To everyone else they were the same as they'd always been, the Dragon Princess and her Dornish guard. The change in their relationship was a private matter and a protected secret.
If an observer watched them on Arya's first day in King's Landing and then again today, he'd see little difference. She still walked slightly behind the royal while making certain she was close enough for Daenerys to talk to easily. Daenerys smiled constantly and laughed often but not in a way dissimilar to how she interacted with Missandei or Aemon. Arya paid careful attention, not only to her own actions, but Daenerys's as well, wary of anything that might expose them. So far Daenerys was an expert actress. She managed to move from lover to friend effortlessly, anytime they left her chambers. In public she avoided doing or saying anything that could be interpreted as romantic. She played the part of an innocent, friendly Princess so well that Arya almost believed. She would have been convinced if she didn't still have the taste of Daenerys on her lips from earlier that morning.
"Where to next?"
Daenerys thought for a moment and then answered. "I need to go to the library," she decided, "but we'll have to take the long way." 'The long way' was code for an elaborate route to their destination that kept them away from the throne room and all the people in it. It wasn't often that Daenerys felt it necessary to avoid that area of the castle, but it had happened a few times since Arya's arrival, usually when the King was lost to his illness. The precaution was a wise choice, hours earlier when Arya accompanied the Princess to breakfast, they walked in on Aerys ranting about the dragon he spoke to in his dreams. Today would not be one of the King's good days.
"The library it is." When Daenerys glanced back at her, Arya was waiting with a smile. "What manner of book are you looking for?"
She lowered her voice substantially, a clear indication that what she would say next wasn't something she'd confess to just anyone. "I've been trying to learn about my dragon eggs, but so far I haven't been able to find much information."
Arya was surprised by this. Not by Daenerys's interest but by the lack of results. Surely if any place in Westeros had information about dragons it would be the castle occupied by Targaryens. "There must be some records."
"I've gone through some," Daenerys clarified, "but recent texts only contain old stories and wild speculation. The older books I've seen talk extensively about fully mature dragons, about their size and their power, but there is very little about hatchings, and less about eggs."
By the end of her statement it was obvious that Daenerys was growing tired of a fruitless search for information. If it were anybody else Arya would have let them wallow, but seeing Daenerys upset was painful, so she sought to fix it. "We'll go look, I'm sure some wrinkled old scholar was fascinated by the eggs, we just need to find him.
Her words brightened Daenerys's mood and she rewarded the guard's efforts with a smile before she claimed Arya's hand, initiating contact for the first time since they left her bedchamber. Arya was tempted to pull away, if only to avoid being seen but her mind reminded her of all the times Daenerys held her hand before they were lovers. It was a common occurrence with Missandei as well, so she convinced herself there was little harm in letting it continue.
They were nearly at the library when a soft voice called out to them. "M'lady," it said. They stopped and Daenerys looked at her in question. Before they could turn the speaker realized his error and corrected it. "I mean Princess."
Aidan was there, wearing brown pants and a cream-colored shirt. The clothes were new and well-made, meaning they likely came from Tyrion. He was visibly nervous, so naturally Daenerys wanted to set him at ease. She squatted down. "Aidan, how are you?" she asked, her tone warm and inviting. "I haven't seen you in too long, I'm glad you came and found me today."
It took a moment but his hands, which were clasped together in front of him and twisted in a physical manifestation of his anxiety relaxed and slowly separated. Slightly more confident, he took a step forward, and then another. Arya noted how cautious he was, pausing after each advance to make sure the adults didn't object before risking another.
"Lord Tyrion re…requests your time," he paused and then bit his lip, before adjusting his message, "requests a moment of your time, only if you aren't busy." The young boy looked more than a little relieved to have gotten it all out.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes Princess," he told her, nodding to reinforce the words.
Arya kept one eye on Aidan while she looked to Daenerys to see what she wanted to do. "The library can wait," she said to her guard. She dropped Arya's hand and moved until she was standing next to the orphan. She held out her hand for him to take. He considered it, then accepted. Winding their fingers together she gave him an easy grin. "Lead us to Tyrion please Ser Aidan."
Thrilled with his sudden promotion to knight, the child's smile rivaled the beautiful Targaryen's. Aidan turned back the way he'd come, and marched off in that direction, eager to fulfill the Princess's instruction. He took the lead but kept Daenerys close by maintaining his grip on her hand. As she trailed behind Arya couldn't rightly say which of them was having more fun.
R-C
"I liked them," Daenerys said simply as they finished the task Tyrion gave them. He sent Aidan to find her and requested her presence because a small group of Silent Sisters had come to the Red Keep. Since they didn't speak, they hadn't warned anyone of their arrival, leaving Tyrion unable to fit them into his schedule. Rather than turn them away, he asked Daenerys to meet with them and provide the gold he allotted.
"There a few more devout," Arya remarked, "and they do good work."
She didn't say anything, but Daenerys suspected Arya preferred the mute women to most of the people the Princess met with. Arya wasn't the sort to complain, at least not verbally but Daenerys was beginning to understand the Northern woman's unspoken language. In place of words, Arya revealed her feelings with a rolling of her steel-colored eyes, or a faint clicking of her tongue against the inside of her cheek. She saw no signs Arya was annoyed or bored when she was meeting with the Sisters, not when she carried on a one-sided conversation, or when she provided tea and snacks, not even when she took her guests on a tour of the keep.
