She happily closed her book when Arya knocked. She'd been out of the bath for twenty minutes doing her best not to count the seconds until her lover returned. The book wasn't particularly well-written, but it was one of the few she could find that dedicated to the North. She chose it in hopes she'd gain a better understanding of the kingdom Arya came from. She remembered little more than the basics from her lessons as a girl. She hid the book away before inviting her in. "Took you long enough."
In addition to bringing herself, Arya came armed with a bottle of wine and a plate of treats. "Need some company?"
"Definitely." She got up from the bed slowly, acutely aware that they didn't need to rush. She gave Arya a kiss as she passed and went to lock the door.
Once she was sure they wouldn't be bothered she worried a little less about if the tie to her robe was coming loose or if she bent over far enough to give Arya a peek at her breasts. "I was worried you wouldn't come back," she acknowledged.
Arya set the food down and went to work pouring the wine. "I told you I would. I just wanted to give you some time alone, I didn't want to crowd you."
Arya could never crowd her. She would gladly take any of the woman's time she could get. "That's sweet, but I would've preferred you join me in the bath."
With red cheeks Arya swallowed her mouthful of wine a little harder than usual. "I thought you might appreciate some privacy."
She finished chewing and then leaned in for a kiss. It started slow but grew quickly. "You're here now," Daenerys said after they separated, "that's what counts."
"I am here," Arya agreed, picking up a pastry and holding it near Daenerys's mouth. She took a bite and moaned. How was it that food tasted better when Arya fed it to her? It didn't seem possible and yet she'd experienced it. Another of life's many mysteries she supposed. "I'll stay until you want to sleep."
Daenerys had every intention of finishing off the treat Arya was holding but that stopped her short. "You're leaving?!" she asked, hoping she heard it incorrectly.
Arya seemed to sense she was on uneven ground. "Um, I was planning to," she admitted.
"Why?" She hadn't meant to sound so angry, but she couldn't control it. She'd been looking forward to falling asleep in Arya's arms since they exited the bed that morning. It hurt to know Arya wasn't as eager.
"I can stay if you want," she offered, trying to calm the Dragon.
Somehow that made everything worse. She didn't want Arya to remain out of pity, guilt or obligation, she wanted her to want to. "I won't force you," she said, hating how irritable she sounded.
Suddenly Arya was on the floor in front of her chair, angling her face so she could look up at Daenerys, who was keeping her eyes down. When she tried to take Daenerys's hand the Princess wanted to refuse, but Arya was faster and stronger, and she had their fingers laced before Daenerys could object. "Of course, I want to be here. Last night was incredible and I'll gladly sleep next to you again any night you wish it."
That was closer to what Daenerys wanted to hear, but it made her wonder, why hadn't she said that the first time? "Then why would you say you were leaving?"
"I didn't know if you'd want me here every night," she explained, "I didn't know if I'd be in the way or not, so I thought it best to leave, until you asked me to stay."
For the first time since Arya mentioned leaving Daenerys felt brave enough to meet her gaze. "You're an idiot," Daenerys declared without malice, "I want you here."
With a squeeze of her hand, Arya confessed her inexperience. "I don't know what I'm doing, I'm sure you've realized that by now. I've never been with someone like you before, never been in a relationship like this, I don't know the rules. I'll probably fuck up a lot."
Somehow Daenerys didn't think Arya meant 'a Princess' when she said, 'someone like you.' It didn't matter. It wouldn't change how she felt. It occurred to her that she'd never been in a relationship like this either. There was Daario, but that had never been serious for her. She summoned him when she wanted him and sent him away when she didn't. She knew he took other lovers and never once felt jealous. It was different with Arya, right from the start. Daenerys would be disappointed if she returned to the barracks to sleep. "I'm going to fuck up too," she predicted, "as much, if not more than you, but we'll figure it out together."
Instead of words Arya responded with a kiss. It was hot and intense, and it worked perfectly to erase any doubts the Princess had left. She tugged at Arya and got her to lift up off her knees. Daenerys rose from her chair too, determined not to let their kiss end. As she guided her lover toward the bed, she reached for the first strap holding Arya's armor in place. It was hard to do without looking, but she was committed. It was unfair. Daenerys had to contend with professionally made armor while all Arya had to do was open a loose-fitting robe and knock it onto the floor. She made her feelings known between kisses after she pushed Arya down onto the bed. "You know if you didn't insist on wearing such complicated armor, you could be naked already."
Unmoved by her whining Arya only smirked. "My mother used to tell me the harder I worked for something, the greater the reward would be when I succeeded." She gave Daenerys a moment to think about that and all it could lead to.
Daenerys attacked the remaining bindings with vigor. There was only one way to find out for certain if Catelyn Stark was right, and that was to win her battle with the Martell armor and then decide if what was waiting for her underneath was worth all the effort.
R-C
They woke together with matching smiles on their faces. They lingered in bed longer than either woman would've had they been alone. Gentle touches, tender kisses and quiet words of affection passed back and forth. A more peaceful start to a day, one where she felt so utterly content, Arya could not recall.
Daenerys told her she was free to go, free to get ready, relax, exercise or do whatever else she needed to, to prepare for the day, but Arya remained. Under the guise of filling in for Missandei, she showed off the skills she developed in the Water Gardens. She fetched Daenerys's bathwater. While the Princess was washing, Arya disappeared just long enough to go to the kitchen and cut up a tray of fresh fruit. She set it on the table, so the Daenerys could have a snack.
Arya knew Daenerys wanted her to sit, to stop working so hard. She encouraged her to take a break first with words and then with kisses, but neither had the desired effect. It had been at her suggestion that Daenerys allowed Missandei to leave. Arya didn't like the idea of the Princess suffering any hardship because of that choice. She'd never be as good a servant, handmaiden or friend as Missandei of Naath, but she was doing all she could to minimize the disruption to Daenerys's routine.
"I can do that you know," Daenerys said when Arya beat her in a race for the towel.
"I don't mind," she understated drastically. In fact, all the things she used to hate about being a servant weren't quite as offensive anymore. It used to annoy her that the nobles she served couldn't even be bothered to do the most basic tasks for themselves, be it readying a bath, or cutting up an apple, but with Daenerys it felt different. Was it because she cared and genuinely wanted to help her, or was it because she knew Daenerys actually appreciated the assistance? Unlike all those years in the Water Gardens this time Arya did have a choice. She didn't doubt that if she was unwilling to assist the Targaryen, Daenerys wouldn't order her to, she would take care of the issues herself. This time she was serving a noblewoman because she wanted to.
As her hands skimmed over Daenerys's perfect body, with only the thin towel between them, she couldn't hold her tongue. "I'm a little jealous Missandei gets to do this for you everyday."
Daenerys said nothing until she was thoroughly dry. "Actually," she admitted with gleam in her eye, "Missandei doesn't help with that."
Arya's cheeks heated. "She doesn't?" It seems she made a mess of things already.
"Usually, I take care of it myself," Daenerys said taking the towel from Arya and dropping it between them, "but perhaps I was wrong. If I'd known, it could feel like that…"
Underneath her embarrassment, Arya felt a wicked sense of pride, the kind that came from knowing she pleased her lover. "So, what does Missandei typically do while you're in the bath?" The handmaiden would be gone for several weeks, the sooner she knew what was expected of her, the sooner she could cut down on the number of apologies she needed to give.
Daenerys chewed on her bottom lip. "She gets things ready," she responded quietly.
"What things?"
With pink cheeks she avoided the guard's eyeline. "My dress and my jewelry."
"Missandei chooses what you wear?" she asked in disbelief.
