hello everyone. yep i'm not updating my marvel fics. i'm a monster. here's a got fanfiction instead.
look i felt like dany and arya needed to friends. so i wrote this. sue me.
his is a dany lives AU. this is a "friendship develops through understanding and helping each other out with mental health issues" AU. enjoy!
this was also posted on ao3 under the username acropclis.
i have a tumblr of the same name ( acropclis) if you wanna check it out, i'd be super happy. i post updates about the fic there, also aesthetics made by people who read the story and short snippets of fluffy arya and dany moments (mainly arya being a drogon fangirl).
the title of this story is inspired by this song: "Onward Upward" by Tommee Profitt (feat. Fleurie) listen to it, it's amazing.
this story is beta'ed by the amazing Alee.
now, without further ado...
VOID (Arya I)
Arya Stark was never one to settle. She had had the chance to, at the House of Black and White, Braavos, but the thought of staying tied to that place, serving a god she wasn't sure she believed in, had left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She had bolted as soon as she had gotten the chance.
Then, came Winterfell. Her home. She was finally back, reunited with her family. It was supposed to be her last adventure. She was supposed to stay up north, ruling alongside her sister, and maybe Jon, if all went well with the War for the Living.
How did everything go so wrong, so fast?
How was she the one who killed the Night King?
She still vividly remembered how the monster was standing in front of her brother, preparing himself to kill him. She saw his icy blue hand go up to his spear, and she felt something inside of her snap.
The next thing she knew, she was suspended in the air, with that monster's hand around her throat. She had really thought it was the end then.
'Not today.'
She thought her little parlor trick wouldn't work on a creature who was older than the seven kingdoms, but it did.
He burst into shards of ice, some of them slicing at her skin, and opening bloody paths on her face.
She couldn't really remember what came in between that, and the feast, just the fact that Jon and Sansa had hugged her so tight she thought they might crack some bones, and the Dragon Queen looking at them with a soft smile on her face.
She vaguely remembered thinking that she was way too bloodied for someone who was flying above the combat scene, not actively participating.
Then, she had crashed and slept until the feast.
The feast.
What a party that was.
Singing, drinking, dancing and laughing, until the first rays of sunshine broke through the clouds. Everyone had stayed up to watch the sunrise, like it was the first time it ever had.
Well, seeing that the last time it did could've been the last time, everyone thought the moment precious and to be savored.
She didn't think she could have so much fun alongside drunk fighters, her siblings, and the Dragon Queen's guard and entourage.
She noticed the Mormont knight was missing, but she didn't say anything about it.
The Queen herself was looking rather down, sipping on her wine, staying silent in her seat.
Arya had spent a good portion of the night observing her. She wasn't very happy and cheerful for someone who had just won a war.
She had heard that the Queen, upholding a Dothraki tradition, never cut her hair, and always braided it, as long as she won her battles. Looking at the intricate tresses made into a bun at the back of her head, she wondered if Daenerys Targaryen had ever lost a battle.
Tormund had made a toast to her name and she had smiled radiantly, all the darkness making way for sunshine, and stood up, raising her own cup.
"To Arya Stark, the Hero of Winterfell!" she cheered, and looked at her with a happy, proud smile, and Arya couldn't help but smile back.
The men cheered, and she noticed her sister's eye twitch slightly.
Arya didn't understand where all the hatred stemmed from. The Queen had just saved their home, and from the glances she and Jon were giving each other when they first arrived, she may be their future sister-in-law.
Arya had shrugged it off and downed her ale.
She chanced a second glance to the Queen, who had sat back down, listening to Tormund praise Jon for riding one of her Dragons into the battle.
She winced internally, when Tormund clapped her brother on the back, boasting how only a king would ride that kind of beast into war. Her eyes immediately went to the Queen after the comment.
She had her eyes cast to the floor, an empty expression on her face.
She excused herself a few minutes later, and no one even noticed.
Arya's heart had twisted painfully, but she didn't comment on it, and it escaped her mind soon after. Why would she care about the Dragon Queen anyway? It's not like she understood how being a woman would get her undermined in any conversation she had. It's not like she understood that, despite being better than men, they would always be the ones to get the praise, the merit.
Mindlessly, she followed the woman outside and watched as she made her way into the Wolfswood, just west of Winterfell.
Daenerys seemed to walk on for hours, and not tire. At times, she would look up at the skies with her eyes closed, as if listening intently to the sounds around her, then continuing onward, like she knew exactly where she was going.
Arya didn't completely understand how it happened, but soon after, they found themselves in a small clearing, where Daenerys' dragons were napping soundly.
She saw the Queen's facade break into unfiltered sadness, as she looked at her two dragons.
"Drogon, my love, wake up," she coaxed gently, as she approached them.
Her speaking the common tongue with them surprised Arya, who kept watching intently. She had never seen the Dragons up close before, and she wasn't intending on getting caught. She wanted to observe them as long as she could, without being interrupted or burned alive.
