They'd write books about her someday and in those pages, they'd want to know – how long did it take to plot the overthrow of the King? The answer was three months and a handful of days. Less than one hundred all told, but to Daenerys they were undoubtedly the longest of her life. She felt like she hadn't been able to stop and take a breath since she was summoned to the throne room to learn of Ilyn Payne's untimely death.
All her life she wanted to be involved, to have meetings for hours everyday and now she finally received her wish. Since it needed to be done in secret, they met at night, frequently in Daenerys's chambers, under the guise of sharing a drink together as friends. Few questioned the strange collection of nobles, servants and slaves but none cared enough to spend the necessary energy to actually solve the mystery.
Daenerys had never been busier. At Tyrion's insistence she acted as if nothing had changed. That meant she still took meetings for the Master of the Coin, still gave tours and had tea with visiting noblewomen and even managed to spend a few hours at the orphanage, checking on the children. To anyone looking she was the same Princess she'd been before Highgarden, she looked the same, she behaved the same and yet inside she felt like an entirely different woman. A storm was brewing. Her true occupation was to replace her father and she was committed.
In the early days after she agreed to Oberyn's ridiculous proposal, it had been her anger that kept her going. Each morning when she woke up in Arya's arms, it was forgivable to allow herself to think the world was perfect. For a few blissful seconds she didn't dwell on the day looming in front of her, choosing instead to just savor her time with the most important person in her life.
Her wounds healed slowly, and Daenerys was strangely captivated by the layers of angry gashes that were being held together by thread. She got caught staring more than once. Each time she thought she couldn't continue on the course she charted, she remembered Arya's injuries, the pain she saw on her lover's face when she exerted herself or stretched in a particular direction. Arya's suffering was enough to keep her moving toward the Iron Throne. She was doing this for Arya, Arya and the millions of others who endured hardships under her father's rule. As an added benefit the knowledge that she could keep Arya with her when she was Queen did wonders for her morale. Each time her mind wandered to the day Oberyn's ship would arrive and she'd need to go, Daenerys reminded herself that as Queen she could write the laws and could decide the fates of all those around her, including Arya.
The first order of business in her scheme was to send letters. Ravens flew in secret from one side of the Realm to the other. Although they were written in Daenerys's hand and signed with her name, they were sent by either Tyrion or Varys. If Daenerys suddenly went to the rookery and began sending missives to nearly every kingdom in Westeros, people would notice. If the Spymaster or the Master of the Coin did so, it wouldn't seem suspicious to anyone. They were constantly sending and receiving correspondence of all kinds.
She spent hours drafting the letters, choosing the right words, doing her best to frame the argument in a way that would be persuasive to the men and women reading it. Arya and Missandei were both invaluable, listening intently and allowing the Princess to test out her ideas on them first before she transferred them to the page.
Highgarden was the easiest note to draft, since she already knew she had the support of the Tyrells. Still, she took care not to upset her one and only alliance.
When it came time for the letters to Riverrun and the Vale, Daenerys still wrote them. She and Arya spoke about it and agreed, it was important that they hear from the Princess directly, explaining her reasons and asking for support. It would be equally important for them to read the attached page from Arya, which detailed not only that both Stark daughters were alive after all these years, but that Daenerys had their allegiances as well. She hesitated invoking Sansa's name since the elder sibling hadn't overtly agreed yet, but Arya insisted, saying as soon as she learned what they were planning, she'd be with them.
With three of Varys's couriers carrying those letters to their destinations Daenerys and Arya went to a map and began selecting other regions that might be ripe for rebellion. Daenerys's first instinct was to appeal to the Northmen. If Arya's presence at her side could rally her mother's family and her aunt's, then surely it would propel the Northerners into action. Arya resisted the idea gently but in no uncertain terms. "We can't. No Northern house will fight for a Southerner, not even against your father."
Daenerys had heard tales of Robert's war all her life, she knew the Northmen Ned Stark rallied were some of the best fighters opposite her brother at the Trident, so she was reluctant to let the largest kingdom go uninvolved in this dispute. "Are you sure?" she checked, "They'd fight for me if they knew you did, wouldn't they?"
Arya gave her a sad smile before she took her hand and said, "No, they wouldn't. House Bolton rules the North now. Even if other houses hated what happened to us and loved my father, they'd never align themselves with you. It just wouldn't happen. Little matters more than loyalty in the North and for better or worse every other Northern family is sworn to the Boltons."
Daenerys relented. "Not the North then."
"Not the North," Arya confirmed, "but the good news is they won't fight for your father either. Even if he called upon them, which is unlikely, it would take them months to reach us. Unless we're exposed, he won't have time to send for them."
Daenerys considered the words. "That's something, I suppose."
"It is. Now who else were you thinking of writing to?"
A week in, Daenerys felt like she was hitting her stride. After bombarding her friends with questions about a particular phrase or word choice she was finally confident in her instincts. Once she settled on the proper words, writing repeated requests for assistance wasn't especially taxing. It gave her plenty of time to think. She started with Arya's father and brother. There hadn't been time to really talk about it, they'd been distracted by other things, but she'd already made up her mind. She'd do anything it took to bring the surviving Starks back together. If that had to happen at Castle Black, they'd go North, if it could be done at another site, she'd make the arrangements. Her quest to replace her father was righteous, but Daenerys would give it up right now, if she could somehow get Arya to her father faster. The King would never allow her to travel to the Wall, not even under the guise of escorting Aemon, especially if Ned Stark was actually in power there. Unless she and Arya ran away, her becoming Queen would be the only way she could get the necessary freedom for a reunion of Wolves. After she'd obsessed over Arya and her family for far too long, she signed her name at the bottom of the page and began a letter to the Greyjoys.