For a second time her plan to go to the library was thwarted, this time by one of the last people she expected to see. "Princess Daenerys," the Magister said, "how blessed I am to run into you. I am leaving for Pentos tomorrow, but hoped I'd see you and get the chance to take you up on your offer to share a meal, provided it still stands."
Though she tried to conceal it, she was sure her emotions bled through before she got a handle on them. What was he talking about? In need of clarification and support she instinctively looked to Arya.
"Is now a bad time?" Illyrio asked, misinterpreting the reason for the delay.
"No?" she responded without thinking, unintentionally making it sound like a question. "No," she tried again, "I just wanted to ensure I didn't have any appointments that couldn't be postponed."
The lie gave her cover and bought her precious seconds to think. What was Illyrio talking about? When had she agreed to have dinner with him? Their only conversation had been on her nameday, so that had to be when the bargain was struck, but she didn't remember it. Truthfully much of that day was a blur of handshakes and insincere comments. Whether she meant it or not, refusing wasn't really an option. If the Pentosi Magister wished to dine with her, she'd have to accommodate him.
It was wrong to shift the focus to Arya to save herself, but just as the guilt started to spread in her belly, Arya spoke up, understanding what Daenerys needed and providing it without hesitation. Somehow, she knew Daenerys would need to accept, and made the obligation seem like a concession. "We should be able to move your appointments around," she said calmly, "I don't see any reason we wouldn't be able to meet the good Magister in ten or fifteen minutes."
From the corner of her eye she watched Illyrio's face split into a grin. She paid him only a fraction of her attention, most of her mind was on Arya and wondering how she knew that Daenerys would need time to collect herself before she sat down with Illyrio?
"You do me a great kindness Princess. I'm grateful. Please, take all the time you need. I'll meet you in the dining room and you can tell me what you think of your dragon eggs."
She forced a smile for the arrogant man. "I'll join you as soon as I rearrange my calendar," she promised. He mentioned the dragon eggs he gave her. Was that what he wished to discuss? Had she agreed to see him as a gesture of thanks?
She held her tongue until she and Arya were a dozen steps away. "Thank you," she praised in a whisper. "Join me upstairs, quickly." She needed to talk to Arya someplace where they could speak freely. Behind the closed door of her bedchamber was the only place that felt safe enough. As an added bonus, she'd be able to sneak in a kiss or two before she had to eat with Illyrio.
As soon as the door closed, she was in motion. "Thank you!" Daenerys said again as she propelled herself into Arya's arms. "I had no idea what he was talking about." It occurred to her that although she didn't remember, perhaps Arya did. "Did I really agree to have dinner with him?"
"Yes," she informed the Targaryen without releasing her. "You wanted to know why he was giving you such a valuable gift and he said he wished to get to know you, over a meal."
What Arya was describing sounded vaguely familiar. She remembered how Illyrio casually mentioned his business with her father, revealing the real reason he'd crossed the sea. Their embrace ended and she immediately crossed her arms in a show of her annoyance. "I wish I could decline."
"We could think up a reason," Arya proposed.
That made her smile, albeit briefly. "If only, but if I refuse him, he'll complain to Varys, who'll complain to Rhaegar, or Tywin and word will get back to my father.
Instead of simply accepting her fate as Daenerys was prone to do, Arya considered the problem and offered a solution. "I can invent an excuse for you to leave early."
She was touched. Few in her life cared enough to spend so much energy on her feelings. She unwound her arms and returned to Arya. "It'd be better with you there."
"I'll be there," Arya swore as her fingers moved through Daenerys's hair. The gentle touch grounded her and brought peace to her chaotic emotions. "I may not be at the table with you, but I'll be there."
"I'd much rather eat with you."
Picking up on her lack of excitement Arya found the lone bright spot in a dreary situation. "If anyone has information about your eggs, it's likely the Magister. He may even be able to point you toward which books have the answers you seek."
Fully aware that she didn't deserve someone as kind as Arya, she pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, right above the edge of the steel. "Thank you," she said, "I needed to hear that."
"Come on," she advised, backing up slowly and letting her hands drop to her sides, "the sooner we get downstairs, the sooner he'll be on his way back to Pentos."
"That's very true," Daenerys acknowledged. Before they got to the door, she connected her lips to Arya's. If she was going to have to endure an extended meeting with Illyrio, she'd need something to help her focus. A passionate kiss from Arya Stark seemed like the perfect compromise.
R-C
Remaining silent and in the background was never more difficult than when Daenerys was in obvious discomfort. Her instincts screamed that she should help, that she should do something, but not every battle could be won with her sword.
Observing as she entertained the Magister, Arya kept an eye out for anything that might expose Daenerys's true feelings. Gracious and charming she made him believe sitting across from him was the only place in the world she wanted to be. Wealthy beyond measure and egotistical, Illyrio was easy to fool. He trusted in the lies falling from her lips. It didn't seem to occur to him that she was just telling him what he wanted to hear. Arya was more than a little impressed. The Daenerys eating and chatting with Illyrio was miles away from the girl who couldn't find her voice when Aerys or Tywin asked her a question.
"So, you like the gift I gave you?" he asked, fishing for a compliment.
"I love them, they're incredible," she replied with genuine wonder. "Where did they come from?"
