With a dramatic sigh she turned the corner and hurried down the hall. She considered it a minor miracle when she managed to somehow dodge the long list of people she was trying to avoid. That meant no Rhaegar, no Tywin, no Jorah and that was probably for the best. Everyone had a breaking point, and hers was approaching. If she was pulled into another trivial conversation, or petty argument it would likely end in violence.
She was tempted to flee straight to her warm bed and shut away the world, but relief would have to wait. She had priorities past her own interests. She had an appointment.
She couldn't recall ever feeling quite so weary. It went behind her aching feet, her pinched neck and heavy eyelids. It was her mind as well. Merely watching Thom's torture would have been horrible but being a participant made everything so much worse. She cursed her lack of intelligence, her shallow reserves of creativity. If only she'd been faster in coming up with a method for distracting her father, maybe Thom wouldn't have had to suffer so severely.
The next time her right foot came down it was more of a stomp than a step. Childish? Undeniably. Ineffective? Definitely. Still, she needed some way to release her pent-up aggression. It didn't bother her that she was marching around the castle with a scowl on her face, what infuriated her was that few shared her outrage. Less than an hour after Thom was set free, she walked past a pair of nobles and heard one laugh at a joke the other told. Daenerys was disgusted. How was such a thing possible? Laughing now, at a time like this? It was disgraceful. How long before Thom's trial became just one more thing the inhabitants of the Red Keep didn't speak of? Daenerys refused to forget. Long after Thom's bruises healed her shame would be burning bright.
If she'd been free to act as she wished, she would've thrown herself at Thom's feet and begged forgiveness the instant the King dismissed them. That wasn't possible. She couldn't even accompany him back to the Kingswood. If she and the prisoner went missing at the same time someone would notice and then the gossips would start speculating. Any inquires about the nature of their relationship, and it wouldn't take much to uncover Daenerys's connection to the men camped outside the city. She couldn't let that happen, not when they were this close. So, she stayed. She made sure she was seen, counting the seconds until her escape could be appropriately justified.
Helpful as always, Missandei arranged for some of the Unsullied to escort Thom safely back to his people. How was he doing? Daenerys managed to think of little else during dinner with her family. She couldn't recall what she ate, or how it tasted? All she knew was that she needed to do this, get through this, because people were watching, and she had to minimize their suspicions. Her body may have been there, at the table between Aemon and Rhaegar, but her mind was miles away. She was busy, plotting all the things that would come after.
Once dinner was over, Daenerys was confident she could sneak away without too much difficulty. Most of the castle would be enjoying a drink or two, no one would miss her. She entered the crowded sitting room, chose a spot near her father's chair and then engaged a noble in conversation. After several minutes, she politely excused herself, claiming she wasn't feeling well. It wasn't coincidence she spoke loud enough for Aerys to overhear.
Rather than going upstairs to lie down, she went in search of Thom's armor. She promised the man she'd get it back to him and she would. When Arya's armor had been taken, it was Aemon who found it. So, she went to him for advice. One quiet conversation later, Daenerys at least had a few ideas about where she might begin the hunt for the items taken from Thom.
Generally, when she and Arya left the castle together, Daenerys was filled by a sense of wonder and possibility. That sensation never came. Instead, the silence was stifling and increasingly uncomfortable. Did Arya feel it too? They didn't talk about it. They didn't talk about anything. Arya seemed to understand that Daenerys needed space and she provided it. She was there, just out of reach but still close. It was that way as they crept into the stables, and then as they rode toward the forest. The last time they made the trip, they rode side by side, talking and laughing, but not this time. Daenerys pulled her horse out to an early lead and stayed there, setting the pace she expected Arya to match. The soldier did, although she stayed several lengths back the entire way.
Daenerys spent the majority of the ride thinking of all the things she wanted to say and preparing responses for a handful of statements and questions that were likely to come up. She would start by apologizing to the Blackfish and every other Commander, from every house who had come to support her. She promised them change, she pledged she was different and already she stood by and allowed one of her allies to be tortured by her father for sport. She wouldn't be surprised if they arrived at the camp to find it deserted. Why would they stay after this? Sansa had kept the Tullys and the Arryns from leaving before but Daenerys didn't think anyone would be coming to her rescue this time.
She'd been wrong, about everything. The camp wasn't abandoned. Everything was exactly as it had been during her earlier visit. Nothing appeared amiss. Upon catching her first glimpse of the Tully sigil, her mind betrayed her. In a blink all those carefully scripted messages she planned and prepared disappeared and what was left was one big, jumbled mess. Her mind blank, she panicked. She'd have nothing to tell Jon Arryn and Brynden Tully to show she wasn't the incompetent, foolish girl they believed her to be.
She was no closer to settling on an appropriate apology when she heard approaching footsteps. "There she is now lads!" the Blackfish shouted, obviously interested in making sure their conversation was heard by one and all.
Selfishly, she wanted to look to Arya for help, to reach for her hand and gain the strength she always did when close to the woman she loved, but she steadfastly refused to do that in this situation. This was her mistake, not Arya's, and it was her responsibility to try and fix it. If such a thing were possible.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her aching back and met the Tully's eye as bravely as she could. "I apologize for the late hour, I wished to come sooner, but feared my absence would be noticed if I left before dinner."
"That was clever thinking," Brynden replied, stunning the Princess momentarily. She repeated the words in her head, checking for sarcasm or any thinly veiled cuts, but none were present. It was perhaps the nicest thing Arya's uncle had ever said to her and for the life of her, she couldn't imagine why he was tolerating her now.
"I mean no disrespect, but may I inquire as to Thom's condition?" Thinking about the courageous man who had been willing to die to protect Daenerys's secrets, her composure slipped, and the questions spilled out faster than the Blackfish, or anyone could have answered them. "Did he arrive here safely? What does the Maester have to say? Has he been tended to? Does he need anything? How long until he recovers fully?"
