"What was it you need help with?" Arya asked from deeper in the room. Daenerys lingered near the door, gathering her courage.
Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might crack a rib, and her mind was filled to the brim with questions about the future. She did what she could to manage both by living in the moment. "Over there," she pointed, "near the shelf with the dragon eggs, I dropped something, and my arms aren't long enough to reach."
That wasn't exactly true, but if things went according to her plan, Daenerys suspected Arya would forgive her. Like the faithful guard, and friend she was Arya went to the shelf and squatted down, looking for items that weren't there.
This was it. Her chance. All that remained was deciding if she was brave enough to claim it. She wanted to, but that wasn't necessarily a deciding factor. For other people it probably was, when they wanted to do something, they did it, but she wasn't other people, she was Daenerys Targaryen. Her opinions were rarely consulted, her wishes never a priority. She had limited experience in acting against those around her, and even less doing it solely for her own benefit.
Maybe this was the time!? A nagging voice in the back of her mind was growing rather insistent. As a secret war raged inside her, Daenerys watched Arya feeling around, reaching behind furniture for anything Daenerys had lost. It made her smile, not that she was on a fool's errand, but that she was willing to try at all. It was further proof of the kind of woman Arya was. What began as a physical attraction initially with a large helping of intrigue thrown in, had developed into something deeper. Arya was more than just the guard who won a match and defied her father, she was also the person who saved Missandei twice, bonded with Aemon and Grey Worm while supporting Daenerys at every turn.
She didn't know what would happen in the future, after Arya went back to Sunspear, fuck, she couldn't even say what tomorrow would bring them, but was that uncertainty a good enough reason to deny herself this?
It didn't take long to reach a conclusion. Nothing she could think of would be worth giving up on this chance, perhaps her only chance to be with Arya. With that lone thought bouncing around in her brain she took a deep breath and moved her shaking hands to her shoulders. She pushed the straps of her dress down her arms and over her hands. Across the room Arya was standing up, dusting herself off as she admitted defeat. "I couldn't find anything. Are you sure that's where you dropped it?"
Another deep breath, and then one more. She stepped out of her dress and left it on the floor, not wanting to waste an instant picking it up or kicking it to the side. There would be time for that later. "Don't worry about it. One of the servants probably picked it up already."
Arya wasn't ready to accept that. She kept her eyes down, searching the floor for anything out of place. Daenerys moved slowly, silently. She told herself it was because she didn't want to startle Arya who was bound to be shocked by this turn of events, but it was for her too. Afraid she'd back out despite her desire, she moved slow, reminding herself Arya had seen her naked before. As a strategy it didn't work. The last time Arya saw Daenerys bare, it hadn't been intentional, in fact the Princess forgot she wasn't dressed until it was pointed out to her. This couldn't be more different. This time she definitely knew she was naked, it was utterly intentional and rapidly reaching the point of no return. As soon as Arya turned her way, there would be no going back.
She didn't want to go back, but that knowledge did little to calm the panic raging within her. What if Arya didn't want her anymore? What if she embarrassed herself? The logical part of her knew it was unlikely. If Arya rejected her, she would do so kindly. She wasn't cruel or vindictive, she wouldn't add to Daenerys's pain needlessly. Likewise, if they didn't spend the night together, she felt relatively certain that Arya wouldn't bring it up later to shame her or show dominance, that just wasn't who she was. That left only her biggest concern, rejection. She didn't know how she'd handle it if Arya left again, after she'd offered herself. Her feelings were deep and real, they couldn't be blown out like a candle. How could they look at one another, or work together after that?
While she was busy fretting over all the traps the awaited her on her current path, Arya had finished her task. She faced the Princess again and in a flash her annoyance at her perceived failing shifted into something else. "Daenerys," she whispered, breathlessly.
To the Princess's delight Arya's body told a much more compelling tale than her one-word statement that came from her lips. She was standing rigidly straight, appearing taller. Her cheeks and neck were colored by blush and the relentless thumping of the pulse in Arya's tight neck was visible. She lost count of the number of beats. Daenerys was no expert, but it appeared her heart was racing. Her hands which usually hung at her sides or were folded neatly behind her back were doing neither. In a pose that looked strange for the composed guard, they were in front, she had her right hand over her left, and Daenerys spotted movement as her fingers twitched. Since saying Daenerys's name, she hadn't spoken, choosing instead to close her lips tightly. It was a habit she recognized. Daenerys clamped her mouth closed like that when she was afraid of what she might say. Did Arya have similar motives?
As always, Arya's eyes were most telling. Not just the way they looked to be even darker than usual, or the intensity of the stare she was getting, what Daenerys realized and thrived on was when Arya's gaze would fall. The first time, she thought it was a trick her mind was playing, wishful thinking and nothing else, but now, having seen six occurrences, it gave her hope.
Although Arya was studying her face for an explanation, she couldn't keep her gaze from wandering. As their stand off continued Arya's eyes spent more and more time focusing on what was normally concealed by her dress. Waiting for Arya to say or so do something was painful, but Daenerys suspected it would've been unbearable if she didn't have those eyes to read from. The fact that it was Arya who was staring, Arya who was admiring, made it okay somehow, in a way it wouldn't be with anyone else. She didn't know or care why, it just was.
The last of her doubts faded away when after a particularly long session assessing everything below Daenerys's neck, Arya forced her eyes back up. She met the gaze willingly and was stunned by the passion she saw. How was it possible that she of all people could illicit such a response out of a woman like Arya? All her life people told her she was beautiful, family, friends, strangers, potential suitors, even Daario, she always believed them, she knew she was blessed, but it never mattered, there were more important things than beauty. Her outlook changed standing naked in front of Arya while the Northern woman tried to memorize every curve, every blemish, and every imperfection. It mattered now. Now she thanked whatever Gods granted her such a gift, to be able to make Arya look at her like that. She was glad they weren't talking, because she didn't have words.
It was Arya who broke the silence, but she did nothing to decrease the tension. "How can you be real?" she wondered.
Daenerys's lip curled upward. As far as compliments go, she'd take it. She should have known Arya wouldn't respond with something predictable. 'Seven Hells, you're beautiful,' or 'By the Gods look at you.' No Arya would never allow herself to be so ordinary. "I thought something similar," Daenerys recalled, "looking at you once."
The admission was enough to bring Arya's eyes back to Daenerys's face. She loved looking into Arya's eyes, but she wasn't opposed to the way Arya was appreciating her body. "When I slept on the floor?" she guessed. "I wasn't even naked."
She chuckled. "I hate to tell you," Daenerys said as she took a tentative step closer and extended her arm to make contact, "but you practically were."
A dark eyebrow lifted, wordlessly asking if the Princess was serious. She was, and she told her lover so with a nod. "Alright then, tomorrow I'll go looking for some new clothes that fit under my armor."
Daenerys was immediately horrified. That had not been her intention. "No!" she said, coming to stand directly in front of Arya.
"No?" she repeated back, showing that smirk of hers. "Why not?"