Arya had to bite her lip to keep from smirking. She was good. She'd likely been swallowing that question since they sat down but she bided her time and waited until he brought the subject up. Now that he had, she turned things around and was using him as a source of information. "From the Shadowlands," he told her, "an associate discovered them while handling some business in the area."
"Do you know how old they are?"
"No," he confessed simply.
Daenerys prodded him for more without being obvious. "They look and feel ancient, don't you think?"
"Based on where they were found, they're likely thousands of years old, probably from a time when dragons were widespread."
"Do you think they belonged to one of my ancestors?"
"Only your family had dragons. Whether a distant relative or someone directly linked to you, I can't say, but one day long ago those eggs definitely belonged to another Targaryen."
Although she tried to present a calm exterior, Daenerys's excitement bubbled over. She fired off her inquiries in rapid succession. "Do you know how big dragons from those eggs would be? Do the colors of the eggs indicate the color of the dragons? How long would it take to turn eggs to stone? Even if they were the last, shouldn't they have hatched?"
Illyrio's constant smile faltered a bit. "I'm sorry Princess, I don't have the answers. I fear no one does."
Picking up on the change Daenerys sought to repair his opinion of her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you with so many questions, I've just been fascinated since I received them. I can't help but wonder where and how they came to be here."
"It's quite alright," he promised, smiling wide at her enthusiasm. "I understand I have questions about them myself."
"My handmaiden Missandei has been searching for any books or scrolls that make mention of dragon eggs but so far we haven't learned much that we didn't already know."
Noticing a perceived weak spot Illyrio pressed on it, likely because he assumed he could use Daenerys's interest to his advantage. Arya wanted to make an example of him, to show the castle and the Realm that no one would be using Daenerys again, but angering the Magister would bring scrutiny she couldn't afford. Not just because she was a Stark hiding under the name Sand but also because of her intimate relationship to the capital's only Princess. She clamped her jaw shut so tight the pain radiated out. "Perhaps I could be of assistance. As a Magister I have access to many of the most knowledgeable people in all of Essos. A great number come from storied bloodlines and ancient families that date back to the time of Old Valyria. With your consent I could reach out to them and see what their vaults, libraries and histories say about dragon eggs. Much was lost in the Doom but if anything remains, I'm confident my associates can find it."
The proposition was selfless, kind and entirely fake. He was framing it as if it were Daenerys's choice. It was shit. Illyrio had an angle, some way to profit from all the effort he was putting in. He spent untold sums of gold trying to impress the Princess, he wouldn't do that without a reason. Contrary to what he told the Targaryen, Arya wasn't naive enough to believe he sought her out and ate with her just to get to know her better. It bothered her that she couldn't see his destination. What could he hope to gain by winning Daenerys's favor? She had little say in policy and even less in trade, which was surely where Illyrio's interests lay, so what was it all for?
"I would appreciate that more than words could say," Daenerys gushed. Arya feared her lover was buying what the huckster was selling but close examination of violet eyes told a much different tale. She saw skepticism concealed under the empty thanks and the polite niceties. Her jaw finally unclenched, and she used her tongue to massage the inside of her mouth. Her worry was needless. Illyrio hadn't fooled Daenerys one bit.
The remainder of the meal was filled with Daenerys expertly keeping the Magister talking, mostly about himself, a topic he seemed to enjoy. She inquired about his travels, remembering that he left shortly after her nameday and just returned. He confessed his business went well, but that it took longer than he originally estimated. When he appeared poised to change the subject, Daenerys asked if he had met with her father yet. Showing a tremor of discomfort for the first time, he admitted that he had. She inquired about the results, asking outright if the agreement struck was enough to make the trip across the Narrow Sea worthwhile. She didn't say it directly, but it was heavily implied that Daenerys knew she and her nameday were not the true reason for his visit. He was quick to reassure her, claiming even if the King and he could not reach a consensus, he would not regret his time in the Seven Kingdoms. Arya rolled her eyes as she listened to him try to dance around the truth without implicating himself. If the slight downturn of her very kissable lips was a clue, Daenerys shared her outlook.
Daenerys managed to keep the majority of the conversation directed away from her, but Illyrio was persistent. He waited until she was raising a glass to her lips before commenting. "I imagine it is difficult living here, having your home filled by so many, each with their own interests and priorities."
Arya tensed again. This was it, the real reason for this meeting, for everything. Subtly her hand drifted to her sword. She didn't think Daenerys was in physical danger, but she felt a little better about the situation knowing she could draw her blade and open his throat at a moment's notice.
"I suppose," Daenerys acknowledged carefully. "I actually enjoy all our visitors. People from across the Seven Kingdoms come here and I get to speak to all of them." Arya knew that was a lie, at least partially, but she told it well and the Magister was ignorant to the deception.
"Of course," he continued, undeterred, "but there must be times where you wish you could confide in someone."
Daenerys, bless her heart refused to make it easy on him. Instead of agreeing and moving on, she resisted his assumption. "I have friends here who are always available to listen when I need them."
Arya didn't miss the way Daenerys found her as she spoke about her friends. The guard replied with a tight, but real smile to show she got the message.
"I'm sure that's true, but I've learned that sometimes it's easier to speak openly with someone when they are far away. Especially if they are not involved in the matters being debated." He paused to sip his wine and then finished his thought. "That is why I value my friendship to Varys so highly, he is the person I rely on when I need to release my feelings or gain insight. Since he has no role in Pentosi politics, it's safe for me to tell Varys things I could never admit to the people around me."