Her initial strategy was to follow the map Arya gave her for the North, asking for nothing more than indifference. The Iron Islands were embroiled in their own battles, so Daenerys hoped they'd choose to fight for their home rather than involving themselves in a disagreement between a father and daughter many miles away.
Although a sound plan, midway through, Daenerys began to think they, that she could aim higher. That by settling for an arrangement where they didn't use the Iron Islanders more directly, they were underutilizing a valuable asset. The Ironborn's fighting force was comprised of thousands of ships, their crews and their captains. No one knew the waters of Westeros better than they did. If she pledged aid to Balon and his children, first as Princess and then as a potential Queen, it might be enough to get her a few ships. She wouldn't need many, just a handful would do really. She'd position them around the capital, to be seen and let people's imaginations run wild. If she had the Iron Fleet, she effectively had control over every significant waterway in the Realm, not only those around King's Landing. If a house resisted Daenerys's rule, her Iron Island allies could cut off all trade to that region by sea. Once that was done, soldiers on the road would accomplish the same thing, forcing a siege and bringing them to the negotiating table. She was getting ahead of herself, but the possibilities were endless. She tossed the half completed scroll into a nearby fire and started again from the beginning.
She thought of the Spider while drafting a letter to the Stormlands. She felt better than she did when she didn't know why he'd send bandits after her, but just barely. She still didn't know if she should trust him. That was when she decided to take a page out of the Spider's book. He claimed he tested her to see if she was worthy to lead. Perhaps it was time to test him somehow, to see if his loyalty and commitment were genuine.
It didn't take long to come up with a suitable strategy. She'd write another letter to Highgarden and this time send it by raven, instead of using one of Varys's couriers. If Olenna reported that she received both, Daenerys would know Varys was sincere when he said he wanted to help her take the throne. If she received one letter or neither she'd know Varys was actively working against her, despite his outward signs of support. Highgarden was the ideal choice to implement such a scheme, not only because of the strong relationship between Daenerys and the Tyrells, but also because of the Reach's close proximity. It wouldn't take long for a raven to arrive, meaning Daenerys wouldn't have to stew in her anxiety, wondering whose side Varys was truly on.
Writing to the Freys was hard, because she didn't know any of them very well. She didn't have a personal relationship to build upon. Heeding the advice of those she trusted, she played to his ego and greed. She said she was looking for an ally in the region and he was her first choice. She led with the positives, telling him that under her reign he would see a sharp increase in the business he conducted with the Crown. She also wanted to send him a "gift" to entice him further, but she worried someone would notice if Tyrion inexplicably dispatched a large sum of gold to Walder Frey without cause. She finished the letter by stating very clearly that everything would be up for negotiation if and when Daenerys was Queen. She hoped it would be enough.
Crawling into bed next to her lover Daenerys had a contented smile on her face. It had been a good day and she got a lot accomplished. As Arya wrapped an arm around her waist Daenerys pressed down on it, urging her to hold a little tighter. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly in the dark. Although it had been a busy day, she'd happily listen if Arya wanted to discuss it, but if she was inclined to put it off until tomorrow and just sleep, Daenerys wouldn't fault her.
Arya didn't need to inquire about what she meant. It was the issue they'd been dancing around for days while other matters took priority. Now that the letters were sent all they could do was wait. They had the time to talk, for as long as Arya wanted or needed to. It didn't take her long to get them started. "I just can't believe they're alive. You asked me before, you thought maybe Rhaegar had been lied to, too. You were right, I should have considered it. I just didn't think it was possible. I mean, if he wanted to torture my father by forcing him to live after losing everything, I could see that, I just thought his thirst for blood would win out eventually and he'd finish what he started." She stopped breathing, a distinction Daenerys could both hear and feel with her head resting against Arya's chest. "I could understand wanting to hurt him, but Bran…" she trailed off.
"He's alive," Daenerys said forcefully, focusing on the only good news they had.
"I don't know how. I mean, truly I have no idea. He was just a boy and what they did to him." She stopped short of describing it again, a mercy Daenerys was incredibly grateful for. "When they called for me, I heard him whimpering and crying, but by the time your father sent me to Sunspear, he'd stopped. I assumed it could only mean he was dead." She hesitated. "I looked over when I said goodbye to my father, when he gave me the pin, I saw his legs all bloodied and broken, and Gods forgive me I prayed that they let him die. I wished my own brother dead. How sick is…"
Daenerys rolled in Arya's direction. With one hand on each cheek she held her face tightly. "You did not wish your brother dead. You wanted mercy and peace for a boy who had already suffered too much. There is nothing shameful about that. You were being a good sister."
"He's so much stronger than me, than any of us, to survive that, and to keep going after."
Daenerys smiled, pleased Arya was no longer blaming herself. "I'm sure it helped that he had your father there."
