"What are you doing here?" she asked her elder sister more harshly than was fair. Surprise was giving way to fear.
Sansa responded in character, with a quick, even, and damningly unhelpful, "Where else would I be?"
The soldier sputtered a bit. "Highgarden," she started as she began preparing to rattle off the list. In the end she settled for a summarizing. "Anywhere but here." She took a deep breath, studied Sansa looking for injuries and finding none, Arya elaborated. "Literally anywhere. This is almost the last place I'd expect to see you."
Sansa's lips stayed together in an unforgiving line while an eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. Arya recognized that expression from their childhood, she was wondering how best to dispute Arya's claim. She waited for what was coming with a pit in her stomach. "I got Daenerys's raven," she announced.
It wasn't a secret that Daenerys and Sansa had been writing. Arya knew and even contributed a time or two, but she failed to see what brought her sister from the safety and peace of Highgarden to the putrid, dangerous garbage pile of the capital. "Did she ask you to come?" The Princess hadn't mentioned it, and Arya was certain that Daenerys would have, if she'd invited Sansa, but she still felt obligated to ask.
"I wanted to come as soon as I heard." As she moved closer Sansa's features shifted into something softer, something reminiscent of their dead mother. "I was nearly out the door when Lady Olenna stopped me."
Arya would need a whole lot more information for any of that to make sense, but luckily Sansa wasn't done. She asked a question that put everything into perspective and erased all Arya's building concerns. "How is your back?" she wanted to know.
It was strange to think of her whipping and feel relief, but it was undeniable. Considering all the potentially dangerous, life-altering reasons Sansa might seek her out, worry for her was among the most tolerable. Not wanting to lie, she kept her response vague. "I'm healing."
Sansa appeared unconvinced, reminding Arya of Catelyn again. "I find that hard to believe."
"Truly," she insisted. "I've even begun training again. I'm not back to my full self quite yet, but I am a little closer every day."
Sansa contemplated this quietly for a moment. "Can I see?" she asked in a soft voice.
"Do you want to?" Arya fired back, acting on reflex more than thought. Sansa had always run at the sight of blood whether it was a skinned knee or a bloody nose. Unlike Arya she didn't pester their father to hear the tales of how he earned his various scars. It was surprising to her that Sansa would ask to observe her back, even more surprising was that Arya was contemplating allowing her to. She knew her sister. She was stubborn. As different as they were, they shared that at least. If she was determined to see, it might save a lot of effort on both sides if she just permitted it.
"You don't have to," she began in a rush. "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked…"
Suddenly Sansa sounded nothing like the confident, determined young woman Arya knew she grew into. This realization unsettled the soldier all the more. "It's okay," she said reaching out for Sansa's soft hand. "I don't mind, it's just, it's still healing, so it isn't pretty."
"I've been dreaming about it," Sansa confessed without clarifying. "Every night since Daenerys's raven, I close my eyes and see it, you being whipped, here, with them." She sniffed hard and used a thumb to sweep under her left eye. "I've seen it Arya, hundreds of times, the real thing can't be worse than what I imagined."
Although she wanted to dispute that particular sentiment, she didn't. Instead, she walked to the door and closed it. If they were going to do this, an added layer of security wouldn't hurt. On the way back to where Sansa was standing Arya unbuckled her belt and removed her sword, setting it on the table as she passed. "You don't have to do this," she tried, hoping she was more persuasive than she was. She didn't want Sansa to see the damage and be reminded of just how cruel the King could be. She would show her, if she insisted, but Arya would not be sad if Sansa had an abrupt and permanent change of heart.
"Yes, I do. I need to know."
With that, Arya was resigned. She nodded and began unstrapping her armor. It didn't take long, and she did note – at least privately – that this was not the afternoon she had planned for herself. She had hoped Daenerys would be helping her undress and now she was standing in front of Sansa's hauntingly familiar eyes about to expose the extent of her injuries instead.
It wasn't only the younger Stark who was feeling the tension in the room. Sansa was too. Arya could tell because she sought to fill it with needless chatter. "I wanted to leave the instant we got Daenerys's letter. I wanted to ride here with thousands of men and take you back to Highgarden."
"What stopped you?" she wondered, her lips quirking at the picture of Sansa leading a charge of men from the Reach against an army of fearsome Dragons.
"Lady Olenna advised caution," she stated calmly. "She said she would grant us leave to visit soon, but that we needed to wait for a bit."
Arya nodded in understanding. She'd need to thank the Tyrell matriarch the next time their paths crossed. A chill ran down her spine as she visualized Sansa in the Red Keep in the immediate aftermath of her whipping. There had been a spark in the air, all could feel it, slave, servant, soldier and noble. There was a hunger for more blood. It was a miracle everyone lived to speak of it, everyone except Ser Payne that is. Arya had little doubt that adding her enraged sister to that volatility would have ended poorly.
Peeling off the scrap of fabric that had once been a shirt, Arya dropped it to her feet. They were standing face to face and Arya hesitated before rotating. Most of her back was open to the air. The days of her showing more bandages than skin were behind them. Only the deepest, most painful wounds still needed to be concealed. She didn't reach back to loosen the lone bandage, she left it exactly where it was. Sansa wanted to see, and there was plenty to look at even with a couple of gashes secreted away under cloth.
Daenerys claimed it looked better, Missandei seconded the notion, and Arya felt as though she was improving, but she was still reluctant as she prepared to turn her back toward Sansa.
The elder nodded. "It's okay," she whispered, similar to the way she might address a cornered animal.
A soft touch on her shoulder gave her the appropriate nudge to get her moving. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and twisted so Sansa could see Payne's work. That hand never left her shoulder, not when she gasped in horror or moments later when sobbing replaced it.
Arya turned to face her again and immediately pulled Sansa into her arms. They embraced for a few long seconds before Sansa seemed to realize where she was and what she was doing and jumped back. "D…doesn't that hurt…?"
She shook her head to reinforce the point. "Not really. As I said, I'm healing, and I'll be my old self again in no time."
With a disapproving glare Sansa produced a handkerchief to clean her eyes. "I can't believe they did that to you. Daenerys…"
Sensing an anti-Targaryen rant coming on, Arya leapt to her lover's defense. "This wasn't Daenerys's fault."
"Are you sure about that?"
Arya bristled. She took a full step forward uncertain about what she was going to do. "Of course, I'm sure! I thought we were past this. Daenerys isn't like the rest of them. She loves me and I her. She tried to stop it. She nearly threw herself between me and the whip!"
That was a detail Arya only learned later, from Missandei and Oberyn. By the time Daenerys was attempting her last stand, Arya was already too consumed by pain to notice. If she had been lucid, she would have done what Oberyn did and prevented her from reaching her destination at any cost. Daenerys getting whipped wouldn't have improved the situation for anyone.
"She did?" Sansa asked, suddenly less angry and more confused. She'd been sad and hurt when she saw the extent of Arya's injuries, she'd been furious when she thought of the Targaryens, but this was something new.
"Is that so hard to believe?" Arya proposed as she snatched up her shirt and put it on.
She had her breastplate in her hand when Sansa replied. "No, it's not that, it's just…"
"Just what?!" she snapped, throwing the steel down with force. The unexpected thud and rattle caused Sansa to recoil, angling herself away from Arya's rage.