Strangely, Brynden didn't appear to take offense. "He is well. It's amazing what a little drink, a hot meal and some rest can do for a man's recovery."
Daenerys nodded along dumbly, unsure of what else to say or do. "I do not wish to bother him, I know he needs his rest, but if it's not too much trouble, could you please see that his armor and weapons are returned."
For the first time in far too long, Daenerys looked behind her to where she knew Arya would be. The guard was ready, stepping forward with Thom's things in her arms. Brynden smiled when he saw her. "I'm glad you're alright girl. When your sister arrived, she was frantic. We had no idea what was happening until those eunuchs of yours brought Thom back."
Clearing her throat Daenerys, stood tall and tried to speak loudly, wanting this to be heard. "Regarding what happened to Thom, I want you all to know how profoundly sorry I am. It was never my intention to put him in danger."
A large, rough hand reached out and touched the shoulder of her cloak. It earned a gasp from an ill-prepared Daenerys and caused Arya to drop Thom's belongings as she reached for her sword. It was needless. Although Brynden was putting his hand on her, it wasn't in anger. "I've spoken to Thom, Princess."
That was unsurprising. Thom was a Tully loyalist, of course he'd report what happened to his Commander. "I understand."
His eyes danced from Daenerys to Arya, and then to some spot over the guard's left shoulder, before he settled in on Daenerys's face and stayed there. "Thom tells me you saved his life," Brynden elaborated.
"That wasn't exactly how it happened," she admitted weakly. Each word had her cheeks burning hotter.
Brynden hummed, a very noncommittal gesture. It was hard for Daenerys to determine much about the older man's thinking by that alone. Thankfully he had more. "So, you didn't speak on my man's behalf when your father accused him of a crime?"
Her heart was pounding so violently, it made her dizzy. She was at a loss. From the moment they were introduced, this man had not liked her. Unlike most of the others, he hadn't come in response to her letter, he came for Arya and Sansa. He would have returned to the Riverlands already had it not been for Sansa speaking on Daenerys's behalf. Now however, he sounded almost appreciative. It was difficult to comprehend. "I did," she acknowledged, hating how feeble and unsteady she sounded.
"More than once," he went on, unbothered by her pathetic reply.
"It was the right thing to do," Daenerys said as she fought to get her heart beating at a reasonable speed. She still wasn't entirely sure what was happening here. Was she in trouble or not?
"That may be," Brynden allowed, "but apart from you, how many in that crowded room said anything in opposition to your father?"
She thought about it. The realization wasn't all that startling. Both Varys and Tyrion helped, but only after Daenerys got involved. It wasn't difficult to imagine that if she hadn't said anything, Thom's torture would have continued until eventually Aerys ordered Grey Worm to hold his head under the water too long. The thought twisted her already queasy stomach. "I'd rather be the only one doing right, than one of the many doing what I know is wrong," she justified.
"For that, I am grateful Princess, Thom is grateful, and you can rest assured that his wife and young daughter will feel the same way."
In the brief time she'd known him, it was hard to think of Thom as anything other than a Tully soldier and an ally, but Brynden was doing a good job of reminding her that each person fighting for her was more than a sword or bow, they were people, with lives beyond this. She smiled slightly, for the first time in hours, imagining Thom with his family. "It is I who are indebted to him. He could have exposed my plans, but he didn't and that is a kindness I will never forget."
With a wave of his long arm Brynden directed them back the way they came. "He is in a tent, just down there, if you wish to see him," he offered.
Daenerys had come, expecting a much more negative reception. That said, the chance that she might get to see Thom with her own eyes and say to him all the things she said to Arya's great uncle was appealing. "I'd be honored," she told him honestly, "but I don't want to interfere in his recovery."
"Nonsense," Brynden disagreed, "he's likely going out of his mind with boredom right about now. The Maester restricted him to the bed until tomorrow, just to be safe." He looked away from the Princess before he added, "You can return his things to him personally."
Mention of the armor had Daenerys thinking. Last she'd seen it, it was in the dirt. Arya had dropped it to free her hands. She looked at the ground around her and saw nothing out of place. Peeking over her shoulder she saw Arya was once again carrying Thom's gear. When she picked it up and what had Daenerys so distracted that she hadn't noticed was a mystery, but it didn't matter much. She was touched that despite her poor attitude since their visit to the throne room, Arya was still there, still doing nice things for her, still working to make Daenerys's life just a little bit easier. She didn't deserve her.
Addressing Brynden first, she said, "I would very much like that, Thom and I didn't get the chance to speak after my father released him."
For the first time since the conversation started, the Blackfish's expression was hard, reminding Daenerys of their initial meeting. "I don't doubt that."
"I just need a moment with Arya. and then we can go," she proposed. His gratitude aside, she was still taken aback when Brynden nodded in agreement.
Although Arya was already in the process of moving to her, Daenerys took a large stride in the guard's direction. After they met, she grasped Arya's left arm and pulled her back another step, so they could speak privately. "Is everything alright?" the Stark asked with concern written across her beautiful face.
Daenerys couldn't hold back the chuckle that leaked out. "Of course," she assured her, "I'm just wondering why your uncle doesn't hate me anymore?"
For a moment they just looked at one another. Arya was incredulous, but Daenerys defiant. She really didn't understand the abrupt change in his behavior. "You saved Thom's life, Daenerys," she explained calmly. "You are the only reason Uncle Brynden won't have to tell Thom's wife and child that he's dead."
As always, hearing praise from Arya felt different, but given all that Thom endured for her, she was hesitant. "I just…"
She didn't get to finish. "You saved his life and now because of you he gets to return to his family."
"I'm sorry," Daenerys said, feeling the guilt in her bones.
"For what?"
The Princess studied her carefully and was amazed. This wasn't an instance of Arya pleading ignorance to try and make Daenerys work for the apology. Daenerys had gotten quite good at reading Arya's eyes and unless she was vastly ill-informed, the Northern woman didn't have the slightest clue what Daenerys was apologizing for. "I've been in a foul mood since we left the throne room and while it wasn't my intent, I took it out on you unfairly."