Unexpectedly Arya smiled back. "You're right. I'm glad they had each other. It's better than being alone."
Daenerys maintained her hold on Arya's face. What she had to say next was just as important as her last message. "When you told me about Sansa, I promised you that I would do everything in my power to ensure you got to see her again. I'm making that same vow now. No matter what, I will find a way for you to see your family again."
"You can't," Arya resisted. "Aerys would never let you visit the Wall and Rhaegar would oppose it every step of the way."
She wasn't wrong. It would be difficult while Daenerys still answered to her father, Tywin and Rhaegar but that wouldn't always be so. "It may need to wait until after…"
"Other things are more important. I know that. It's enough just knowing they're alive."
Although she sounded like she meant it, Daenerys refused to let the matter drop. "It is enough," she concurred, "for now, but when things are finished in the capital, when all this business with my father is done, we will go North."
"You don't have to do that," she tried.
"I want to," she clarified, punctuating her point with a kiss. "I've always wanted to travel to the North. Perhaps we could go under the guise of visiting Aemon."
Arya smiled indulgently. "Daenerys, if you are Queen, you can't just leave for weeks to visit the Night's Watch."
Again, she was right. "True, maybe I'll need to respectfully ask the Lord Commander come here?"
"Daenerys…"
"Arya, you deserve to see them. I want you to see them. If it were up to me, we'd leave tomorrow and ride as fast as our horses could carry us, but it isn't, not yet." She paused and debated whether or not she was brave enough to admit the other reason she wanted to meet Ned Stark. "Your family is owed an apology on behalf of the Realm and the Targaryens and if he is willing to hear me out, I'd like to provide it."
She knew Arya wouldn't approve of that idea, but Daenerys was adamant. It wasn't only the right thing to do, it was a necessity if she was going to step into her father's shoes and replace him. She'd need to start making amends for all the wrongs he'd committed, and she couldn't think of a better place to start than with Arya's family.
R-C
Waiting for the replies to her first batch of letters was painstaking. Daenerys did what she could to keep busy. One of her favorite pastimes was reading. She always read from the same book and specifically, from the same passage. She knew the words by heart at this point, but she went through the motions again and again anyway, hoping to discover some hidden truth the author left behind just for her.
That's what she was doing while Arya was getting some of her stitches removed in Grand Master Pycelle's office, and Missandei was occupied tending to yesterdays dirty laundry.
A knock at the door rarely brought good news, most people she wanted to see would just walk right in, but beggars couldn't complain. Whoever was there and whatever their reason, it should be enough to keep Daenerys's mind off the letters she sent for a few minutes. She closed the book and got up from the bed.
Oberyn Martell greeted her with a charming smile. It made her wonder if Arya learned it from him, or if the two friends mastered the expression separately. "Sorry to interrupt your afternoon Princess."
She stepped back and waved him in. "Nonsense. You are welcome here anytime. Although if you were hoping to see Arya, she's with the Maester."
"I know. I came to see with you. It's a personal request, so I had hoped you'd grant me a private moment."
She didn't know what he intended to ask for, but Oberyn was a good man, and a friend. His bond with Arya aside, he rid the world of Ilyn Payne and quenched Daenerys's need for vengeance. She'd help him if she could. "Of course. Please, sit."
They sat at the table and she waited as calmly as she could for him to begin. He didn't prolong her wonder needlessly. "I didn't want to mention this in front of the others, because as I say, it is a personal favor, one I'd be in your debt if you saw fit to grant."
She would be lying if she said she wasn't beyond curious. "Go on, you have my attention."
"it is about Eliza," he said. "She is still pledged to your brother."
"I know," Daenerys confirmed.
"If we're successful, would you require her to follow through on the marriage your father arranged?"
Truthfully, she hadn't thought much about Viserys since she began plotting. The distance made it easier to overlook him, but perhaps that was an error. She had angered him when she forced him away, he wouldn't forgive nor forget. If she rallied even a fraction of the allies she was seeking, she'd have more than enough men to combat Viserys's Dragonstone garrison. That said, it did leave Eliza Martell in an unfortunate situation. "Absolutely not," Daenerys responded emphatically. "Under my rule no woman will be forced into an unwanted marriage. If she doesn't want to marry Viserys…"
"She doesn't!" Oberyn supplied.
Daenerys nodded in understanding. She wouldn't want to marry Viserys either. "Very well then, when our business in the capital is concluded, I will permit you to take her back to Sunspear when you go."
Oberyn bowed his head. "Much appreciated Princess. Truly. This will make it easier to sleep at night, knowing I won't be leaving Eliza here when I depart."
"Just tell me what you need, and you shall have it," she decreed.
"Your blessing is plenty," he assured her. "If your brother resists, I trust my men will be more than capable of combating his troops and the man himself is of no consequence to me." It was quiet for a few long moments before he asked, "If I may, what do you intend to do with the Prince?"
"Viserys?" she clarified.
Oberyn nodded. "My time with your brother was brief but I learned much. He does not strike me as the kind of man who will graciously accept being passed over and by his sister, no less."