"In the letter," Sansa explained carefully, measuring each word before she let it out, "Daenerys said it was her fault. She said she'd never forgive herself, and that she'd spend the rest of her life trying to make up for it, to the both of us, if we'd let her."
Arya sighed. Fuck. How utterly Daenerys. Of course, she took the blame. It wasn't Payne's fault for whipping her, or Rhaegar's for not stopping it. The blame didn't belong to Aerys for being insane, petty and blood-thirsty either, no, naturally Daenerys placed the weight of what happened on her already burdened shoulders. "She feels guilty," Arya said to try and help Sansa understand. "It wasn't her fault." She looked up and met her sister's eye. "I swear Sans, there is nothing she could have done, but it was her father, so she feels responsible."
The room was quiet for a long stretch while they were both lost to their own thoughts. Arya busied herself by replacing her armor. "I'm sorry," Sansa eventually said.
"It's okay."
"Who did it?"
"What?" Her hearing was excellent and still she asked to try and salvage the necessary seconds to decide her next step. How much did Sansa really need to know?
"Who carried out the order? Was it the Lannister or the knight with the funny name, that one from Dorne?" she guessed.
"It was Payne."
There was a delay before Sansa said, "I have tried to put it behind me. I'll never forget, and I can't forgive but I've tried to focus on the life I have now. It's a good one, with good people…"
Arya cut her off. "That's good. You should focus on that. Mother and Father wouldn't want you obsessing over the worst day of your life. They'd want you making better memories with people who love you."
"I know," Sansa confirmed with a sad, teary smile, "but some days I do better than others."
"Me too."
"I hate him," she spit between bared teeth. It was more growl than words. "Payne," she specified, "each time I think of him, I think of Mother and Robb and I…"
"He's dead," Arya declared, interrupting her again.
This caused Sansa to stop. Soft, hopeful eyes checked her stormy grey ones for any hint of a lie. A devious smile spread across her lips when she realized Arya was speaking true. "Really?"
"Brain fever, took him one night not long ago."
"Shame," Sansa commented to herself more than her sister. "I would have preferred he suffer more."
"Me too," Arya repeated, remembering thinking something akin to that when she first learned of the death. Eager to move them off such a heavy topic, she tried to steer them away. "How are you here? Is it safe? Did you come alone?" She frowned at the last thought. By the Gods, please tell her that the Tyrells, that Margaery hadn't let her travel from Highgarden to King's Landing unaccompanied.
"I came to see you," she said, taking the questions in order. "It's safe enough. For this trip, I'm not Sansa the foster or Sansa the dressmaker, I'm just Sansa, Lady Margaery's handmaiden." She chuckled. "It's been quite fun actually and Margaery is enjoying every opportunity to order me around."
Arya laughed too. She had no difficulty imagining that. During her time in Highgarden, she witnessed a couple very much in love. They helped one another, they supported one another, and they were equals, not unlike Arya's own relationship with her Dragon. "Margaery is here too?"
There was a slight pause before Sansa responded. It made Arya anxious and she predicted she wouldn't like what she was coming next. Sansa didn't keep her in suspense. "Formally Lady Margaery came because Daenerys invited her. It made sense to do it now."
"What do you mean?"
She delayed again. "Loras is here too," Sansa finally admitted, watching Arya closely for any negative reaction. She wouldn't find one. The subject of Loras Tyrell was easier to think about now that it was less likely he'd ever marry the woman Arya loved. If their plan worked, and Daenerys became Queen she wouldn't and couldn't be forced to marry anyone including but not limited to, Loras Tyrell. Sansa wasn't finished. "He's leading the troops."
With her mind on Daenerys and the odds that she'd be wed, the obvious answer eluded her. "What troops?"
Sansa educated her with only a slight huff of annoyance. "The men from Highgarden, the ones Lady Olenna pledged to Daenerys. The ones that will help with the…" she trailed off, and then gave her sister a pointed look, "that other project of hers."
Those troops?! They were here? Arya had always been committed, not only to remove Aerys from power but to also help Daenerys. It wasn't theoretical anymore, things were moving faster. Armed men were within striking distance of the capital and their orders were to act against the reigning King of Westeros. It was all very real.
Oblivious to her internal storm, Sansa continued talking. "I don't know much about armies, but I think they're good. Loras says they are, and he knows about such things."
"Where are they?" Surely Arya would have seen or heard if thousands of fighting men from the Reach arrived in the city.
"We parted ways three days ago," Sansa explained. "Only Margaery, Loras, myself and a handful of others continued on. We didn't want to risk the whole lot of us being seen by a tower guard."
"And the men?"
"They are making camp nearby."
Arya nearly asked again, desperate for more information but she realized her sister didn't have it to give. She took a moment to think and then redirected her enthusiasm. "Why Loras?"
"He was supposed to come to see the Princess anyway, so…"
"It's good he's here," she said as sincerely as she could. She wanted to set Sansa at ease. She didn't hate Loras. She may have envied him more than a little once, when he was in line to get everything she wanted, but things had changed.
"It is?" she verified.
"Yes, it is. We need all the help we can get."
"You may not feel that way when I tell you this," Sansa warned.
"What?"
"Olenna told Loras to be seen acting as though he really was falling in love with Daenerys." Almost immediately she hurried to justify the logic. "She thinks it'll keep people distracted. It's only pretend, though," she made clear, "Loras knows Daenerys loves someone else, he just doesn't know that it is you."
Loathed as she was to admit it, the old lady was canny. If Loras Tyrell began wandering the halls of the Red Keep with the Dragon Princess on his arm, people would take notice and the gossips would be in a frenzy. Did she know about his preference for men? Was he lying to her? Would he be able to fulfill the obligations of a husband on their wedding night? As unpleasant as those details were for Arya to think about, if everyone else in the castle was focused on them, they were less likely to take note of the thousands of armed soldiers amassed outside the walls.
One more time she tried to reassure her sister. "It's okay. We're all becoming pretty good actors lately. To ensure no one learns of Daenerys's plan, we continue to act as if nothing has changed. We pretend all day and then usually meet in the evenings for a real conversation."
The strange look on Sansa's face was matched by the wavering tone of her voice. "Daenerys's plan? I thought this was all Rhaegar's doing?"
Oh, how quickly things could change. It may have started out that way, but now letting Rhaegar rule was almost as unappealing as allowing Aerys to remain on the throne until he died of old age. Change was unavoidable, all a person could do was adapt. This nonsense with the Targaryens wasn't all that different from the way Arya planned to spend the afternoon with her lover but ended up discussing politics and the future of the Realm with Sansa instead. She just had to adapt. "Sit down," she suggested, "I'll find some wine."
Although perplexed, Sansa complied. "Trust me," Arya added, setting the bottle down, "it'll be better this way." In an effort to start them off slow, she tried for a joke. "I know this will be hard to believe, but Rhaegar Targaryen lied…"
If she was going to tell her sister that their plan now involved placing Daenerys and not her brother atop the Iron Throne, it would surely be easier to digest with some wine. It didn't come as a surprise that Olenna had told her granddaughter and the remainder of her family about the pact she made with Daenerys. It also was reasonable that Margaery would share that information with Sansa. What was a little harder to comprehend was why Lady Olenna hadn't informed them about the change in the plan when she got Daenerys's letter, or at the very least before she allowed their party to depart for King's Landing? Why tell only half the story? She supposed the Rose had her reasons.