Daenerys had no doubt that Arya knew exactly what motivated her outburst, but she was asking anyway, and putting her on the spot in the process. How should she answer? She could tell the truth and say she quite enjoyed the times she'd seen Arya in those short, tight clothes, or she could lie, saying she should save her money. A third option came to her and she didn't delay, giving voice to it immediately. "It would be a waste," she said, doing her best to sound confident when she was anything but. She had no practice with seduction or flirting. Daario was so eager she never needed to learn. Her tongue felt dry and her legs unsteady but she pretended nothing was amiss as she finished. "Anything you wear, I'm probably going to ruin, so no sense spending good gold on new clothes that won't last."
The room was eerily quiet, causing Daenerys to wonder if she'd said the wrong thing. She was busy formulating a plan to take back her blunt, sexual comment when Arya chuckled. It was darker, deeper and huskier than any of the other times Daenerys heard her guard amused and the sound sent a jolt of need through Daenerys's exposed body. "Is that so?" she tested, "well if you think so, who am I to argue?"
She hadn't done anything wrong, in fact it appeared Arya handled her teasing well and played along. It felt empowering to the Princess who typically had so little control. She decided to take advantage of the surge of emotions racing through her. "Heed a Princess's advice," she instructed with a false seriousness.
"Any other suggestions for a humble guard, Princess?" While she asked, her eyes went to Daenerys's breasts and stayed there. If she hadn't been watching so closely. she might've missed the flicker of pink as she wet her lips before she tore away from Daenerys's chest. That would've been a shame.
She hadn't been expecting that question. Not only was Arya willing to flirt back, she'd just taken it to another level, leaving Daenerys to decide their next move. Her mind was filled with all the things she could ask for, if only she could find the courage. Would she request Arya get naked too or offer to help her? Would she command Arya to the bed or ask her to stay exactly where she was? The options seemed endless and with no guidelines, she struggled with what to choose.
"Everything okay?" Arya checked when Daenerys's thoughts kept her away too long. The sport was done, the lighthearted teasing over, she genuinely wanted to know.
The last question may have stumped her, but this one she knew. She was okay. She had Arya. "Y…you must be tired," she tried, sounding confident by the end. "All day in that heavy, hot armor, don't you want to take it off?"
Arya's initial reaction was to smirk, but then she was abruptly serious. "Are you sure?"
There was a lot Daenerys wasn't sure about, there was a lot they'd need to deal with in the days to come, but none of that made her want to change her mind. She wanted Arya and hadn't they waited long enough already?
In place of words Daenerys acted. She pressed a kiss into Arya's cheek and then whispered near her ear, "Show me how to get this off, I have a feeling I may need to know, in the future."
The intensity in Arya's eyes had Daenerys struggling to breathe. Luckily before it became an issue Arya began the lesson, showing the royal where the first of the buckles and straps were located. By the third binding Arya couldn't or wouldn't hold her tongue. "Planning to get a lot of soldiers out of their armor Princess?"
She had been focused, trying to educate herself without becoming distracted by the quick movement of Arya's nimble fingers. She knew the guard was trying to tease her again, and she knew she wanted to match her, but how could she respond? She busied herself with the armor while her mind tried to craft a clever retort. "I imagine all armor is different," she finally said. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning in anticipation of what was coming. "As invaluable as your lesson is, it'll be of little use unless I'm trying to remove Dornish armor, Martell armor to be precise." Arya said nothing and Daenerys continued on, brushing Arya's hand away from a strap and undoing it herself now that she'd seen how. "If only there were Martell soldiers in the capital." She paused while Arya lifted the breastplate away from her body. "I seem to recall hearing that a Dornishwoman was assigned as a guard somewhere in the keep," she lamented, "I suppose I'll have no choice but to practice what I learn on her."
"Lucky her," she remarked as she went to work on the rest of her uniform. It was Daenerys's turn to stare. She hadn't been exaggerating when she said the thin clothes under her armor hid little, but it had been days and she'd forgotten how incredible a sight it was to behold.
"Lucky me," she countered, "I do love to learn."
Barefoot and substantially shorter Arya flashed her a full smile. "Well we wouldn't want to let anything stand in the way of your quest for knowledge, would we?"
As she spoke, she stalked the room, circling Daenerys the way an animal might before it pounced. She secretly hoped that was where this was heading. "It would be wrong to interfere with a noblewoman's education," she stated with exaggerated calm as she desperately tried to keep their back and forth going. It was exhilarating. She felt a connection to Arya she never experienced with anyone else.
"I'm at your service Princess," Arya quipped, bowing her head as if there was nothing unusual about their situation. She was naked, Arya practically was and if Daenerys got her way, they'd be falling into bed together anytime, yet Arya remained relaxed somehow.
Her body had a primal reaction to those words, one her brain had to work to catch up with. That's why she didn't understand the shiver that rocked her, or the way the muscles in her stomach clenched without warning, she was too busy trying to comprehend her sudden urge to grab Arya and throw her against the nearest hard surface. When her mind helpfully provided vivid images of all the different things she could ask her loyal guard to do, she finally understood why those particular words caused such a visceral response. "Mmm," she purred, "I was hoping you'd say that."
The time for talk was done. This game they were playing, the teasing, it was fun, and she'd definitely want to do it again, but she couldn't be expected to keep thinking up things to say, not when Arya was so close. She didn't know if Arya agreed, but she was willing to take the plunge anyway and hope for the best. She slipped her arms around Arya's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Daenerys was beyond pleased to be kissed back from the start this time. There was no delay, no hesitation, she wanted it too and Daenerys would happily give it to her.
Daenerys could have been persuaded to stand there kissing Arya forever, but the guard had other ideas. She rotated them a bit and then began nudging Daenerys back. She followed her step for step ensuring their mouths never needed to break contact, but it wasn't enough for the Princess. She lifted her leg up, dragging it against Arya's as much as possible. Once her bent knee was in the right position, she just held it there, waiting for the soldier to take notice. She didn't have to wait long. Arya's rough hand gripped the back of her thigh and lifted her up, causing Daenerys to moan shamelessly into the other woman's mouth.
Once Arya had one of her legs, it made no sense to deny her the other. She jumped up and leaned in fully, trusting that Arya would assist her. She did. In short order, Daenerys crossed her ankles behind Arya's back and let her fingers play in dark hair, while she peppered the younger woman with kisses of varying lengths. Arya held her tightly, leaving Daenerys feeling secure without being smothered. She never worried she might fall, she had absolute faith in Arya.
When Arya began lowering them toward the bed she knew why, Arya was trying to lay her down, but she wasn't ready to let go just yet. "I missed you," she said between pants, refilling her lungs. Again, Arya tried to peel her off, but Daenerys was happy exactly where she was, she held on tighter. "I missed you," she said again.
The second time the words got through. She stopped trying to separate them. "It wasn't that long, you were with Missandei and I was with Grey Worm and Aemon."
