerful enough to quell her rage and embarrassment. She'd given Arya her heart without knowing who she was opening herself up to. "You could just be waiting for the right opportunity."
"If that were true, why would I be telling you this?" Arya asked her plainly. "If I wished to hurt you, why not maintain the lie and as you say, wait for the right opportunity."
Daenerys didn't have a response for that, because it didn't make any sense. Why had Arya confessed to her? "Why did you?" She wanted the words back, but was perversely curious too, so she waited to hear the answer.
"Whether you hate me or not, whether you forgive me or not, you'll always be important to me Daenerys. I care about you, and I decided that I wanted to be with you."
Daenerys kept her walls up high and tried not to be swayed by Arya's sentiment. "You didn't answer the question."
"Telling you is dangerous, but preferable to being with you while you still believe me a Dornish bastard."
"Why did that matter?" she spat bitterly. "You could have taken me to bed nights ago, you could have lied to me until you returned to Sunspear and I never would have known."
"You really think I'd do that to you?" The hurt she heard weakened Daenerys's resolve slightly.
Her hot-burning anger happily reinforced any weak points she had. "I don't know you."
"You do," Arya countered, "you know me better than anyone ever has."
"I knew Arya Sand, but she doesn't exist, you're Arya Stark, and I have no idea who she is, or what she's capable of."
For a moment Arya appeared defeated. Daenerys thought she was about to give up and go, but then her back straightened, her head lifted, and her eyes found Daenerys's. "I'll tell you who Arya Stark is, she's a girl who watched her family destroyed in this very castle. At eight years old she was put on a ship and sent to Dorne to live as a foster. After years in the Water Gardens, scrubbing chamber pots and washing bedsheets she was finally granted permission to serve in the Dornish army. Only days away from getting everything she wanted, the King and his children arrived in Sunspear and summoned her. She stood in front of the man who ruined her life and when he asked her name, she lied. She lied to try and avoid the same fate so many of her kin met when face to face with the Targaryen King. Arya Stark lied, that's true, but she also agreed to serve as the Princess's guard. She travelled thousands of miles from the only home she has left, from her friends, and was committed to being the best guard she could be. She may hate the King, she may hate the Crown Prince, but Arya Stark has never hated you."
Daenerys was unable to speak and that was probably for the best seeing as how she didn't know what she'd say. Arya's plea had been heartbreakingly honest and passionate. Daenerys was still upset, but it wasn't quite as all-consuming as before.
She was still coming to terms with what she'd learned about Arya Stark when the sound of steel clanging caught her attention. She found Arya collecting her things. "What are you doing?" she asked a little too harshly. She hadn't meant to be so hostile, it couldn't be helped.
"I'm leaving," she said simply.
"What?"
"I told you that what I had to tell you would change things for us, and I can see I was right. I'm sure you have a lot to think about, so I'll give you your privacy. I am sorry Daenerys, if you believe only one thing I've said, believe that. Whatever happens next, I won't blame you, and I'll never regret telling you the truth."
Arya exited the Princess's bedchamber, carrying her armor, her bag and her sword. Daenerys wasn't sure if she was glad or devastated. Should she stay or go? In the end her uncertainty made the decision for her. She said nothing and let Arya exit, closing the door behind her. Alone now the room felt much too big. She looked around and saw Arya everywhere. On one side of the desk were the unwritten thank you notes she still had to finish. Seeing them reminded Daenerys of Arya's outrage upon learning she had to thank every guest for every gift. At the mirror where Missandei did her hair, she saw flashes of memories of all the times Arya stood off to the side trying to make her laugh. The bed was where she and Arya were supposed to spend the night. Now she'd be sleeping in it alone. When her eyes landed on the table with the rum, she focused solely on the Valyrian steel sword. Arya hadn't taken it. She did see Arya carrying a sword, but it was the one she was given in Dorne, not the one Daenerys had made. Something about the sword felt final. Arya had said she wouldn't take it until after Daenerys knew the truth, now she did, but Arya left the weapon behind anyway, probably because she assumed Daenerys no longer wanted her to have it. The problem was, Daenerys herself wasn't sure if she still wanted Arya to have it. As she tried to organize her thoughts and emotions. she noticed rather abruptly that she was crying. When had that started? Aware of her tears now, she felt how fast and hard they were falling. Daenerys surrendered to it and sank to the floor. Maybe if she cried it all out, then she could decide what to do.