Arya countered her apology with a smile. "I understand. You've had a lot on your mind."
Although touched by Arya's willingness to forgive her frequent missteps, Daenerys wasn't quite so eager to let herself off the hook. "That's no excuse. I love you Arya and you deserve better than to take the brunt of my anger every time something doesn't go the way I'd hoped."
"I love you too," she replied, causing everything else Daenerys planned to say to fade away. How could she think of anything other than Arya at a moment like this? "Shall we go see Thom?"
Holding out her empty hands in the space between them, she nodded to the armor Arya was carrying. "Why don't I go see Thom while you check on Sansa?" Daenerys suggested. "She's probably been worried sick since she left the castle."
It was easy to see the soldier was conflicted. "I can come with you," she tried.
"Sansa has waited long enough," Daenerys decreed, "and besides, it's not as if I can't carry armor, I've been known to lift yours from time to time."
The only source of light was from a nearby fire, but it was plenty for Daenerys to see the mischievous gleam in Arya's gorgeous eyes. "I sincerely hope you can refrain from helping him put it on or take it off," she teased.
Lifting onto her toes she pressed her lips to Arya's cheek without warning. "Don't worry, those are services I save just for you."
"Because I'm special or because Martell armor is the only sort you bothered to learn to use?"
"Well," she admitted, "maybe it does have something to do with practice and repetition."
R-C
Sneaking into the Red Keep with Daenerys as co-conspirator and lookout wasn't an especially difficult task. Doing it when the Princess was all but asleep in her arms, however, was a bit more of a challenge. Twice she suggested they leave the camp and head back to the castle and twice Daenerys refused. She spent hours with Thom, asking him about his home and family.
After they left the injured man to rest, she assumed Daenerys would be ready to go, but she wasn't. Rather than return to the stuffy, boring castle Daenerys chose to linger. She spent time with Margaery, Sansa and Loras, drinking, laughing and telling stories as the sky darkened above them.
When Arya finally lured her to her horse, it wasn't because Daenerys truly wanted to leave, it was more that she was too tired to protest. The journey took longer than it should have because she couldn't trust Daenerys to keep pace or stay focused. More than once she saw the Targaryen wobble in the saddle as though she might actually fall. She made a note to mention that to Missandei and a sure to be embarrassed Daenerys come morning.
Once the horses were back in the stable and they were indoors again, Arya should have relaxed, but she knew there was more work to do. A lot of open space remained between their current location and Daenerys's bedchamber. During the painfully slow climb up the staircase Arya actually considered sweeping the Princess into her arms and carrying her the rest of the way. She would have done it, had it not been for the large number of servants, guards and other random characters roaming about. Apparently, there was no time of day when the Red Keep was truly quiet.
With one arm around Daenerys's waist and one of the Dragon's across her shoulders, Arya carried the majority of the weight as they staggered along.
Three stairs from the top, Daenerys, who barely had her eyes open mumbled something about being tired. "I know love," Arya promised, "just a little bit further and we'll be in bed."
"Mmm," she hummed, "bed."
Arya's chuckle at Daenerys's antics died on her lips when she saw a cluster of people lingered in the hall outside and around Daenerys's room. Missandei was there, Varys, Tyrion and even Oberyn. If she hadn't known that Sansa and Margaery had left the camp more than an hour earlier with intentions of heading straight to bed, she might've wondered why they weren't included.
Upon seeing them coming Missandei hurried to Daenerys's other side and prepared to help. "What happened?" she whispered, her shrewd eyes checking her friend for wounds.
"She's just tired," Arya explained. "It was a long day, and she didn't want to come back."
The slave nodded in understanding. "Come on, I'll help get her to bed."
Although she suspected she knew the answer, Arya looked to the others. "What are you doing here?"
Oberyn opened the door for her and after the women passed through the men followed. "We need to talk," Varys told her.
Was he serious? Could he not tell that Daenerys was in no condition to conduct a meeting? How long had they been standing there waiting for this? Her anger flared. She helped Daenerys to the bed, then once she was settled, left her in Missandei's capable hands. She flashed the handmaiden an apologetic smile before she rounded on the Spider and all empathy vanished from within her. "Now you want to talk?!" she hissed, trying to keep her anger reined in. "You didn't have much to say when the King was torturing an innocent man, when he was making Daenerys order it."
Although her rage was aimed at all of them, she didn't actually hold Oberyn responsible. Like her, there was little he could have done to spare them. If he intervened, Thom still would have been questioned and more importantly, Daenerys still would have been trapped, trying to balance between the two worlds she was a part of. In truth, Arya hadn't realized just how angry she was on Daenerys's behalf until she came face to face with Tyrion and Varys. These men were supposed to be Daenerys's allies. As members of the King's Small Council, they had a fairly reasonable chance of getting through to Aerys's madness and persuading him. They could have said something, done something and maybe they might've been able to spare Daenerys all the heartache she was feeling. Instead, they barely said a word. Arya knew without a shadow of a doubt that if Daenerys hadn't stepped forward to try and save Thom, neither Tyrion nor Varys would have. They would have let the man die needlessly, and simply moved on from it.
"That's hardly fair," Varys insisted. "We did what we could." He didn't wait for her to answer before he continued, "and might I remind you that you did nothing to aid the young Thom either."
While that was true and something that Arya predicted she would always hate herself for, deep inside she knew she had little choice. No matter the title she held, or the depths of her affection for Aerys's daughter, she would always be an outside as long as the Mad King occupied the throne.
Oberyn hurried to her defense. "Don't blame Arya!" he shouted, placing himself almost nose to nose with the Spymaster.
The outburst was enough to rouse Daenerys, who was lying on her bed, largely oblivious to the conversation. "Wh… who's … at?" she muttered.