She pondered Oberyn's point. Viserys would be livid when he found out what she'd done. He'd eventually attempt to replace her – the only question was when. Would he do it as soon as he heard their father was no longer King or would he do as she did and amass allies before striking? She didn't know, but she was relying on the fact that from King's Landing and the Red Keep she could repel any offensive attempted by her vengeful kin.
Oberyn interrupted her thoughts. "I would be willing to remove him from power if it pleased you."
What he was offering was obvious and Daenerys was sorely tempted to accept it. Viserys would be a thorn in her side for as long as they both drew air. He'd stand in her way at every turn out of spite and worst of all, he'd be a danger to all the people Daenerys held dear. Her brother knew her well, he knew the best way to hurt her was to threaten those she cared about. Likewise, Daenerys also knew that once her father was no longer King, she'd lose the leverage that sent him scurrying to Dragonstone in the first place. The threat that she might execute him was a lot less frightening, even if she meant it.
In the end though Viserys was her problem to solve, not Oberyn's. She'd need to decide what to do with him and she'd need to live with the consequences afterward. "I'll think about it," she said, since the Prince was still waiting for some sort of reply.
He ducked his head again. "I am at your service should you need me, Princess."
Neither spoke as she walked him to the exit, but the silence was neither strained or awkward. She was reaching for the doorknob when he said, almost casually, "Shame about Ser Payne, wasn't it?"
Daenerys turned so abruptly her vision blurred. "What happened?" she asked carefully.
"The Grand Maester says it was brain fever," he reminded her calmly. She studied his face and he gave nothing away, no hint that he was responsible, no barely contained happiness that the prick was dead, nothing.
"What do you say?"
"I say whatever happened, he had it coming."
Daenerys could certainly agree with that. She should have left it there, but a perverse question gnawed at her. "Do you think it hurt?" she inquired, posing it like a question to continue this hypothetical conversation they were having.
Oberyn shook his head, and Daenerys thought that was her answer, but then he went on. "I think the horrible Ser Payne suffered more agony in his final day than he did during the whole of his miserable life combined."
A sick smile spread across her lips. She didn't fight it, she just let it come. He deserved every second of it. Now that he was dead, maybe she could change Arya's bandages and see the damage and not be overwhelmed with murderous rage. "Thank you, Prince, for everything."
He gave nothing more than a smile until he was through the doorway and out into the hall. "Likewise, Princess, we'll talk again soon. We have a lot more work to do, you and I."
R-C
Receiving confirmation that Lady Olenna got not one, but two letters removed a massive weight from Daenerys's chest. She still had worries, buckets full of them, but it was easier to breathe, easier to think, easier to do other things once she had tangible proof Varys hadn't lied about his desire to aid her.
Satisfied, she summoned Varys and requested that he prepare a shipment for the Twins. Illyrio had gifted her with a large sum of gold and she wanted to spend some of it purchasing the allegiance of one of the greediest men in the Seven Kingdoms. All those who aligned with her were risking a lot, but everyone had their reasons, be it revenge, or to better their respective homes. Frey was no different, what separated him was his willingness to assign a price to his loyalty. Daenerys could work with that. If gold moved his troops to her side, she'd gladly pay.
With little else to do they fell back into their old routines. Daenerys continued to take meetings for Tyrion, Arya served as her guard. It was an unspoken agreement between the lovers that Daenerys wouldn't require anything too strenuous of her. This allowed Arya to be her guard without having to admit she wasn't yet fully recovered. She was improving, however. Most of the stitches had come out, only the widest gash required thread to stay together. Since watching Arya was a favorite hobby of hers, she was able to say with certainty that she was in less pain. She hadn't taken any of Oberyn's tonics in days and though she was still restless and fitful when she slept, during the daylight hours it was largely how it had been before that disastrous visit to the throne room.
Day or night, public or private, Arya and Daenerys spent as much time as they could together. They knew one way or another change was coming and victory was far from a sure thing. If they didn't get the necessary support they needed, Daenerys wouldn't be able to move against her father and Rhaegar would order Arya back to Sunspear. If they were discovered before they were ready to act, they'd be hauled before the King, accused and likely executed. Neither woman said it, but both knew, the only scenario where they were permitted to remain together, happy and healthy was the one where every piece of their puzzle fit together perfectly. Daenerys prayed for exactly that each and every night before she fell asleep in Arya's embrace.
She knew it would take time. She was asking a lot of her potential allies. Even the ones she was confident would join her, would need time to prepare things. To avoid a massacre and excessive deaths on both sides they would need to invade the capital with enough troops that those fighting for her father would see defeat was inevitable and surrender. Given the size of the Kingsguard, the Castleguard, and the City Watch, the warriors among her advisors estimated she'd need an army of at least one hundred thousand men to take the capital safely. Privately, Arya urged her toward a number nearly twice as large. Either was more than any one kingdom could provide and so Daenerys had to no choice but to hope her letters were compelling.
Intellectually she knew it wasn't yet time to panic. Most, if not all of her letters had probably reached their destinations by now, but it wasn't surprising that she'd yet to receive replies. She knew the Tyrells were marching and the Martells were on their way by sea, but they alone wouldn't be enough. The only saving grace she could find as the days piled one on top of the next was that she hadn't been ordered to the throne room, suggesting that no one betrayed her to her father.