"That's nice," Daenerys declared simply.
Even as she made him work for it, Illyrio's smile and calm delivery remained. He was very good at appearing non-threatening, a significant feat for a man as powerful as him. "I try to do the same for him, providing a friendly ear, counsel or in some instances gold, if the situation calls for it."
"I'm sure Lord Varys appreciates that."
"I'd be willing to fill the same position for you Princess," he proposed, finally getting to the point. "If you ever find yourself in need of a confidential, unbiased opinion, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I will gladly aid you in anyway I can."
Daenerys started with the good news. "That is very generous of you Magister and I thank you. I will keep that in mind going forward, but I must ask, what have I done to deserve such kindness?" He looked ready to respond but Daenerys wasn't finished. "Surely you have better things to occupy yourself with than listening to a third-born daughter of a distant King whine."
Illyrio was unbothered by the slight edge Daenerys's voice took on by the end. "As you are undoubtedly aware Varys and I have known one another for many years, and we are close friends. In the time I've known him, I have learned to trust his judgement on most things. He speaks highly of you, so much so that I purposefully rearranged my schedule to ensure my trip to Westeros fell during your nameday celebration."
Arya did what she could to memorize every word, wanting to analyze them later. Illyrio was more honest and upfront than she thought he'd be, but that didn't make his motives pure. Another thing stuck in her mind, Varys. She recalled her last exchange with the Spider and how he agreed to keep her secret in no small part because of Daenerys. She was tempted to assume every word out of Illyrio's mouth was self-serving, but her gut told her she could trust when he said that Varys spoke highly of Daenerys. Even if everything else was shit, she could believe that.
"I'm flattered," Daenerys retorted without much emotion, "but I'm afraid you may have wasted weeks and many, many coins."
"I didn't waste anything, I wished to meet you and I have. You were as delightful as advertised and I regret nothing."
Arya expected the compliment heavy statement would dull some of Daenerys's mistrust, at least outwardly. She thought the Princess would back off, to avoid being impolite to the Realm's newest business partner, but Daenerys wasn't ready to let Illyrio off the hook. "Why would you go to all that trouble, for me?"
He was silent for a few moments and if Arya was reading him right, he looked pleased that Daenerys had the courage to ask him that. "I just started what I hope will be a long and profitable business relationship with your family and the Crown, it's logical that I get to know the people involved and provide assistance where I can. Doing so is merely good business."
If he thought that would satisfy the Targaryen, he was wrong. The more he spoke, the more agitated Daenerys became. "If you truly wish to help my family, perhaps you should have visited for Rhaegar's nameday instead of mine. He is the heir and the one you'll be doing your business with, in the years to come."
"Your brother is an impressive man and I think he'll make a fine King, but coming from foreign lands where things are done differently I must confess I think more should go into choosing a successor than the order of birth."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing my dear," he insisted. "Forgive an old man his rambling. I just come from a place where a person is chosen to lead based less on his parentage and more on his abilities. In Pentos, if a majority thought you were the best potential ruler, it wouldn't matter that you're," he paused, "how did you put it? 'Third-born and a woman.'"
Where she was standing Arya fumed with barely contained rage. The Magister was telling Daenerys only half the story and misleading her in the process. Oberyn had told her about the Pentosi Prince and the Magisters who chose him. While it was true he wasn't always the eldest son from a single family, it was disingenuous to suggest he had any real power. He may rule but he couldn't spend a copper without the Magister's approval. Magisters who by the way, always came from the same families, going back centuries. The Prince may be selected by a majority but the Magisters who pulled his strings got their money and titles much the same way Aerys Targaryen did, and how Rhaegar would after him.
She was contemplating speaking up and reminding Daenerys of a pressing appointment that they couldn't be late for, but before she got the chance Daenerys was speaking. "That's fascinating," she told him. "I wish I had the time to spend the afternoon here with you, learning about the differences between my homeland and yours, but I'm afraid if we don't leave soon, I'll be late for my next meeting."
"Don't let me keep you. You've indulged a guest too long already," he remarked. "Please accept my thanks for the lovely company and the fine meal and think about what I said. Sometime in the future, if you have need of me, please send word. Varys knows how to reach me."
"It is I who should be thanking you Magister," she said, reverting back to the innocent Princess, "for your incredible gift and your time. I've learned much today and it's a shame you must return home, because I would welcome another meal and conversation like this one."
As they said goodbye Illyrio circled back to the beginning, promising to write when he had information about the dragon eggs. She thanked him profusely and sounded convincing.
The whole experience was an informative lesson for Arya. Politics was a world she'd never feel comfortable in, but she understood enough. She knew that in order to persevere one had to master certain skills, things like concealing how you feel, agreeing with ideas and statements you vehemently opposed and smiling when there was absolutely nothing to be happy about. Arya couldn't have done it, not convincingly, but Daenerys did.
Seeing her with Illyrio was a good reminder that long before the Targaryens went to Dorne, before Arya was assigned to protect the Princess, Daenerys had survived. She didn't need Arya or anyone else to save her, she was capable of taking care of herself.
R-C
"Fuck that was painful," Daenerys groaned once they were safely tucked away in her bedchamber.
"You handled him well," Arya replied.
She had her doubts. She tried to discover why he'd come without being too overt about it, but most of the time it felt as if he could see right through her. "Really?"