As she organized a reply, she wondered just how crazy this was going to sound. "No, not that," she explained, correcting Arya's initial error. "Well, yes," she amended, "I missed you then too, but I meant all day."
"I was with you all day."
"Not like this!" She punctuated the difference by giving her another bruising kiss.
Arya kissed back and they remained like that until they needed air. "We can't be like this out there," she said gently, clearly trying to let Daenerys down easy. "They wouldn't accept it, wouldn't understand…"
"I know," she assured her before taking another kiss, this one was soft and short. "I know and it's fine, it's none of their business anyway."
Slowly she was making sense out of Daenerys's random, disjointed statements. "So, what did you miss?"
Even as they stopped to talk, there was no sag in Arya's grip, no fatigue in her muscles. She'd wager if Arya was required to carry the Princess around all day, everyday, her body would be up to the task. The discovery made her yearn to get Arya to bed and test out those muscles personally.
"I missed knowing we could do this," she explained, feeling silly. "I don't care that we can't hold hands in the throne room, or that I can't kiss you at dinner, but it bothered me thinking I'd never get to be in your arms like this."
She saw the instant Arya understood what had really unsettled the Targaryen. She cured her with a kiss and then said, "I missed you too. I certainly didn't think this was how my night was going to end."
"I'm full of surprises," she promised, hoping the expression on her face was a reasonable attempt at sultry.
"Oh, I know," Arya confirmed with a laugh, "when I turned around saw you naked, I thought I was going to swallow my tongue."
"I'm glad you didn't," Daenerys said, squirming needlessly in Arya's arms, she just wanted to feel her body rub against her lover's. "I have plans for it later."
Arya was shocked by the comment and she wasn't alone. What had possessed Daenerys to say that? She wasn't thinking it, she wasn't thinking about anything except how good Arya made her feel, and then she heard her own voice saying something she would have bet her last gold coin she'd never utter out loud in ten lifetimes.
"Full of surprises is right," she said after a longer laugh. "Alright, ready to lie down?"
She wasn't opposed to the bed, in fact it was exceptionally comfortable, but she doubted it would compare to Arya. She settled on a compromise. "Only if you come too." To prove it, she leaned away from Arya and toward the bed, without untangling her arms from around Arya's neck. When she felt the bed under her, she immediately began pulling Arya down on top of her.
They rearranged themselves slightly on the bed. Daenerys was flat on her back, Arya was between her legs, with one knee under her to give her height and leverage. Daenerys didn't mind the position nor the view. Since she no longer needed to hang on, she was free to let her hands roam. She started by grabbing the fragment of shirt Arya wore and lifting it over her head. Accommodating to Daenerys's wordless request she stopped what she was doing and allowed herself to be stripped. As soon as she was topless however she was leaning in again, pressing her bare breasts to Daenerys's, while they shared a passionate kiss.
Nothing else mattered to her then, not the King down the hall, the Prince or the countless people of varying importance who occupied different corners of her home. Arya's past and the part her family played in her suffering was a problem for later, tonight all there was, was Arya. Just when she thought everything was perfect Arya rolled them over and Daenerys went from being underneath her lover to being on top. She wasn't going to waste a second.
"Are you sure… you… fuc… mmm… want to do…this?" Arya stammered adorably as Daenerys sucked on her neck. She never would have guessed there was anything that could make the soldier stumble over a simple sentence like that. It thrilled her to have been wrong and that feeling multiplied knowing she was the cause.
She smiled as she left a playful bite on Arya's soft skin. "Does it look like I'm having second thoughts?" she inquired, using two fingers to trap and tease one of Arya's hard nipples.
"What about…"
She pressed her lips to Arya almost violently. She held her mouth there, stifling whatever she was trying to say, until she was confident the urge to speak had passed. In truth she didn't know what Arya was going to ask about, it could've been anything, they had no shortage of obstacles laid out before them, her father, her brothers, the history between the Targaryens and the Starks, Arya's eventual return to Dorne and the unlikely romance of a Princess and a foster just to name a few. It wasn't that Arya's concerns weren't valid, they absolutely were, and Daenerys shared many of them, she just didn't think now was the best time to discuss them. Their problems would be there in the morning, so why couldn't they take a few hours and just forget them? "Later," she insisted quietly as she lifted her mouth off Arya's. "tonight's ours."
She wasn't certain Arya would agree. She had refused to join Daenerys in bed while the Princess believed she was a bastard, and this might be more of the same. While she waited anxiously to see if whatever was on Arya's mind would ruin them, she grew dizzy.
When Arya moved, it wasn't to pull away or lift Daenerys off of her, instead it was the opposite. With a hand in Daenerys's silver hair she pulled her in for a kiss and then she rolled them again, reclaiming her original position on top of the royal. "Tonight's ours," she agreed, as she slid down the bed and Daenerys's body.
R-C
She got as far as the doorway before she doubted her course. After an incredible, memorable night with Arya, Daenerys had woken up early. She laid perfectly still in her lover's arms and wondered why she'd never felt so content when she was sharing her bed with Daario? Was it because they were different people, or did it have more to do with the wide disparity in Daenerys's feelings for each of them? It felt wrong to compare the two, not because she spent months with Daario and only one night with Arya, but rather because in one night Arya managed to show her that she never should have been with Daario in the first place.
She would've gladly stayed in Arya's embrace forever, but there was somewhere else she had to be. Knowing what became of the Starks exposed her to how ignorant she'd been. She'd never learn the truth if she sat quietly waiting for someone to volunteer the information. She needed to seek it out and that's what she was doing. She had no reason to discount Arya's version of the past, and nothing anyone could say would alter her feelings, but it still felt like she was missing half the story. Only one person could give her the missing pieces. That's why she left Arya alone and dressed in the dark. Why she was sneaking out of her own bedchamber to go down the hall. She needed to talk to her brother and see how he'd answer for his part in the tragedy done to Arya's family.
Determined as she was to finally hear everything, she couldn't go quite yet. She returned to Arya and left her with one final kiss. "I'll be back," she vowed, hoping the message reached her in her dreams.
She closed the door behind her and went toward Rhaegar's room. The walk was short, but long enough for her anger to build. She'd been lied to her entire life, by Rhaegar, by her father, by Jorah and everybody else. How could they let her believe Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark were responsible for the war when in fact it was her brother and father who actually started it? She didn't want to believe the brother she loved was capable of kidnapping and raping an innocent woman, but she'd yet to find another reasonable explanation. Beyond her frustration for the deception, her heart went out to Aemon. He was going to be devastated when he found out. It had always bothered her that Rhaegar wouldn't tell him who his mother was. She didn't understand how he could be so heartless and ignore his son's pain, but she didn't wonder anymore. She understood his reasons, but it didn't excuse the hurt he caused. Arya's family, Aemon, even Daenerys, had all suffered because her brother was selfish and greedy. She wanted to hear what he had to say, but she didn't think anything he offered would be sufficient justification.