She hadn't been prepared for the dreams. Since Arya came into her life, and since they began sharing a bed, Daenerys's dreams had been overwhelming pleasant, with a select few being so good that she didn't ever want to wake up. After her letters were sent however, that began to change. Instead of dreaming about a future with Arya, and the life they'd have she was plagued by nightmares about all her possible failures. Every night it was a different house, a different kingdom, a different family. She'd be a fly on the wall of their castle when they received her letter asking for aid. Trapped there, she'd have to listen and watch as the Lords and Ladies belittled her, mocked her and taunted her. Whether it was the Tullys of Riverrun saying they'd never side with a Targaryen, or the Ironborn declaring that Daenerys was just a girl playing Dragon, they universally rejected her proposals. She woke each morning feeling sick. She knew it wasn't real, but the dreams made use of some deeply held beliefs she had about her own low self-worth. It made her days longer and the nights agony.
Arya knew what was wrong, even if the Princess never admitted it out loud. Whether it was the middle of the night or daybreak Arya was always there when Daenerys jolted awake from a bad dream. Sometimes she'd hold her and whisper about the depths of her love for the Princess, other times Arya would kiss her hard to help her forget. Although she didn't approve of the nightmares, it was hard to argue with the results. She lost count of the number of times Arya used sex to strengthen her in her weakest moments, to remind her of what was most important and what was real.
R-C
Arya was at another appointment with the Maesters and that provided Daenerys and Missandei the chance to speak privately over tea. Grey Worm was guarding the door, ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed.
"I need to ask a favor of you, my friend," Daenerys said, midway through her first cup.
Setting her drink down carefully, Missandei gave the Targaryen her full attention. "Anything, you need only ask."
Daenerys treaded carefully. "I told you of our meeting with the Spider?" Missandei nodded, so Daenerys proceeded. "He told us that he favors me as the Realm's next ruler and that I passed his ridiculous test on the road from Highgarden, but that wasn't all he had to say."
"It wasn't?"
Things happened quickly that day. One moment she was confronting Varys, addressing all their grievances, dividing the focus fairly evenly between the past and the future and then suddenly they were in the throne room. Since then, Daenerys and her friends had been busy whether they were making preparations or merely acting as if nothing had changed. Today was no exception. There were no fewer than five other things she could be doing or should be doing, but the Princess and potential Queen deemed this the most pressing of the lot. "Varys was there on the day my father brought Ned Stark and his family before the throne." She shuddered and tried not to think about what happened when they faced the King. "He was there when Arya…"
Realizing that the Targaryen needed help, Missandei gave her a nudge. "What did Lord Varys say?"
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "He claims Ned Stark and one of his son's survived."
"Is that possible? Was the boy fostered too?"
"He was gravely injured, not unlike Rhaegar," she explained, "my father had them sent to the Night's Watch."
As expected, Missandei started with the good news. "Arya's father and brother are alive?! I'm so happy for her, and so soon after seeing her sister too."
"We think so," Daenerys summarized. "I offered to let Arya go, so she could find out for certain, but she doesn't want to leave."
Missandei smiled indulgently, reaching past the tea pot to take Daenerys's hand. "Nor would you in her place," she noted.
Although she hadn't thought about what she'd do if their situations were reversed, Missandei's words rang true. "You're right," she acknowledged, "I just feel so selfish keeping her away from her family, and here of all places."
"Arya is capable of choosing for herself. Do you think she stays out of obligation?"
"No," Daenerys responded immediately. She knew why Arya stayed – it was love. "Is it not wrong to keep her all to myself? I'd hate losing her, but if it's best for her, I would."
"It would be wrong," Missandei opined, "to not give her the choice, to make her feel guilty for wanting to see her family, did you do that?"
Daenerys was appalled by the implication. "Of course not. I told her she could go, she said she'd rather wait."
"You gave her the choice," Missandei stated wisely, "believe me, that is what matters most." While Daenerys was still comprehending the profound words of her handmaiden, Missandei steered them back to the beginning. "You had need of me," she reminded the royal gently.
"I want to reach out to Arya's father," she confessed, but only after peeking at the door to make sure it remained closed. "If Varys was telling the truth he's Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"Do you," she paused but only briefly, "do you wish for Grey Worm and I to deliver another letter?"
Although touched her friend would be willing to travel all the way to the Wall for her, she hoped it would not come to that. Messages going to Castle Black were rarely reviewed or scrutinized. "No, a courier should be sufficient this time."
Missandei was both relieved and confused by the response. "How can I help?"
"I need to think of a reason to write the Lord Commander," she explained. "Whatever it is, it would need to be important enough to be brought to his attention."
The former translator thought about the problem for more than a minute before asking, "Does this Night's Watch need anything?"
"They need everything," Daenerys replied honestly, "they take recruits, supplies, gold, or anything else anyone is willing to donate, they are understaffed and poorly funded."
Daenerys could only guess how strange all of this was to the woman from Naath. The Night's Watch was a unique order and made up of a wide range of men from all over the Seven Kingdoms. They ranged from prisoners to noblemen's sons. In the time that Missandei had been in King's Landing, she heard about the Wall plenty, usually while listening to Aemon and his aunt speak, but her knowledge didn't go far beyond the basic.
"Why not send a donation?" Missandei suggested. "If they are in need as you say, then they'll surely welcome it."