Both Oberyn and Tyrion had the good sense to appear remorseful. Varys on the other hand was too busy preparing his next argument. "No one is blaming Arya," he said. "It was a tragic circumstance all around but unavoidable, I think we can agree."
Arya did not agree. It was entirely preventable. Unfortunately for her the people she held most at fault for that weren't in front of her. The real enablers were Rhaegar and Tywin, who allowed the King to continue ruling long after they knew his mind was gone. If they had done their duties to the Realm, Thom wouldn't have had to suffer, Arya wouldn't have had to watch in silence and Daenerys wouldn't have had to participate.
"Is she alright?" Tyrion asked Arya, looking toward the bed, where Missandei sat with Daenerys's head in her lap, stroking her hair.
"She's just tired," Arya repeated, before adding, "and a little drunk."
The dwarf nodded in understanding. "And the Tully?"
"He'll recover. He's back at the camp, resting."
"That's good."
Once they'd run out of things to discuss peacefully, the tension in the room increased dramatically. Arya refused to speak first, letting the awkwardness fester until someone broke the silence. "We need to speak to the Princess."
Without looking away from Varys, Arya waved one hand in the direction of the bed. "Does it look like she's in any condition for that?" she snapped rudely. "Whatever this is, it can wait until morning."
It was as if he didn't hear her. "We got lucky," Varys noted, almost bitterly, "if he'd told the King of our plans…"
"I know," Arya assured him.
"So, you understand why we can not wait any longer. We must finish this, now!"
She was running out of patience. "You want to act? You spent years sitting on your hands while he ordered things far worse than a near drowning." It was as she was speaking that she saw it, a flicker in the Spymaster's eye, gone almost immediately, but Arya knew it well, it was fear. Then she understood. The reason Varys cared now, the reason this was suddenly urgent was because this time it was his neck on the block. When it was her family or the countless others before the King, it didn't matter to him if they lived or died, but today was different. If Thom had exposed them, they all would have fallen, not just Daenerys, Arya, Oberyn, Missandei and Tyrion but Varys too. It was real for him now, and he was frightened. She had little use for the Lord of Light and utter contempt for that annoying priestess who accosted her and Daenerys on the road, but Arya's gut told her the woman in red was right, Varys would betray them all, as soon as it was convenient for him.
While she'd been busy contemplating the Spider's motives, the conversation continued around her. She didn't know what Varys said in reply to her comment about his lack of action, and she didn't know how Oberyn or Tyrion countered, but when she was paying attention again, she found all three men were much closer to the door.
"We'll see you both in the morning then?" Tyrion said, clearly setting her up to approve.
Grey eyes flickered to Varys, but he was looking at Oberyn, suggesting the Viper had bared his fangs while Arya's focus had been elsewhere. "When she wakes, I'll ensure she knows that each of you wish to speak with her," Arya pledged.
Varys finally relented, but he didn't look pleased about it. He did realize however that this was the best offer he was going to get and accepted it.
Tyrion exited with Varys at his side. She didn't think it was accidental. He was probably staying close to make certain the Spider didn't turn back for another fight. It was just one more reason to like Tyrion, even if he was a Lannister.
Following her mentor to the door, they stood on opposite sides of the threshold. "What did you need?" she asked him, sincerely. If there was something Oberyn wanted from her, she'd do everything in her power to provide it, regardless of the hour. She owed him that.
He smiled at her, reaching out and touching her cheek as he often did with Ellaria or the girls. "I just came to see if you were okay," he informed her, wearing a gentle smile on his handsome face. "I wouldn't have stayed so long, but I saw the others and wanted to be here." He stopped there, but didn't need to say anymore, she understood, and she was grateful.
"Thank you!" She trapped his warm hand between both of hers and held it, hoping he could tell how much he meant to her.
"You're welcome." She thought that was the end, but Oberyn was never one to meet expectations. "So, are you?" he asked without warning.
"Am I what?"
He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Are you okay?" he clarified. "Is Daenerys?"
She smiled at her friend. "We're good. Today was hard," she summarized, "but we're good. Daenerys blames herself. I gave her some rum at the camp to try and ease her guilt. but I didn't think we'd be there so long, or that she'd drink so fast."
"She has nothing to feel guilty for," Oberyn advised smartly, "she saved that man's life. If she hadn't intervened…"
Arya didn't want to think about what would have happened to Thom without Daenerys there to quell her father's bloodlust. As far as Arya was concerned, Daenerys was the only reason Thom's life didn't end like her mother's, Robb's or Rickon's. "I know."
The sudden softness in his eyes made it clear Oberyn knew precisely where her mind had gone. He slipped his hand out from under hers. "Get some rest. Morning comes early."
"Doesn't it always," she complained as the Prince turned away. Mercifully, Arya saw no one as she checked the hall. That was something at least. With a sigh of relief, she closed the door, and locked it for good measure, before removing her sword and reaching her for breastplate.
Although she hated to admit it, Varys was right. There was a lot they needed to discuss and decide in the morning. Oberyn was also right, she needed to rest while she could. She'd be of little use to Daenerys tomorrow if she couldn't keep her eyes open.
Moving to the bed, Arya made a list in her mind of the most immediate things she needed to accomplish. First, she'd relieve Missandei of her self-appointed task and allow the handmaiden the opportunity to retire. Then she'd prepare Daenerys for bed, and quickly follow. If after all that, it wasn't yet sunrise then perhaps she might actually get a little sleep.
As she approached the bed, fully prepared to take Missandei's spot tending to Daenerys, Arya found both women already sound asleep. Rather than risk waking them she draped a blanket over their bodies, brushed some hair away from Daenerys's face and let them dream. She could sleep on the floor for one night. It wouldn't be the first time.
R-C
"What happened yesterday can't happen again!" Varys insisted, for the third time since their meeting began. "If that man had broken, if he had told the King…"
Daenerys growled in displeasure. "That man is named Thom and he is more than just a piece in our plot against my father! He had a family and friends, and people who love him."