R-C
"Loras," Daenerys called out warmly as she approached. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Welcome to the capital, I hope you're enjoying yourself. Did you have a pleasant trip?" She wrapped her arms around him and held on a little longer than was standard, for the sole benefit of her audience.
It wasn't an accident they were meeting in a busy cross-section of halls not far from the throne room. Their location ensured they'd been seen by advisors and members of the court alike. Those who weren't present to witness it, would undoubtedly hear Loras arrived for a visit and Daenerys greeted him with a hug.
The truth was Loras had come to help her ascend to Queen, but if all anyone saw when they looked at the handsome nobleman was Daenerys's future husband, it would serve them well. "Th… that is very kind Princess," he said as she released him. Although he stuttered at first, by the end he was natural and relaxed. "You have a lovely home."
"Come," she said putting her hand on the back of Loras's shoulder and steering him to where Margaery was watching a few feet away. "I'll give you a proper tour."
Playing his part well, he didn't shrink away from her touch. His smile didn't falter or even dim. "I'd like that."
For the gossips watching and listening she addressed the Lady Tyrell. "Margaery would you care to join us?"
She and Daenerys had already discussed their plans for the afternoon, so the Princess knew Margaery was going to refuse, but it was proper to offer, and it helped sell the lie if Loras's sister declined. Under the pretense of giving the couple more time together, Margaery was going to be busy with Sansa. "I'd hate to intrude. I know how much Loras has been looking forward to this."
The brother and sister exchanged loaded looks. Best as Daenerys could tell, Margaery was teasing while Loras was incredulous. "Are you certain?" he checked one final time.
"I'm late for an appointment," she said almost sadly, "I too have someone eager to spend the afternoon with me. I can't be late."
Margaery really was a terrific actress. Daenerys challenged anyone to prove she wasn't heartfelt. Although she knew the truth, the Princess still had to remind herself Margaery was just playing the required role, not unlike Daenerys and Loras. "Have a good time." As an afterthought she added, "If you come across anyone in my service please let them know I'll rejoin them before dinner, after Loras and I get reacquainted."
The only person Daenerys was really trying to communicate with was Arya, but she didn't want to pass along an overt message with so many people listening in. She knew Margaery would understand who she was trying to reach. "Consider it done," she pledged, before she made her escape down the hall.
As she and Loras moved away from the throne room and towards the living quarters to begin their tour, he remarked, "I'd say she enjoyed that a little too much."
Her laugh was real, even if she leaned into Loras's side a little more than was strictly necessary. "She's your sister, having fun at your expense is literally her job."
"Do your brothers tease you like that?" he asked innocently.
She tried to picture it, either of her brothers joking with her as she'd seen Loras and Margaery do, but it was difficult. Viserys would never and things with Rhaegar were beyond complicated. In the past he had teased her on accession, especially if she showed an interest in a boy, but that was before. Since telling Aemon about Lyanna, a wall went up between them, and she didn't think they'd find their way past it. "My brothers and I," she tried, "it's not like you and your family." She was content to leave it at that before she decided to make one last point. "I envy what you have. I remember hearing you all bickering over the value of the horse you use during your jousts."
He blushed and looked away from her face. "I didn't realize you were paying us any mind."
"Are you kidding?" she pressed good naturedly. "You were insisting the rider mattered most while your brother was claiming his mount deserved the credit. Poor Margaery was left trying to keep the peace. It was riveting."
"And embarrassing."
She gripped his arm a little tighter and waited until he met her eye. "As I said, I envy you."
Seemingly eager to change the subject, Loras put her on the spot. "What's next on this tour?"
Daenerys hummed noncommittally. "Let's just keep walking and see where we end up."
R-C
"There is something I need to tell you," Arya said carefully as she sat with Sansa in the guest room Margaery had been assigned. In the three days since Sansa arrived Arya had attempted this conversation a dozen times. Now, she had to see it through. Sansa deserved to know.
Sansa had been busying herself by reviewing the silks and other fabrics she and Margaery purchased on a trip to the market. She had her back to the anxious soldier, oblivious to her unease. The only evidence she heard Arya at all was a murmur of encouragement.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that this was important and then she forged ahead. "I was wrong," she began, "back at Highgarden, I didn't think it was possible and I told you it wasn't, but then I got back here and Varys…" She was rambling. She knew it, but she couldn't stop herself. If there was a right way to tell your sister that the father and brother she mourned for years might actually be alive and well after all this time, Arya didn't know it.
She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when Sansa turned, abandoned her materials and gave Arya her full attention. "Is this about Daenerys," Sansa guessed, smiling, "because I promise I'll do better this time, I promised Margaery too and…"
Arya reached out and claimed one of Sansa's hands. It felt so different from her own. It reminded her of Daenerys's, without the dragon blood to provide additional warmth. It was strange that discussing the Targaryen seemed like the safer choice. "No, this isn't about that. Sansa I was wrong. You were right."
"About what?"
"Father and Bran." Arya admitted.
She watched Sansa's expression closely and saw the myriad of emotions each take their turn. When she was able to speak, she sounded strangled. "What?"
"When we were together at Highgarden, you asked if they might still be alive. I didn't think it was possible, I didn't know. I swear I never would have said…"
Mercifully Sansa ended her apology early. She cut right to the heart of it. "They're alive?" she asked with enough hope bleeding through to overshadow all the other feelings that were surely warring inside her.
"I think so," she explained, glad to have a direct question she could answer with relative ease.
"Tell me everything," Sansa commanded, still clutching Arya's sweaty hand.
"When we got back from Highgarden we met with Varys, he's the King's…"
"I remember him," Sansa swore darkly. "What did he say?"
Sansa deserved to hear it all. How Varys had arranged for the bandits to test Daenerys, and how he'd joined their scheme to replace Aerys but none of that was important right then. First Sansa needed to know about their family, everything else could come later.
"It was after you were gone to Highgarden, and after I was sent to Dorne. The King ordered Father and Bran dispatched to the Wall."
The relief and joy that came from learning they were not dead was mixed with grief and horror as Sansa slowly began to understand what that would truly mean. "W…why?" she wondered, her voice breaking. "Why would he do that?"
It was a fool's errand to try and rationalize the behavior of a madman, so Arya was reluctant to delve too deeply into Aerys's motives, but in this instance, she had to try. Sansa needed something, anything to make it more real, to separate it from blind hope or childish fantasy. All Arya had to offer was a guess, just a reason with a measure of logic, a plausible excuse for why Aerys didn't kill the both of them. It wasn't a guarantee, but she was confident enough to share it with her sister, who was desperately seeking answers of any kind. "He wanted Father to suffer. He told him so after he beat him. Dead men feel no pain, so I think he let him live to prolong his torment."
"Should I be horrified or grateful?" Sansa asked her plainly, in between sniffles. "I don't even know."
"I don't either," she confirmed. "I hate what happened to them, but I'm glad they're together. I'm happy they're alive. Bran had Father to help him recover and Bran was there, so Father wasn't alone."
"Did he recover?" Sansa suddenly needed to know. "His legs? How is he? Have you written? Maybe we could go and see them."
Arya chose her next words carefully. She shared Sansa's eagerness but now was the time for caution. One false step and everything they were trying to do would be undone. If that happened, they'd all end up in front of the Mad King again. "I haven't written, things have been busy here since I found out."