"Definitely," Arya said, putting her palm flat on the desk and leaning on it to get her mouth within range of Daenerys's. The kiss was soft and slow but did wonders for easing the tension and worry that had built up in Illyrio's company. "He's likely congratulating himself this very moment for manipulating you, thinking he's on his way to earning your trust."
"I'd never trust him," Daenerys declared. "I knew from the second Varys introduced us that he didn't come all this way to bring me a nameday gift, and I was right."
"He had business with your father," she noted, recalling what he'd said when Daenerys was peppering him with questions.
"I don't know the nature of their dealings, but will he really make enough money to pay for those dragon eggs and turn a profit?"
While Arya considered it, Daenerys did the same. Any business the Realm did was substantial. It was possible that whatever arrangement they'd come to, it would bring Illyrio enough money to compensate him for the millions he spent to acquire the dragon eggs. "Possibly, but for a man like that, I doubt it's about the gold."
What?! It was always about coins, wasn't it? "What else could it be?"
"Illyrio already has money, probably more than he could spend in two lifetimes, I'd be shocked if that still motivates him," Arya said, providing Daenerys with a whole new perspective.
"What do you think inspired all this? Why come all this way?"
The answer came without delay. "Power, most likely. I'd wager it's all about perception. He wants to be able to say he's in business with the King of the Seven Kingdoms, just as he wants to be able to say, he's close to the Dragon Princess."
Arya's words had the ring of truth and just thinking about it made Daenerys groan again. She was tired and it was still early. She wanted to ask what Arya thought of Illyrio's strange comments, the ones about that way Westeros chose its King but she feared if they started down that road, she'd spend the remainder of the day exchanging ideas on the subject. She was tempted to curl up on her bed with Arya and sleep until he was on his ship, but there were other things she had to do, even if she didn't have any formal appointments.
She kissed Arya, first because she could, and then because it worked miracles at making her forget about everything else. A few minutes with Arya and Illyrio's actions felt far less important. He didn't matter. He was just another arrogant, rich man, and she already had her fill of those. She had other things to focus on, like Arya. They still hadn't talked about what Rhaegar said about Arya's Aunt Lyanna. They definitely needed to do that, but not now.
She stole one last kiss and then she stood up, purposefully brushing Arya's arm with her breasts as she moved out and away from the desk. "Come on, I refuse to give Illyrio Mopatis any more of my day than he's already taken."
"Where would you like to go?"
"The library, maybe we'll actually get there this time," she joked.
"I like our chances, if we're quick," Arya added, playing along and bringing a smile to the Princess's face.
In the hallway Arya asked, "Did you not believe Illyrio when he said he would look for information about the eggs?"
She did in fact believe him, mainly because he clearly wanted something from her. She didn't need to know precisely what it was, to know he wasn't behaving selflessly. He'd deliver on his pledge to find documents about the eggs, if for no other reason than to ingratiate himself further to Daenerys. After the eggs, and the books, it'd be hard for her to deny a request if he came to her and asked for a favor. "If he can find me ancient texts, great, but I'm not going to wait around for Illyrio or anybody else to bring me the answers I want."
Arya grinned. "Imagine his face when you write to him and tell him you don't need his documents because you've already found what you were looking for."
It was a long shot to think she'd discover enough to make Illyrio's contributions unnecessary, but the idea alone made her laugh. Improbable or not, she'd enjoy writing that note and sending it to Pentos. She increased the speed of her strides, suddenly more eager than ever to get to the library and begin her hunt. With Arya, maybe they had a chance.
R-C
Her intentions were innocent. She may have been on Daenerys's bed, but it wasn't for that purpose. She only wanted to help her find the answers to her many questions. Arya was far from illiterate, and she was plenty intelligent, she just preferred to be moving. She didn't know how a book, even a good one could compete with the rush she felt swinging her sword. Normally being forced to read words written decades before her father's father was born would have gnawed on her patience but the truth was, Daenerys wasn't forcing her to do anything. She hadn't even asked. Arya simply picked up the top book on the pile and cracked the spine all on her own. She wanted to be the one to help Daenerys solve the mystery of her eggs. She could already imagine the bright smile, the vice-like hug and the searing kiss she'd get as a reward and that prompted her to keep going even after she feared she was going cross-eyed.
She sat on the edge of the bed opposite Daenerys with a book in her lap. She flipped through the pages, studying one author's recollections of a time long past. She wasn't reading exactly, just searching for the relevant words, 'dragon, eggs, hatch' and the like.
Daenerys was more comfortable, clearly settled in for the duration. She had kicked off her shoes and was laid out on her stomach, her feet up near the pillows. She had her chin in one hand and her other was busy turning pages. She hummed to herself quietly each time she learned something new.
Time lost its meaning. Despite her original ascertain that she was only doing this for Daenerys, the tale immortalized on the pages in front of her drew her in. When she realized the section of the book she was reviewing detailed a battle between dragons, Arya gave it her entire focus. With care she read every word to make certain nothing was missed. She tried to paint it in her mind, the two dragons fighting amongst themselves. One was larger and green while his opponent was a tan color that shifted to gold near the wings. The golden beast was allegedly smaller, but faster. She developed a new appreciation for the author as he made mention of details he couldn't know unless he was there. This was no mere scholar, he'd have to be more, if he'd been willing to get within a mile of two angry dragons.