In Dorne she scrubbed dressed, she carried dresses, she even mended dresses, but she never got to pick which one a person wore. Daenerys squirmed a bit, uncomfortable with the topic. "Not exactly, she just provides recommendations, I pick the one I like best."
"Ahh," Arya sighed, understanding. "Okay, got it."
She was on her way to the closet when Daenerys grasped her arm. "You don't have to…"
The guard didn't let her finish. "I know," she insisted. "Now I don't know much about dresses, so let's keep the simple. What color do you want to wear today? Any color at all."
Standing naked in the middle of her bedchamber, Daenerys raised a hand to her chin and gave it some serious thought. "Blue today, maybe, what do you think?"
"I think," Arya said just as seriously, "that you'll look beautiful." She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Daenerys knew she meant it, and then she gave her entire focus to the rows of hanging dresses, as her eyes sought out the blues.
Daenerys owned more blue dresses than any one woman would ever need. Luckily, she was able to whittle it down quickly. She dismissed any that she couldn't tell apart, and that disqualify most of them, helping to speed things along. In just minutes she'd settled on two distinctly different dresses, both the required color. In Arya's novice opinion they stood out from the rest. With a dress in each hand she turned, holding them side by side for the Princess to compare. The darker dress was more formal, with gold accents and a tighter waist. The other was a paler blue, with white trim and was clearly designed to be worn more frequently than just special occasions or feasts. Arya had no doubt Daenerys would look stunning in whichever one she chose.
"Any recommendation?" While Arya's eyes were on the dresses, Daenerys's focus was elsewhere. She pressed herself into Arya without warning, kissing her passionately, while showing a complete disregard for the dresses now trapped between them. When Arya moaned, Daenerys was ready to take advantage, sliding her tongue into her mouth.
She was seconds away from dropping the dresses and putting her hands to better use when Daenerys pulled back. "Sorry," she said, far too pleased with herself to truly mean it, "I just couldn't wait any longer to do that." She gave Arya moment to ponder that and then guided them back to the original question. "What should I wear?" Daenerys stepped back and finally gave the dresses some of her attention. "Mmm," she purred seductively, "nicely done, these are two of my favorites."
"You'd look great in either," Arya noted honestly.
With an adorable pout Daenerys shook her head. "You have to help me choose."
"Either one…"
She groaned. "Come on, please!"
She didn't understand why her opinion mattered, but helping an indecisive Princess seemed like exactly the sort of thing a helpful handmaiden might do, and that meant the task now fell to her. "What appointments do you have today?"
She bit down on her lower lip as she thought about it. "Nothing special, why?" When Arya didn't respond, she took a guess. "Will you choose a dress based on our schedule?"
"Actually," she clarified, "if there is nothing pressing, I don't see why you need to wear anything at all."
Daenerys's response was delayed while she recovered from her shock. With a devious smirk on her face, she found her voice. "As much as I'd love that, someone will eventually come looking for me, and when they do, I need to be dressed."
The logic in Daenerys's argument didn't stop her from being struck by disappointment. The prospect of a whole day with only Daenerys, in her chambers, naked was more than a little appealing, even if it was unrealistic. "You know it really is a shame you're a Princess," Arya lamented.
It was a joke, mostly and yet Daenerys took it seriously. "Yes, it is," she agreed, pressing another kiss to Arya's lips before they got back to work. "I know which one I want to wear."
Arya was relieved. She felt sympathy for Missandei if the handmaiden had to endure this every morning. When she picked the blue dresses out of the closet, she had no idea the debate she'd be starting. "Great, which one?" She extended her arms and held them out to the Princess.
"Whichever one you'll enjoy seeing me in more."
She tried to swallow it down, but a groan escaped. "Just pick," she pleaded.
Daenerys was defiant and unmoved by Arya's plight. "I just did." She retreated to the bed and sat down.
She considered arguing but didn't see it ending in her favor. Daenerys was stubborn, so the fastest way to resolve this would be to comply. It was also the only solution that didn't lead to a long, drawn out disagreement about dresses of all things. She appraised her options quickly and realized how inadequate she was. She was not the Stark who knew which dress to wear when, that was Sansa. Arya's talents lied in other, more violent pursuits. Still, she needed to say something. She went to Daenerys and presented her with the pale blue dress. "This one."
"Why this one?" Daenerys inquired as she took it.
Why not that one? Had she chosen wrong? "Would you prefer the other?" She tried to exchange them, but Daenerys was surprisingly quick and snatched the light blue silk before Arya could withdraw it.
"This one's perfect," she ruled, "I was just curious why you chose it?"
She didn't really have a reason. "You'll look beautiful in it," she stated factually, neglecting to mention the same could be said for every other dress too, the one Arya was holding and the countless still hanging in the closet.
"Well that's a good enough reason for me," she announced with a grin.
While Daenerys put the dress on and adjusted it against her figure Arya carried the dark blue offering back to the closet and returned it to its original place. "What's next? After you're bathed and dressed, what else does Missandei help you with?"
"My hair's next," Daenerys informed her.
She thought she was far enough away to keep her feelings hidden but apparently her expression betrayed her. "What's wrong?"
With an apologetic smile she tried to remove her foot from her mouth. "Nothing, it's just I'm not really good at things like this. I don't know how to…"
Mercifully Daenerys saved her from having to finish. The list of things she couldn't do would keep them most of the day. "That's alright," she said cheerfully. "No braids today, I just need the ribbon."
"The ribbon, okay I'll find a ribbon." Arya got busy looking for it and hadn't had much success until Daenerys pointed her in the right direction literally.
A thin finger sent her toward the desk. "I think it's over there."
Arya followed the instruction and ended up standing next to the desk, looking around the various piles of loosely organized items. There between the stack of blank pages and the bowl she used to melt the wax for her seal was a band of silver. She picked it up carefully, not wanting to disturb anything in the process.
Only when she was holding it in her hand did she recognize it. "Is this…" she couldn't bring herself to say the words, certain it would sound foolish.
In front of the mirror with her hand out, waiting, Daenerys knew where her mind had gone. "The ribbon you gave me, yes."
"You kept it?"
Daenerys smiled at her lover's dumb expression as she took the silk. "You hadn't noticed?"
"Noticed what?" Arya asked, as she watched Daenerys's hands expertly divide up sections of silver hair.
Daenerys met Arya's eye in the mirror before she replied. "I've worn this ribbon in my hair every day since you gave it to me."
Really? She definitely hadn't noticed that. How had she missed it? She thought back, specifically to the times she ran her fingers through Daenerys's long hair. She couldn't recall removing the ribbon but then again, her attention was hardly on her hair in those moments. "Why?'
Daenerys's smile turned indulgent, the way it did when she was explaining something to one of the overzealous orphans, for a second time. "I couldn't carry the plans with me everywhere, but I wanted something to remind me."
Was it better or worse knowing how meaningful her gift was to Daenerys? Would the ribbon lose its significance if she knew Arya bought it at the last minute only after she saw all the other gifts? "It's nothing," she tried, "I needed something to hold the pages together, and ribbon made sense."
Daenerys's smile disappeared. "It's not nothing," she argued, "it's beautiful and I love it." To prove her point she finished fussing over her hair. "How do I look?"
"Gorgeous," she said truthfully, and it had nothing to do with the dress or the ribbon in her hair.
With slow, deliberate steps she sauntered over to Arya and rewarded her with a kiss. "Thank you for helping me get ready. You didn't need to."
"Is that everything?"
"Yes, I don't feel like wearing jewelry today."
Arya studied those words, searching for a hidden message. Was she saying that to spare Arya the trouble? She'd come this far, she could see it through. "Are you sure? Where do you keep your bracelets and necklaces?"