Daenerys had already thought of that, and unfortunately it wouldn't suffice. "King's Landing already sends gold and supplies regularly, sending a few more coins wouldn't get the attention of Arya's father."
"Could you not request your letter be passed to him?"
If only it were that easy. "Although I could, it would be a letter from a Targaryen, he'd have no reason to believe a word I say."
Missandei's smile dimmed as she realized the crux of the issue. "Would a large donation get his notice?"
"I'm sure it would, but I doubt Tyrion could get me enough…"
"Tyrion isn't your only wealthy friend Princess," Missandei reminded her. "The Magister left Varys with a large sum of gold to assist you, perhaps you could dedicate a portion of that money for this."
Moments like this erased all doubt about how lucky she was. Since allocating a portion of the money for the Freys Daenerys hadn't thought much about Illyrio's contribution to their scheme. She and her allies didn't want for gold, so it rarely came up. Perhaps it was time to see if the fat man from Pentos was more than just hot air. Before she could get too excited, a flaw presented itself. "A sizeable donation would get noticed and my letter would probably find its way to his desk but once he see's who wrote it, he'd likely toss it in the nearest fire."
"What if he didn't know it was from you?"
"What?" That didn't make any sense. Daenerys's plan was to invite Lord Stark and his son to the capital. Given the time it would take Bran to travel and the distance they'd have to cover, Daenerys hoped all her affairs in the Red Keep would be resolved by the time Arya's family arrived, with no one left to stand in the way of the Stark family reunion. How could she invite Ned to the capital without telling him who she was or why she wanted him to visit? Why would he come, no matter how much money she gave? "Missandei I wanted to tell him about Arya and Sansa."
"You still can," the handmaiden clarified, "or at least I could."
"You?"
She gave a smile to go along with her justification. "I'll write a letter, claiming to be in the service of a Lady who is presently in King's Landing. I'll explain I was tasked with providing a donation, although the house wishes to remain anonyms."
She tried to put the pieces together, to connect everything but she just couldn't see how that would help. "That's kind of you, but…"
"I'll address it to the Lord Commander directly," Missandei continued, "and say that we are willing to donate more, he need only tell us what he and his men require."
Slowly, she was beginning to see the logic in Missandei's idea. "He'll write back," she realized. "They get so very few donations he couldn't ignore such an offer."
Missandei took it one step further. "When he writes back, he'll sign the bottom, and you can confirm if it is Arya's father."
That was clever. Daenerys was already planning her next step along the path. How could they convince the Lord Commander to travel? On her feet so suddenly, she nearly upset her forgotten tea. She rushed to the desk and began gathering up the necessary items. If they were going to do this, there was no time like the present. As an added benefit by keeping the details from Arya, she avoided hurting the woman she loved in the event no reply ever came. If they failed, the hurt wouldn't extend past the Princess and her handmaiden. Arya would never need to know. If it worked though, it would be everyone's success.
Missandei, knowing what Daenerys wanted, cleared away the dishes and made room to work. "Should I mention Arya in this letter or wait to see if he responds?"
Neither was without danger. If she pushed too far, too fast, she could expose herself and be revealed as the true author. If she didn't entice Ned Stark enough, he might choose to end their correspondence before they got to the matters she actually wanted to discuss. Arya was worth the risk. "In your letter," she instructed as Missandei got started, "mention that recent business has taken you to both Sunspear and Highgarden. Ask if he and the men on the Wall would be interested in news from those kingdoms."
R-C
When the letters began to arrive, Daenerys felt like it was her nameday all over again, except this time she was getting what she wanted. The Stormlands, the Riverlands, the Vale were all sending soldiers and emissaries. The latter two included separate and heartfelt messages to Arya, the kin they thought lost forever. The Freys wouldn't commit until proper negotiations could be held and a more advantageous bargain reached, but as a show of good faith, probably in direct response to the gold she sent, Lord Frey was sending two thousand men to add to Daenerys's army along with a team of negotiators. It wasn't much, but it was better than having Walder Frey and the vital passage he controlled under her father's thumb. According to Oberyn the Dornish ships were taking needless circles around the bay to avoid making port, and the Tyrell troops were expected any day. Even the Ironborn were willing to support her. As expected, they could offer little in the way of manpower, but Yara Greyjoy would lead a total of ten ships to the capital to make the allegiance of the Iron Islanders clear. In return she asked that once Daenerys held the throne some of the Dragon Queen's forces return with her to Pyke and help Balon and his kin stomp out the rebellion taking root there. It was a deal Daenerys would gladly make a thousand times, and she did so quickly and in writing.
Days after the raven from Pyke, Daenerys was still basking in the success of her project. She'd chosen her allies with care, but she rarely allowed herself to think everyone would agree. As a general rule, she wasn't especially lucky and that meant she was used to disappointment. It would take some getting used to if things were going to begin turning in her favor.
