It took her longer to notice than it should have, but she spent most of the night awake, believing she was about to be executed. If ever there was a reason to be a little slow, she believed this would qualify.
She was with Daenerys in her room. The Princess was at her desk, dutifully going through her thank you notes, while Missandei went to get them a snack. She thought that by constantly bringing Daenerys something to eat or drink, she'd help ensure the Targaryen stayed awake and motivated to keep writing. Arya didn't think it would work and judging by the lack of enthusiasm she saw from the desk, Daenerys agreed.
It was midmorning when she finally saw the pattern. Daenerys would finish a note, set it into the proper pile and then glance at Arya, as if she meant to say something. Once she was aware of the habit, Arya paid attention to it, and saw it happen again and again, without fail. "Something on your mind?" Arya wondered. She kept her tone even and did her best to appear casual. A lot had happened last night, and they still had more to deal with. Without either woman saying so, they fell into a truce of sorts. Neither one had mentioned Arya's past since they stopped talking to watch the sunrise.
It wasn't a long-term solution. They'd need to talk eventually, that couldn't be avoided, but Arya would be lying if she said she didn't appreciate the temporary reprieve.
Daenerys looked almost shy when she replied. "No, I mean yes, but it's not important."
Although she had no idea if Daenerys was still interested in a romantic relationship, Arya couldn't alter her feelings. She was struck by how cute the Princess looked all nervous, biting her bottom lip and averting her eyes. She moved away from the wall and approached the desk. "If it's on your mind, it's important."
Abandoning a half completed note, she angled herself in Arya's direction. "I don't want to upset you," she said to preface whatever was coming next.
"I'm not upset with you," Arya assured her. She didn't blame Daenerys for anything. Her initial reaction to the news was harsh, but understandable given everything she'd been told about the Starks. That she sought Arya out afterward and made peace, that she was willing to keep Arya's identity a secret from everyone in her life, that was more than enough compensation for any of the hurtful words or incorrect accusations Daenerys said in the heat of the moment.
"Aren't you?"
She was purposely avoiding Arya's eye, so the guard went to her directly, kneeling next to the chair Daenerys was in. "Of course not, why would I be?"
This made her look up. "I could think of a few reasons you might be angry with me."
At the risk of undoing all the progress they seemed to be making, Arya couldn't help herself. She reached up and brushed a lock of silver hair off Daenerys's cheek, tucking it behind her ear. "I'm not angry with you, I never was, not when we were talking here, when I left, before you came to the barracks or after."
Daenerys offered a shaky smile before the accompanying words. "I thought I'd have to sneak in and wake you up," she confessed quietly. "Why were you awake, and outside?"
Her initial instinct was to deflect away from the truth, but she told Daenerys one lie and it nearly ruined them, she wouldn't make that mistake again. "Sleeping felt like a waste."
"Of?"
"My life," Arya explained, "I didn't know if the guards were on their way, or if the King already knew. I didn't want to spend my last moments sleeping if…"
"Oh," Daenerys said after a gasp. "No, I never, I wouldn't, I mean I didn't even consider it," she stammered. It sounded to Arya like she had too many thoughts in her head and they were all trying to get out at once.
"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Arya admitted honestly. "I told you because I wanted you to know, even now I'm glad you know the real me."
"That's just it," she insisted, "I do know the real you. It doesn't matter what name you use, you're still you."
After everything, hearing Daenerys defend her so fiercely was meaningful. Suddenly it was easier to breathe and the rock in her gut felt a little less oppressive. "Thank you," she said simply, hoping Daenerys could tell how sincerely she meant it.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything," she promised. Her biggest secret was out, and Daenerys hadn't revealed it to anyone, she had nothing left to fear from the Princess.
"Do you know why he waited? I've been thinking about it all morning and I don't understand, restraint is not common."
She tried to make sense of the question but was left confused. Who was she talking about? "Why did who wait?"
"My father," she clarified. "If he hated your father and wanted to punish him, why wait so long to do it, why let him remain in Winterfell, and serve as Warden?"
She may have been willing to share everything with Daenerys, but that didn't mean it wasn't strange talking about her father like this. Even in Dorne, where everyone knew exactly who she was, her past was still a subject rarely broached. Only Oberyn dared bring it up to her directly, and that happened only a handful of times in all the years they were friends. It was going to take some effort to grow accustomed to being open and honest.
Daenerys misinterpreted the delay. "I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about it again. I know enough already, and like I said before, I know you."
She smiled as convincingly as she could. "It's okay, you can ask me whatever you want." She didn't look sure, so Arya proved her point by answering the question hanging over them. Why had he waited? She didn't really know, but she could guess. "Losing his family stayed with my father, it haunted him. No matter how successful he was as Lord of Winterfell, he always knew he only held his position because everyone else was gone, his father, his brother, his sister. Death is quick, even if you drag it out. I think the King wanted to punish my father more than that, hurt him more, so he waited until he had family again, and then he took them away."
Unshed tears sparkled in Daenerys's eyes. "I wish I could say that he wouldn't do that, but we both know he would."
When it looked like Daenerys intended to say more, Arya beat her to it. "Don't apologize for him, you don't need to."
"I do need to," she disagreed, "but I know you don't want me to, so I won't." It wasn't much of a compromise, but she'd take it.
"Thank you." She could tell by the expression on her face that Daenerys was afraid to ask whatever was next on her list of questions. She wanted her to, this would only work if they could talk to one another. "Go ahead, it's okay, just ask."
"You said my father thought death was too good for yours, does that mean your father's alive?"
In her mind she pictured the man. She'd mourned him every day since she last saw him as though he was dead, but she wasn't certain. "He was alive when I got on the ship," she stated, not straying from the facts as she knew them, "after that, I have no idea. When he was done torturing him as he did, there was little left to do but kill him. I don't think he survived much longer."