The wait while Rhaegar got up to answer the door was substantial, but she stayed where she was, having come too far to back out now. Her brother revealed himself slowly, opening the door with his empty hand while he leaned heavily on his cane. It was clear she'd woken him, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his eyes were barely open. "Dany?" he said when he recognized her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He stood up a little straighter, his worry helping him brush off the sleep.
"I'm fine," she said upfront, "I just needed to talk to you."
"What time is it?"
"Early," she answered, even though it was likely rhetorical. "I'm sorry for waking you, but it's important."
He had looked posed to tease her, or comment about her timing, but her ascertain that it was important stopped him short. "Come in."
She waited until he turned away from the door and walked deeper into the room and then she joined him. She closed the door behind her, going so far as to contemplate locking it. She ultimately decided it wasn't necessary, he wasn't capable of running from her anyway, no matter how uncomfortable her questions made him.
"Take a seat," Rhaegar encouraged. "Would you like anything?"
"Just the truth," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
About to drop his cane and lower himself into a chair, he hesitated and assessed his sister carefully. "What's going on Dany?" he asked with a grimace.
"There are just some things I need to know, questions I need answered."
It was obvious he wasn't satisfied by her vague response, but he did postpone any additional questions until he was seated comfortably. His handsome face looked a little less strained now that he was off his weak limbs. "And you thought showing up here before dawn was the best time?" he clarified.
"It couldn't wait," she said simply. This really couldn't. She couldn't lie next to Arya, kiss her, hold her and be held until she knew.
Sensing the seriousness of the moment, he only nodded, a silent signal that she could proceed with whatever had brought her. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. Could she do this? Was she ready to know? Could she return to Arya without learning more? How could she face Aemon?
"I found a book in the library," she said, making use of the lie she and Missandei had concocted to keep Arya out of it. "It said a lot of things I didn't know, things I don't want to believe, about you."
She knew her brother well, and she knew a single comment about an unknown book wouldn't get him to admit such a closely guarded secret. By the look on his face she guessed he was arranging his defense, either by defaming the author or dismissing the information as outdated and unimportant. He prefaced what he said with a warm smile. It gave her no relief. "What things? Dany, whatever it is…"
She didn't want to hear him lie to her again, he'd been doing that far too long already. "There were things about Aemon too, about his mother."
Just like that the feeling in the room changed. Suddenly he didn't need to wonder what she'd read or why it had brought her to his door, he understood. His smile was gone, miles away from the poorly concealed pain she saw now. Rhaegar's teeth came together hard, and his face contorted the way it did when he stood too long. He gripped the arm of his chair so aggressively the muscles twitched, and he stared at Daenerys as if he was trying to make her vanish with only his eyes. When he broke the awkward silence, it wasn't the anger Daenerys had been bracing for. "Does he know?"
Enraged she took a step forward. "That's what you want to ask me!?" she shouted harshly. "I find out you've been lying to me for years, lying to Aemon, and the only thing you have to say for yourself is, 'Does he know?'"
After a moment or two of consideration Rhaegar answered his own inquiry. "You didn't tell him," he realized.
He wasn't wrong, but Daenerys wasn't ready to set his mind at ease. If only for a few more seconds, she wanted him to worry. "What makes you say that?"
He smiled again, as he had before he comprehended how meaningful this conversation was going to be for the both of them. This time it lacked real sincerity and he accompanied it with a humorless chuckle. "If Aemon knew what you do, he'd be the one here instead of you," he reasoned.
Sound as his logic was, Daenerys didn't feel like relinquishing the upper hand. "I thought you deserved the chance to explain it, before I told him everything." She stressed the last word for effect, and it worked.
"You can't!" he countered, rising out of his seat slightly before he sank back in.
"You don't get to decide that," she told him bluntly, "not anymore. You know how much this matters to him, you know how much it hurts him not knowing, and you lie to him anyway."
"I never lied," Rhaegar insisted. The words were strong, but Daenerys wasn't buying it. To her it seemed he was making a desperate attempt to explain his behavior. "I may not have told him everything, but I never lied."
That distinction didn't dull her anger one bit and she was confident it wouldn't work on Aemon either. "You told us you loved his mother and that she loved you!" Daenerys reminded him hotly. "Not exactly the truth is it?"
"It is the truth!" he fired back.
She scoffed. "The woman you kidnapped and raped loved you?" she asked with a heavy layer of sarcasm.
She'd been watching his face, reading his reactions and up until that moment, he hadn't been angry. She saw pain, she saw confusion, she saw hurt and annoyance, but Rhaegar hadn't been angry, until she named his crimes directly. The fire she saw in his eyes was something she associated with Viserys, not him. "That's what you read?" he asked, not waiting for a reply. "You found some book that says I kidnapped and raped Lyanna and that's what started the rebellion?"
It didn't make sense. He'd been furious one instant and then the next it was gone, replaced by something different. How had he contained his fury so quickly and why? She sought to identify the new emotion he wore. It was an odd mix of frustration, disbelief and understanding.
When he spoke again, he wasn't looking at her anymore, he was staring off to his left, as if she wasn't the only person in the room with him any longer. "I didn't kidnap Lyanna Stark, I've never kidnapped anyone. I loved Lyanna and she loved me, that's the truth, no matter what your book says."
On any other day she would have declared her brother honest and trustworthy, hearing what seemed like sincerity in his voice, but she'd recently learned he'd been lying to her all her life, so she was reluctant to take him at his word. "How is that possible?"
"I loved Lyanna from the first moment I laid eyes on her," he remembered. "It was at Harrenhal, at a tourney. When I won I was given flowers to commemorate my victory. Even though Elia was there, I rode past her straight to Lyanna." He paused to collect himself. "She felt the same way. It didn't matter to us that I was already married or that she was promised to another."
"Robert Baratheon?" Daenerys verified. It was a challenge making the pieces fit, the things she'd been told, the things Arya said, and now Rhaegar's recollections.
"Lyanna didn't love him, and she didn't want to marry him, but her father insisted. The date had been set."
Mentioning Lyanna's father, Arya's grandfather reminded Daenerys of his fate. If Arya was right, he died downstairs in the throne room. "Is that why father killed him?"
Recoiling as though she'd struck him, he shook his head, wiping a band of light hair away from his face before he pushed the words out. "No, but what happened to him was our fault."
Ours, who did he mean? Daenerys wasn't sure exactly when the elder Stark was murdered, but if she had been born, she wasn't old enough to be complicit in his death. "Our fault? What did we do?"
"Not us," he said gesturing between the siblings, "Mine and Lyanna's."
Afraid to ask, she forced herself to. She needed to know. "How?"
"We ran away," he summarized. "It was childish and thoughtless, but we didn't know what it would cause, we didn't see all that would come later, only that we wanted to be together."
"You ran away?" she repeated incredulously. "You're the Crown Prince of Westeros!"
He sighed. "Believe me, I know." He took a moment and then expanded on his muttered admission. "I loved her and knew I couldn't live without her, so I sent Elia and the children back to Sunspear and I planned to take Lyanna as my wife."