R-C
Arya returned to the barracks but didn't go inside. Instead she sat on a long, empty bench just steps from her bed. It was there so weary soldiers could rest between bouts of training. but it would serve her purposes just fine.
She dropped her bag carelessly, then her armor and sword followed. As soon as she'd released her weapon, she wanted it back. She bent down over her bag first, moving through it with haste until she found what she was looking for, then she reached for the blade.
On the bench she laid the steel across her lap and readied the sharpening stone. The familiar act brought comfort but also sadness. In the years since she was banished to Dorne there wasn't a day she'd been able to sharpen a sword without thinking of her father and how he'd do the same to Ice under the Weirwood.
She needed no encouragement to think of him tonight. Her conversation with Daenerys made sure he was at the firmly planted in the center of her mind. Would he be upset with her for risking her neck to tell Daenerys who she was, or proud that she'd done it? She tried to face her problems directly and with honor, like he taught her.
It had been a long, busy day and she was tired, but sleep held no appeal. It was very possible this would be her last night alive. If it was, she didn't want to waste a minute of it sleeping. Her fate was in the hands of one of the few people Arya trusted. It wasn't how she wanted the night to go, but she understood. It was probable that Daenerys had been fed lies about the Starks her whole life. Rhaegar hadn't even told his own son about the rebellion and his role in starting it, so she shouldn't be surprised Daenerys's reaction was negative. She could have told her, she almost did, it was nearly out of her mouth when she pulled it back in. It was right after Daenerys said she didn't know what Arya was capable of. She wanted to deny responsibility to say it was Rhaegar's fault. If she told Daenerys what really happened, maybe she would have been able to stay, and spend a few more minutes with her. It was tempting, but she couldn't do it. Daenerys already hated her for lying, that was unlikely to change, so she couldn't drag Rhaegar down with her, no matter how much she hated him. It wasn't for his benefit that she kept his secret, it was for Daenerys. Arya's time in the Red Keep left little doubt that there aren't many people Daenerys can rely on. Missandei, Aemon, Tyrion, Jorah maybe and Rhaegar. She knew the Princess well enough to say confidently that the truth about her brother would damage their relationship, if it didn't destroy it permanently. Who would protect her from the King, if not Rhaegar? No, Arya couldn't do that. She would be gone soon, dead or in Dorne, and either way Daenerys would be in King's Landing. She'd feel better about it if she knew the Prince was close, providing protection.
Her decision to leave rather than defend herself was difficult. She was a fighter. She wanted to fight against the assumptions about her and her character, but Daenerys's safety needed to come first, before Arya's honor.
In a way, she was glad Daenerys knew. She didn't mind lying to the King or the Prince or anyone else, but with Daenerys it was different. They were on the ship the first time she felt it, the rock in her stomach that came when Daenerys called her 'Arya Sand,' it happened every time after that too, getting heavier and harder to manage each time.
She stopped long enough to yawn, then got right back to work. She didn't think the King would let her die with a sword in her hand, but she wanted to be ready in the event she was granted a trial by combat. She was good, but she didn't like her chances. Whether it was Jaime Lannister, the Mountain or the Hound her death was almost assured, still she'd prefer it to any of the other alternatives.
Realizing she was tired, reminded her of the day, and the many reasons she had to be exhausted. In spite of everything, she smiled when she thought of it. Daenerys had been like a child, happy and laughing near constantly. From the time Arya knocked on her door until their after-dinner kiss, their last, everything had been great. Daenerys seemed happy and that made it impossible for Arya to regret. As they travelled the city, sat with the shipwright, the smallfolk, or the children at the orphanage, Arya repeatedly caught Daenerys seeking her out. Each time she discovered a new wonder, she'd look back at her guard, as if to make sure she was seeing it too. It was a memory of Daenerys she'd take with her wherever she went next.
R-C
Author's Note: Arya finally told her, at least some of it. Telling Daenerys all the gruesome details seemed beneath Arya somehow, especially when in her mind Daenerys will never forgive her anyway. Don't worry, in the next chapter Daenerys will need answers only Arya can give her, and they'll talk the rest out.
Until then,
RC