"Could we find out?!" Daenerys asked almost immediately upon hearing Arya's reply.
In her early years as a foster Arya worked tirelessly to try and learn the fate of Sansa, Bran and their father, but she never discovered anything beyond rumor. Oberyn inquired too and had only marginally more success. It was tempting to think Daenerys might be able to help her find answers, but it was also incredibly dangerous. Every person they asked, every inquiry they made, increased the likelihood that someone would put the pieces together. If that happened, it was potentially hazardous for not only Arya and her remaining kin but also Daenerys now too. How would the Mad King respond if he learned his daughter knew he had a Stark in his castle and said nothing? "We can't risk anyone else finding out," she said, hearing the undercurrent of disappointment in her words. No one wanted the truth about her family more than her, but the price was too high. "Every person that knows is a danger."
With red cheeks and guilt all over her face, Daenerys spoke quietly. "I told Missandei." For three heartbeats Arya tried to process this new detail before Daenerys looked up, returned to her natural volume and tone and justified her choice. "I needed to talk to someone last night, and she helped me see things from your point of view."
"It's okay," Arya said, hoping it was true. It wasn't surprising that Daenerys would confide in Missandei, and if someone else had to know her secret, the handmaiden would have been Arya's choice. "It's okay," she repeated, a little more confidently, "as long as she understands she can't speak of it to anyone."
"I swore her to secrecy this morning while I was getting dressed," Daenerys promised, "and last night before I went looking for you."
Since they were getting everything out in the open, she decided to share what little she had left. "Varys knows too. He told me when Lady Musgood was visiting."
Daenerys was on her feet. Wild violet eyes swept the room, looking for something only the Princess knew. "You have to run. Varys is loyal and self-serving he'll sell you out to my father the first chance he gets."
"That's what I thought," Arya said, standing straight, "but he's known for days and hasn't told anyone."
"Why would he do that?" Arya couldn't tell if it was skepticism or disbelief she was hearing.
"I don't know, but I think he likes you," she remembered, recalling her odd conversation with the Spider.
"What does that have to do with anything? He barely knows me," Daenerys countered hotly.
"I can't explain it, but he said as long as I'm loyal to you, he'd keep my secret."
"And you trust him?" the Princess pressed. "You said he was there when…" she trailed off, not wanting to finish.
"Only a fool would trust the Spymaster, but I think I believe him, and yes he was there."
"Why would he care about your loyalty to me?" Daenerys asked herself. "I hardly ever see him."
"Maybe," she allowed, "but with his spies, he sees everything. He discovered my identity by using a spy in Sunspear to search for Prince Doran's Northern foster. When he couldn't locate me, he knew his suspicions were right."
"What do you want to do?"
"About Varys?" Arya verified.
She nodded. "I can give you some gold, you can run before he betrays you. With luck and favorable winds, you could be on your way to Sunspear before my father knew who went missing."
Before yesterday she would have assumed the offer came from a desire to keep her safe, but now she had doubts. Was this Daenerys's way of saying she wanted her to go? She needed to check. Her own feelings not withstanding, she wouldn't force Daenerys to spend all day, everyday with her, if it made the Targaryen uncomfortable. "I could, if you want me to."
Daenerys had been lost in thought, staring off in the direction of the window, until Arya brought her back to the present. "What? No! I don't want you to go, but just because he agreed to keep your secret doesn't mean Varys will still feel that way tomorrow."
"I know."
"Aren't you worried?"
"No," she answered truthfully.
"Why not?"
"Do you know what I was thinking, while I was talking to Varys, when it was clear he knew everything, and I thought I was going to die?"
Daenerys shook her head and only resorted to a verbal reply when Arya wasn't more forthcoming. "No, what?" she finally asked in a quiet, timid voice.
She smiled as she looked straight into Daenerys's gorgeous eyes. "I was thinking, I hope he gives me enough time to go upstairs and tell Daenerys the truth myself." The Princess gasped, not expecting that. "All I wanted in that moment was to be able to explain it to you, so you'd understand why I lied."
"I do understand," Daenerys swore in a rush, "I didn't at first, but I do."
"I wanted the chance to tell you that the feelings I had for you were real, and that you made me happy, even in this place I hate. I wasn't afraid of dying, but I needed you to know that first."
Whatever she predicted Daenerys's reaction would be to that confession, it wasn't two arms around her neck and soft lips pressing firmly against hers. She froze, waiting for the trick to end, expecting Daenerys would vanish when it did. She remained, clinging to Arya, moving her hands into Arya's hair and using her mouth and tongue to try and coax the guard into kissing back. Eventually she decided that if this was a dream, she was fine with it, as long as she never had to wake up. She began kissing back hard, matching her intensity.
R-C
What was she thinking? That was obvious, she wasn't. One moment she was content to be repairing her friendship with Arya and the next she was kissing her, her body mashed against the soldier's so forcefully she was confident she was leaving bruises behind the armor.
It hadn't been a choice. She hadn't decided to kiss her, it just happened. Restraint was not one of her virtues. Whether it was her temper or her desires she tended to leap first and look second. She'd done it again and now she had no idea how to fix it. She didn't even know if she wanted to fix it. She thought she had made up her mind. She'd return to being friends with Arya, take time to absorb the new information and then assess her feelings. It was a reasonable plan, so naturally she had to find a way to fuck it up. As she relived the kiss yet again, she was overrun with emotions, most notable was that her guilt for violating her self- imposed rules was very far down the list. Whatever her head was telling her about their most recent kiss, Daenerys's body was passing along a whole other message.