It obviously didn't happen, and she was sure he'd provide more if she just waited, but she couldn't stay quiet. "What happened?"
"Our fathers happened," Rhaegar recalled bitterly. "Rickard refused to call off her wedding to Robert and our father became enraged when he learned I sent Elia away."
It wasn't difficult for Daenerys to imagine their father growing angry at the news. She had plenty of experience with her father's rage and disapproval and it usually ended in Fire and Blood.
Rhaegar seemed to understand where her mind had gone. "He was different then," he noted, "before the war. He still heard the whispers, still feared betrayal, but it didn't consume him. He was still a good King, a good father, until Lyanna and I disappeared."
She wanted to say something, but no words would come. This wasn't the story she'd thought she'd hear when she knocked on her brother's door, but she was riveted by it, nonetheless.
"I didn't care that Father was angry, I didn't care that I offended the Martells or abandoned my children, I didn't care that choosing Lyanna might cost me the Iron Throne, nothing mattered more to me than her."
Daenerys struggled to work out the implications. "So, you didn't kidnap her, but you two did run away together?"
"Yes, we were going to leave for Essos, get away from our families and live our lives together." As he said that he flashed Daenerys a smile. The happy moment was tainted by the unshed tears she also saw. "Maybe if we made it there, things could have been different," he opined weakly.
"What stopped you?"
After another abrupt change of expression, she couldn't help but feel his pain, it was written all over his face. "We were reckless, we were stupid, blinded by our love and oblivious to all the trouble we were causing." It was as if Rhaegar wasn't talking to her anymore, staring off to the side reliving the past and suffering it a second time. "I had a contact in Dorne who could have gotten us on a ship. We were nearly there when we received word."
She was sick with dread as she asked the natural question. "Word of what?"
"Robert Baratheon went to Winterfell as soon as he realized she was gone," Rhaegar explained. "Ned Stark was his best friend, and he knew he'd find allies there. He told them I kidnapped her, and the Starks had no reason not to believe him."
Daenerys had to jump in. "She didn't leave a note!? She didn't tell anyone where she was going, not the man she was to marry, or her family? She just left?"
"It was stupid and selfish," Rhaegar agreed, "but we were only thinking of ourselves." He swallowed hard and picked up the story where he'd left off. "Lyanna's father and eldest brother rode for King's Landing immediately and sought an audience with Father and I."
Daenerys could see how the rest would unfold. Rather than mention the executions or the consequences of his mistakes, Daenerys chose to seize on the least offensive detail. "But you weren't here."
"No," he acknowledged, "Lyanna and I were passing through Dorne, on our way to the ship when word reached us that her father and brother had been killed."
"The book I saw said Father had them killed." She clung to her earlier lie, using the non-existent book to cover Arya's involvement.
"He did," the Prince confessed sadly. "I hated Lyanna's father for forcing her to marry Robert when she didn't want to, I hated her brothers for not siding with her, but they didn't deserve what happened to them."
It was hard, hearing him talk about Arya's family. With every word, Daenerys was struck with flashes of the night before, when she'd been in the arms of the niece of her brother's lost love.
"Before that, father's illness didn't own him, didn't control him, but after, after Lyanna, after Rickard and Brandon…" he trailed off.
"Why though?" she pressed. "Father knew you loved Lyanna, you said you told him so, so what happened to make him kill them?" It didn't make sense.
"I don't know exactly," he admitted, "I just know that when I came back, he was a whole other man. I found him in his chambers, unwashed, naked, sitting in the corner, scribbling illogical, incoherent notes about the rebirth of dragons and his role as King of the World." He must've guessed Daenerys wouldn't just accept that, so he offered more. "He was gone, raving about betrayal, talking about how they'd come to steal his son, and how he had to stop them." He paused again. "Everything he is now, started then."
She wanted to reiterate her earlier point that it didn't make sense, but Daenerys had known for a long time that her father's actions couldn't be understood by the sane. His unique form of illness needed only make sense to him, in the clouded privacy of his mind. Trying to assess it from the outside was as infuriating as it was futile. It was astonishing however for the King's daughter to learn where her father's madness took root. It was something she'd always been curious about, but she'd never been brave enough to ask someone.
"It wasn't until later," Rhaegar said, "that I realized Father believed it."
Lost in her thoughts, she feared she missed a relevant detail. She backtracked. "Believed what?"
"Everything," he answered unhelpfully. "For some reason Father believed that I kidnapped Lyanna, believed that I'd stolen her away from her family and the man she wanted to marry."
"You told him about her," Daenerys said emphatically. Was it really so simple? Could everything that followed have been avoided, if her father wasn't sick?
"I did, we fought about Lyanna before I left for Dorne. Whether he forgot that, or just chooses not to remember, I don't know."
It was so tragic. Everything Arya's family endured could have been prevented. It occurred to her that if Arya hadn't been banished to Dorne to be Prince Doran's foster, she and Daenerys never would have met, but she chose not to dwell on that, not now at least, there were other things she needed to focus on. "You told Lyanna about her family?"
"Yes, and most days I wish I'd just lied." He sighed and scrubbed a big hand down his tired face. "It was bad enough learning her father and brother were dead, but when she found out who killed them and why, it broke her. She refused to go to Essos as we planned, saying she needed to return to Winterfell instead."
Arya hadn't mentioned her aunt returning home, but that didn't mean it never happened. "Why would she want to go there?"
"She wanted to honor her kin and apologize to her surviving brothers." As she listened Daenerys immediately understood that one brother had to be Arya's father. "Like her, Brandon was due to marry, and she wanted to express her condolences to the Tully as well."
"You agreed to take her to Winterfell, even after everything?" Surely a man as smart as her brother had to know he wouldn't be welcome in the North.
He surprised her by smiling. "You didn't know Lyanna but if you did, you'd understand, once she set her mind to something, there was nothing that could stop her."
She may not have known Lyanna Stark, but she did have a pretty good idea of what Rhaegar was talking about. Not for the first time, she thought about the woman sleeping in her bed a few rooms away. "You didn't make it."
"No, just days into our ride, Lyanna fell ill. I found a Dornish Maester who told us she was pregnant."
Daenerys gasped. Aemon. One more time he was aware of her thinking. He nodded in silent confirmation. So that's how her nephew came to be? "Wow," she stated dumbly.
"Aemon saved her," he proclaimed passionately. "She still mourned her family, but we agreed we'd wait to return until after the baby was born."
That explained almost everything, except… "If that's true, how did the war start? Why wouldn't Lyanna just come forward and admit the truth?"
"She feared Robert," he said in justification, as his anger flared again. "He believed Lyanna was his, he wasn't going to let her go."
"So, your solution was to wage a war?" Daenerys accused rudely. "Do you know how many people died, how many more were injured, and it was all because of a lie!?"