As she'd done with the ribbon, Daenerys pointed to the spot Arya should check. "In those drawers there," she said, "and yes I'm sure. I don't need gold or jewels today."
Despite what the Princess said Arya went to the collection and had a look. "You don't? If you tell me what you want, I can find it."
She was so busy looking at the collection of dragon jewelry that she didn't notice Daenerys coming up behind her. "I'm sure," she repeated, more forcefully this time. "I wear that junk to feel pretty, so I can feel like the Princess everyone expects me to be."
Arya turned and put her arms around Daenerys's waist. "You are a Princess, and not because you wear a dragon ring, or a diamond pendant."
"I know, but some days it's harder to convince myself of that than others."
Realizing she missed what was probably the most important part of Daenerys's earlier admission she circled back. "And you're more than simply 'pretty,' with or without the jewels."
Daenerys kissed her first and explained herself second. "Thank you. That's why I don't need to waste time picking out a ring, a pin or a necklace."
Arya didn't follow. She took time to try and make the pieces fit before she had to admit defeat. "I don't understand."
Daenerys kissed her again, deeper and longer than the last. "I feel beautiful this morning," she justified, "thanks to you, I feel pretty and happy."
Unsure of what to say, she stayed silent. It was probably wrong to take credit when she hadn't really done anything but discussing Daenerys's statement at length would've been worse. "No jewelry then?" she summarized.
"Nope," Daenerys confirmed with another peck at Arya's lips. "I'm ready, now it's your turn."
Although she heard perfectly, she felt the need to verify. "Me?" She looked down at her attire. She was wearing a simple pair of grey pants and a white shirt. The pants had a slight tear and the edges of the shirt were beginning to fray, but it was the only spare clothes she had. She put them on while Daenerys was still lounging in bed, needing to be sufficiently dressed to go and get her bathwater. Since returning, she'd been so busy with Daenerys's needs that she hadn't wasted any time on herself. "Oh, I can be ready in just a couple of minutes," she insisted. "It won't take me long."
When she took her first step toward the chair where her armor waited, Daenerys went with her. Arya eyed her suspiciously wondering what she was up to. Daenerys was only too happy to justify her behavior. "I know how to take it off, now I need you to show me how to help you put it on."
"I don't really need help."
"Let me anyway."
She was in the process of pulling her shirt over her head when she heard that, and her hands froze. "That's kind of you, but…"
She didn't get to finish declining before Daenerys had taken the bottom of her shirt and picked up where Arya left off, guiding it over her head the rest of the way. Topless she stood rooted to the ground while Daenerys turned away from her and began rummaging through Arya's things. When she turned back, she was holding the fragment of shirt that she wore beneath her gear. "I'm not sure how this goes," she admitted, as she held it in front of her.
She plucked the garment from Daenerys's hold and tried to ease the sting with a kiss. "Thank you," she said before she put it over her head and adjusted it down over her breasts.
"Ahh, so that's how you do it," she whispered as she watched. "I'll know for next time."
"Daenerys, you don't have to…"
She shook her head. "This isn't the Princess talking," she clarified, picking up a matching set of Martell bracers. She handed the left one to Arya first. "This is the woman you slept next to last night and she wants to do this for you." She wanted to insist it wasn't required, but when Daenerys emphasized the word 'wants', Arya knew she couldn't reject her offer again. She was just trying to do something nice, not unlike way Arya had spent the morning running errands to ensure Daenerys had everything she needed. She could hardly fault her for that, could she?
"Okay," Arya said, "come stand next to me, it'll be easier to reach the straps."
With a squeal, Daenerys complied. Since she already had one bracer on, she showed it to Daenerys for reference, then held out her bare wrist for her to try.
Never in her life did she think she'd have anyone helping her put on her armor, least of all a Targaryen, but the world was a complicated place and little about Arya's life was happening the way she thought it would.
R-C
She put more effort into helping Arya into her armor than she did any other task she attempted in recent memory. She enjoyed it. After being served all her life, it was nice to be the providing the assistance. It meant even more because it was Arya, and because she wanted Arya to see her as more than the spoiled Princess who couldn't figure out how to fasten a breastplate.
When the time came to strap Arya's belt and the attached sword to her waist Daenerys hesitated. Things with Arya were going well, better than well even, but she hadn't broached the subject of the sword since their initial argument. She hadn't been avoiding it exactly, but she also wasn't in a rush to revisit the worst fight she and Arya ever had.
After a deep breath where she gathered all her courage, she did her best to sound confident. "Not that sword," she said, resting a hand on the scabbard.
Arya's sword was on the shelf with the dragon eggs, lying across the top of the closed box. Despite its fine craftmanship, she was tentative when she touched it, not wanting to damage it. "I want you to wear this."
Arya clearly remembered. She didn't need to ask what the Princess was talking about. "Daenerys," she said slowly, drawing the name out longer than was common.
"I want you to," she said again. "You should be wearing it already." Hoping to entice her lover she removed the steel from its sheath, showing it off to the woman who would hopefully wield it. "I had it commissioned just for you. Arya's grey eyes were on the weapon and nowhere else, causing Daenerys to doubt herself. Was there a problem? Did she see an imperfection that Daenerys, being a novice would never spot? "If there is something wrong with it? We can have it fixed, there were so many options, I had to guess which ones I thought you'd prefer."
After what felt like an eternity Arya peeled her gaze away from the steel and looked at the Princess. "Don't change a thing," she pleaded sincerely. "It's flawless."
Her heart swelled. Arya complimented her efforts. "Really? Like I said, there were so many details to decide on and…"
Gently Arya lifted the sword out of Daenerys's hands. She expected the soldier to put it on, maybe even take a few practice swings, but she set the weapon aside. Before Daenerys could inquire about why, Arya filled her empty hands with the Targaryen, hugging her tightly. "It's perfect," she promised. "You got everything right." A kiss dropped onto her head and Daenerys relaxed. She wasn't being polite or considerate, she really did like it. Daenerys had done good.
"Are you sure?" she asked when the embrace was done.
"It's one of the most incredible swords I've ever seen."
"It's yours." Daenerys retrieved it and carried it to Arya.
Now it was Arya's turn to be uncertain. "Are you sure, a sword like that…"
"Belongs on your hip," she finished for her. When she realized Arya wasn't yet convinced Daenerys forged ahead. "On the right?" she guessed, trying to picture the guard in her mind. She wore her sword on her right hip, didn't she? "On the right?" she repeated a second time when Arya looked to be formulating an objection.
"Yes," she verified after a few tense moments. Daenerys opened the belt and took a step. Her intention was to go behind the guard and wrap the belt around her that way, but she didn't get far. Arya gripped her arm, stopping her. "Thank you!" she said passionately, with grey staring into violet. "Thank you so much."
That was all it took. With a few words nothing else mattered, not the obscene amount of gold she spent, not the time it took to have the sword crafted, not her fight with Arya, or the struggle to convince her to accept it. Everything she endured was totally worth it now, in fact Daenerys acknowledged she would have gone through much more, if the prize at the end was Arya looking at her as she was, speaking to her with such reverence.
She pressed a soft kiss to the side of her lover's neck as she wound the leather belt around her waist. Arya's hands which had been out to the sides to allow for room to work came closer, likely to fasten the belt, but Daenerys was enjoying this too much to let Arya take over. "Arm's up!" she directed.
Arya's choice would determine what happened next. In her mind Daenerys thought it was a coinflip. Arya could oblige her, but it was just as probable that she'd wonder why Daenerys was barking orders. To her delight, Arya obeyed without complaint. She didn't even look back over her shoulder, silently questioning the Targaryen's sanity. She just raised her arms away from her body, holding them up and out of the way.