It was a small mercy that the thank you notes she was using to hide didn't require much of her focus. She could write the familiar words, sign the bottom, mark it with her seal and repeat, without needing to forget how passionately Arya kissed her. It took her a moment, probably to overcome the shock, but then the warrior seized the opportunity, making the most of it. The kiss lasted until the Princess's lungs burned and Daenerys couldn't find it in her to complain. If anything, she regretted her need for air, a position not entirely aligned with her decision to just be Arya's friend.
Conflicted as she was, she realized she wasn't actually at fault for this. Yes, she'd kissed Arya, against every warning the logical part of her brain provided, but Arya was truly to blame. She was the one who said one of the sweetest things Daenerys had ever heard, in the midst of a discussion about her presumed death, no less. She told of her encounter with Varys, and how her only wish was that she could see Daenerys one last time, to explain and apologize. It was hard not to be flattered. Judging by Arya's face, she didn't know she was being romantic, she was just describing how things happened, but the Princess was still touched by the sentiment. In what Arya believed were the final moments of her life, she was thinking about her. What more could any woman want?
She tried to give her full attention to the note she was writing, but it didn't last. Before she finished her insincere thanks, she was leaning back in her chair, licking her lips and tasting Arya.
Admittedly she had limited experience with lovers or relationships. One thing she was certain of however was that she was usually the one in control. It was Daenerys who rejected suitor after suitor, not the other way around. She politely declined proposals and returned outlandish gifts, she actively worked to ignore Jorah's growing obsession, and even Daario bowed to her authority. She was a Targaryen after all, a Princess and they were nobles, strangers, a knight and a sell-sword. Arya served her, so why did everything seem different with her. Daenerys should still have the power, still maintain control, yet she wasn't sure she did, not this time.
She wanted to blame everything on the fact that Arya was a woman. Daenerys had never been with a woman before, it would have been easy to explain away everything and move on but doing so felt cheap. Dismissing Arya's uniqueness as nothing more than a result of her gender was a disservice to all of those good qualities Missandei reminded her of the night before. No, the reason things were different with Arya had little to do with her being female and much more to do with her personality.
It was slightly unsettling to conclude that she may have lost or surrendered some of the control she typically kept over her potential partners, but it was also exciting. Her brain had told her to tread carefully, she went so far as to agree that was what was best and then at the first available opportunity she threw herself into Arya's arms and savored every second of their heated kiss. It was thrilling, and terrifying. She'd never allowed herself to be vulnerable with someone before, to truly put herself at risk. She hadn't intended to be this way with Arya either, but she knew her heart would be safe, nonetheless.
R-C
Dinner was over and Arya was escorting Missandei and Daenerys back to the Princess's chambers. Although she opened the door for them, she didn't go in. Daenerys was immediately on edge. "What's wrong?"
She fretted over the distance Arya was putting between them, until the guard put her at ease. "I'm fine, we're fine," she promised, "I just thought you and Missandei would like to talk without me listening in."
"You don't have to…" Daenerys began.
Missandei too had the same idea. "That's unnecessary," she said.
"It's alright," Arya assured them both. "I was with you all day. I know you're tired, go and relax, I'll guard the door."
Was it her imagination or just a vain hope that she saw a spark in Arya's eye when she mentioned spending the day together? Daenerys's mind immediately went to their kiss. It only happened once, but as she was learning, once was enough, when it was that good. "I'm not the only one who's tired. I'll be staying in tonight, so you can go."
"Are you sure?"
She looked as exhausted as Daenerys felt, but her concern for the Targaryen's wellbeing dwarfed her need for sleep. If she asked, Arya would stand there all night without complaint. It was generous, sweet and unnecessary. "I'm sure." For the second time that day her body acted without instruction from her brain. Right there in the public hallway outside her room, she pressed a soft, brief kiss into Arya's cheek. "Rest, I'll see you in the morning."
With the cheek Daenerys kissed already turning red Arya offered a stiff nod. "Y…yes, thank you. Goodnight Missandei," she said to the handmaiden. The slave said it back before she slipped into the room, leaving Daenerys and Arya alone. "Sweet dreams Princess."
Neither woman moved. Arya had been dismissed and Daenerys had Missandei waiting on her, but she stayed rooted to her spot. This time there was no denying the fire in Arya's eyes. The way her gaze kept dropping to Daenerys's lips before adjusting made it pretty clear what was on her mind. She wasn't the only one. "Tomorrow," she said softly. It was so much more than just a friendly farewell and they both knew it. It was a promise of things to come.
R-C
When she arrived at the barracks, Grey Worm was sitting on the same bench where she spent most of the night. His posture was rigid and instead of reviewing his surroundings shrewdly as he commonly did, the Unsullied Commander was staring at the ground, deep in thought.
"Is everything alright?" she asked her friend. She considered Grey Worm to be the perfect soldier, the perfect warrior, he was unflappable, skilled, determined and loyal, his men respected him with good reason. They may have been slaves, but if they were granted their freedom tomorrow, Arya had no doubt that every one of the seven-thousand-nine-hundred and-ninety-nine other men would choose to stay if Grey Worm did. it was odd to see him looking unsure.
He turned his head to meet her, surprised by her presence. He stood up. "Can we speak?"
"Of course." She took a seat on the bench next to where he'd been and tried to quell the worry that was building. What had him so unnerved? He sat again after a moment.
"I… need your… help." She guessed it was his emotions and not a limited vocabulary that had him struggling, his accent was also undeniably more pronounced.
"What can I do?" she asked him, already knowing she'd do anything in her power to aid him.
"You gave Daenerys a …" he paused to find the right word. Frustrated he threw up his hands, "The ship," he finished in exasperation.
"Yes," she agreed. "I gave Daenerys a gift, plans for her ship."
He flashed her a smile that was typically reserved for Missandei. "A gift, I want to get for Missandei a gift."