Rhaegar had a defense ready. "It didn't happen like that," he assured her. "I left Lyanna in Dorne with some of my best men, and I returned here. I came back to speak with Father, to try and fix things."
"It didn't work," Daenerys pointed out bitterly.
He had the good sense to look ashamed. "No, it didn't. By the time I got here it was too late to stop it. Robert and Ned were rallying support and Varys's spies were telling Father of the coming war, he was raising an army too, prone to longer and longer stretches of madness."
"You could have stopped it!" Daenerys snapped hotly. Even if every word he said about Lyanna was accurate, her brother still led an army that slaughtered tens of the thousands of men needlessly.
"I tried, I spent weeks urging Father to reconsider. When it was clear he wouldn't, I spoke to Tywin and our commanders. Though some agreed that the war was a mistake, none were willing to openly defy the King."
Daenerys didn't want excuses. "You gave up and let your men be butchered."
"No! I didn't. When I couldn't stop our armies, I tried to stop theirs, I sent multiple letters and couriers to Robert and his brothers, but they refused to listen."
"What about Ned Stark?" Not only was he Arya's father, which intrigued her, she'd also been told repeatedly, he was the true power behind the rebellion.
"My first letter went to him, and many more after it," Rhaegar alleged, "but after what happened to his father and brother, he wasn't inclined to hear anything I had to say. I can't blame him, but I didn't want this Dany, I swear. I tried to stop it."
She could understand why Arya's father would be less than receptive to a Targaryen's offer of peace. He tried, but he didn't succeed. Was trying enough when he'd set things in motion to begin with? "You tried, does that comfort you when you think of all the dead, of all the pain? If you'd told the truth, if Lyanna told the truth…"
"Robert Baratheon had an army," he reminded her. "Even if Lyanna and I came forward, it wouldn't have changed anything." Daenerys was going to contend that Rhaegar couldn't know that, but he was quicker. "Our father killed Rickard and Brandon Stark, if they learned Lyanna was alive and loved me, do you really think they would have disbanded and gone home or would they have rode on King's Landing to avenge their deaths."
"You were trying to save Father?" she verified in disbelief.
Rhaegar corrected her misconception. "I couldn't let Robert take the throne, if he had it, he'd use every coin in the treasury, every banner and all his power to hunt Lyanna down."
He hadn't done it for their father at all. He was protecting Lyanna. "She was safe, she was in Dorne…"
Cutting her off Rhaegar made his opinion clear. "If Robert was King, nowhere would have been safe. He would have hunted us to the ends of the world."
"That's how you rationalize the war?" He'd lied and waged war to keep his enemy from ascending to power and putting his lover at risk?
"No matter how angry he was, how stricken with grief, Ned loved his sister. He would never harm her. If he were leading the army, I would have met with him and taken my chances. I'm confident I could have made him understand."
"But you didn't do that," Daenerys accused.
"Because Ned wasn't in charge!" Rhaegar erupted. "Robert Baratheon didn't care if Lyanna was happy or safe, all he wanted was her with him. The war, everything that happened, I just wanted to protect her. That's why I took my place at the head of the army, why I met Robert on the field at the Trident."
She couldn't help it, her eyes dropped to his battered and broken legs. She had to wonder if he regretted that choice.
"I didn't want a war," Rhaegar claimed, "but Lyanna wouldn't be safe until Robert was dead, so I took the army and tried to kill him."
That was a self-serving version of history, if ever she heard one. "Robert wasn't the only one who died Rhaegar. Thousands were killed before and after him!"
"No," he disagreed, "thousands died yes, and I mourn each and every one, on both sides, but there wasn't another death after Robert's."
How could that be true? "What?"
"I thought I was dying," he said, running his hand over a weak leg, likely remembering the day. "The pain was unbearable, and I couldn't move, but I kept thinking of Lyanna, of the child she was carrying that I'd never get to see and I knew what I had to do." He balled his hand into a fist and brought it down lightly on his thigh three times. "As soon as I saw Robert's corpse, I yelled for Barristan and ordered a full retreat."
Though rarely spoken of, Rhaegar's injury was something she knew a bit about. "Barristan carried you to the Maester."
He shook his head, not to refute Daenerys's claim but the larger suggestion. "Everyone thinks I called the retreat to save my own life, but I didn't care about that. I ordered the withdrawal because there was no reason to keep fighting. Robert was dead, so as far as I was concerned the war was over." It was quiet for a few long moments before he added, "Robert Baratheon was the final casualty of the war his pride started. No one was harmed after him."
She thought of Arya again and didn't think she could agree with her brother on that. "What else?"
Rhaegar said nothing for a time and then set his eyes on Daenerys again, seemingly returning to the present. "Why, what else did your book say?"
Mention of the book made her feel guilty, no matter how necessary the lie. "N…nothing," she stammered, "I just… that's not everything, is it?"
"It's almost everything," her brother claimed. "I recovered here in the capital and Father was satisfied with Robert's head, he called for an end to the fighting."
If that was all there was, there wouldn't be a traumatized Wolf in her bedchambers, still haunted by events that came years later. If that's all, Aemon would know who his mother was. "That's not everything, what about Lyanna? Why don't you tell Aemon about…?"
Rhaegar didn't let her finish. "I recovered from my injuries, but Father never did. To this day, he believes I kidnapped Lyanna and killed Robert when he tried to rescue her."
Daenerys was having trouble keeping up. "What!?"
"I know," Rhaegar swore, "I know, and I've corrected him countless times, but he doesn't hear it. To him, the fact that Robert and Ned raised an army is proof of everything those voices whisper to him, that enemies and traitors plot against us. He thinks that even if I did kidnap and rape her, I'm entitled to do so, because I'm his son."
Oh, how she wished she didn't believe that. Unfortunately, Rhaegar's memories match too well with her own. As far back as she could go, she recalled her father telling her that the rules didn't apply to Targaryens. His eldest son, his heir would be even more immune to oversight. "That explains Father but what about everyone else? No one speaks of it."
"No, they don't." His expression softened. "Do you remember a man named Jamison? He was an advisor to the King."
She thought back but couldn't recall anyone by that name. "No."
"He was a commoner with a head for numbers," Rhaegar remembered. "From a poor family, Tywin found him in the West and brought him along to King's Landing when he came."
"Okay, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"In addition to being an advisor, Jamison was also a father. His son Garrick died in the war, killed in one of the battles before the Trident."
Beginning to see the relevance, she just waited for her brother to add more. "One night, not long after Aemon and I moved to Dragonstone, Jamison got drunk and started talking too loudly about how I kidnapped Lyanna and got his son killed."
Her heart sank and she closed her eyes in an attempt to block out where this was going. "No," she pleaded.
"Father heard him, and had him burned before the whole court," Rhaegar confirmed. "Since then the cause of the rebellion became one of those things we just don't talk about."
"What about Lyanna? You told me she died."
"That was unfortunately true," he said, visibly pained. "By the time I recovered from my injuries and was able to travel, she was ready to give birth. I made it just days before Aemon was born."