Rather than relent, Varys took what she'd said and used it to solidify his point. "That's just it. A man like that has a lot to lose. If he hadn't held up…"
With every word he spoke she found herself becoming angrier. Was he trying to be difficult? That morning she'd woken up next to Missandei and not Arya. She was concerned for an instant, until her memories started coming back, bringing a throbbing headache with them. Thankfully Arya was close by and able to fill in the gaps the drink had stolen.
As she prepared for the day and tried to calm her rolling stomach, the guard Daenerys loved told her what she missed the night before. It sounded chaotic and frustrating and she felt a stab of guilt knowing she left Arya to handle it alone, because she was too drunk to be of use.
How many times had she tried to apologize? Arya wouldn't hear it. At first, she thought it was because Missandei was in the room, so Daenerys made another attempt while the handmaiden was out getting the bath water, but Arya was no more receptive. She claimed that Daenerys had nothing to apologize for. With only blurry memories and Arya's descriptions to go on, she doubted that was true.
Just as the Dragon prepared to snap at the Spider across from her, Tyrion intervened to try and maintain the peace. "I think we can all agree, no one here is suggesting we repeat yesterday's unfortunate events again."
"Each day we delay is another something similar could occur," Varys announced boldly to defend his position. "We were lucky yesterday, we should not rely on that luck in the future."
"Do you think Thom considers himself lucky?" Daenerys spat harshly. "Or Grey Worm," she said looking to the Unsullied Commander, "who had no choice but to obey my father when he ordered an innocent man tortured?"
Varys was becoming frustrated. "You are making my arguments for me Princess. The armies in the Kingswood aren't getting any larger. Now is the time to strike."
She didn't disagree with him in theory, she was just bothered by his calloused disregard for the people he claimed to care about. "Are we ready?" she asked anyone and everyone at once.
Missandei responded first, the faithful friend who happily provided the good news. "The duties assigned to me can be completed on any day you wish. I need less than an hour of notice to ensure everything is as you want it."
She smiled in spite of her pounding in her head. "Thank you Missandei."
"The men in the Kingswood are ready as well Princess," Loras told her. She knew that when he spoke, he did so not only for the Tyrell forces he oversaw, but all of his counterparts who couldn't attend the meetings. "After yesterday, you need only say the word."
She listened closely, trying to hear what he was telling her and what was also going left unsaid. She nodded along, but a sizeable portion of her mind was on other things. She had a list, a list of all the steps she needed to take before they would truly be ready. Missandei and Loras's contributions were a big help, but what they were providing alone wouldn't be sufficient.
"I am here with the authority of my House," Margaery said after a short pause. "The Hand expects that I have business to discuss, they are waiting for me to schedule the meeting. We can use that," she proposed, "to gather everyone together."
Daenerys nodded along. That was a good idea, and it would work, but getting them in the room was only half the battle. She turned to Varys. "I need names," she told him, "names of vile, irredeemable men, killers, rapers, men who hurt their wives and children…"
He cut her off without bothering to wait until she explained why. "What? Why now? Princess surely you can see that we must focus on the dangers in front of us."
"I do agree," she countered coldly, "which is why I need you to do as I ask. I will need three men at least," she estimated. Since the Spider looked posed to make another objection, Daenerys set her eyes on the soldiers. Arya was standing off to the side, near the door, the Martell and the Unsullied were both seated. "Arya, Oberyn, and Grey Worm, once Varys has the names, I want you to find them and watch them. Confirm for me that they deserve the punishment that awaits them and then bring them to the castle and throw them in the dungeons."
She knew she wasn't giving them enough information to understand, but that was by design. Most only knew about the portions of the plan that they'd been asked to assist with. How it fit into the larger scheme and how it might relate to what the others were doing was a mystery for all but the ones Daenerys held closest. For this reason, it wasn't surprising when Tyrion had questions. "Why do we need the men Princess? What punishment will befall them once they get here?" He was taking great care to keep her calm, hoping to avoid sparking her ire the way Varys had.
"A meeting between Targaryens and Tyrells will entice some," she agreed, "it will lure my father and his advisors into the throne room, but what about everyone else?"
"Like who?" Sansa asked quietly.
"The whole of the Kingsguard, as many Castleguards as we can get, and the entire court." Daenerys counted them off on her fingers as she went.
"That may not be wise," Varys started, "controlling that many, especially the soldiers in such a large space might prove difficult."
She had had her fill of Varys and his comments. "Tell me Lord Varys, if I remove my father from power and name myself Queen tomorrow, what happens the day after that?" She waited but he didn't reply. He couldn't, because he didn't understand the question, didn't see the pitfall in his logic, but she did. She'd been obsessing over every step of this path for weeks. She gave a hint. "Would the court accept that my father chose my to succeed him, if they aren't there to see it? Will the Kingsguard suddenly obey my orders, if they weren't there to witness my ascent to the throne?" This time he was able to speak, but she didn't allow it. "No, they wouldn't. Which is why they all need to be there to see it with their own eyes. When our allies return to their homelands, they'll carry word that I am Queen with them. It won't take long for the news to reach the farthest corners of the Realm, but to inform the people closer to home, the people of King's Landing, I must use my father's court as my messengers. The common folk and the nobles would believe no one else."
As she finished, she had a slow, steady look around. She was confident in her strategy. While some decisions inspired doubt, this was not one of them. She met their eyes one by one, her advisors, her friends. Tyrion looked pleased and also impressed by her assessment, Missandei wore a beaming, proud smile, Grey Worm was stoic and even yet when their eyes met, he nodded, a signal to her confirming that he was on board. Oberyn too nodded approval, but he did it with a smirk on his face. When she got to the Tyrells, Margaery chose to verbalize her opinion. "That makes sense, my meeting will lure in some of the people we need, how will you gather the others?"
She smiled wickedly, a trait she picked up from Arya, who probably learned it from Oberyn. "There is only one thing in the capital that can command everyone's attention," she remarked, "which is why we'll need the prisoners. During your meeting, I'll have the men brought in and accuse them of a crime. My father will not pass up the chance to spill blood."