It was Arya's turn to smile. This was what caused the Commander to seek her out? This was why he was anxious and stressed? She could relate, she worried far more over Daenerys's nameday gift than she did any of the men she faced in combat. "Okay," Arya said kindly, "how can I help?"
Now that he'd made her understand, he seemed to relax a little. "How do I? I no have gold." Before she could respond he asked, "How I buy plans for Missandei's ship with no gold?"
She knew what she wanted to say but wasn't quite sure how to convey it to Grey Worm. He had come a long way in his lessons, but the language barrier remained in place. She could hardly ask Missandei to translate for them, it would ruin what was obviously a surprise. "You don't need to buy Missandei plans for a ship to make her happy," she tried, speaking slower than usual to ensure he could follow.
"No?" he verified.
She smiled. "No. I bought Daenerys the plans because I knew that was something she'd like. You don't need to spend a lot of money to show Missandei you care."
Only after she'd finished did she realize that Grey Worm probably didn't understand all of that. "I do care," he insisted with feeling.
She put a hand on the shoulder of his armor. "I know you do," she assured him. "I know, but if you want to give Missandei a gift, it needs to be something she'd like, something special."
"Special," he repeated.
Wow this was harder than she thought it would be. "What sort of things does Missandei like?" she asked, hoping to start at the beginning. He didn't reply, so Arya went on. "Daenerys likes ships, what does Missandei like?"
He took a moment, but it came to him. "Books," he announced proudly, "she like books."
Yes, Missandei definitely did like books. She was constantly reading, usually in a language none of the others understood. "You could get Missandei a book."
"No gold," Grey Worm reminded her. She felt for him as his previously pleased expression shifted to something darker.
Right. The King wasn't paying any of them. He didn't have money to buy Missandei anything. He looked defeated but Arya wasn't. Grey Worm and Missandei were her friends and she wanted to do this for them. She just needed to get more creative. To solve the problem, she asked herself what she would've done to celebrate Daenerys's nameday if Oberyn hadn't paid her for the venom? If she didn't have the gold to commission plans for The Princess's Dream, would she have given up and not gotten Daenerys anything? No, she would have found a way to show her affection that didn't cost gold dragons. "What do you and Missandei like to do together?"
The look he gave her was almost funny, and she would have laughed if she wasn't so focused on finding a solution. "You know."
She settled for a chuckle. "Before that," Arya clarified, "what do you do?"
No answer came and she knew she'd need another way to gather information. She scoured her memory for all of the times she saw the lovers together. Their deep love not withstanding they were reserved in public, giving Arya very little to work with. Only one idea remained when she'd dismissed all others, she recalled Missandei and Grey Worm sneaking away for two days when Daenerys and Arya were permitted to go into the city. She jumped on that. "When you and Missandei went away, did she enjoy that?"
"Went away?" Grey Worm asked, with confusion.
"Remember," Arya urged, "Daenerys gave you and Missandei two days away from the castle."
"Yes," Grey Worm acknowledged, not making the connection.
"Did Missandei like travelling?"
"Yes," he said again.
"What did you do?" Since she wasn't certain he'd know the right phrases she attempted to give him some examples. "Did she like seeing new places or riding her horse?"
"Yes," Grey Worm provided unhelpfully, confirming Missandei enjoyed both.
"Where did you sleep?"
"Outside." One word or not, Arya was secretly pleased she'd gotten a reply other than 'yes.' "Camp."
Now they were getting somewhere. "Okay, did you hunt?"
When all she got was a nod, she moved on. "Did Missandei like it? Sleeping outside, cooking dinner over the fire?"
She expected another concise reply, but Grey Worm gave more. "She say, 'it is a sh…shame we must go back'."
Perfect. "That's great!" She took time to think about her choice of words. "You don't need gold my friend, you just need to take Missandei away again."
He was pleased by their progress until he encountered the next blockade. "Not allowed to go," he stated flatly.
He was right, and there wasn't much Arya could do about that, but she did know someone with the authority. "I will speak to Daenerys," she said, "maybe she will let you go."
"You think?"
Personally, Arya thought Daenerys would be thrilled by the prospect, but she tried to be realistic. "I think she'll agree. Let me worry about that, you need to decide where you're going to take her and what you're going to do."
"What you mean?"
She did her best to break it down into easy to comprehend pieces. "Where would you go?"
"West," he answered after consideration.
"Why West?" she asked, to satisfy her own curiosity more than anything else.
"Went East last time," Grey Worm informed her. "Maybe West better."
"What would make it better?" she inquired, unsure of how he was scoring their success.
"Pretty," he responded, "leaves, trees, water…" he stopped talking and made a gesture with his hand, like it was raining.
"Waterfall," she guessed, assuming Missandei wouldn't enjoy getting caught in a storm.
"Yes, waterfall. Missandei likes that."
Arya got the message loud and clear. She popped up onto her feet, causing Grey Worm to do the same. "Come with me," she told him. "Let's look at a map and see if we can find a good place."
R-C
"Is that why you avoided the Prince at dinner?" Missandei asked when Daenerys had finished spilling the secrets Arya shared about the past.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I wanted to confront him as soon as I heard, but every time I try, something stops me."
"Do you think he'd hurt you?"
"No," she said at once, "Rhaegar would never."
"Then what?" Missandei pressed.
After a sigh she told the truth. "I'm afraid he'll tell me it's all true," she confessed. "I love my brother and admire him." She sighed. "I look up to him, and if what Arya said is true, if he kidnapped an innocent woman and started a war, I don't know what I'd do."
"Do you think Arya was lying?" the handmaiden asked gently.
"No!" she replied emphatically. She didn't think Arya was lying, but the events did happen before she was born, so it was possible they weren't entirely accurate. "She believes them."
"Do you?"