Her thumb moved under the corner of the page she was finishing, preparing to turn it as soon as she'd reached the end of the final line. This wasn't the information Daenerys was looking for, but Arya couldn't stop reading. She had to know, which dragon won? With dragons did size rule the day or did other things matter more? With men size often wasn't the determining factor. It was possible to beat a bigger, stronger man if one was quick enough, smart enough, disciplined enough and skilled. Arya had done it, she was living proof.
So captivated by the story, she didn't feel the bed move or sense Daenerys's warmth inching closer to her. Arya's whole world consisted of two dead dragons, their strong, snapping jaws and the furious snarls that always proceeded the flames.
Before she reached the climax of the battle she was brought back to her own time, to a quiet bedchamber in the Red Keep and the wet heat of a mouth attaching itself to her neck. "Good book?" she murmured against Arya's flesh.
"Are… " Arya clamped her lips together to prevent a moan from escaping. She cursed Daenerys for converting her to a bumbling mess. How many times had she seen someone lose their voice or their wits when faced with a pretty girl and how many times had Arya rolled her eyes and swore that it would never happen to her? Daenerys was making a liar out of her and yet, with the sensation of her tongue skimming over her pulse, it was damn hard to care. "Shouldn't you… be reading?" she managed to say.
She subtly turned her head away, to give Daenerys more room to work. Even with her eyes pointed a different direction she could feel the smile on Daenerys's lips as she increased her efforts. "The," kiss "books," kiss "can," kiss "wait." At the end of her statement she punctuated it by sinking her teeth down into the side of Arya's throat. Pain and pleasure mixed together so thoroughly it was impossible to separate one from the other.
"Fuck!" she groaned as she surrendered to her lover. The book in her lap closed with a resounding thud and Arya tossed it in the general direction of the pillows.
Daenerys leaned back, resting on her heels as she knelt next to the younger woman. "I'm sorry," she said with absolutely no contrition. It wasn't in her eyes, in her tone, or on her face. "Did that hurt?"
The fire Arya saw in Daenerys reminded her there was more than one type of dragon. She could find out which beast lived to kill another day later, for the time being she had Daenerys. She tried to match the false innocence Daenerys used so perfectly when she responded. "What? Did you bite me?" She raised two fingers to the spot on her neck that was still burning and felt the indentations left by Daenerys's teeth. "I didn't feel a thing," she lied, "perhaps you should try again."
With a growl Arya's old direwolf would have envied, Daenerys threw herself back on Arya and reconnected her mouth to the sensitive skin she'd already abused. While she was busy Arya's thin fingers found the knot in the ribbon binding Daenerys's hair and released it. The ribbon she'd originally given Daenerys as a gift was balled up in one of her hands while the other curled around strands of silver. Daenerys bit her again, and no amount of training could hide Arya's reaction. She jumped when Daenerys set her mouth directly over the mark she already left. "Felt that one," she noted before she kissed her way to Arya's mouth.
Their lips collided with force and the ribbon she was holding was suddenly a burden she couldn't tolerate. Her left hand was already in Daenerys's hair, and her she had plans for her right if she could only get rid of the ribbon. She couldn't say what made her toss it rather than merely dropping it, but she did. For a few blissful seconds her hand roamed Daenerys's back, until the Princess leaned away, and Arya was met with a severe expression. "What was that?"
"A kiss," she retorted playfully. "Want another?"
She leaned in but was halted by a palm against the front of her armor. "What did you throw just then?"
After a glance toward the discarded item she replied. "Just the ribbon."
"Pick it up!" she demanded, using a tone she'd never tried on Arya before.
For a second time Arya tried to lean in and kiss her only to be stopped. "Seriously?" she verified in disbelief.
"That ribbon is important to me," she explained, "because you gave it to me. I don't want it on the floor."
She may have thought it was a meaningless strand of silk, one she only got to ensure her gift was more appealing, but it clearly meant more to Daenerys. As usual, it was hard to refuse her. It didn't take long for Arya to find what she was sent to retrieve. She returned to the bed and handed it over to the Princess with an apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
She took the ribbon and carefully set it onto the bedside table. Once that was done, she interrupted Arya with a kiss. The guard was having trouble keeping up. Any doubts she had about Daenerys's intentions disappeared when she asked, "Where were we?"
R-C
Having just finished the labor-intensive task of stripping Arya of her armor, Daenerys was eagerly awaiting what came next. After Illyrio and all the reading she felt entitled to a break. She could think of no one she'd rather spend it with, and nothing else she'd rather be doing. The softest touches could be the most exhilarating. A light grazing of Arya's nipple was enough to make it harden for her. She was about to go in for another taste when there was a knock at the door.
With wide eyes she looked down at the woman under her. "Tell me I'm imagining that," she begged shamelessly.
"I wish I could," she said with an undercurrent of amusement.
Personally, Daenerys didn't think there was much funny about their situation. It was like the Gods were punishing her, waiting until she was about to find a moment of happiness and then snatching it away. She had plans for them, plans she was very much looking forward to.
Arya gripped her hips with none of the forbidden promise she ached for. She tried to lift the Princess off of her, but Daenerys refused to go. She laid herself down across Arya's upper body and blatantly ignored all attempts to alter her position. "Daenerys," she chastised gently, "the door."
"Maybe they'll go away," she offered, wanting nothing more right then.
That dream died early as the room was filled with another round of hard knocks. When Arya tried to lift her again, Daenerys allowed it. "The Gods hate me," she whined as she scrubbed her hands over her face.