It was during a meeting with her co-conspirators that Daenerys recalled the work was far from done. They still had much to do, and a lot of it was logistical. Although Varys was able to confirm through his spies that Walder Frey was happy with his 'gift' they had bigger concerns than keeping one nobleman happy – mainly what to do with the tens of thousands of soldiers who would soon be encroaching on the Crownlands. The movement of the Tyrell army could be overlooked, but when they were joined by a handful of others it would look horribly conspicuous and all too much like the invasion it was. Daenerys didn't have any answers. How could she justify soldiers from multiple houses suddenly marching toward the Red Keep? Her father was already prone to assuming traitors in every kingdom and assassins in every shadow. The arrivals of Daenerys's forces would only worsen his paranoia. So far, Varys had been successful in minimizing things to Aerys and Tywin but soon it would be impossible to hide.
Not surprisingly it was the smartest among them who thought of a solution. "What if we say it's a tournament?" Missandei suggested. "It would give a reason for everyone to be here."
"Tournaments are usually arranged by the Lords in a given area, in this case, the King and his Small Council. He'd know if a tournament was scheduled," Tyrion resisted.
"Would he though?" Daenerys pressed. "He regularly forgets things. Maybe he forgot this." She was reaching and she knew it, but if they didn't think up a plausible excuse soon, it would all be for naught.
"The King may forget," Tyrion allowed, "by my father never does. He'd know if there was supposed to be a tourney."
"What about training?" Oberyn tried. "In Dorne we regularly bring soldiers from as far away as Essos to train with us. Maybe House Tyrell is doing the same thing now."
Arya picked up where he left off. "That could work. Training in the Kingswood would be of little interest to the court, especially if Targaryen soldiers weren't included."
"Is that a problem?" Missandei wondered. "Isn't it odd if they don't invite the ruling family?"
After some thought Tyrion replied, "Not necessarily. If it is worded correctly, we could make it seem like the Tyrells didn't include Targaryens because they knew how busy the King's soldiers are. Maybe they didn't want to impose when the guard already have so much to do."
Daenerys smiled. That was just the sort of lie that would work. It inflated the capital's importance and played to the sense of superiority that was already deeply engrained. It was ideal.
"Do it," she decided. "We'll have everyone gather together in the Kingswood for their training, until everything is set and then we'll move."
It was quickly decided that Varys would inform the King about the training at the next opportunity. He'd explain it in a way that made it seem utterly unimportant and then quickly guide the conversation to something else.
Things were really coming together now. Daenerys's eyes lifted off Tyrion and settled behind him, on the long shelf that held the dragon eggs she'd been given. This was going to work, she could feel it.
R-C
Fresh from her first sparring match with Aemon since her whipping Arya had been in an excellent mood. It felt great to be out there again, swinging her sword, working through the stiff and lazy muscles. It would take time to get back to peak physical condition but in the last week alone she'd made large strides. It wouldn't happen overnight, no matter how badly she wished it would. She just needed to be patient.
Rather than straining herself and making things worse, Arya retired to Daenerys's chamber to focus on something else.
Before long her high spirts sank as she tried again and again to contribute to Daenerys's plan. Growling in frustration she resisted the urge to rip the map into pieces and toss it into the fire. Damn it! Daenerys had given her one task and she couldn't do it. Her job was to find a way to sneak their forces into the city without raising an alarm and alerting every Targaryen soldier within a hundred miles. So far nothing she came up with had even a marginal chance of success. They needed this. If they couldn't take the city, then they'd never take the keep and if they didn't get the keep, they would fail. Not only would the Realm be victimized for years under men like Aerys and Viserys, defeat also meant prolonged separation for Arya and Daenerys. For that reason alone, Arya was motivated to find a solution, but so far it was elusive.
Hours later she was no closer to finding the answer. When Oberyn came calling with wine, she invited him in but never took the proposed drink. Oberyn was an intelligent man with a shrewd mind for warfare and a penchant for cunning, perhaps he'd see something she was missing.
"What are you working on?" he asked, as he came to stand over her shoulder, where he could easily read the map.
"Our entry into the city," she admitted weakly. "I can't see a way it doesn't turn bloody. Even the dullest guard will take note of tens of thousands of troops in all manner of armor flooding in. The keep would be locked down in minutes, with us inside. We'd be trapped and outnumbered."
He didn't say anything, he just sipped his wine and studied the map. Arya didn't interfere. He could take as long as he wanted, if it helped. "It's all about appearances," he said. "You're right, if they entered all at once, in armor, people would notice, but what if we could sneak them in, a few at a time?"
She liked the strategy but didn't think it could work with an army so large. "It would take days to get everyone inside. They'd need to leave their armor and weapons too. Unless we could find a way to have them waiting inside…"
Arya was still debating the idea when Oberyn came up with his next one. "We're overthinking this, my friend," he said throwing his arm across her shoulders. "We already have troops inside the walls. If they were to take control of the gates, they could let our people in and then seal them behind."
"We'd need hundreds of men to make that work…"
"You already have thousands," Oberyn pointed out, "unless I misinterpreted why the Unsullied Commander comes to the meetings."
That was complicated. "The Unsullied are slaves. The King is technically their Master, they can't defy him."
"But they're loyal to Daenerys," Oberyn commented. It wasn't a question, he knew they were. He'd spent time with them, as Arya had and knew where their loyalties lie.
"Daenerys promised to free them if she is named Queen," Arya elaborated.
"Didn't the King promise them the same?"
She rolled her eyes. "They aren't stupid. They know if they have to wait for Aerys they'll never be set free."
"So, they'll fight for Daenerys," he summarized.