"Who cares about this place? We could go…"
"Until Aerys is no longer King, it's not safe to contact them." She waited and could see Sansa intended to resist, so Arya intervened. "I want to, just as badly as you do. If I hadn't been hurt, I likely would have wanted to go North too."
"Why didn't you?"
If Sansa had been thinking clearly, she would have known Arya's motivation, but since she asked, Arya provided the appropriate reply. "I can't leave Daenerys, not now. Things are beyond dangerous." As a peace offering, she made mention of the promise the Princess gave her soon after they heard. "Once this business with the King is finished, Daenerys plans to travel to the Wall. I'll be going with her, you and Margaery can come too." She let that sink in for a moment. "We will see them again Sansa, if they're there, I promise we will, but we need to be careful."
Not surprisingly the elder Stark hesitated to put her faith in the word of a Dragon. "If this plot works, and that's a big if, Daenerys will be Queen. Do you really think she'll leave her throne to travel to the Wall? She'll be too busy."
"She gave me her word, and I trust it. You can to."
When the reply came it wasn't at all what Arya was expecting. "What did you mean? You said, 'if they are there,' what does that mean?"
Rather than providing false hope, Arya delivered the ugly truth. "Varys may be an ally, but I don't trust him. He says they're alive, that they were sent to the Wall and that Father is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. but until I see them with my own eyes, I'll keep a blade ready for the Spider."
"When he's outlived his usefulness," Sansa advised coldly, 'you should slit his throat." She needlessly tried to justify her choice. "He was there that day, he did nothing when Mother, Robb and Rickon were killed."
"I've dreamt about it," Arya declared sincerely, "killing him, killing all of them. When Daenerys gives the order, I'll take pleasure in ending their lives."
"Do you really think she'll let you do that?" Sansa inquired. "They are her family, people she's grown up with all her life. It'd be like either of us killing Maester Luwin or Nan. We couldn't do it, and Daenerys won't either."
Honestly, Arya didn't know what Daenerys would decide to do with all those loyal to her father. For it to matter, their plan needed to be successful first, and the vast majority of Arya's energy was centered there, on making sure all the pieces fit. What became of Tywin or Varys afterward was a problem for later. It wouldn't be up to Arya anyhow, that would be for the new Queen to decide. Was Sansa right? Would she hesitate to kill? Would she grant mercy, or would she hold the greedy men of the Red Keep accountable for all the harm they'd done?
R-C
"Come on," Arya said smacking her sister's arm. She had been smoothing out a portion of silk and Arya's contribution caused a new wrinkle to form, making the guard smile and the dressmaker groan. "You've been playing with your dresses all day. Let's go do something."
"Like what?"
She shrugged. "I don't care, I just don't think we should stay cooped up in here all day."
"Excuse me, but who are you and what have you done with the sister who insisted I be careful and avoid everyone and anyone who might recognize me while I'm here?"
Sansa was factually accurate, Arya had said those things, repeatedly in fact, but being cautious didn't require them to hide away. "I know what I said, and I stand by it. You do need to be careful, this isn't Highgarden and these people aren't the Tyrells."
"Which is why I have not gone within a hundred feet of the throne room, not that I'd want to anyway," she noted.
"This castle is a big place," Arya said to preface the suggestion that was upcoming. "There are plenty of places we can go where you won't encounter a single nobleman who supports the King." She got up from the chair she'd been sitting in. "Let's go, there is someone I want you to meet."
R-C
They were doing more of their aimless wandering. It had become routine since the Tyrells arrived. When Daenerys and Loras wished to be seen together, she'd take his arm and show him around the castle, making a point of walking past the areas where lots of people tended to congregate.
Daenerys bit down on her tongue to hold back the question she'd been dying to ask, it wasn't her business, and she didn't need to know, or at least that's what she told herself. This time, the sharpness of her teeth wasn't enough and as soon as the pain dimmed, the words slipped out. "Do you like Sansa?" Hearing her voice in her ears, she realized too late it was blunter than she wanted and without the required context. She should have worked up to it, rather than just blurting it out.
Loras stopped walking for the first time and Daenerys made it a fell step ahead of him before she noticed and retreated back to his side. Had she made a mistake? Was Sansa a subject not to be broached? She'd done it under the guise of learning his feelings on not only his sister's relationship but also the Starks. Eventually, he'd encounter Arya and she was trying to assess how he'd react to learning the woman he was supposed to marry loved Ned Stark's daughter.
"You know about Sansa?" he asked seriously. His tone and the tension in him reminded her of their first meeting.
"Margaery and I are very close friends. She told me about Sansa. I met her while I was visiting your home."
Visibly unsettled, he replied with a simple, "Oh," before he paused and grew more articulate. "I didn't think…" he trailed off and redirected them. "Isn't your father the one…"
She didn't let him finish, for her sake as much as his. She didn't want to hear him say everything that happened to Sansa's family, to Arya's was because of Aerys. She knew it and reflected on it often but would prefer not to have Loras stating it aloud. "My father and I disagree on many issues, including the Starks," she told him frankly, glad she chose to wait until they were alone for this. She wouldn't have been able to speak freely if they were still somewhere a member or two of the court might be lingering. "I think Sansa is an incredible young woman and she seems to make Margaery very happy."
It took a moment but Loras relaxed and shortly thereafter his expression returned to what it had been before her curiosity tainted the day. "You're right about that. It's almost disgusting how cute they are."
"So, you approve then?" she checked, getting them back to where she initially wanted them to go.
"She's great, and Margaery has never been happier. I am concerned for them, though," he admitted, "about what will happen when my father decides it's her turn to marry." Looking at him, Daenerys saw the affection and love he held for his sister. Knowing how he dreaded his own marriage, it made sense he'd want to spare Margaery from the ordeal. "I've tried to talk to her about it, but she just tells me not to worry."
"She told me the same thing," Daenerys conceded. "She says she and Sansa will find a way, and perhaps they will. I certainly hope so." Part of that wish was selfish, because whether she admitted it or not, a piece of her wanted Sansa and Margaery to succeed as proof that it could be done. When things got hard for her and Arya, she took strength from the victories of their friends in the Reach.
"Who knows," he lamented casually, "maybe she's right."
After studying her surroundings to ensure no one was close enough to overhear she tried to offer reassurance. "If things go according to plan perhaps the days of arranged marriages in the Seven Kingdoms will be at an end."
Loras was not convinced. "I wish you nothing but good fortune, but sooner or later my father will tire of waiting and he'll choose another wife for me."
Daenerys had a plan to spare Loras the indignity of having to marry against his will. She was tempted to tell him about it now, but it was too soon. She had to wait until everything was in place. Then she could reveal what she intended. "Trust me," she pleaded, "I'm going to help you. After all you and your family have done for me, I am only too happy to return the favor."
R-C
"Are you sure this is safe?" Sansa was asking as they neared their destination.
"No one aligned with Aerys would dare come up here." She smirked as she imagined how any loyalist of the King would be received.
"Who stays here?"
The only response she gave was to knock hard on the door. After only seconds she pounded again, louder.
Through the wood she heard his voice. "Come in already, before you break the damn door down!"