"Lie down," Arya directed as she quickly replaced her breastplate. "I'll tell whoever it is that you are resting."
It was cowardly to hide behind Arya like that, but she wanted to, nonetheless. Her hair was messed, her dress wrinkled, and her cheeks flushed. She was in no condition to be entertaining anyone. "Are you…"
"Go Daenerys," she insisted. "Under the covers. I'll take the message and then…"
Daenerys knew precisely what she wanted to happen after the interloper was gone. "Then you'll come join me in bed?" she tried.
"If you're lucky," Arya fired back, looking remarkably put together and relaxed. She didn't look like a woman who'd been about to have sex just moments ago. Daenerys was envious, acutely aware that the same could not be said for her.
By the time she was in bed, and Arya was at the door the mystery knocker had tried to call on them a third time. She cursed the plan that had her across the room and away from the door, unable to overhear who had come and why. She'd need to rely on Arya to pass along any and all relevant information.
"It's safe," Arya told her after the door was closed again.
She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side. "Who was it?"
"Aidan," Arya said on her way over. She went to meet her and noticed the scroll she was holding.
She thought of the sweet little boy in Tyrion's employ. "Is he alright?" Her stomach twisted as she thought of something bad happening to the parentless child.
"He's fine, just running another errand for the lazy dwarf," Arya quipped. She held up the scroll. "I'd wager it's known that you and Tyrion are friends. He was given this to pass along the next time he saw you."
"What is it?" Daenerys asked as she took it. It had clearly come from a raven, but who sent it? She rarely received correspondence that way. Usually the letters she exchanged were of little import so slower couriers were used.
"Tyrion apparently didn't want to wait, so he sent Aidan to stand outside your door."
A new wave of guilt hit her as she learned it was a little boy she wanted to ignore. "Is he okay?" she asked, even though Arya had already answered that particular inquiry.
"He's fine," she repeated. "I told him you were sleeping and that I'd deliver the scroll to you personally as soon as you woke."
"Do you know who it's from?"
Arya's lips curled slightly before she said, "Storm's End." The Musgoods. Missandei. The seal was already broken, likely by Tywin, but she didn't care. She unwound the scroll and found two pages.
She didn't recognize the handwriting on the first, so she skipped to the bottom and learned why. It was signed "Lady of Storm's End, Ashara Musgood."
She'd read what Lady Musgood had to say later. Her heart increased its speed when she saw Missandei's delicate, precise writing. Unlike the other document this one was written in High Valyrian.
Princess,
Lady Musgood was kind enough to allow me to include a note of my own with her reply. I hope these letters find you and find you well.
She was very flattered you chose to send your personal handmaiden to act as a courier and she's been generous and kind to us since we arrived. I think we can add Lady Musgood to the list of those won over by your charms, along with me, the Unsullied, the Tyrells, and of course Arya. How are things going with her? I trust you'll have much to tell me by the time I return.
We reached Storm's End without difficulty and will likely be on our way back by the time you receive this. Grey Worm and I are seeing many, many new and wonderful things, I can't wait to tell you about them. I will never be able to thank you for this gift you've given us. It surpassed even my most unrealistic dreams.
Until we are together again, take care of yourself and trust in Arya.
Your Friend,
Missandei of Naath.
She hadn't realized she was in danger of crying until a lone tear broke free and landed on the page she was reading, for the second time.
Arya saw it too. "Is something wrong? Is Missandei hurt?"
The intensity in Arya's expression, the way her hand reached for a sword she wasn't wearing,
it told Daenerys what she already knew - the two people who mattered most to her, cared for one another too. "She's fine," she said with a watery smile. "It sounds like she's having the time of her life."
Arya moved to take the scroll, and Daenerys almost denied her. Missandei mentioned Arya by name more than once and although the handmaiden knew about their relationship, she wasn't sure how she felt about Arya learning the two women discussed her. "Is that High Valyrian?" she asked, returning her arm to her side, no longer interested in reading Missandei's letter for herself.
The sudden petulant quality to Arya's voice was quite adorable. "Yes, it's Missandei's favorite language."
"Of course, it is," she remarked sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "Are you going to write her back?"
"No need, she says she's already on her way back," Daenerys explained, while checking the message to confirm it did in fact say that.
"A reply for Lady Musgood then?" Arya guessed.
She set the pages down on the corner of her desk and made a point not to look at the remaining thank you notes she still had to finish. She'd been making progress, usually in the evenings, but it would still take many more hours to be rid of them completely. "Mmhmm"
She would definitely write to Lady Musgood. Daenerys had liked her even before she knew about her connection to Arya. She knew the Stark's secret and kept her confidence. For that reason alone, Daenerys was in her debt.
She'd also need to find young Aidan and thank him for his delivery. She'd gather up a small purse of coins and pay him for services rendered, the next time she saw him.
All of that could wait, however. Arya needed her now, and Daenerys certainly needed Arya. She snatched her lover's hand and pulled her toward the bed. "I believe you promised to join me in bed."
Arya stopped walking after only a single step. "Actually, I said, 'if you were lucky,'" she clarified accurately.
She had little practice being seductive, but she tried her best. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and struggled to appear unaffected by Arya's presence. "Am I lucky?"
Although Arya smirked, Daenerys had a hard time deciding if her scheme was working. "I don't know," she countered, "are you?"