"And he'll summon everyone else?" Sansa checked.
Before she responded, she looked to Tyrion and Varys. "If it's suggested to him in the proper way, he'll agree and make attendance mandatory." She let it sink in before she asked the Spider she'd been quarrelling with, "Can you do it?"
She knew that posing it to him as a challenge would ignite his ego and it did. "Of course," he assured them.
That was all she needed to hear. "Good, we'll use the executions as an excuse to get everyone there, and once they are, the real show starts."
"What of the men?" Margaery wondered.
"It's unlikely they'll survive," the Princess admitted, making it sound as though they had a chance when their deaths were not only certain but required.
"Oh," the Tyrell commented sadly, hanging her head. From the spot where she'd been standing Sansa hurried to Margaery's side and put a comforting hand on her back.
"That is why the men we accuse must be guilty," she insisted, looking directly into Varys's eyes. "I will not begin my reign with the blood of innocents coloring my hands. So be certain when you name someone, they deserve it."
"I will Princess," he promised, "regrettably, King's Landing has no shortage of people who would meet the standard."
"Very well, is there anything else?" she asked, hoping the answer was no. Daenerys could use a nap and since that was unlikely, she'd settle for a few minutes of peace and quiet, preferably with Arya.
"How are we going to secure the city?" Loras inquired. "Even with the army, the walls are built to withstand a siege and we could lose hundreds or thousands if the King puts archers on the wall."
He was right. Daenerys knew. Everyone knew. Just when she thought they were making real progress, something came along and reminded them just how far they still had to go. They had no way to get the army into the city. It was one thing for them to be 'training' out in the forest, it was something else to have tens of thousands of men streaming into the city with blades and bows.
Lost in her own thoughts, Daenerys missed the beginning of a conversation between her lover and Oberyn. He was laughing at the girl he mentored. "That was weeks ago, are you telling me you didn't tell her yet?"
"I was waiting for the right time," Arya replied, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward the Martell.
"I'd say the time is now," he quipped. Though it sounded like a jest, Daenerys got the distinct impression it was more cutting than that. "All the other pieces are in place, this is all that remains."
"I was hoping we'd find another way," Arya confessed to Oberyn, while Daenerys and the others listened in. She wondered if Arya remembered they were there.
"Another way for what?" Varys asked, clearly not pleased to be on the outside looking in.
He addressed the guard, but she hesitated a fraction of a second which allowed Oberyn to speak for her. "Arya has an idea for how we can take the city without bloodshed!" he declared.
Daenerys wasn't the only one stunned by that statement. Yes, when they first began, she'd given Arya the unenviable task of trying to solve that particular riddle. She knew Arya was trying, she knew Arya wasn't alone, all of them had spent hours worrying and debating over this very issue. It hurt more than she wanted to admit that Arya had a solution and hadn't said so. Daenerys didn't care that she hadn't told Varys, Tyrion or Grey Worm, but Daenerys was different. She deserved to know and not because she was to be Queen.
Were her thoughts obvious or did Arya just know her that well? Whatever the reason, she abruptly changed course until she was standing next to Daenerys's chair, squatting down to look in her eyes. "I was going to tell you."
"When?" she hissed. "You've had this idea for weeks and said nothing."
"It's dangerous," Arya said in her defense, "I wanted to wait and see if any one else came up with something better."
She wanted to ask why, why she didn't deserve to know, why she wasn't good enough to discuss this with, but she held her tongue and waited. She was still occupied with Arya when the sound of a chair scraping against the floor reminded her that they had an audience. She stood up, forcing Arya to lean back to avoid getting hit in the process. "Apparently my guard and I have some things to discuss," Daenerys said to everyone. As she spoke, she made it a point to avoid looking Arya's way. "We can meet again, at the same time tomorrow."
Falling in step with Missandei, she walked her handmaiden to the door, and on the way was quickly joined by Margaery and Sansa. "Good luck," Missandei whispered.
With a dark chuckle Sansa shook her head, sending red curls bouncing. "From the look of things, I'd say Arya's the one you should be worried about."
Margaery stopped walking and placed her hand on Daenerys's arm. "Remember you love her," she whispered, her voice so low Daenerys had almost missed it. "Tell her how you feel and listen to what she says, loving a Stark isn't easy, but it's worth it, trust me."
As angry and hurt as she was, Daenerys didn't disagree with that. Loving Arya was the best choice she ever made, if it was a choice at all. Most of the time it felt inevitable, like she had little control over her emotions when it came to one special, grey-eyed warrior. "I know." She said it to Margaery, but she was talking to herself as well, a helpful reminder for what was coming next.
R-C
"Why didn't you tell me?" Daenerys accused hotly. "We have been trying to solve this problem for months and you had the solution all along!?"
With one hand she reached out and slowed the pacing Dragon. "It wasn't like that. Oberyn and I were talking a few weeks ago, and we had an idea of sorts but…"
She didn't get to finish. "But what?" Daenerys shouted.
Arya sighed. "But I was hoping we wouldn't need it."
As logical as her reasoning might have been, Daenerys was unmoved. "You still should have told me." She crossed her arms over her chest in a show of defiance, as if there was any uncertainty about how Daenerys felt.
Taking a deep breath, Arya tried to make the enraged Dragon see things from her side. "I knew the moment you heard we had a working plan you would want to put it into action."
Still sensitive and on edge, Daenerys's question came out hard and unyielding. "What is wrong with that?"
Closing her eyes, she summoned the patience and the strength of the Old Gods. She had a feeling she was going to need them. "Nothing is wrong with that," Arya made perfectly clear, "but the plan is dangerous, and not without a sizeable risk, so I was waiting for someone smarter than me to think of something better."
She saw it in her eyes first, then on her face. Something she'd said burned away some of Daenerys's fury. She didn't have to wait long to find out what part of the statement resonated with the Princess. "Dangerous," she verified, "for you?"