This time his tears actually fell. "She was sick, unable to eat, weak, and somehow still defiant. Every time I fretted over her, she'd assure me she could hang on until the baby came." He smiled against his tears. "She did. She gave me Aemon, made me promise to tell him that she loved him, and then whispered his name to me before she died."
Her relationship with Rhaegar may have been complicated, but she felt for him as he recounted Lyanna's death. "I'm sorry," she said, going to him and putting one of her small hands on his. "I'm so sorry."
With a grateful smile for his little sister's comfort, he continued, "If I didn't have Aemon, I wouldn't have survived it. Losing her almost killed me, but I had to take care of our son, of her son. I know that's what she'd want me to do, and I've tried my best everyday since."
"I think she'd be proud of you," Daenerys predicted, applying more pressure to his hand with hers. "You're a good father."
"You remind me of her sometimes."
That was unexpected. "Really? She sounds remarkable, and not at all like me."
"Lyanna was a strong woman trapped in a life she didn't want. She had lots to contribute and wasn't afraid to speak her mind, but more often than not, she was forced to hold her tongue."
Daenerys smiled, more than a little flattered by the comparison. "I'm sorry I never got to meet her."
"Me too."
"Why not tell Aemon this? Not knowing who his mother is, it's killing him."
"I know, and I hate seeing him like that, but it's the best option."
The sympathy she felt for Rhaegar disappeared in an instant. How could he say that torturing his own son was preferable? "You can't believe that! Just tell him!"
"I can't." With his eyes he begged her to let it go. "Daenerys think about it, half the Realm thinks I kidnapped and raped Lyanna. Even most of those fighting beside me at the Trident thought I was guilty. Would Aemon believe them or me?"
"He'd believe you," she said confidently. "You're his father…"
"His grandfather believes I raped his mother," Rhaegar reminded her. "I'm just trying to spare him the pain of knowing the whole story. I don't want him plagued by uncertainty, unsure of if he can trust me. He has it hard enough here already."
When he put it like that, she could see his point. Aemon would struggle with what to believe, the same way Daenerys herself was doing. "Is that why Father hates him?"
Although he winced at the word 'hate' Rhaegar didn't correct her. "In his mind, I'm allowed to kidnap and rape a woman, I'm allowed to go to war against her family, I'm allowed to do almost anything, except raise a bastard and give him the name Targaryen."
That was it? All Aemon's hardships and pain stemmed from the fact that Aerys didn't like that his parents weren't married? Again, it was entirely too believable. "He hates it here and I don't blame him."
"Me either," he admitted quietly.
"Are you going to send him North then, to the Wall?" She promised Aemon she'd talk to Rhaegar about him leaving, and although this wasn't the ideal time, she took it.
"I'm trying to avoid it," he admitted. "I was hoping that things would be different by now."
"They aren't different," Daenerys objected, "and they won't be changing anytime soon. Father gave Dragonstone to Viserys, he refuses to acknowledge Aemon exists. It's cruel to keep him here."
Not willing to relent he bargained. "Let me see if I can find a better place for him," he proposed, "one where he'll be happy?"
"Can you do that?"
"I have to try," he replied, "before I send my son to the Night's Watch forever, I need to know I tried everything."
"It's what he wants."
"I know, but he's my son and he's all I've got left."
Daenerys knew she couldn't push anymore. "Okay, I'll tell him you're still considering it."
"Are you going to tell him about Lyanna too?"
Daenerys was conflicted. "I don't know, but he should hear it from you. He deserves that much."
"After Father," Rhaegar began.
Another attempt to barter for more time. Daenerys was unmoved. "By the time Father is no longer King Aemon will either be gone or miserable."
Although he looked like he wanted to refute the idea, he didn't. "I'll think about it."
She nodded, sensing that was the best she was going to get. "Thank you, and Aemon isn't all you have left either."
He rewarded her with a kind smile, the sort she was used to receiving from him. "I know and I'm grateful, but no matter what, Aemon will always be the most important person in my life."
Understanding now what Aemon represented for him she didn't dispute that. Still, she felt obligated to clarify one thing. "You don't have to be alone. It's been a long time."
"It has been a long time," he confirmed, "and in some ways it feels like only yesterday. I'll never marry again, or be with anyone, because I still love Lyanna."
The depth of his affection was obvious, but it didn't mean he had to spend the remainder of his life alone. "No one is asking you to stop loving Lyanna," she tried, "I just want you to be happy."
"I am happy, I have Aemon, I have you and my memories. That's enough."
She thought about bringing up Elia and the family he still had in Dorne, but she didn't think it would be well received. With no other topic to hide behind, she tiptoed around the question she'd been dying to ask since the beginning. "What became of the Starks?" Her words brought Rhaegar's eyes off the floor and back to her. He sat up a little straighter in response. She hurried to try and justify her curiosity. "I remember them being Wardens to the North when I was young, but now the Boltons rule Winterfell."
"They do," Rhaegar contributed unhelpfully.
Daenerys felt around for a foothold. "Where is Ned Stark now?" She'd hoped that by confronting her brother about the past, she'd be able to scrounge up some information about the surviving members of Arya's family. If she could learn anything it would be a gift more valuable to her lover than one thousand Valyrian steel swords.
"Dead," her brother told her grimly.
"He's dead?" She felt sick. She was going to need to tell Arya her father was dead.
"Yes."
"How? When? What happened?" She fired the questions one after the other, needing more.
"It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago."
It mattered to Arya and therefore it mattered to Daenerys. Was he trying to spare her, unaware that she already knew most of what happened? The only remaining mysteries were the fate of Arya's father and one of her brothers. "Was it Father?" she prodded, hoping he'd realize his silence was pointless and provide more information.
"A few years ago, Father summoned the Starks here," Rhaegar explained.
Ignoring the sick feeling in her gut she forged ahead. "And Ned Stark was killed?"
Rhaegar shook his head and looked away. "He killed them all," he confessed, "after he stripped them of their titles."
"What!?" she shouted. She knew for a fact that wasn't true. Arya wasn't dead. She was sleeping two doors down. Was he lying to her intentionally or did he believe that?
Rhaegar gave her a quizzical look as he tried to make sense of her outburst. "He never forgave Ned for his part in the rebellion. His hate boiled over, and he killed the whole family."
She wanted to dispute that, she had proof after all, but she couldn't. She swore to protect Arya's identity and she would, even if it meant letting her brother lie to her again. "That's horrible," she said, not needing to work very hard to sound offended. "Were you there?"
"Of course not. I was away on business and didn't hear about any of it until after I returned."
She loved her brother, but his indignation and his assurance that he didn't know sounded hollow. She put him to the test. "Would you have stopped it if you'd been there?"
He flinched as her question sunk in and Daenerys had the only answer she needed. "It wouldn't have mattered. You know how Father gets, he doesn't listen to anyone."