She turned the knob and stepped through and was met immediately by Oberyn's taunt. "Since when do you knock anyway?" he asked her rhetorically. "Don't tell me you've been learning manners here with the civilized folk." He scoffed dismissively. "It'll be just one more thing we need to fix when we get you back home." Oberyn stopped his rebuke of Arya when he realized she wasn't alone. "Who is this now?" he asked the soldier as he stepped up to examine Sansa more closely.
Before Arya could introduce them, or Sansa could find her voice Oberyn put the pieces together. "Wait, don't tell me, red hair, blue eyes, beautiful with poise and quiet strength, you must be Sansa." He held out a hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you my dear. I've been listening to stories about you for years."
Stunned silent, Sansa looked to Arya for help, even as she took Oberyn's offered hand. "Sansa, allow me to introduce Prince Oberyn Martell."
She didn't need to know Oberyn as well as she did to see that he was enjoying the surprise Sansa was experiencing. Her eyes bounced from Oberyn to Arya and back more than once before they settled on her sister and crossed her arms. "You could have told me we were meeting a Prince," she hissed before she addressed the Viper. "Forgive me Prince, Arya did not tell me who we were coming to see. I was ill-prepared."
"Nonsense, there is nothing to forgive and please none of that Prince talk. Arya and I dispensed of that years back, and we haven't missed it. We are all friends here or soon will be. You two take a seat, and I'll get the wine.'
As Oberyn went to prepare the drinks, Sansa looked to her sister for guidance. "It's okay," she swore, "Oberyn is my best friend."
Unable to let a moment pass without teasing her, he rejoined their conversation. "What can I say? I have a fondness for wolves." He winked at Sansa before finishing his thought. "I feel as if I know you already, and I like you, so relax and enjoy your drink."
He passed Sansa a goblet of wine and gestured to the table where they could sit together. It was only after she had lowered herself into her chair and sipped her wine that Sansa's mind seemed to take note of a detail that eluded her. "You know about me?" she asked with considerable skepticism.
"Of course," he assured her, deliberately choosing the seat next to her. "Arya spoke of you often during our time together. Have you told her about Essos?" he asked the soldier.
Arya chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. It was entertaining to see Sansa swept up in the storm that was Oberyn Martell. They'd never met and yet, he was treating her like a treasured friend just returned from a long journey. It was nice and as an added benefit it afforded Arya the chance to glimpse a version of Sansa that only existed in her memory. It reminded Arya of a time when they were younger, when Sansa was less composed, before her manners were so deeply engrained. Oberyn didn't care about such things and he would reject all of Sansa's attempts to force propriety into their discussion. It was happening already. She hadn't called him Prince since he corrected her. Oberyn had that effect on people and it was a joy to see Sansa relax and accept it. She was as powerless as everyone else to resist him.
She rejoined them and realized she'd missed quite a bit of an ongoing conversation. "Thank you," Sansa was saying, "for taking such good care of Arya. Your time in Essos sounds memorable and I'm glad you were there to help her."
"I did nothing of the kind," Oberyn said, rejecting the notion outright. "Arya was my friend long before we travelled together. She didn't need me to care for her, and I have benefited from her friendship far more than she has mine."
Although Arya had come to expect such a statement when she tried to thank the Prince, Sansa was still new to the unique way the Oberyn viewed the world. She glanced toward Arya and the younger girl merely nodded in encouragement, urging her to continue on. Sansa didn't know it, but she'd inadvertently stepped into one of the few topics she and Oberyn would passionately disagree about. Oberyn insisted Arya had nothing to thank him for, and Arya knew in her bones she'd owe Oberyn until her dying day. Wanting to save her sister from having to bear witness to the next round in that ongoing argument, Arya sought out some common ground for the noble and the dressmaker. "You should ask about her shop," Arya suggested, "Ellaria wouldn't turn down a new dress or two, would she?"
Oberyn smiled warmly. "I did promise I'd bring her back something, and since you won't be joining me," he added pointedly, "it had better be something special."
"Sansa's dresses are all one of a kind."
"I hear you're quite talented," Oberyn said to the quietest of them.
"Arya exaggerates," Sansa said dismissively, downplaying her talents.
Oberyn wasn't having it, saving Arya from needing to disagree. "Oh, I didn't hear about your shop from her," he clarified pointing to the soldier, "it was the Princess who told me of your shop, days ago when I happened to compliment her dress, one you apparently made for her"
"She did?" Again, she looked to Arya for confirmation, but this time Arya was unable to provide anything of value. Not only had she not known Daenerys praised Sansa's abilities, she also hadn't realized her lover had worn any of the dresses she brought back from Highgarden. All dresses looked alike to Arya and personally she thought Daenerys looked gorgeous in any garment, regardless of where it came from. With everything going on, the Targaryen's fashion choices were rarely brought up. It never occurred to her that perhaps one of the dresses she'd seen the Dragon wearing in recent days or weeks came from her sister. It probably should have.
"She wasn't the only one," Oberyn continued. "The handmaiden was there, and she agreed and there was another woman with them, one of the Tyrells I think."
Arya wondered idly where she'd been during this gathering? Initially she thought it happened when she was bedridden, but if Margaery was there, it had to be recent, since she and Sansa had just arrived. She shook the thoughts away. It likely happened during one of the many occasions she was sent away by the Princess with strict orders to 'go and spend time with her sister.' "That must've been Margaery."
"We did not speak much, but I remember her beauty," Oberyn recalled.
"She's taken," Arya said in an effort to spare Sansa some grief.
"Is she now?" he replied, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge her. "Not you, you're smitten with the Princess so who…"
He looked to Sansa and then shifted his focus back to Arya. She provided the verification he was looking for and together they turned to Sansa. The dressmaker's cheeks matched her hair as she blushed. Oberyn was quick to try and ease her discomfort. "Well done," he said, tapping on the back of Sansa's clasped hands with a finger. She looked up and he smiled in that easy, charming way of his. "You Starks have good taste, I'll give you that."
"You didn't do too badly yourself," Arya pointed out, hoping to buy Sansa the valuable seconds necessary to regain her composure.
"I won't disagree with you there," he said with a laugh. "She's far too good for me."
"She's perfect for you, as you are her," Arya countered.
"Tell me," Oberyn said, turning abruptly to Sansa. Arya watched her sister take a breath and hold it as she waited to see if he was going to ask about her relationship. He didn't. "How long does it take to make a dress?"
She couldn't respond until she exhaled, but once she had, she managed to sound confident. "It depends on the style."
"I'll need at least a couple for Ellaria, and some of the girls would probably like one too."
The shift in the discussion to something Sansa was comfortable with made a world of difference and she relaxed. "If you tell me what you'd like, I can make them and send them to Sunspear," she proposed. "Shipments from Highgarden are sent regularly so it would be easy to include an additional package."
"You'd be making many of the girls in my life very happy," he praised. "Not all of my daughters like dresses, some are like her," he said pointing not so subtly to Arya, "but the others will love them."
"If you want to choose the colors and fabrics first, then I can show you the different styles and let you pick which ones you'd like. I'll just make a list."
"Come and see me tomorrow," Oberyn instructed. "I'll put a list together and arrange for the first installment of your payment."
Just as she'd done in Highgarden with Daenerys, Sansa hesitated when the matter of the price came up. "Oh no, you're Arya's friend, I can…"
Knowing Oberyn wouldn't agree to take them for nothing, she did what she could to speed things along. "Take the gold," she advised, "he has eight daughters, if even half of them want souvenirs from his trip you're going to be busy."