She took a moment or three to debate that question within herself. "The parts about my father, I do." She took a deep breath. "The way she described him, I could picture it, all of it. I've seen him do many of the same things. I don't' doubt he did every horrible thing Arya accused him of."
"But not the Prince?"
"It's different," she explained, knowing Missandei would understand her point. Her relationship with Aerys and her relationship with Rhaegar were barely comparable. Aerys ignored her, while Rhaegar loved her. Her father demeaned her, her brother supported her.
"What will you do?"
"I need to ask him," she said definitively, "I'll never be able to forget what Arya told me, nor the haunted look in her eyes when she said it. I can't just pretend I don't know." She was growing frustrated when one massive issue rose above the rest. "Then there is Aemon, how do I look at him knowing who his mother is and not tell him?"
"You promised to keep Arya's secret," Missandei reminded her. "Can you talk to Rhaegar about this, or Aemon and not break your word?"
That was a reasonable question. Aemon or Rhaegar they were going to ask where she got her information, and she'd need to have an answer ready that didn't implicate Arya. "I don't know."
"Then perhaps you should wait until you do," Missandei advised. "Unless telling Aemon and confronting Rhaegar are more important than…"
Daenerys didn't let her finish. "They aren't." Nothing was more important than Arya's safety, not even Aemon's pain. If anyone other than Missandei learned Arya Sand was really Arya Stark, it would be a death sentence. She loved Aemon but she wouldn't condemn Arya just to lay to rest his questions. "Aemon waited years, he can wait a few more weeks until Arya is safely back in Dorne," she ruled.
"And the Prince?" Missandei prompted.
"I'm not sure," she said. "I might be able to ask him without exposing Arya, but I'd need a good story."
"A story?"
She nodded. "Some way to explain how I learned the truth, that doesn't involve Arya."
It was quiet while they both sought a believable lie. Missandei had one first. "When I was in the library today researching the dragon eggs," she paused to glance toward the shelf where they sat, "I saw many books about the war. I could find one, and you could say you read it."
That was better than anything Daenerys had come up with. "That's perfect." She wouldn't be able to avoid Rhaegar forever, dodging him for one meal was hard enough. She needed to resolve this, one way or the other. Either Arya was mistaken, or her brother wasn't the man she thought he was.
Missandei changed topics by putting her small hand on the hilt of Arya's sword. The Valyrian steel blade was expensive and expertly crafted, a welcome addition to any number of men in the Targaryen armies, but Daenerys didn't lie when she told Arya it was hers alone. If she wouldn't accept it, no one would use the sword. "She wouldn't take it?"
"We didn't really talk about it today," Daenerys explained. Feeling the need to justify her inaction she went on. "Compared to everything else, the sword doesn't matter."
"It matters to you," Missandei contended. "She matters to you."
"I can't stop my feelings just because she has a different name," Daenerys erupted needing to get it out. "I told myself we would just be friends, but then she was her usual, sweet, considerate self and I couldn't help it, I kissed her."
"You kissed her in the hall too," Missandei noted, wearing a smirk.
"That was not the same," Daenerys claimed, "that was a peck on the cheek."
"The other kiss wasn't?" she asked knowingly.
It flashed through her mind. "No, it definitely wasn't."
"Are you not upset anymore?"
She took stock of her emotions to speak the truth. "I'm sad that we built so much of our friendship on a lie," Daenerys started, "but I understand why she did it. She wasn't wrong, my father would've killed her if she told him who she was that day."
"Then why isn't she here?"
"You heard her, she wanted to give us time to talk alone."
"Yes, and you didn't try very hard to dissuade her from leaving. I thought maybe you didn't feel the same as you did last week, but if you kissed her then it seems you do," Missandei wisely pointed out.
With a huff Daenerys threw up her hands. When she was finished, she reached for a glass of wine that wasn't there. Immediately she stood and went to get some. She'd need a drink for this. "I still want her," she admitted to her friend, "I do, even if I shouldn't, I do."
"Why shouldn't you?" Missandei inquired, arriving at Daenerys's side and looking none too impressed with her logic.
"Because we still need to sort all of this out. We're nowhere near finished talking about it."
Missandei was undeterred. "You can't be with Arya and continue learning more about her?"
"Can I?" she asked, seeking reassurance.
"You can, just learn a little bit more everyday, as she learns more about you."
She knew Missandei was right, but it seemed too easy. Shouldn't it be hard? Arya being a Stark should change everything, shouldn't it? Why wasn't there a wall between them that Daenerys felt it impossible to overcome? She kept waiting for it, for Arya to say or do something that reminded the Princess she was different, but after a day together that moment never came. How could Arya's family being hated and destroyed by her father not affect them? She thought of the King. What was done to Arya and her family was horrible and inexcusable, but Daenerys felt bad for thinking so. She acknowledged her father's evil deeds freely, but still felt guilt for not living up to what he believed his daughter and a Targaryen should be. She was a disappointment to him, and mad or not, that stung. He would be disgusted by her willingness to tolerate and accept Arya's origins. He'd want Fire and Blood and he'd expect her to feel the same. This was just the most recent in a long line of occasions where she and her father were going to stand on opposite sides. She could never punish Arya for who her father was, and not just because she had feelings for her. it was wrong. What was worse was that Arya had already suffered so much. Her whole family had been victimized by Aerys, and then they rode into Sunspear and did it again. It was past time a Targaryen defended Arya and fought for what was right. If it had to be her, then so be it.
The more she thought about it, the more confident she became. Her day with Arya was like all the ones before it. She was kind, considerate, and friendly. She was sweet, unintentionally romantic and beautiful. Daenerys thought it was only a matter of time before her knowledge about Arya altered her feelings, but maybe she was trying too hard. Why did Arya's secret need to change anything? Why couldn't it be like it was?
"What are you thinking about?" Missandei prodded gently as she carried the Princess's wine back to the table.