That excuse would have been pathetic under any circumstances, now that she knew how he felt about Lyanna it counted even less. She reached her limit with self-serving half truths. "That was Lyanna's family, Aemon's family, our father killed them, and you act like it's not worth getting upset about!"
"It's done," Rhaegar snapped, nearing a limit of his own. "I wasn't there, and I'm sorry they're gone, but there is nothing I could've done for them."
It wasn't done, it wasn't over, and they weren't all dead. Afraid she might reveal more than she wanted to, she chose to stomp out and take her leave, but before she did, she left her brother with one final message. "You're a coward," she told him plainly. "I didn't know Lyanna, but I bet she'd be appalled to hear there is nothing you, the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms could do for her family."
She marched out with purpose, slamming the door for emphasis. Her brother yelled for her to wait, but she ignored him. She couldn't even say what had her so angry. She knew Rhaegar wasn't there when Arya's family went before the King, so there really was nothing he could do to change it, but even so, she hated the way he minimized what happened, and how he dodged any sort of responsibility. It wouldn't have taken much for him to say that he would have tried to protect Arya's family, if he'd been there, but he couldn't, because it wasn't true.
He may not have kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, but Rhaegar did have a hand in the events that ruined Arya's family and that was undeniable.
R-C
Alone in a bed that wasn't hers Arya couldn't fall back asleep. She stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying to clear her mind but ultimately she gave up. Sleep was less appealing than wondering where Daenerys had run off to.
How long had Daenerys been gone? Where was she now? Was she having second thoughts about being with a Stark, or with Arya specifically? She could be forgiven if she was, but the sting Arya felt was real all the same. She would never admit it to anyone, including Daenerys, but she'd been looking forward to waking up with the Princess in her arms.
She considered going back to the barracks and her own bed but decided against it. She didn't want Daenerys to return to her room later and be struck with the same feelings surging through Arya, the doubt, the worry, the general unease. It occurred to her that if Daenerys was regretting their night together, then maybe she would prefer finding her bed empty. With no clear course she decided to find middle ground. She'd wait for Daenerys to join her and then make up an excuse to leave. If Daenerys wanted her gone, she'd take advantage of Arya's offer, and the guard would have her answer.
To pass the time she left the warm, soft bed and retrieved the armor she removed the night before. Regardless of where Daenerys was or why, morning would be upon them soon enough and when it came, Arya's breastplate needed to shine. Preparing her gear for the next day was usually the last thing she did before climbing into bed at night, but for obvious reasons she didn't adhere to the pattern last night. Better late than never, she carried the armor to the bed and got comfortable.
She looked up from the steel in her hands when the door creaked to announce it was moving. Daenerys had her head down, but enough of her face was exposed for Arya to see she winced slightly when she heard the noise she was making. Arya stopped polishing and waited for Daenerys to realize her efforts weren't required.
The startled expression Daenerys wore when she glanced at the bed and saw not only Arya awake, but watching her was nearly enough to settle the guard's anxiety. "Arya!" she gasped, taking a large stride toward the bed. "What are you doing awake?"
She took one last look at her armor, confirming it was satisfactory, then she lifted it off her lap and set it on the floor beside the bed. "I couldn't sleep, and I wasn't the only one apparently."
To her relief, Daenerys's smile didn't seem even the slightest bit forced or fake. "No, you weren't. There was something I had to do." Well that was incredibly vague and noncommittal. Just when she thought Daenerys intended to share her secret errand, her posture changed, and her smile vanished. "Did you have another nightmare?" she asked, "I'm sorry I wasn't here."
Her concern was evident, and it made it easier to think around the doubts she was overrun with. "No, no nightmares at all," she declared honestly. "I just woke up and noticed you missing…"
"I'm sorry," Daenerys said for the second time. "I didn't think I'd be gone that long."
Remembering the plan she'd come up with, she endeavored to give Daenerys an escape. "It's okay, I should probably go and get myself ready for the day."
As she spoke, she pushed back the covers but that's as far as she got before Daenerys's hurt voice reached her ears. "You're leaving?"
She hesitated before she set her feet on the floor. "If you want me to," Arya offered, trying hard not to sound disappointed. "When I woke up and you weren't here. I figured it was because you were having second thoughts."
The bed dipped as Daenerys added her weight, narrowly missing one of Arya's legs. She took the foster's face in her hands and locked their eyes together. "No, that wasn't it at all."
As badly as she wanted to believe that, she gave Daenerys one more chance to get out of this. "No regrets?"
"None," she insisted before she brought them together for a kiss. Arya savored it. While she waited, she liked to pretend she wasn't worried, but in a panic she'd all but concluded she'd never get the chance to kiss the beautiful Princess again. "I woke up, and I watched you sleep for a few minutes," she said after their breathing was normal again, "you looked so peaceful, but I couldn't stop thinking about everything you said. I went to see my brother, to hear his side of things."
From the moment she told Daenerys her true name, she knew she was setting the siblings on a treacherous path. Her secret had the potential to permanently upset one of Daenerys's best relationships. She hated Rhaegar but didn't wish Daenerys any pain and she knew the truth hurt. Learning the brother she idolized wasn't perfect couldn't be easy. Since their talk, Daenerys had been steadfastly avoiding Rhaegar as much as possible and minimizing their interactions when they had no choice but to be near one another. She expected Daenerys would confront him eventually, but she didn't think it would happen so soon. She assumed the Princess would need days or weeks to make sense of all the new information she'd been given, but in practically no time at all, she went straight to the Prince and demanded answers. Arya couldn't help but admire her fearlessness.
"Do you want to talk about it," Arya asked, reaching for her lover.
She pulled away, far enough to stand up and slip off her dress, leaving her as naked as Arya was. Then she joined the Northerner in bed, choosing to climb over Arya instead of going around to the other side. As she crossed Arya's body, she stopped for a deep, kiss, the sort that erased all of Arya's gnawing doubts about Daenerys's feelings.
Neither woman spoke until Daenerys was once again in Arya's arms, with her head on the guard's chest, exactly as she'd been when they fell asleep. "I do want to talk about it," Daenerys finally said, "but not now. Right now, I want to spend as much time as I can, exactly like this."
Arya wasn't going to argue with that. Her father was the biggest traitor in recent memory, and his daughter was little more than an insignificant, tiny fragment of a scattered family. She was a foster with fewer friends than she had fingers and somehow lying there with Daenerys, she still managed to feel lucky.
R-C
Author's Note: I'm not sure what to say actually. I hope it didn't disappoint anyone. I originally had this idea for a story a couple of years ago, but I never got very far, because I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with Rhaegar's character. It was only when I started from the beginning and reworked a few different things that I came up with this version of the Prince. I'm a firm believer that if you hear two sides of the same story the truth is probably in the middle somewhere, and that's kind of where I came down on Rhaegar. He didn't kidnap anyone but still deserves some of the blame. I also thought that given her affection for Arya, Daenerys would have little tolerance for excuses.
Feel free to let me know what you think of Rhaegar's truth and Daenerys's reaction to it.
Russell Craig