"Eight?" she repeated in disbelief, looking between Arya and her mentor. "I thought five was a big family." She smiled at Arya. "Could you imagine Mother trying to contend with three more of us?" Sansa didn't let her respond before she was back to Oberyn. "Eight, really?"
Oberyn shrugged, used to answering questions about his daughters. "I've lived an interesting life," he said as though it were an explanation.
Arya chuckled and a moment later Sansa did too. In the next instant Sansa was on her feet, going toward the desk. She came back with ink and a scroll to write on. "Tell me of your girls, and your wife. The more I know about them, the better the chances I'll be able to make a dress they'll like."
She knew better than anyone that Oberyn was an acquired taste. She also knew that he had a good heart. She believed that given the chance Sansa and he would get along splendidly, and they had. Despite a rocky start they found their footing. She didn't know it yet, but by asking about his daughters Sansa had discovered the Red Viper's weak spot. Once he started talking about the women he loved, he could go for hours.
"Will you tell me about your wife, Ellaria was it? What would she like?" Sansa questioned, ready to document any choices they made.
Instead of specifying that he and Ellaria weren't actually married he smiled and said, "Gladly. Where shall we begin?"
R-C
There wasn't much of the Red Keep that Loras hadn't seen yet, but he and Daenerys continued to roam. Her feet were growing sore and it was a tad taxing to repeat herself as she described something he'd already seen but apart from that, she was enjoying herself and his company. Arya also agreed that since Loras was armed and widely regarded as talented in combat Daenerys didn't need guards, provided she didn't venture into the city. Recognizing Arya's concession, she was quick to agree to the terms, promising she'd find Arya or Grey Worm if their travels required the venture further than the castle walls.
Knowing their relationship was a popular topic amongst the gossips took time for Loras to make his peace with. The first few times he overheard whispers about him and his would-be-wife, he blushed and stammered, but he was better now. Margaery had told him to ignore them, and similar advice from Daenerys seemed to have gotten through. Even when the snobs made no effort to muffle their voices and commented about Loras in a negative way, he kept his head high and continued walking as if he hadn't heard. Daenerys knew from experience just how challenging that could be.
Daenerys took the lead in making their relationship seem real. She held Loras's arm as they walked, laughed often and praised him loudly whenever there were people close enough to hear. Daenerys knew the true value didn't come from the two people who happened to be close enough to overhear an exchange between the couple, what was much more important was leaving those two people with the impression that what they'd seen and heard was worth talking about. They'd tell others, who would pass it along, and before the next meal Tywin, Rhaegar and Aerys would all know Daenerys was fulfilling her obligations. Some had been skeptical when she returned from Highgarden, namely Rhaegar. He knew Daenerys had no desire to be wed to someone for political purposes, and having spent most of his life in politics, he surely heard the rumors about Loras's personal preferences. Not even the angry argument they'd had upon her return when Daenerys claimed she'd rather have a husband with no interest in her than one with too much, would be enough to satisfy the Crown Prince. He'd need more if she expected him to believe that his sister was not only willing to marry the Tyrell but actually wanted to.
Daenerys didn't care, in her mind every second the Red Keep was buzzing about her suitor they wouldn't be talking about the looming threat they had yet to recognize hanging over them.
"I'm glad you're here," she told him as they walked outside under the warm sun. "Not only for this,' she said, looking to the arm she was wrapped around, "but also to help with our other task."
He smiled and looked handsome. If either one of them had been remotely interested perhaps she could've been happy with him. She definitely acknowledged that she could do worse. "You may change your mind, in truth, I've never led men like this before. I'm well trained but most of my fighting has been during tournaments. The few times I've ridden with the army, my brother was always in command."
"You'll do great. You're doing fine. I get daily reports from the Kingswood, I know our numbers are growing there."
"More armies keep coming, thousands and thousands of men from all over the Seven Kingdoms. It's remarkable to see."
She didn't doubt that. If the reports Grey Worm brought back from his frequent visits were accurate, she'd gathered much more support than she thought herself capable of.
Loras had kept talking while Daenerys disappeared inside her head momentarily. She tried to catch up without making it known she missed a large chunk of his speech. "Houses from the Riverlands started arriving yesterday. I was training and when I stopped for a drink of water, I looked up and all there was, for as far as the eye could see were soldiers and trees."
The Riverlands. Arya's family had come just as she said they would. It made the Princess smile. "That's great. I'm trusting you to get everyone ready. When the time comes, you'll lead them for me."
Any pleasure he took from the sentiment of Daenerys's instructions didn't last. In the span of a few seconds, he appeared almost frightened. "Are you sure? I'm honored but as I said, I've never…"
She didn't let him repeat his perceived shortcomings. She also didn't think it would benefit Loras in any way to hear them again. "I'm sure. Given a choice between a man with experience and a man I trust, I'll gladly take the man I trust." Loras's tension melted away and he nodded in agreement or thanks, maybe it was both. "I trust you Loras, so please just make sure they're ready when I need them."
Things had turned serious and Loras responded accordingly. "Thank you, Princess, I won't let you down."
"I know." With that settled, she smiled and increased their speed as they approached the spot where Arya and Aemon usually trained. She had no idea if she'd be out there or if she was indoors with Sansa, but Daenerys went anyway, pulling Loras with her. It was highly inappropriate and completely wrong to bring Loras with her to see Arya, but she quickly brushed those realities aside. She missed Arya and wanted to see her. She was also exhausted despite it still being morning. All the laughing and the smiling, the pretending had drained her. Greedily she allowed herself to think seeing Arya, being in her presence might strengthen the weak Princess enough to keep going.
R-C
"Are you sure?" Sansa fretted. "What if he recognizes me, what if he can tell that we are sisters?"
Sansa's safety was no joking matter and yet Arya couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "Who has ever looked at the two of us and guessed that we were family?" she wondered with a grin. "Even people that knew questioned it when they saw us together."
Gifting her with a smile, Sansa nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry I just, he's our cousin and I'm nervous."
"Don't be, you don't need to worry about Aemon, just try not to stare too much."
"Why would I?"
"He looks like Robb," Arya warned gently. "It's amazing really."
"Is that why you like him?"
She thought about the answer. "I like him because he's a good person in spite of all this," she said waving dismissively to the castle behind them. "He is strong and refuses to let the King and everyone else break him."
"You admire him," Sansa realized.
She did, but that wasn't what she was trying to say. "I respect and understand him," she corrected. "He could've grown bitter and mean like Viserys, he's had plenty of reasons to, but he chooses to be different, not unlike how you and I needed to choose to build new lives when we were sent away."
"That was different, we didn't have a choice."
Arya was undeterred. "Was it? You could've given up when you got to Highgarden, but you decided to find another way, even though it was hard."
"I never thought about it like that. I was so busy surviving from one day to the next, I never stopped to consider why I was doing it, or where I wanted to be when it was done."
"We end up where we're supposed to be," Arya said with confidence.
Sansa's reply came with a watery smile. "Mother used to say that."
"Not to you." Contrary to Arya, Sansa always knew who she was and fit exactly where the world told her she was supposed to be.
"No," the elder allowed, "to you, usually when you loudly proclaimed our lessons were a waste of time." She laughed then. "You said you didn't need to know how to sew to live the life you were going to have."