"Just wondering if it needs to be as difficult as I'm making it."
"It doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be." When it was clear she hadn't swayed the Princess, Missandei's gentle voice turned blunt. "Do you still care for Arya?"
"Yes." She did, and she probably always would, but that didn't mean they should be together, did it?
"And you wish to kiss her again, and have her kiss you?"
Missandei might be her best friend and the most loyal woman she'd ever met, but it didn't stop Daenerys's cheeks from filling with blood as she responded. "Yes."
"And if she were here and I wasn't, would you give her this sword and invite her to bed?" Slow down! They were getting ahead of themselves. "The sword is hers, but I don't want to rush…"
Missandei adjusted her question slightly and fired again. "Okay then, you'd want to invite her to bed?"
She might not be sure if she was ready to make love to Arya, despite her body's very clear signals, but she could at least acknowledge that she wanted to. "Fine, yes, I want to," she huffed, glaring at Missandei the entire time. For her part the handmaiden didn't flinch or wilt, wearing the same knowing smile without fail.
"If you want to, and she wants to, why does it need to be complicated? Don't let the King's opinion or your brother's change yours. You know Arya far better than either of them ever will."
She couldn't argue with that. "I know."
"So," Missandei forged ahead, "doesn't that make your opinion more valuable than theirs? She's been with us all this time, and you spent all day with her today. Your father and your brother are basing their views on ancient history that Arya had no hand in."
Again, Daenerys couldn't deny it. "You're right."
Satisfied Missandei rose from her chair. "Glad to hear we agree."
Daenerys laughed, "Don't you mean, you're glad you are getting your way?."
Missandei smirked, her eyes shining with a rare moment of mischief. "Those are the same thing, aren't they?" she teased walking to the door.
Daenerys laughed lightly, appreciating her friend's efforts to lighten the mood. "Where are you going?"
"To find Grey Worm. If I see Arya, should I send her up?"
More mischief. That was why she was leaving, she was giving Daenerys some privacy and not so subtly hinting that she should make use of it with Arya. Her mind raced as she calculated the best course. She wanted Arya, but it didn't have to be tonight. On one hand the idea of catching up on the sleep she didn't get the night before was tempting, on the other, she waited long enough to be with Arya and she'd run out of excuses to delay.
As she reviewed recent history in an attempt to understand how she got into this mess, she was struck by Arya's steadfast resolve to stay out of the Princess's bed until she revealed her secret. It would have been easy and forgivable for Arya to claim Daenerys while she was still known as a Sand, she'd certainly had plenty of chances, but she hadn't taken them. Her stubbornness had been infuriating at the time, when Daenerys was incapable of comprehending the depth of the truth Arya had to tell, but now that same stubbornness was admirable, proof of Arya's affection. If all she wanted was sex, she could have taken it as Arya Sand and never said a word, but she didn't, because she hoped there was more for them than that. She hadn't said so yet, but Daenerys had the same wish.
"Sure," she said pleasing Missandei with her decision. "If you see her, you can send her this way. If not, I'll go and find her."
They were both aware she shouldn't be going anywhere without a guard, those were the well-established rules, but neither woman said anything about this particular breach of protocol. The barracks weren't that far, and with luck she'd have a guard accompanying her on the return trip. It was bold and risky, but perhaps this was a night for such things.
R-C
Apparently, the Gods didn't think she deserved sleep. By the time Grey Worm had decided where to take Missandei on their next outing, Aemon was standing nearby, sword in hand, ready for another lesson. Stifling a yawn, she agreed to assist him. He was family and more training was never a bad thing.
As she ran him through a series of exercises she awakened more fully. Her limbs were still sluggish from a lack of rest, and her eyelids heavy but discussing combat, critiquing Aemon's strikes and passing along advice gave her something else to focus on. Aemon's probing questions and eagerness helped her find a second wind, or perhaps she was on her third or fourth by now.
"Slow down," she instructed as she spotted Missandei walking across the yard. Arya immediately thought of Daenerys, assuming the Princess had retired early to catch up on her sleep.
"I'm already too slow," Aemon bickered.
Arya smiled. She'd said something similar to her Dornish instructor once. She recited his response back to Aemon. "Speed comes later, for now worry about accuracy. Once every swing is deadly, then you can increase the speed."
The Prince clearly disagreed but held his tongue. He went back to the starting position, readied his sword and then moved toward the first training dummy. He was slower than last time, and more methodical in his attacks. "Neck," Arya called out as he neared the third target. Aemon, who had been about to slide the bulk of his thick sword through the torso of the shaped hay adjusted quickly and delivered a precise cut to the neck instead. "Good!" she praised as she walked down the line, making certain she was always in position to assess his form.
After the killing blow on the final target Arya clapped her hands. "Understand now? It took a little longer, but you made up for it with accuracy." She used two fingers to emphasize the opening he carved into the dummy's chest. "Ten exact strikes, ten kills. Good work."
Aemon smiled brightly as he caught his breath. It was impressive how much he'd improved in recent weeks. "I understand," he guaranteed, "speed isn't everything."
"If I had a choice between fighting a man who was fast and inaccurate or slow and exact, I'd take the fast swordsman every time," Arya advised. "There is nothing more dangerous than a man who will kill you the first time you make the smallest mistake."
Aemon had clearly taken the lesson to heart. "Can we do another one?"
She nodded. "Go get some water, I'll move the targets."
"Thanks Arya," he yelled as he went to do as he was told. "You're the best."
As she worked Missandei passed. The handmaiden offered a wave and Arya returned it. She could guess she was searching for Grey Worm and since Arya knew where he was, she saved Missandei the trouble of checking the barracks. "He's not there." She bit her tongue to keep from explaining that Grey Worm was busy planning a day with his lover.