"Thank you." She left another kiss on Arya's neck, aiming for the same spot as the last time and then she focused entirely on the belt. She wanted to get this right. The sword was already in the proper position, generally speaking, but Daenerys didn't want it almost perfect. She gave the belt a little more slack and then made countless tiny adjustments as she tried to situate Arya's new sword on her hip perfectly. The soldier didn't whine about the time it was taking, or remark about Daenerys's uncertainty, she just waited patiently, as if she had no where else to be and nothing else to be doing.
When she was satisfied Daenerys pressed herself into Arya from behind. She flattened her chest against the protective steel covering Arya's back. Even without skin to skin contact, the closeness was wonderful. She fidgeted with the clasp on the belt far longer than was necessary, just so she could keep holding Arya exactly as she was. The guard apparently had the same idea, leaning back openly into Daenerys's embrace.
"Let's see," Daenerys encouraged, reluctantly putting distance between them.
Arya turned to face her. "Well, what do you think?"
Gorgeous was the first word that came to mind. "Amazing," she amended, knowing Arya was asking about the sword. "Did I get it in the right place?" she wondered. As fun as it was to help Arya prepare, she didn't want her incompetence to place Arya in danger.
"Couldn't have done it better myself." That brightened Daenerys's mood. To prove her point she gripped her new sword and drew it from the scabbard. The speed with which she did unveiled the deadly steel might've been unsettling, except Daenerys knew Arya was on her side.
"Do I look like a proper guard?" Arya asked, turning the sword over in her hand and admiring the elaborate detail.
"The best I've ever had," she confessed honestly. The sword had nothing to do with that, but Daenerys would keep that to herself for the time being. "Have I ever told you how great you look in your armor?" As soon as the words were out, Daenerys sought to clarify them. "I mean I'm not opposed to seeing you out of the armor either, I just…"
She trailed off hoping Arya would save her from herself, but the guard just smiled and waited for Daenerys to finish embarrassing herself. When it was clear she had nothing more to add, Arya asked, "You wouldn't rather it be a three headed dragon on my chest?"
Her mind went back to one of their earliest days in the keep, when she tried to persuade Arya to wear Targaryen armor. At the time she didn't realize what she was asking, her only motive had been convenience. Now, she understood how problematic it must've been for her. "I'd never ask you to wear a Targaryen sigil now that I know…"
Arya stopped what was destined to be another ramble, by touching her arm. When their eyes met, she found Arya watching her affectionately. It gave the Princess strength. She hated what her family had done to Arya's and even though Arya insisted she didn't hold Daenerys responsible, it was difficult not assign herself some of the blame. She was a Targaryen too.
"I'll tell you the same thing today, I did then," Arya advised, "if you want me to, I'd wear it."
The last time they had this conversation Daenerys believed Arya to be a Dornish bastard. She didn't know all the reasons she had to hate Westeros's royal family. Now she did, and it made her concession all the more significant. "My father won't always be King," she noted, trying her best to ignore the hope she heard mixed in with her message, "the Targaryen sigil won't always mean madness and murder. Maybe one day you'll be able to wear it proudly."
To her credit Arya didn't dismiss the idea outright or scoff at Daenerys's assumption. "Unless you're Queen someday, I don't see that happening."
She hadn't been anticipating a remark like that. Without prompting her mind began calculating the long list of Targaryens that would need to meet untimely ends in order to put Daenerys on the throne, her father, Rhaegar, Viserys, Aemon too, and Rhaegar's children with Elia still had a claim as well. She pushed those thoughts away as ridiculous, but not before she considered how many of the nobles in her father's court would react to serving a woman. Daenerys didn't know much, but she didn't think Westeros was ready to be ruled by a woman, even if that was precisely what the Realm needed. "No thank you," she joked, "the throne looks very uncomfortable, it's no wonder my father is always in a bad mood." After a laugh at her lover's sense of humor Arya came to Daenerys and they shared a slow, intense kiss. "What did I do to deserve that?"
She shrugged casually. "I just thought I'd sneak in one more before we had to join the rest of the world."
Oh, how badly she wanted to think of an excuse to hide them away, but she couldn't. The longer she waited to make her appearance the more questions people would have. She didn't doubt Arya would be able to fend off any invasive inquires, but she did worry she might slip up and reveal more than she wanted to about the nature of their relationship. She had a lifetime of practice doing things out of a sense of obligation rather than an actual desire and yet few things in her memory felt more difficult than opening the door and passing through the threshold. Out there where people were, she couldn't hold Arya's hand or comment on her beauty. She'd have to avoid staring at her guard or others might notice and she definitely couldn't kiss her. It sounded simply enough in theory, in practice though she had her doubts. Sure she could resist kissing her lover for the time being, but would her willpower be as strong in a few hours, and what about Arya, there was no telling what kissable things she'd say or do during the course of their day together. It was akin to torture to demand she abstain when Arya was so close and so tempting, but what choice did she have? Arya's life depended on their relationship remaining secret. As strong as her desires were, Daenerys was confident her need to keep Arya safe would prevail. "Okay, let's go."
A quick check to make sure her dress wasn't wrinkled, another to ensure Arya's armor looked as it did on any other day and finally one more kiss before they couldn't anymore. "Now you can open it," Daenerys advised. While Arya released the lock and turned the knob Daenerys stayed back and watched, licking her lips and savoring the flavor Arya left. She could do this. They could do this. `
R-C
By midmorning Daenerys was proud of herself. She'd somehow managed to interact with a whole host of people without revealing her undying affection for her guard to any of them.
Their first test came early, when they had to visit Tyrion. While in the Master of the Coin's office she made a conscious effort to avoid looking at Arya too often. She knew if she admired the unique shade of her eyes or the bow of her kissable lips, she'd undoubtedly forget why she couldn't shout her affections from the rooftop. She must've done an admirable job, because the observant Lannister didn't say or do anything that led her to believe they'd been discovered.
Normally Arya saw Tyrion alone. It wasn't as if Daenerys wasn't welcome, it was just easier that way. Arya stopped to see him on her way to Daenerys's chambers, or at least that's how it used to happen. Now that the guard was sharing Daenerys's bed, her morning routine wouldn't take her right past Tyrion's office. Still Daenerys was committed to continue the work she'd begun, listening to the pleas of the needy and providing aid on behalf of the Crown.
Tyrion clearly hadn't expected the Princess to attend, but didn't appear suspicious or angered by the change. He greeted Daenerys warmly, told her she looked radiant and then got down to business.
Luckily for everyone Tyrion had several appointments he was only too happy to pass on to her. No one was happier with this than she was, the meetings would keep her occupied for a large portion of the afternoon.
R-C
"Do you think they're safe?" Daenerys asked without preamble.
"Who?" Arya wondered, taking a look at their surroundings and finding no one in distress.
"Missandei and Grey Worm. It's quite a ride to the Stormlands, maybe I should have sent more men with them," Daenerys fretted.
Arya smiled indulgently. It wasn't surprising that Daenerys was worrying, she knew how much the Princess cared for Missandei, but in this instance, it was not necessary. "I think," she said taking Daenerys's hand gently in hers, "that you should be more worried about the thieves or bandits who happen upon them and think they're easy targets."
It took a moment for what Arya said to really sink in, but when it did most of the concern Daenerys was showing disappeared. "You're right," she said giving Arya's hand a squeeze. "I know it's silly but from the day she got here, we've been together almost everyday."
Arya turned to her lover more directly. "It's not silly," she assured her, "it's completely understandable. They are our friends, it's only natural for you to wonder how they are."