"I aged that Septa years I'm sure," Arya acknowledged freely as they reflected on a past nearly forgotten, "Mother too."
"Mother understood," Sansa informed her knowingly, "even if she did always make you go back to the lessons."
"She did, but before she sent me, she'd put her hand on my shoulder and say, 'don't worry, we end up where we're supposed to be.'"
"She was right," Sansa realized, "but so were you. You probably haven't used much the Septa taught us."
"You'd be surprised." The guard thought of all the injuries she used a needle in thread to mend. She hadn't gotten any better, as evidenced by the jagged scars left in the wake of her uneven stitches.
"I won't tell anyone," she promised with a light laugh. Wiping under her eyes, she added, "Thank you, it's good to remember them."
Arya took her sister's hand. "We will never forget."
"The North Remembers?"
"The North Remembers," she confirmed.
"Good, now come on, I'm overdue for a meeting with our cousin."
R-C
Arya wasn't in the yard, but Aemon was. That said, Daenerys didn't regret taking the time to check. She took a spot that provided an unobstructed view of her nephew and prepared to watch.
It was the sight of the Unsullied training that caused Loras to release her arm. Slowly, almost unconsciously he drifted toward the combat, watching every strike with rapt attention. Daenerys looked away from Aemon for a moment, saying to Loras, "You can join them if you'd like."
He took half a step toward the soldiers before something stopped him. "What about you?"
"I'll stay," she announced. "I like it here."
"Really?"
"If we're going to be married, you'll need to know certain things about me," she joked, "such as, this happens to be one of my most favorite places in the whole castle."
"Why?"
She pictured Arya and smiled. Many pivotal moments in her relationship happened within steps of where she was currently standing. She couldn't explain that to Loras, so she chose another reason that was both logical and true. "Out here things are simple. I don't have to watch my every word, I don't have to worry that the things I say will be twisted around and used against me later. Out here it's easier to breathe."
He wore a sympathetic expression when he replied, "I understand. It is exhausting isn't it, needing to be what everyone else expects?"
"Yes," she agreed, "but it's going to get better soon." She believed that. Either she'd be on the throne or she'd marry Loras, neither outcome would require her to pretend quite as much as she was now. Having had enough of the seriousness she turned her eyes back to the Unsullied and motioned for Loras to do the same. On the field two fully armored warriors were in the midst of a match. When one of the Unsullied used the shaft of his spear to sweep his opponent's legs out from under him, Loras grimaced. In a flash, the man standing spun his spear until the tip was aimed down and then thrust it toward the flattened man's neck. The speed still impressed her, even after all the time she'd spent watching them practice. There was even an instant where she held her breath, anxious to see if he intended to finish the strike, but he didn't. As always happened, the tip stopped just before making contact.
"Wow," Loras mumbled in awe.
"Go," she directed, "they'll welcome the chance to train with someone new."
"You'll stay?"
"Certainly," she agreed. She'd heard about Loras's abilities but hadn't yet seen them for herself. Even the tournaments he competed in where she attended, she couldn't rightly remember him. It made her curious.
R-C
Reacting to Sansa's sudden eagerness to set eyes on her cousin, Arya let her lead as they made the last turn toward the training yard. When Sansa abruptly turned and put a hand on the center of Arya's breastplate pushing back, she assumed it was nerves. "Trust me, you'll like Aemon. Just give him a chance. Just tell him you're a friend Daenerys and I met when we were in Highgarden. He won't pressure you for more than that."
"No, it's not that. Daenerys is here, with Loras."
"And?"
"It doesn't bother you, seeing them together?" She thought for a moment then another before opening up. "If Margaery was going to be marrying someone else, I wouldn't want to see them together."
While it wasn't her favorite thing to remember that Daenerys and Loras would probably be married one day, Arya had the upmost confidence in Daenerys. She'd never given Arya cause to doubt her or the depths of her feelings. Furthermore, Daenerys loved her, and she knew in her heart the Princess didn't want to get married to Loras, so she was trying to have faith. "I don't mind. I knew she was spending the day with him, and I knew there was a good chance we'd cross paths."
"Do you want to go? We can come back later." Sansa's concern for her was touching. It felt unusual having someone other than Daenerys or Oberyn worried for her welfare.
"What I want is to take you to meet Aemon. I told you, it's okay. I don't hate Loras and as long as he treats Daenerys well, we will not have a problem."
"I don't think I could be so calm, if I were in your place."
"Yes, you could," Arya retorted calmly. "If you love and trust Margaery, then you'd have no reason to worry about who she is spending time with."
"I suppose," she allowed weakly.
"Come on," Arya said moving past Sansa and grasping her hand as she went.
Sansa obliged and Arya pulled her along while they both laughed, at least until their path was blocked by a Princess. Unlike everyone else who was watching the action, Daenerys had turned away from the soldiers and was facing the Starks. "I'm glad to see you two are having fun," she teased. Then at a lower volume she added, "I've missed you," for Arya alone.
"Is everything alright," Arya asked, looking over Daenerys's shoulder and searching for Loras among the crowd. "Why aren't you watching?"
"Everything is fine," she swore, "I just had a feeling you'd be coming, so I turned to see if I was correct."
Arya smirked. "You were."
"I never tire of being right," Daenerys fired back smugly. "What brings you two out here?"
Arya waited, giving Sansa the opportunity to respond, but she didn't. Arya finally did it for her. "We've come to see Aemon."
Daenerys understood right away and grinned brightly. "That's wonderful," she gushed. "He'll love it and he's in need a break anyway."
"Care to join us?" Sansa proposed, surprising Arya as much as Daenerys.
"I'd love to." Daenerys fell in step beside the siblings and together they continued toward Aemon, Loras and the Unsullied. When her nephew didn't notice their approach, Daenerys called out to him. "Aemon!"
The future Ranger finished his swing before rotating toward them. He smiled at the aunt who called his name, but his expression widened when he noticed Arya there too. "Come back for more?"
Arya held up her hands in mock surrender. "Not this time. I promised someone I'd take it easy," she said with an exaggerated look toward the Targaryen. The reminder wasn't as much for Aemon as it was the women. Both her lover and her sister had been unimpressed by the idea of Arya returning to her training. To placate them Arya promised to take things slow. Although sparring with Aemon would be enjoyable, and well within the rules of the agreements she made, it wasn't why they were there.
Arya knew the instant Aemon's focus shifted to the unknown woman. His breathing hitched slightly, and opposite him she heard Sansa gasp audibly. She knew what it was that had her attention, it was the one undeniable Stark trait he possessed. He had a similar bone structure to Ned, and his walk was a mirror of Robb's and yet all that could be explained away, all except the eyes, the eyes were inescapable. Understanding Sansa's grief, Arya laid her hand against the small of her back, rubbing gently in a circle. She just wanted to remind Sansa she was there, that she wasn't alone anymore. "It's okay," she promised in a whisper, without knowing which of them she was attempting to reassure.
After devoting all of herself to Sansa, she rejoined the others. Daenerys was in the midst of introducing Sansa to Aemon. Sansa remained speechless, but Aemon didn't seem to mind, and Daenerys was expertly keeping the conversation going singlehanded. Only after Daenerys had painstakingly detailed a watered-down version of their meeting in Highgarden did the Prince finally address his cousin. "Pleased to meet you m'lady," he said formally. Arya immediately noticed that he was less comfortable and more wary than he had been prior to realizing Sansa was there. Although cautious, his demeanor was nowhere near as stiff as when he was in his grandfather's company.