She shook her head and offered a slight smile. "No, not me."
"Then what is it!? Why would you hide this from me?"
At the end of her rope the truth tumbled out in all its ugliness. "I was trying to spare you, all right!"
"Spare me from what?" Daenerys wondered, her voice softer and her expression almost wary.
Unfortunately, Arya barely noticed. She was too annoyed, too tired of being blamed. She didn't have the tolerance to cushion Daenerys's feelings. If she wanted to know, Arya would confess. "My idea would force you to make difficult decisions, about people you consider your friends. I didn't want you to have to do that, if we could avoid it, but it appears we can't."
"What are you talking about!?" Daenerys yelled, suddenly as frustrated as Arya.
"The Unsullied! That was the idea. We can't get the troops into the city, but we might not have to, because the Unsullied are already here."
She held her tongue and watched as Daenerys slowly considered what it would mean. "There are thousands of them, and they are skilled, but can they really hold the city alone?"
They were nearing the point of no return and Arya desperately wanted an escape. Could they afford to wait for a better solution to present itself? What would happen if they tested the allegiances of the Unsullied? Would it be their undoing or the key to their victory?
Daenerys waited, impatiently for the answer to her question. Arya provided it. "The Unsullied would be more than enough to secure the city gates and perhaps even overwhelm the barracks."
She was a witness to the exact moment Daenerys understood the genius of the idea. "If they were to seize the gates," she realized aloud, "they could permit our men entry."
"That was the strategy that Oberyn and I thought of," Arya admitted carefully.
"And then what?" Daenerys pushed. "What about after?"
Arya thought about it, choosing her words with care. "Once the bulk of the army are inside the walls, we'll have the upper hand. I was looking at a map, if we attack and hold vital positions with overwhelming numbers, we may be able to avoid a fight. The guard won't want to die for a lost cause."
Daenerys continued further down the same road. "If we're quick, we can take control of the city before word can reach my father in the keep, and certainly before he can dispatch more men."
Arya was preparing to agree with the sentiment when Daenerys pinned her with a serious stare and asked, "What about the castle?"
"We'll be inside, I can open the door just like the Unsullied open the gate."
"Will that work?" Daenerys wanted to know.
"The Castleguard and the Kingsguard will fight, I am not sure that can be avoided."
With a thoughtful expression on her gorgeous face, Daenerys weighed her options. "Maybe there is a way to remedy that." She wanted to ask what the Princess had in mind but didn't get to. "What about this plan was so worrisome? It seems like a sound strategy."
Arya could tell that Daenerys hadn't thought of the Unsullied beyond their skills and abilities. She'd yet to confront the ugliness of the slavery that bound them and what it ultimately meant.
The King had all but forgotten they existed, and never issued orders for them to follow, granting them a strange illusion of freedom, but Arya knew it was only a figment. If and when an order from Aerys came, they wouldn't hesitate to obey it, even if it meant slaughtering everyone aligned with Daenerys before falling on own their swords.
"The Unsullied are slaves," Arya reminded her simply. "Slaves sworn to your father."
"I know that," Daenerys fired back without thinking, only reacting to the perceived slight.
Arya winced. She needed Daenerys to think. Think about what being a slave-soldier in her father's employ really meant. "Do you?"
Instead of anger, there was confusion. "What do you mean?"
Working to soften her tone, she presented the Princess with a hypothetical situation to ponder. "What do you think would happen if the King ordered Grey Worm to kill us?"
The already pale Targaryen blanched at the words. "He… he…" she stopped abruptly and didn't go further because she couldn't. They both knew where that would get them.
Arya kept going. "And if you asked Grey Worm and his men to fight the Kingsguard on your behalf? Do you think they would fight for you, or would they be bound by their training and support Aerys?"
"I don't know," she confessed quietly. The fire in her had gone out. She no longer had to question why Arya hadn't revealed this idea weeks ago.
Never wanting to see Daenerys sad, Arya led with what little hope they had. "Oberyn seems to think that as the King's daughter, you hold enough authority to command Grey Worm and his men, but I have my doubts."
"Why?"
It was quiet while Arya thought of a way to try and explain. "You are a Targaryen, just like your father. Oberyn has a suspicion that the Unsullied would be honor bound to heed your orders, as long as they didn't openly conflict with those of your father and brothers."
"You disagree?"
Arya took a deep breath. "I'm not sure. As I said, it's a risk. Grey Worm supports and follows you, and the others follow him, but I worry what would happen if we tested the limits of that bond." She let that thought rest before she continued. "We need the Unsullied, but if we put our faith in them and are wrong, we'll be dead."
"You think the Unsullied might turn against Grey Worm?"
She shrugged, uncertain and that was precisely the problem. "If only one of their number feels a deeper loyalty to Aerys than you, he could go to your father and tell him everything. Before we rely on the Unsullied, we need to know more."
Seconds turned into minutes as they both dealt with the dilemma privately. It was Daenerys who came to a conclusion first. "We need Missandei," she said plainly. "Outside of the Unsullied themselves, no one in all of Westeros knows more about them than she does."
R-C
"You need the whip," Missandei remarked once she heard and understood the crux of the problem.
"The whip?" Daenerys repeated back.
"It's a symbol," she explained to the friends who didn't know better. "The whip signifies ownership much the same way a collar marks a slave."
Arya felt rage as she imagined the life Missandei had had to live before and after Aerys arrived in Essos. It was bad enough to be kidnapped and forced into slavery, but it was all together worse to be sold like property and forced to cross the sea and begin a new life in a strange, foreign land. The fact that Missandei of Naath was strong enough to not only survive but persevere was a testament to her character. It did nothing to undo the injustice of it all. Being a foster was difficult but compared to the life of a slave, she'd had it easy.
"The Unsullied do not follow your father because he is the man who paid for them," Missandei continued, pulling Arya from her thoughts and making her take notice. The guard erroneously believed that was exactly why Grey Worm and his men fought for Aerys. Had she been wrong? "They fight for him because he holds their whip."