"How do I…" Daenerys stopped talking, blushing red as she looked away from Arya's face.
"How do you what darling?" She hadn't meant to call Daenerys 'darling,' her only objective had been to make her voice soothing, so she'd feel comfortable sharing what was on her mind. Any embarrassment she felt for her slip of the tongue vanished when she saw Daenerys's dazzling smile being aimed at the unsuspecting foster.
"How do I control this twisted feeling in my gut? I know Grey Worm is with her, I know she's happy so why can't I just be happy for her? Why am I constantly imagining the worst possible things that might happen?"
Arya was no expert, but she did understand what the Princess was getting at. "That's what happens when you care about someone," she explained. "You worry, irrationally sometimes, because you want what's best for them."
"So, there is nothing I can do to fix it?" Daenerys pressed, sounding defeated.
She squeezed her lover's hand. "There is nothing to fix. You care about your friends, that's not something you should stop doing, or try and correct, it's…"
"Then how…" Daenerys interrupted before she caught herself. "Sorry," she mumbled, using her thumb to stroke across Arya's knuckles.
"Think back to the last time you saw her," Arya encouraged, "was Missandei sad to go? Did she seem frightened?"
"Of course not," Daenerys insisted hotly. "You were there, she looked excited and happy."
With a chuckle Arya got to the point. "Exactly, so when you're worried, I want you to close your eyes and think about that. Remember all the stories she told you about her two days with Grey Worm and imagine how many more she'll have when she returns from Storm's End."
"That'll help?"
She nodded. "And if that doesn't remember this, there is no one and nothing Grey Worm loves in this world more than Missandei. He'd never let anyone hurt her." As she tried to give Daenerys insight into the Commander's thinking she realized how similar it was to her own. Just as Grey Worm would fight to the death for Missandei, Arya knew she'd do the same for Daenerys.
"Thank you," Daenerys said, already considerably less tense.
The public location notwithstanding Arya didn't miss the way Daenerys's gaze dropped to her lips. It seemed she was thinking of an intimate way to show her gratitude. There were many reasons they couldn't reveal their relationship to anyone, and they were valid as far as justifications went, but that didn't mean it was easy to resist a woman like Daenerys. Every minute felt like ten when she had to refrain from touching her, especially when she looked like that.
Arya was weighing the pros and cons of a quick kiss when a third party announced himself. "There you are," Rhaegar said. He limped closer, his cane striking the ground with what sounded to Arya like increasing force.
Daenerys moved in front of Arya, as if she intended to protect the soldier from her brother using only her small body. "You were looking for me?" she asked innocently. "Is something wrong?"
From behind Arya applied the lightest pressure she could to the small of Daenerys's back. She hadn't meant anything by it, except to remind Daenerys she was there. The Princess leaned into the touch, but outwardly kept her focus on the Prince.
"I was going to ask you that," Rhaegar fired back. It wasn't harsh or rude, but there was some hostility mixed in that Arya didn't like.
Before Arya had to decide if she should involve herself in the dispute between siblings, Daenerys spoke up, sounding confident, strong and unimpressed with her brother's comment. "And what is that supposed to mean?" While she waited for his reply, she folded her arms over her chest. Even if they couldn't hear the words anyone watching would be able to tell the Princess was unhappy.
Arya tried to calm her by moving her thumb in a rhythmic fashion across Daenerys's back. She thought her actions were hidden that there was no way Rhaegar could see, but she must've been wrong because the Crown Prince's eyes locked in on her. "I thought perhaps you'd left us," he said.
Arya was busy crafting an appropriate reply when Daenerys beat her to it. "Why would you think Arya had gone anywhere? You saw her as recently as last night?"
"At dinner yes," Rhaegar acknowledged, "but for the past several days I haven't been accosted on the way to any early morning meetings." His tone hardened significantly. "Do you no longer care if my sister is allowed to leave the castle?"
"Of course, I…"
Daenerys interrupted taking a step forward and poking at her brother's chest with her finger. "Don't blame her!" she demanded with a growl. "I'm the one who wanted to stay in the last few days."
There was a subtle decline in Rhaegar's aggression when his sister took the blame, but it didn't cure him of it all together. "What? So now you suddenly don't want to leave the castle anymore? I thought you didn't like to be cooped up."
Arya fully intended to stand up for Daenerys. If the selfish Prince needed someone to take his anger out on ,that was fine, Arya would take every hateful word he could spout, but she refused to stand by and let him berate his sister. "H…"
"I'm sorry I don't meet your high standards," Daenerys spat sarcastically. "If you wanted to know you could've just asked. You didn't need to come here with your accusations and rude comments." She paused to let him think about that, and then she answered what he really wanted to know. "I told Arya not to bother you, because I was tired and had enough things to do here."
He looked to the guard for confirmation and although that wasn't exactly how it happened, she supported Daenerys's version. "Your sister told me she was busy inside the castle yesterday, so I saw no reason to seek you out."
Some of the wind was leaving his sails but Rhaegar wasn't done. "What did you do yesterday?"
"Thank you notes," Daenerys responded with no enthusiasm. "I worked on them for hours and I feel like I barely got anything done."
"Really?" While Rhaegar looked at Daenerys in challenge, Arya didn't know what to say or do. She didn't even understand what was happening. Something about Daenerys's account of the day, upset her brother, but what? To her credit, Daenerys wasn't backing down.
"Yes really," she insisted. "Did you see all those people who came for my nameday? Father and Tywin expect me to write a note for every single one of them."
"Dany!" Aemon yelled from the opposite end of the hall. Eager to put some distance between the feuding dragons Arya nodded to silently suggest Daenerys go to him. She didn't need to be told twice. She hurried off toward her nephew, leaving her brother and her guard behind. Arya let her lead but quickly fell in step. "I was looking for you."
Overwhelmed the Princess complained unfairly. "You too?"
"Me too wha…" Aemon began to ask, before he spotted his father and understood. "What's going on?"
"Your father came looking for Daenerys," Arya noted, summarizing the strange encounter. It was still hard to believe their only crime was not asking to leave the castle for a couple of days.
"What did he want?" Aemon wondered. "Does he need you for something?"
"No, I don't think so," Daenerys said, peeking at Arya to make sure she agreed.
The guard shrugged, confirming that she was as clueless as Daenerys about why Rhaegar sought them out. "Did you need something?"
"I was going outside," he said with a smile, "I thought I'd see if either of you wanted to come." He looked to Arya first, "I know you wouldn't mind the chance to spar, and you," he continued, pivoting to Daenerys, "I thought you might want to shoot at a few more targets."
She hadn't considered that maybe Daenerys would want to continue learning archery, but perhaps she should've. The way she lit up at the mere suggestion made it clear that not bringing it up had been an oversight on Arya's part. "Can we?" she asked, as if it were the foster's decision to make.
"We can do whatever you want," she promised, having to look away to avoid touching or kissing the stunning woman in front of her.
Aemon is too pleased by their agreement to notice the intense looks passed between them. "Great. I'll go get things set up and you can join me when you're ready."
One look in Daenerys's eyes and it was clear she wasn't thinking about bows or arrows. "We'll be out in a few minutes."
Without permission from her brain Arya leaned a tiny bit closer to the Targaryen. "A few minutes?" she repeated in question. "It shouldn't take us that long to meet up with Aemon, unless you have something else to do first?"
"It looks cold," Daenerys said plainly, without sparing a glance toward the window, "we should probably go get my cloak before we venture outside."
Knowing the real reason Daenerys wanted to make a stop in her bedchamber, Arya chose to make it a little more challenging. "It's not that cold," she disagreed, "you won't need a cloak."