Missandei turned back and looked concerned. It was the same expression Arya was sure would be on her face if someone informed her that Daenerys wasn't where the Stark thought she'd be. "He's not?"
She pointed to the building Grey Worm was in. "Last I saw him he was in there."
Her near constant smile returned. "Thank you, Arya." She took a step away from the training area and then looked over her shoulder, "Are you going to be out here a while yet?"
"I'm not sure, why?" Did Missandei need something? If so, Aemon could wait a few minutes before they continued.
"No reason," Missandei chirped casually. "It's a nice night is all, I think you should stay out here and enjoy it."
She didn't need anything after all, that was a relief. "You might be right," Arya yelled, to compensate for the growing distance between them. "Goodnight Missandei."
"You too!" she shouted back. "Have fun."
About the time the woman from Naath left her view, Aemon appeared, ready for more. Recognizing the fire in his familiar eyes she arranged the targets in a more challenging formation. When everything was set and Aemon was prepared, Arya strived to make it even harder on him. "Put the sword away," she directed.
There was a delay before he pulled his gaze from the course to question her. "Why?"
Rather than expand on her instruction she went to the weapons and picked up the least threatening blade in the bunch. She held the small dagger out for the Prince to take. "Use this."
"I can't!" he resisted, "I'm not very good with daggers, I'm not quick enough and…"
Arya didn't want to hear it. If he wasn't as proficient with daggers, it was all the more reason to practice. "You won't always have your sword."
Since he had yet to take the dagger Arya stepped back and gave him a few tips. "With a blade this small, it's all about precision, make every strike count. I don't care what weapon he's swinging, if you bury this in his ear or slash his throat with it, he'll never stand a chance." She paused and then pressed on a nerve she knew would lead to the desired outcome. "If you don't think you can do it though, just say so."
Aemon's competitive spirit won out and he took the dagger to attempt the course. He did well. Better than Arya would've if the roles were reversed. When he got to the end, she summoned him back to the starting line. "Again."
"With the dagger?" he asked, looking at the small tool with contempt.
Arya smirked. "You can pick any weapon you want," she decided, "as long as it's not your sword."
Thrilled by allowance, he rushed over to the collection of weapons and began looking for something more suited to his tendencies. While he did that Arya began dressing the dummies in armor and helmets, making sure to leave only tiny slits exposed between the steel and leather. She made the openings as small as possible, punishment for Aemon not choosing the dagger. She designed the test to be relatively easy if he was wielding a thin blade, but much harder if he tried to use brute force to thrust bigger, more threatening weapons into the designated areas.
He turned away from the chest holding a long spear in his right hand. "In honor of your Dornish roots, I thought you'd appreciate me using a spear."
"Go on then," Arya encouraged, aware he hadn't yet seen the armor she placed. She better than anyone knew how difficult it could be to wield the long Dornish weapon expertly. It would take a lot of skill to get the thin tip where the targets were unprotected.
She watched his face closely for the moment he realized he'd just made things more difficult rather than easier. The smile he was sporting vanished and he looked to her for verification. "Really?"
"Precise," she ordered. "Ten targets, I want ten kills."
With determination Aemon readied himself. She whistled and sent him off to the first target. He didn't handle the spear like a Dornish, but it wasn't his first time either. He had good instincts, the kind that couldn't be taught. When he followed instruction and remained committed to improving his technique, he was a formidable opponent. It was only when he was excited, angry or overconfident that he'd rely on his natural abilities too heavily and let his guard down. Whether he was going to be fighting Wildlings North of the Wall or enemies in the Crownlands, Arya wanted to rid him of his bad habits, so he'd be safer and deadlier after she was gone.
When he finished his trial with the spear, he'd managed a respectable eight obvious kills, with two that were more questionable. She could tell Aemon wasn't happy with what he perceived as a failure. He was on his way to the beginning of the course before she could say, "Do it again."
That was what the cousins were doing when Daenerys joined them. "I should have known I'd find you two out here."
Arya had been giving all of her attention to Aemon and his spear, but upon hearing Daenerys she turned away from her pupil and missed his last three strikes. "I thought you were sleeping," she said dumbly.
Unbothered by her stupidity, Daenerys smiled and saddled up closer to her guard. "Why would you think that?"
"I saw Missandei and…" she trailed off, realizing her incorrect assumptions didn't matter.
"No, I'm not as tired as I was earlier," she confessed, an admission Arya herself could understand. Training had done wonders to keep her awake. "Are you?"
"I'm okay," she said as Aemon finished his test.
"Dany!" he called when he noticed his aunt. "What are you doing here?"
She shrugged. "I wanted to see you both."
It was unfair just how much those words meant to Arya. She'd spent all day with Daenerys, so it was likely she'd come to see Aemon, but she couldn't deny her feelings.
Sticking his spear into the ground Aemon put arm around Daenerys and hugged her to his side. "Aww we missed you too, right Arya?"
She didn't like being put on the spot like that, but the truth was easy enough to admit. "Yes, we did," she agreed, staring straight into Daenerys's eyes.
"Aren't you sweet," she teased, before she shifted to Aemon. "What are you working on?"
"Using a spear," he explained, motioning toward the abandoned weapon.
"Run it again," Arya directed, "and this time try using that big, fancy sword of yours. You know where all the weak spots are, so hit them."
Aemon would have welcomed any conditions that granted him permission to use his favorite weapon. He drew his sword and started jogging to the starting line. "This is nice of you," Daenerys acknowledged when he couldn't hear.
"I enjoy it too," she revealed honestly, "and besides, he's family."
Daenerys was momentarily startled by her words, but she recovered quickly. She reached for and took Arya's hand. "For both of us," she responded.