"Maybe," she hedged, "but they can't. Aerys is their Master. They literally can not disobey him. Right now, they are free to support Daenerys because doing so doesn't conflict with any of their existing orders, but if it did…" she trailed off. "If Aerys commanded them to kill us, they'd have no choice, they'd do it."
"Unless they weren't slaves anymore. If they were free, they could choose who to fight for."
Arya threw up her hands. The was becoming pointless. "Daenerys can't release them until she's Queen."
"Why not?" he countered seriously. "She's a Targaryen, and a Princess, and this is King's Landing. Her word carries weight. She could free them and they could fight."
Arya wasn't ashamed to admit to herself that she never would have thought of that. To her the Unsullied weren't a viable option because they would be obligated to fight for Aerys if directed to. Where Arya saw a limitation, Oberyn saw possibility. As she thought about it, Arya knew that once they were free, there wasn't a warrior in the bunch who wouldn't gladly risk his neck for the woman who gave him that gift. She'd need to talk to Daenerys and Missandei to arrange the specifics, but it might work.
R-C
Fresh from another training session with Aemon, Arya was a sweaty sum of aching body parts, but the smile on her face was real. In addition to getting to spend time with her cousin, the lessons did wonders for helping her build stamina and return her body to the condition it had been in before she was punished. Things were coming along nicely. She was a little slower, a little weaker and had some pain when she stretched in certain directions, but each day it got easier to push the whipping out of her mind.
There were plenty of horrible events in her life, and while the whipping may have physically hurt more than most, it wasn't enough to break her. With effort and time, she would learn to keep that particular memory in its cage, along with all the others she tried not to think about.
Although she was determined to do what she could to forget her attack, quite quickly Arya discovered that many of the people around her were struggling with leaving the past where it was. Oberyn had been the one who taught her to harness her anger and put it to use. Were it not for him, she would still be an angry, bitter girl in the Water Gardens instead of a soldier. He hid it well, and if she didn't know him as she did, perhaps she wouldn't have noticed, but she did. It happened each time Oberyn's path crossed with the King's. Aerys was never alone, and that was likely the only thing that spared him, he always had several Lannisters and a Clegane or two in his party. Although outwardly polite and respectful, Arya could see the narrowing of Oberyn's dark eyes, the way he would chew the inside of his cheek and fake a smile. He held more than just Ser Payne accountable for what happened. He wanted more blood. There was little love between the Martells and the Targaryens, but Arya got the sense this went beyond Elia and her children now. He wanted vengeance for her too.
Oberyn wasn't alone in that. A few days earlier Missandei came in to assist the Princess in getting ready. Already late Arya was hastily tying her boots when Missandei's gasp announced her entry. Arya didn't understand the cause at first. "Does it hurt?" she asked as she reached out toward the guard's scarred skin. There were several feet between them, meaning she couldn't actually reach, but she tried.
Arya answered with an awkward chuckle as she left her right boot untied and went in search of a shirt to cover her wounds. On the way she mumbled something about it getting better everyday.
Missandei's next comment was almost enough to get Arya tangled up in the shirt she was hastily putting over her head. "He's lucky he's already dead," she said seriously, "after seeing that, I'd push the knife in myself."
Arya had never heard Missandei speak so harshly about anyone. It was strange to be the reason. They were friends, and Arya would gladly fight or die to protect Missandei, but she wasn't sure how to handle such a statement. Before she could decide the proper words, if such a thing existed, Daenerys joined in. "Trust me," she said, taking Missandei's hand, "I know exactly what you mean."
It wasn't surprising to hear the woman she loved maintained a fierce grudge over the events in the throne room. Daenerys spoke of it often, usually as they lied awake together, side by side in bed. No matter how many times she insisted she was healing or that it wasn't worth being angry about, Daenerys's fury remained a constant. Having some experience with rage, Arya knew she couldn't talk her out of it. Rather she decided to show Daenerys she was better, again and again, until finally she forgot what happened.
She went up the staircase with purpose, intent on taking another step down that road. She planned to go to Daenerys and entice her into a bath for two before dinner. Having passed Grey Worm on the way in, she knew the Commander was available, meaning she wouldn't need to feel guilty about sending Missandei away.
With her heart set on a pleasurable afternoon with Daenerys, she wasn't the least bit prepared for who was waiting in the Princess's bedchamber. A chill ran through her and stayed, soaking into her bones. "Sansa?! What are you doing here?" Her mind, which had been occupied thinking of ways to encourage Daenerys into a warm bath, was suddenly busy imagining all the reasons Sansa might need to flee Highgarden. She felt sick. It happened quick, a good day turning into something else.
R-C
Author's Note: There you have it, the next chapter. Proof I haven't forgotten about this story or given up on it. I want to apologize for the delays and say thank you for all the well-wishes and encouragement. I hope I will be able to maintain a more consistent schedule going forward, even if it isn't a chapter a week. Unfortunately, my health varies and is unpredictable, so it's hard to guess how often I'll be able to post. Please forgive any mistakes, I may be out of practice.
That said, I will keep working at it, pushing us toward the conclusion when I'm able and when the chapters are ready, I'll make them available to anyone who is still reading.
We aren't done yet.
Thanks again, until next time,
Russell Craig.