She pouted and that did nothing to keep Arya on her best behavior. After a moment she had another reason they needed to go upstairs. "I wore it yesterday."
Amused, Arya smirked. "So?"
"I hit the target, remember? You can't expect me to go back out there without my good luck cloak. That would be cruel."
"Well, we don't want that," she quipped playfully. Although she already knew exactly where the cloak was, she asked anyway. "Where is it?"
A breathtaking smile settled on Daenerys's lips. "In my chambers."
"Want me to get it?" Arya offered with a straight face. "You can meet Aemon and I'll run up and grab it. It won't even…"
"No!" Daenerys snapped, "you can't."
Arya raised a dark eyebrow as she fought to keep from laughing. Daenerys adjusted her volume and tried again. "You can't."
"Why can't I?"
Along with a huff of annoyance. the guard received a glare that made it known how Daenerys felt about her teasing. "You might get the wrong one. It's too great a risk."
Arya's face finally cracked to reveal the smile she'd been battling. "Well, we wouldn't want you to master the bow in a second-rate, unlucky cloak, would we?" She shook her head and waved her hand, directing Daenerys back the way they'd come. "Come on, I'm eager to see this famous archery cloak."
They were so wrapped up in their game that it took both women longer than it should've to realize Rhaegar was still there. He hadn't moved since Daenerys and then Arya went off to see Aemon. A knot formed in her chest. Had he been watching them? What did he see? She reviewed the last few minutes and although they hadn't kissed, or even touched, she imagined their connection was obvious.
Next to her Daenerys was equally surprised when she saw her brother there. For a moment Arya thought she'd wilt and flee but summoning a reserve of strength she closed her mouth, returned her cheeks to their natural color and walked toward the Prince with her head high. "I thought you left," she told him.
When she felt him looking at her, Arya met his stare with as much fearlessness as she could. They hadn't done anything wrong and Rhaegar was hardly in a position to judge anybody. Whatever Daenerys and Arya were guilty of, neither of them were a kidnapper or a raper.
"We weren't done talking, so I decided to wait."
"I thought we were," Daenerys retorted sharply. "You wanted to know why Arya hadn't come to see you and we explained it. Was there something else?"
"Dany," he tried, working harder to make himself appealing, "we haven't really spoken since…"
"I know," she assured him, not letting him finish. In just a few words Daenerys had seized the upper hand and it was suddenly Rhaegar, the elder, the male who looked uncomfortable.
"I know you're upset but I'd like to talk, I'm sure you have questions."
"When I want to talk about it, I'll let you know. In the meantime, we have somewhere to be."
Sensing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with his stubborn sister Rhaegar moved on to Arya. "What did Aemon want?"
She told the truth without hesitation. "He asked for us to train with him."
Not picking up on the distinction in her words, Rhaegar tried to use them to get his way. "There," he said, looking to Daenerys, "She can go and train with Aemon and you and I can share a drink."
"I would," Daenerys responded, sounding sincere, "but Aemon invited both of us and I mean to train as well."
This caused Rhaegar to pause and collect his thoughts. "You're teaching my sister the sword?!"
"The bow actually," Daenerys added in happily. "Maybe I'll try a sword next. If it's half as much fun, I'll probably enjoy it."
Arya couldn't say for certain, but she got the distinct impression Daenerys only wanted to learn the sword because she knew it would annoy her brother. If that was her motive, she got her wish. "You can't be serious!" he roared. "I will not allow it, it's entirely unsafe!"
"What exactly is dangerous about me shooting arrows at a target made of hay?".
"It's not right," Rhaegar said weakly.
Arya glanced at Daenerys and saw a fire in her eyes that was growing more intense rather than burning out. She had to wonder if Rhaegar knew how that statement would be received when he said it?
"Why, because I'm a woman?" She looked to her guard for support. "You're a woman, can you fire a bow?"
"Yes."
Daenerys wasn't done. "How many men were in your training group?"
"Hundreds," Arya recalled.
"And you, the only woman finished first?" she verified.
"Yes."
She turned to her brother with a smug expression. "You were saying?"
He seemed to sense it was a losing argument and redirected his efforts. "I just want you to be safe."
If he thought that would make Daenerys more amenable, he was sorely mistaken. "I am safe. When I'm outside I'll be armed with a bow and arrows, I'll be surrounded by highly trained soldiers and my own personal guard."
Internally Arya was proud of Daenerys for speaking up so forcefully and defending herself. She could only hope this was the start of a new trend and not a strange, single occurrence.
"Surely you can learn the bow tomorrow," Rhaegar said in his final attempt. "I wish to speak with you."
Honestly, Arya expected that plea would work. Whether she was embracing her independence or not, Daenerys cared about other people. It would be hard for her to walk away from her brother when he was so blatantly asking for her time.
"As I said, we have an appointment," Daenerys said, making it seem much more important than training in the yard with Aemon.
Reading his expression Arya couldn't help but ask herself if this was the first time Daenerys ever refused Rhaegar like this? He seemed shocked by her refusal and utterly unsure of his next move. Daenerys had no such reservations. She said a polite goodbye to the Prince and walked away,
R-C
The walk to Daenerys's bedchamber was a torturous death march. It was made longer by two different people stopping Daenerys to talk. As her guard Arya had no choice but to stop with her, even though it went against every instinct she had. More than once she wanted to give in to her desires and pin Daenerys to the nearest wall for a bruising kiss, consequences be damned. She tried to rely on her better nature to avoid doing anything irreparable but common sense was in remarkably short supply. It seemed all of Arya desperately needed Daenerys, and nothing else mattered.
While she fought her urges and tried to keep her hands to herself, Daenerys was no help. Her eyes shined with a passion that matched or exceeded Arya's. When grey met violet, she'd smile enticingly or lick her lips in a slow, very seductive manner.
Arya thought she was impatient, but it was Daenerys who broke first. By the time the Northern woman turned away from the closed door, Daenerys was on her, pressing her incredible body against Arya in as many delightful ways as she could.
She intended to make a witty comment of some kind, but the words were forced back into her mouth by Daenerys's talented tongue. When one of them finally spoke, it was the Targaryen. "I fucking hate your armor," she complained as she tried in vain to wedge her small hand between Arya's skin and the steel.
"Sorry," Arya retorted sarcastically as she turned her lover's head to the side, exposing her neck. She dove in and went to work, aware they had only a short amount of time before they were due in the yard with Aemon.
She had her eyes open, watching Daenerys squirm in pleasure when the royal tensed. "Well, you know what they say…"
Daenerys stopped there leaving Arya no choice but to lift her mouth off Daenerys's neck long enough to play along. "What do they say?" As soon as the words were past her lips, she reattached herself to Daenerys, using her teeth to bind them together.
"That… F…fuck…" she groaned, throwing her head back and making her throat an even more appealing target.
Arya could feel a wicked smirk curling her busy lips. She loved when she was the reason the reserved, well-spoken, older woman unravelled. "Some people definitely do say that," she agreed with a laugh.
The glare she received in reply wasn't nearly as intimidating as it otherwise might've been. Stealing from its power was the moan that proceeded it and the fierce way Daenerys gripped the back of Arya's head. With an unrelenting hold she made sure that the guard couldn't abandon her neck before she was satisfied.
"They do say that," Daenerys confirmed, sounding amused and breathless, although Arya didn't stop kissing to check. "You say it too," she added, "last night in fact you said…"
Arya wasn't entirely sure how Daenerys was going to finish that sentence, but she could guess it would be embarrassing. There were plenty of moments from her time with Daenerys that she wanted to remember forever, but minor details like what exactly she said in the throes of passion weren't among them. How could she be expected to remember the words she said at a time when the only thing she could focus on was Daenerys's touch? "I get it," she snapped with a growl.