"I do not understand," Daenerys admitted, sounding small and weak, nothing like the woman Arya knew her to be. It was evident she didn't like this topic of conversation any more than the soldier did.
"The person who buys the slave is not always the one who uses them," she clarified. "It is common for slaves to be rented, shared or even given as gifts for a set period of time or to complete a specific task. This happens most often with soldiers and bed slaves."
"So, what does that mean for us?" Daenerys wondered, unable to make the necessary connection.
"You need the whip," Missandei advised. "The Unsullied will follow whoever holds their whip, and last they saw it, it was in your father's hand."
Arya understood first. "It's an actual item," she said, more to Daenerys than Missandei. "It's a real thing."
"Yes," Missandei confirmed. "Slaves are often bought to be resold. The young ones especially get confused by this, unsure of who to obey, so the Masters made it easy. Slaves learn what their whip looks like and are taught to follow any who carry it, whether they are the one who bought them or not."
Arya was beginning to see the perverse sense of it. The Unsullied were said to be bought as young boys, sometimes even babes. From there they were raised and trained, taught to obey every request no matter how vile or dangerous, but such conditioning wouldn't be easy or quick. In all those years, how many had there been, how many minders and trainers, how many Masters and servants? How could a young boy in training possibly know who he was supposed to protect and who he was supposed to kill? As wicked as they were, the Masters were efficient. They devised a simple system that made these whips tokens of ownership. As disgusting as she found the practice Arya was beginning to see how useful it could be for them.
In the chair next to her Daenerys was arriving at the same place. "So, if I were to find this whip?" she speculated.
"The Unsullied would be yours," Missandei declared unequivocally.
"And what of my father?"
"What of him?" Missandei challenged. "He is only their Master until their whip is held by another. If it were you, it wouldn't matter that he bought them or brought them here to defend him, all that would matter was your will."
Oberyn had hinted that such a thing was possible, but to hear Missandei speak of it with such certainty, chilled Arya more than it cheered her. They were walking a dangerous road.
"They would fight for me?" Daenerys asked her handmaiden, needing further reassurance.
"They would, just as they would die for you. They would be yours to command."
The final word seemed to hit Daenerys like a bolt, and she recoiled. "And if I don't wish to command them?" She looked at Arya then Missandei before she went on. "Would they fight for me if I didn't command it?"
This was it. The question Arya had been warring with since Oberyn first made the suggestion. Could they trust in the Unsullied to choose Daenerys over Aerys? Would they fight if they didn't have to?
Missandei's response had none of Arya's concerns or doubts. She was methodical and certain. "If you held their whip, they would have no choice."
That answer, although accurate did nothing to resolve Daenerys's predicament. "But…"
"We are slaves Princess, what we want is not important."
It turned Arya's stomach that Missandei included herself in the group of slaves she was speaking about, even if it was technically true. Next to her Daenerys was near tears. "It matters to me," she insisted, reaching for Missandei's hand.
Missandei gave her right hand freely and accompanied it with a sad, knowing smile. "I know, but not all feel as you do. We will always be slaves to most…"
That was as far as she got. Daenerys jumped from her chair, without releasing Missandei. "Then I shall grant you your freedom," she decided. "I was going to do it as soon as I was Queen anyway, I promised you and I meant it." Satisfied with this new plan she looked to Missandei for confirmation. "if I find this whip, can I release the Unsullied from their oaths, can I set them free? Can I set you free?"
Instead of being thrilled, or even pleased by the prosect of freedom the handmaiden was cautious. The lack of emotion unnerved Arya, though Daenerys didn't seem to notice. "You could."
Daenerys didn't hear the warning hidden in those two words, but Arya did. Missandei was her friend, and she didn't like the idea of putting her in the middle, but they needed information and Daenerys was right about one thing, there was no greater source of information about the plight of slaves in all of Westeros than Missandei. Still, she knew the handmaiden loved Grey Worm and that complicated an already delicate situation all the more. She waited just a moment to see if Daenerys would inquire, but when she didn't, Arya had no choice but to do it for her. "But?"
Still standing, Daenerys rounded on her lover with blazing violet eyes. "But what?!" she asked the wrong person. With a look Arya implored the Princess to calm, to listen, and think. She looked suggestively toward the slave among them and waited for the reply. It took a moment, but Daenerys did the same.
"You could set the Unsullied free and although a more noble or generous gesture I could not name, you must be careful. Once the Unsullied are free from their oath, once they are no longer bound to the whip, they would be truly free."
"Exactly!" Daenerys shouted. "They could join us and oppose my father. Westeros would once again be rid of slavery, and they could help see it accomplished."
Deciding it was best to let the Missandei handle this, Arya remained silent, but that didn't mean she was without an opinion. She knew why Missandei was reluctant and agreed with her concerns. The only question that remained was what Daenerys would choose to do once she too understood the importance of the decision before her. Whatever choice she made, it would have profound, far-reaching consequences that went beyond this room and the best friends.
"Yes," Missandei relented gently, "the Unsullied could choose to fight for you, but they could also choose to oppose you. If you freed them and offered them a place in your army, there would be nothing to prevent them from going to the King and telling him of our plans."
"Oh," Daenerys said feebly as the weight of the moment hit her.
Missandei squeezed the hand she was still clutching, before she let it go. It swung in the air briefly before coming to a stop, hanging at Daenerys's side. The room was quiet. Missandei shattered that by speaking the truth they now all grappling with. "Granting us our freedom might be the right thing to do Princess, but that does not make it the best thing, for you or your cause."
R-C
Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I've been anxiously awaiting this chapter for a while, and I really hope people enjoyed it. I've known since the beginning that I was going to put Daenerys in this position where she had to decide if she should use the Unsullied or set them free. Lots more of that to come, but first, she's got to find the whip Aerys brought back from Astapor.
Russell Craig.