Sansa panicked. Arya recognized the signs as surely as if they still shared the same bedchamber. She took half a step toward the frantic dressmaker. "Don't worry," she said loud enough for all of them, "Aemon's not so bad, for a Prince."
She punctuated the statement with a wink for the young man in question, but it wasn't sufficient to stop him from grumbling. "Hey," he whined, good-naturedly.
By the time Arya and Daenerys had finished chuckling, Sansa joined in. She liked Aemon from their first meeting, but never was that sentiment as intense as when the secret-Stark prolonged the joke at his own expense to ease some of Sansa's nervousness.
With an exaggerated pout he turned to the other Targaryen. "You're supposed to be on my side."
Daenerys didn't try to hide her amusement. The beauty of her expression nearly stole the air from Arya's lungs. How had she gotten so lucky? "What did I do?" she protested with a smirk. "I happen to agree with Arya, you are not that bad. Would you rather I tell Sansa otherwise?"
Aemon's indignation stammered and sputtered, causing the rest of them to laugh, Sansa included. "Fine," he complained. "I'll just go back to my training then."
Before he could make good on his toothless threat Sansa reached out and touched his forearm. "It's a pleasure to meet you Prince, I apologize for my poor manners, I'm a bit out of practice meeting new people."
Accommodating and kind-hearted Aemon was gracious. "Think nothing of it," he assured her. "So, Dany tells me you're from Highgarden."
Blue eyes darted from Daenerys to Arya and back before meeting Aemon's. "That's right. I'm here with the Tyrells."
"What do you do?"
Arya smiled and took a step back, listening to the cousins getting acquainted. Despite having less interest in dresses than Arya, and no sense of fashion, Aemon made polite inquires about Sansa's trade. She answered him kindly, relaxing more with each exchange. Arya stayed in the background contributing a few words here and there, but only when called upon.
She hadn't realized she'd been staring until a warm hand settled in hers. "You okay?"
She looked at Daenerys and smiled sincerely. Words failed her so she nodded. It was for the best anyway. What could she say? How could she possibly explain in sufficient detail the emotions fighting for space inside her?
As always Daenerys understood, shifting closer to the guard ever so slightly.
Better, Arya thought, but not enough, so while Sansa described the inside of her shop to Aemon, Arya wrapped one of her arms around Daenerys's waist. She pulled the older woman into position directly in front of her and then applied the briefest amount of pressure, pushing her chest into Daenerys's back. The Princess peeked over her shoulder. "Better?"
This time she had no difficulty crafting a reply. She held the royal a little tighter. "Perfect."
They stayed like that and listened as Sansa and Aemon traded questions. When it was her turn, the subject shifted. "You mentioned training, what are you preparing for?"
Arya didn't know if Sansa forgot what she told her about Aemon or if she was just being polite, but regardless of her reasons, the young Prince brightened as he began speaking about the Wall. While she listened, she noted how Aemon no longer spoke about his trip North as a desire or a wish. It wasn't, 'I hope to join the Night's Watch,' or 'I want to be a Ranger,' now he spoke with certainty. "I'm going to be a Ranger," he declared, causing Sansa to praise his commitment and his selflessness.
Unused to approval of his dream, Aemon hesitated before he thanked Sansa. If Arya had to guess, she'd say he was reviewing their conversation for any hint of sarcasm or ridicule. She knew he would come away empty handed. Sansa pushed the conversation one step further by sharing that she had an Uncle in the Night's Watch.
Thrilled to have someone to discuss his passion with, Aemon probed for more information. "Really?"
"Yes," Sansa confirmed, no doubt thinking of their Uncle Benjen. "I haven't seen or spoken to him in many years, but I imagine he's still there."
"What's his name?" Aemon asked innocently, failing to see the way the question froze the three women.
Sansa looked to Arya for help, an apologetic expression on her face. Without words the younger sibling tried to convey there was no need to feel guilty. Arya had long ago lost count of the number of times she almost revealed her identity to Aemon, intentionally or not.
"You can discuss that later." Daenerys said, swooping in to provide a rescue. "You've been out here for hours, and my feet are growing sore, what do you say we move indoors and get something to drink?"
"T..that sounds delightful," Sansa agreed, "but I don't want to impose. I should be looking for Lady Margaery."
Daenerys waved away the refusal. "Margaery is probably thirsty too. Once we're inside, I'll have one of the servants go and get her."
With burning cheeks, Sansa shook her head. "Oh, that is very kind but uncess…"
She didn't get to finish. "Don't waste your breath," Aemon advised, "once she's set her mind to something, there is no point disagreeing."
Instead of being offended by the observation, Daenerys beamed proudly and nodded along in silent agreement. When it was her turn to pick a side, it wasn't difficult. "You should listen to the Prince," Arya supplied as she began moving with their party toward the castle.
Along the way she thought of the definition of family. For so long she'd been alone. Although she believed Sansa was out there, somewhere, she never allowed herself to consider that they'd be together again. Then there was Aemon. He didn't know it, but he was family too. The three of them, all carrying Stark blood. Amazingly, she had more. Oberyn was as much of a brother to her as Robb, Rickon or Bran. Bran… if the Spider was telling the truth that meant that Bran and Ned were still alive. She pictured the Wall in her mind and saw her kin atop it, smiling as they looked down at her. It made her smile too. She hadn't managed to wipe the grin from her face when a hand brushed hers. Arya glanced to her right. Daenerys was there, walking next to her. Her arms swinging gently with each step, creating a plausible, innocent excuse for the contact, but Arya knew better than to believe that. Everything Daenerys did had purpose. This was no different. She steadfastly refused to meet Arya's gaze, but that avoidance was more telling than a thousand desperate pleas.
They were less concerned about onlookers than they had been at the early days of their relationship. Rhaegar knew now, and he wasn't alone, so working tirelessly to hide their secret didn't make a lot of sense anymore. Still, they needed to be careful. A quick study of their surroundings verified they were largely secluded, so Arya took advantage and leaned in, putting her mouth right next to Daenerys's ear. "I love you," she whispered. It was so quiet that Arya might've doubted if Daenerys heard, except her response was instantaneous. With Aemon and Sansa ahead, neither one saw Daenerys falter. They also missed Arya's arms reaching out to steady her. This moment was theirs, brief as It was.
When Daenerys finally looked to her guard, Arya was waiting, already smiling, hoping the love she felt for the other woman was evident. Not too long ago she'd been a lone Wolf without a real home, destined to live her life alone. Now, she'd been reunited with her pack, and she'd added to it. Now there were Wolves and Vipers and even a couple of Dragons. Without breaking eye contact, Arya bathed in the sounds of Aemon and Sansa laughing together. She couldn't imagine her life getting better than this.
R-C
Author's Note: I sincerely hope that the length of this chapter takes some of the sting out of the delay. I apologize for not posting sooner and want to thank everyone who continues to read and comment.
If there is good news, it is that in all the time I wasn't editing, I was writing. So, I'm actually several chapters ahead. I make no promises, because my health remains unpredictable, but with luck, the next couple of chapters won't take too long to finish up.
Thank you and Be Well.
RC