Okay, so that hadn't gone according to plan, but Daenerys Targaryen was no quitter. She released Arya's hand and moved to stand in front of her lover. "Well whether you join me or not, I'm going to lie down, I was quite comfortable while I was feigning sleep."
She wanted to glance backward and see if any of this was having the desired effect, but she couldn't, not without Arya catching her. She decided to try the boldest weapon in her armory. She reached behind her and began releasing the various bindings that held her form-fitting dress in place. When enough of them were undone the silk fell from her body in a rush, collecting at her feet. She stepped out and continued to the bed. "That's better, don't you think?"
She still didn't look, focusing on the blankets and making a show of adjusting the pillows. She could have done it without putting her body on display for Arya, but where would the fun be in that? It was exciting to know she was watching. Each second she waited for Arya to act felt longer and thick with tension. Nothing she experienced with Daario came close to this, and Arya hadn't even touched her yet.
"Are you trying to kill me?" she asked darkly, her words separated by heavy breathing through Arya's nose.
She used her hand to cover her mouth as if shocked, but what she was really doing was hiding her smile. "By the Gods no, if you were dead, who would keep me warm?"
She knew she'd won when she heard a curse immediately followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. Arya was coming to her, but it didn't stop Daenerys from making the most of the moment. "Take off that armor before you get here," she instructed, "I already went to the trouble of removing it once, it's your turn."
She was naked, in bed, anticipating Arya's arrival when she finally decided it was safe to admire the view. She wasn't disappointed. She already had her boots off and was making short work of the breastplate. As she set it on the floor between the desk and the bed, she caught Daenerys's eye and gave a respectful bow of her head. "More to your liking Princess?"
Rolling onto her side so she could ogle Arya shamelessly, she responded. "Don't stop now you're off to such a good start."
With a smirk she was desperately trying not to let surface Arya grabbed the scrap that had once been a shirt and peeled it over her head. Seeing Arya topless and watching her hands beginning on her bottom half, Daenerys answered a question from before. "Yes, I'm very lucky."
R-C
Although they hadn't gone to bed to sleep, Daenerys still dozed with her head on Arya's chest. The guard remained awake, lost in thought while her hand drew unseen pictures on the Targaryen's flawless skin. She'd been happy before, with Oberyn, Ellaria and the girls, on her trip to Essos, even in training after awhile, but lying there with Daenerys she couldn't recall feeling so at peace.
From the day the Mad King destroyed her family, there had always been a part of her that was waiting for someone to appear to finish the job. It wasn't an all-consuming, crippling fear, more like a constant companion that didn't have much to say. It remained with her always, doing just enough to ensure she didn't' forget it was there. Only now, in the same castle as the King, did she realize the extent of the trauma he inflicted. All those years in Dorne, she'd been happy, she smiled, she laughed, but she never fully relaxed, never felt safe. She hadn't known she was missing it, until it was shown to her by the daughter of the man who scarred her.
Daenerys knew she was Arya Stark and forgave her the lies she told. She knew and she not only refused to reveal the truth, she welcomed the traitor's daughter into her life and her bed. She was undeserving of everything she had. Her eyes travelled to the line of discarded items she dropped on her way to the bed. They were all laid out like a map to be followed, leading to her current location. She spotted the Sun of the Martell sigil and thought of home. Sunspear was the closest thing she had to a home now, so why was she no longer in a hurry to get back there? The job she always wanted was waiting, she should be counting the days until this fucking wedding so she could forget about the Targaryens and their nonsense and finally take the place she'd earned. She knew that was how she was supposed to feel, she even tried to summon the feelings, but they wouldn't come.
Deep inside her something broke. Like ice on a frozen lake a tiny hairline crack spread quickly, reaching out in all directions until the once solid mass was too fractured to stay together, too weak to hold back what was buried underneath. What was waiting for Arya in the dark, cold recesses of her heart was a truth she'd been actively trying not to acknowledge for weeks. She didn't want to go back to Dorne. Rather than invoking panic, she felt relief. The admission had only taken place in her head, but a weight had been lifted all the same. She took a deep, cleansing breath. She didn't want to go back to Dorne but what choice did she have? The King would send her back and it wasn't as if she could explain to him rationally why she wanted to stay. "I'd like to continue serving as Daenerys's guard, because I'm madly in love with her, so much so that I'm willing to overlook the fact that you murdered most of my kin, and that your son raped my aunt and then held her captive long enough to birth him a son." She scoffed in the dark. An admission like that would earn her nothing more than an appointment with his pyromancer.
She looked down at the sleeping Princess and couldn't keep the smile off her face. She loved her. She couldn't imagine saying the words out loud to anyone, including Daenerys, but she meant them. Confessing to Daenerys would be cruel. If she felt the same way, it would make Arya leaving harder, and if she didn't, it would ensure their final days together were strained and awkward. She didn't need Daenerys to know, or reciprocate, Arya knew and that was plenty. She'd love Daenerys for as long as she could, whether she was in King's Landing, Dorne or any place in between.
Content with her new discoveries she pressed her lips into the top of Daenerys's head gently, whispering a prayer to the Old Gods, thanking them for all she had.
R-C
Author's Note: Another chapter. The next one is slightly more exciting, I promise. It includes a visit to the throne room, lots of Tyrion and Daenerys learning Jorah was behind Arya's near execution.
See you then,
Russell Craig