Aemon stole her focus from Daenerys as he rushed the first target and delivered a strike to the small, uncovered portion of its neck. Although pleased with his accuracy, his form needed work. "Plant your feet," Arya shouted, "it's where the power comes from!"
"Is that true?" Daenerys wondered.
Arya kept her eyes on the action. When he reached the second dummy Aemon's feet were firm and his posture excellent. He brought his sword in from the side, piercing the target in the side while expertly avoiding the leather. "Much better!" As she waited for Aemon to find the next enemy, she answered Daenerys. "Yes, it's true, and once he's done, I'll prove it."
The Princess's excitement was palpable even without looking. "Oh really? I get a lesson too?"
"Sure," she replied, "if you want."
On the field Aemon used his planted feet to load up for a massive swing on the final target. Though he made contact with the armor more than Arya liked, she couldn't argue with his results. He removed the head from the dummy in a single, even stroke.
Daenerys chuckled when she saw the hay spray out across the dirt. Arya did too. "I'd say he's dead!"
Aemon sheathed his sword with a wide grin. "That was fun."
She tried to release Daenerys's hand so she could go to Aemon, but the Princess wouldn't allow it. She matched Arya step for step, keeping hold of her the whole way. "You did good. Keep working at it and they'll make you a Ranger for sure."
Satisfied with his progress, his smile was nearly as big as his aunt's. "Want to try? You haven't had a turn yet."
"Nope," Daenerys chimed in, answering for the guard. "She promised me a lesson next."
Skeptical, Aemon raised an eyebrow, looking between the women for clarification. "You want to learn?"
Arya pulled her hand away with force and tried to ignore the hurt expression on Daenerys's face as she backed up and put space between them. "We're starting with the basics," she told them. "Daenerys, I want you to hit me."
"Hit you?" She worried her bottom lip with her teeth while she waited for the response.
Tapping her cheek, she angled it toward the Princess. "Yes, right here. Just run up and swing."
"I'm not going to punch you!" she insisted.
"Do you want to learn?" Arya fired back.
"Yes, but…"
"Stop thinking about it and do it."
"Imagine he's Viserys," Aemon added helpfully.
Daenerys was amused by the suggestion briefly before she seemed to understand the benefits of it. With her teeth bared she stepped forward, intent on striking her. Arya smiled and made no attempt to defend herself.
It wasn't an accident that Daenerys kept her hand open or that she pulled back just before she made contact with Arya's cheek. Even so, there was a sharp bite that echoed long after her hand had fallen away. She didn't really want to hit Arya, that much was clear, but if she meant it, if she was truly angry, Arya had no doubt the blow would hurt.
"Are you alright?" Daenerys asked as soon as she'd finished. "I'm sorry, I know you said to do it but…"
"Good," the guard said, bypassing all of Daenerys's remorse. She held out a hand for Daenerys to take and the Princess seized it immediately. Once they were linked, Arya gave a firm tug on Daenerys's arm and moved her into the appropriate position. She dropped the hand soon after, and quickly set them on her hips instead, steering them until she was standing directly in front of Arya with one foot behind the other in a fighter's stance. "Like this," Daenerys asked, trapping one of Arya's hands against the silk of her dress, "or this?"
There was little difference in the two poses, leaving Arya to question if Daenerys had enjoyed her touch, or if she was merely seeking guidance? She applied a bit of pressure to Daenerys's back leg. "It's better like that," she advised, "start on your back foot and then lean forward."
Breathless, the Princess didn't make the connection. "Forward into what?"
She took a full step back, placing herself at the ideal location, an arm's length away from the Targaryen. "Okay, this time instead of running up and punching me, you're going to keep your feet under you, let your weight carry you through the punch and just extend your arm."
"Are you sure?" Daenerys inquired, looking regretful that she raised the idea of a lesson between them now that she knew what it would entail.
"You can do it."
It would have been easy to dodge the punch, but Arya was trying to teach Daenerys something here. If the day ever came when she needed to hit someone to defend herself, Arya wanted her to know how to leave a lasting impression.
As she knew it would, Daenerys's second punch was harder. Small as she was, the strike had significant force, and was more controlled, since she wasn't trying to punch while running.
"By the Gods!" Daenerys exclaimed when she'd followed the instructions. "Why did I agree to this? My hand hurts, I can only imagine how you're feeling."
"Do you get it now. On your first try, you only swung with your arms, and it wasn't nearly as strong, but when you planted your feet and used your whole body, you hit much harder."
"I get it," she assured the other woman. "Now are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, taking the time to convey that she was. "I've been hit before."
Daenerys wasn't reassured by that knowledge, she threw herself at Arya and hugged her. "I'm sorry, I never should have asked for a lesson. That was horrible, I don't want to hit you."
She rubbed Daenerys's back for a moment and then let her go. "It's okay, I'll sleep better tonight knowing you can defend yourself."
Aemon decided he'd let Daenerys steal the instructor's attention long enough. "Okay, Dany's lesson's over. Now do you want to run the course?"
She was tempted, and leaning toward saying yes, but once again Daenerys answered for her. "Sorry Aemon but in addition to wanting to see you, I also came out here because I need Arya's help with something."
Training forgotten, she chastised the Princess for not saying so earlier. "Why didn't you tell me? You shouldn't have waited."
"I liked it, I think I'll have to come and watch you more often." She said it like a pledge and not a stray idea. Arya didn't get to dwell on it however because Daenerys grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the castle.
R-C
Author's Note: There you go, the immediate aftermath of the reveal. I wanted Daenerys to get past her doubts as badly as the rest of you, but it just didn't feel natural until she had to work at it a little bit.
I tried to get her conversation with Rhaegar in this chapter too, but it would've been more than 20,000 words and I didn't think I could hold anyone's interest that long. Next time Daenerys will hear Rhaegar's side of the story, I promise.
See you next time,
RC