Giggling, Daenerys ran a hand through Arya's hair, smoothing it out some. "As I was saying," she started, pausing to see if Arya would interrupt her again. This time she didn't. "They say practice makes perfect, and if that's true, I'll be an expert at removing Dornish armor in no time." To prove her proficiency her right hand dropped from Arya's head and landed on the first strap.
"As much as I'd love that," Arya said, moving off Daenerys's neck and kissing across to her shoulder, "and I really would, we have somewhere to be." The words tasted bitter as they sounded. The last thing she wanted to do was stop kissing Daenerys, but Aemon was waiting for them.
With a light groan of disapproval Daenerys tensed under Arya's mouth. "Do they put the bows away?"
Admittedly it was difficult to focus on their conversation when Daenerys tasted so good, but Arya tried. That said, the question the Princess asked was strange. She left her shoulder with a final nibbling bite. "What?"
"Do they lock the weapons away? Will you not be able to train later? Will I not be able to practice with a bow later?"
In truth she didn't know if the weapons were locked up at a specific time. She always brought her own and that made it possible for her to train whenever the mood struck. As she considered Daenerys's points, the Targaryen seized control. She pushed Arya back into the door and then pressed their bodies together, as she'd done immediately after they arrived. Their lips were the last piece to connect and when it happened it was worth the wait. Arya cupped the back of Daenerys's neck, holding her in place so they could both enjoy the kiss for as long as possible.
When they separated, Daenerys picked up where she left off. "Will I not be able to practice the bow later?"
Without thinking Arya replied, too distracted by the kiss to realize where she was being led. "Even if the bows are locked up, I'll get you one," she promised.
"Exactly," Daenerys declared proudly, "so there is no reason we can't stay here and finish this, is there?"
Before Arya could answer, Daenerys's mouth was on hers again. This kiss was heated and rough, a fight for dominance, with warring tongues and mashing teeth, it made her forget everything she intended to say.
When she felt one of Daenerys's smooth legs brushing hers, Arya took the hint. She gripped the back of Daenerys's thigh and used it to bring the Princess impossibly closer. Daenerys moaned into her mouth and Arya knew she'd lost. Training could wait.
Arya carried her away from the door and laid her down. Standing there, at the foot of the bed, she finished what Daenerys started and removed her breast plate. She had taken off her armor countless times, so why were her hands shaking? Arya put the blame on the intense stare she was receiving. Her want of the soldier was obvious and it was something Arya had never experienced before, to be desired, to be needed so intently. All she wanted to do was to fall onto the bed and stay there, but her mind chose to remind her why she couldn't. "Aemon," she said quietly.
Lifting herself up and resting on an elbow, Daenerys failed to make the connection. With a devious grin she shook her head. "Not the best time to be thinking about someone else."
Her disappointment aside Arya couldn't help but chuckle. She bent down to reclaim her armor. "No," she said, "Aemon is waiting for us. We need to go. He's probably wondering where we are already."
She expected Daenerys's face to mirror hers, to show disappointment at being thwarted, or surprise at remembering their engagement with her nephew but all Arya saw was anger. "If you put that armor back on," she threatened, "I swear I'll toss it in the nearest forge."
She wasn't sure she believed Daenerys was sincere, but she hesitated anyway. "What?"
"You heard me," she said, sitting up more completely. They said nothing for a few long moments and then Daenerys held out one of her hands in invitation. "Put that down and come to bed, we're far from done."
Any request from Daenerys was hard to refuse but this one, so closely in line with everything she wanted was especially difficult. She looked from the hand she was supposed to take, to the face of the woman attached and back. "Daenerys, we need to go, Aemon…"
"Will be training for hours," she noted calmly.
Was it her imagination or was Daenerys purposefully sitting in a way that afforded Arya a perfect view down the front of her dress? "Daenerys," she tried again, as her resolve continued to weaken.
"Arya," she retorted, matching the guard's tone perfectly. "Just as the bow will be waiting when we're finished, so will Aemon."
"He… is going to wonder where you are," Arya predicted, "it's already been too long."
"He's busy swinging his sword, he's likely forgotten all about us. Even if he hasn't, I've got plenty of time to think up a reasonable excuse to explain our delay."
Aemon was waiting for them. He wasn't just a Targaryen Prince, he also happened to be a member of her family, and Daenerys's, and so Arya was reluctant to disappoint him, but she reached her limit. Daenerys's arguments were valid. They could train later, and she suspected Aemon would still be there when they arrived. She was all out of reasons to refuse.
Sensing her impending victory Daenerys leaned forward, and in the process made her hand easier to reach. Arya shifted her armor to her right hand and then gave her left to Daenerys. "That's better," she said with a smile, "now put the armor down."
From the day she earned the Martell breastplate she cherished it as one of her most prized possessions, but it was insignificant when compared to what was waiting for her on that bed. She dropped the steel carelessly and allowed herself to be pulled to where she was needed. "Anything else?" she asked.
Daenerys, who had been busy admiring Arya's body stopped abruptly, her eyes jumping to the soldier's. "I'll think of something," she promised, those four words dripping with possibility.
R-C
She didn't regret sneaking away with Arya, in fact she savored every second they spent together, including when at Daenerys's insistence their brief moment together became not-so-brief. Nevertheless, she did feel a stab of guilt when they arrived in the yard and saw Aemon training without them. He stopped mid-swing and ran to greet them. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," Daenerys assured him. As she spoke, she snuck a peek at Arya. The subtle but very present smirk the soldier was trying to hide did little to quell Daenerys's own memories of what had delayed them. With a deep breath she tried to focus. There would be time for Arya later, lots, but first Aemon deserved her attention.
"What took you so long?"
The lovers looked at each other and for a second time Arya's beauty nearly rendered Daenerys speechless. Luckily, she found her voice before the silence stretched on too long. "It's my fault," she said, putting a hand on Arya's forearm. "We went up to my chambers to get something and I remembered a whole bunch of other things I'd been neglecting." Not quite the truth, but definitely not a lie either. She had been neglecting Arya and there were a lot of things she had to do before she would let her lover leave.
Aemon smiled. "Let me guess," he said to Arya, "she roped you into helping her."
Though she was an expert at remaining stoic Daenerys saw a momentary flash of real amusement before Arya responded. "Something like that."
Oh no, she wasn't going to take all the blame for this. She may have instigated it, but she was hardly alone in enjoying it. She kicked the dirt under her feet and folded her arms over her chest. "I don't recall needing to twist you arm," she reminded her consort.
"Of course not," Arya answered back easily, "I serve you, in whatever manner you wish." The words sounded right, a guard reaffirming her commitment to complete any task the royal assigned her, but Daenerys heard a much more personal, more intimate message. There was a change in her tone when she said 'whatever.' Suddenly Daenerys's mind was overrun with all the different things she might require of Arya now that they were sharing a bed. It made her smile.
The knowing look on Arya's face made it clear she knew exactly where Daenerys's thoughts had wandered. Before the Princess could act on her reignited desires, Aemon reminded them he was there. "What did you need in your chambers anyway?"
She turned away from Arya deliberately in the hopes that it would make it easier to avoid distractions. "My cloak." With two fingers she pinched the dark fabric and pulled it away from her body, as if to show it off.
"It's not that cold," Aemon noted accurately.
"It's not for the cold, it's for luck," she countered, "I was wearing this when I hit the target last time, so I figured it'd be bad luck to practice without it."
He thought for a moment and then his face broke into a smile. "A little luck never hurts, but I don't think you'll need it. You can do it, cloak or not." After he was done with Daenerys, he moved on to the guard. "Ready to go?"
"In a minute," Arya swore, "just let me get Daenerys set up with a bow and some arrows and then I'll let you beat my ass as many times as you want."
Aemon laughed and Daenerys smiled, enjoying seeing Arya so relaxed. "I can wait, if you want to test out your new sword," she proposed. She would gladly practice using the bow again, but she wasn't opposed to watching from the side as Arya twisted and twirled to avoid Aemon's strikes.
"A new sword?" the young Prince repeated eagerly.
"Yeah," Arya confirmed, pulling the steel from its sheath. Her composed lover appeared almost shy as she held it out for Aemon to admire.
"Wow," he said touching it carefully. Even when his fingers were nowhere near the sharpened edges, he was still gentle. "This is incredible."
When Arya lifted the sword toward him, Aemon locked their grey eyes together. "Are you sure?"
"Sure, take a few swings, let me know what you think, I trust you."
Every second Daenerys watched this heartwarming, familial play a knot in her stomach tightened. It was wrong that Aemon didn't know who he was, who Arya was to him, and how they were connected. Her knowledge of the truth was almost crippling. She understood why she couldn't tell him, but the pain she felt was real.
"This is amazing," Aemon commented after taking a series of swipes at an imaginary opponent. "The weight is perfect, the craftsmanship is beautiful and," he paused, "is this Valyrian steel?"
Her guilt over hiding Aemon's origin from him was temporarily overshadowed by the pride she felt. Aemon didn't know she commissioned the sword, so she was hearing his honest opinion, not one tempered by a desire to spare her feelings. She liked the sword when the smith presented it to her, she loved Arya's reaction to it, but hearing Aemon compliment it and her unknowingly was equally rewarding.
"Where did you get it?" Aemon asked, sending her chaotic emotions on an abrupt decline.
"It was a gift," Arya said calmly, plagued by none of the unease that Daenerys was enduring.
"I wish someone would give me a gift like that," he remarked after a chuckle.
He tried to hand the sword back, but Arya shook her head. "You hang on to it. I'm going to go get your aunt started with a bow and then I'll join you."
More than willing to keep Arya's sword for a few minutes, Aemon agreed. "Sure, take your time."
Once the Prince had turned away Arya claimed Daenerys's hand. "Shall we?" she asked in an utterly sinful tone. It made Daenerys shiver with anticipation. They just climbed out of bed, and already she was counting the seconds until they could return.
"Definitely."
Arya escorted her to the same place she'd been the day before. While Daenerys waited, she darted off to find a bow and quiver. She was gone for less than a minute, but it felt much longer to the Princess. When had she become this sort of woman? She had plenty of practice being by herself, and while she grew lonely at times, she never felt the desperate need to count the seconds or watch the door anxiously that Arya seemed to invoke. When she was Daario he came and went at will, or on command. He had other women and was frequently away from the castle for weeks or even months. She'd miss him from time to time when they were apart, and anticipate when they could be together again, but she never felt compelled to kiss him in public, and she definitely didn't spend her time thinking up ways they could sneak off to be alone together. She couldn't get enough.
"Remember what to do?" Arya asked from beside her, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Remind me," Daenerys replied, hoping she managed to sound tempting.
Arya slipped behind her and Daenerys immediately felt two familiar hands settle on her hips. She bit back a moan and made a futile effort to keep her eyes open. Without permission she leaned back into Arya, stopping only when she felt the steel breastplate against her spine. One hand left her hip and retrieved the bow, passing it to Daenerys. "Remind me again why we couldn't stay in your room, doing what we were doing?"
As soon as she had the bow, Arya's hand was on her again. It might have been wishful thinking but to Daenerys it felt as if her grip was firmer than before. She enjoyed the connection she felt, marvelling again and how different it was compared to anything else she'd known. "A…Aemon," she squeaked, cursing under her breath when her voice cracked. "We're here for Aemon."
Arya bent down to get an arrow and Daenerys instantly missed having her close. She popped back up with her mouth over the Princess's ear. "Who?"
This time she failed to keep the moan in. The dark, sexy chuckle she not only heard, but felt as it sent vibrations through her entire body was almost too much. It would probably upset and offend a few people if she took her lover in the middle of the yard, but that seemed highly preferable to waiting even another moment.
"Breathe," Arya instructed. Only after she had, did Daenerys realize how desperately she needed the help. She inhaled and slowly the burn in her chest dulled, shrinking until it was gone entirely.
More than a little embarrassed, she chose to ignore her recent missteps and get them back on track. "We're here for Aemon, because he's family, mine and yours."
Arya turned her eyes to her cousin but didn't relinquish her hold on Daenerys. "He seems happy," she noted, though it was so quiet Daenerys couldn't say with any certainty that she was supposed to hear that.
"He's more than that," she contended, "he's living proof that your family and mine don't have to be enemies."
Once again Arya was giving Daenerys her full attention. "I don't really think that's what Aemon proves."
It was difficult to be around Aemon and not tell him about his mother. That sentiment was doubly true for Arya. She wasn't intentionally hiding what Rhaegar said about Lyanna from Arya, she fully intended to tell her, she just wasn't sure when or how. She didn't know how the news would be received and Daenerys feared it would upset the bliss they'd been sharing. It was selfish to wait, but every time she thought about sitting her down and explaining her brother's side of the story, something stopped her. It had to happen soon, they couldn't move forward with this between them.
Doing what she could to ignore Arya's touch and her presence, Daenerys sent the first arrow of the day from her bow toward the target. It hit the hay, it was nowhere near the center, but it was closer than last time. "That was very good," Arya complimented her, "just remember to aim high, the arrow is going to drop some on its way to the target." She was done before she thought of something else to add. "And aim a little left of center next time."
"Why?"
"To compensate for the wind," she explained. Daenerys could admit she never would have thought of that. Now that Arya had drawn her attention to it however, she could feel the light breeze. "You okay?" Arya checked when Daenerys didn't respond.
She turned slightly and gave the woman she adored a smile. "I got this," she insisted. "You better go get your sword back from Aemon, before he decides he wants to keep it."
Her obvious joke was met with a very intense reaction. "I'd fight him for it," she vowed, "that sword has a lot of sentimental value."
"It's just a sword," she said dismissively, trying to incite the guard to reveal her feelings. She knew why the sword was important and although her ego likely didn't need to be fed, she just couldn't help herself.
"It's not just a sword," Arya corrected fiercely. "It is so much more than that. It was the most amazing gift I've ever been given, from the most wonderful woman."
By the time she finished her explanation Daenerys's cheeks were burning. "I want to kiss you," she confessed in a whisper.
Arya's smirk didn't help Daenerys's restraint one bit. "Later," she promised. She angled her chin toward the target. "Keep practicing, I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes."
She watched her lover walk across the field to meet Aemon. Words were exchanged and then the Prince handed the foster her sword back. Arya took it, smiling when she held the blade in her hand. It took considerable effort to turn away and focus on her target. Normally it would have annoyed her to have someone say they'd check on her. She was a grown woman who was capable of surviving on her own without difficulty, and although she still felt that way, she knew deep down that if it was Arya who was doing the checking, Daenerys wouldn't mind quite so much as she would've otherwise.
R-C
Author's Note: I feel like I should apologize again for the delay. If there is some good news, it's that I've gotten a lot of writing done (editing not so much, hence the late post). By the time you all see the next chapter, I suspect I'll have this whole story written, then I'll just need to break it into chapters, edit it and post. If my health permits, that should dramatically speed up how fast we get through the second half.
I hope you'll stick around
RC