The dragon in question opened an eye lazily and cooed at its mother. It sounded… in pain, oddly enough.
Daenerys breathed in sharply, then gulped, trying to get her face, and apparently, emotions under control.
"I know you're hurting, love. Please, let me help."
The dragon gently lowered its head, not once suspicious or hesitant, and Daenerys approached, and started lodging out arrows from the Dragon's hide, and cleaning particularly nasty scars with supplies she had gathered back at Winterfell.
Arya had stayed and watched the Mother of Dragons tend to her children for hours, and honestly, she could have stayed there for a few more. Daenerys' connection with the three mythical creatures was undeniable, and of a strength that could rival a human mother and her children.
Drogon would howl, pained, and she would soothe him with a hand to his muzzle, her forehead against his scales, gentle words echoing hollowly around the forest.
Rhaegal would chirp something, and Daenerys would laugh, and answer him in Valyrian, giving him a quick scratch under the chin.
Arya had never been more mesmerized by a sight before.
It was all over as soon as it had started, though, as the Queen found herself tiring after a long night.
"I'll be leaving now, my loves. Will you be alright?" Concern was obvious on her tongue, but she seemed weary, too tired to convey the full extent of her emotions.
The dragons chirped, and Drogon gently nudged her forward towards the entrance of the clearing. The Queen laughed.
"I love you, little ones," she whispered, kissing each dragon on the muzzle, before making the trek back to Winterfell.
Arya had wanted to walk ahead, since what she followed the Queen for was clearly over, but she found herself following the woman carefully.
What if she was attacked on the way back? Wolves were rampant in the area.
The Queen had walked in the snow slowly for what seemed like hours, occasionally stopping, and leaning against a tree, breathing heavily. Arya didn't understand what was wrong until she saw droplets of scarlet fall onto the snow.
The Queen was injured.
All of Arya's instincts were screaming at her to help the woman, but she silenced them, for some unknown godsdamned reason, though the 'reason' sounded quite a lot like Sansa in her head.
The Queen eventually made it back to her chambers and collapsed on her bed, not bothering to change out of her heavy white furs.
Arya had gotten a fire started in her hearth, and had slipped out of the room, as silently as a shadow.
She never spoke to anyone about what she saw, or noticed that night, not even Jon. She had kept it to herself selfishly, hugged tightly against her heart.
She had gained a new respect for the Silver Haired Dragon rider.
Then, came the Battle of King's Landing.
She didn't know exactly what happened, but miraculously, in an instant where the entirety of the city was holding its breath, in a moment where the fighting was frozen, and Dragons stopped roaming the skies, the city's bells finally rang, signaling the surrender of the Capital.
Arya had internally cheered. The Queen had won. Cersei was defeated. Maybe, if she asked the Dragon Queen nicely, she would get to kill her herself.
She had looked up at where the Queen had positioned herself with her dragon, atop a broken defense tower, with a grin stretching her sooty, dirtied face.
She had expected a speech of some sort— she had heard that the Queen was quite good at those— but the silence stretched on for a bit too long to be natural, a bit too long to be reassuring.
Then, Drogon flapped his wings once, twice, and took off flying towards the Red Keep, his flames engulfing everything in his way, and the silence made place for absolute chaos, a deafening cacophony of screaming, crumbling buildings, dragon roars, and her own heartbeat hammering her ears.
She had never been more scared before in her life.
Maybe not for herself, but in the heat of the moment, everything was jumbled, and she was scared, for what she didn't know, but she was scared.
She had run for her life, trying to rescue as much of the people as she could, in vain. The fire soon had eaten at all of the Capital, and nothing was left of it but ash.
She couldn't quite remember how she had gotten to the Red Keep herself— she was in shock, as, she was sure, was everyone.
The city had surrendered, and yet the Queen had burned it down, regardless of the innocent lives lost.
Arya had felt an immense sadness that she couldn't explain bloom inside of her. She had thought… She had thought.
And she shouldn't have.
Her sadness made place for anger. She could already see Sansa's smug face, smiling but not quite, when she hears of what the 'Mad Queen' had done.
Arya didn't know why, but she had desperately wanted to prove her wrong after her night following Daenerys into the Wolfswood. She had seen a side of the Queen that she was sure no one had ever seen before. A human side. Daenerys Targaryen's problem was that she seemed aboveeveryone. Above the northerners and above the southerners, like she was a being deserving of her own plane of existence, a goddess deserving of worship and devotion.
Arya had never felt particularly drawn to her leadership, to her command, until that particular night.
And she had wished other people had witnessed it with her.
But now, standing amidst broken pillars, charred bones and remnants of what was once people, she wasn't quite sure she was right about the Queen.
The Unsullied were standing in neat rows in the court of the Red Keep, always in formation, always at the ready, always disciplined.
Their leader, Grey Worm, she thought his name was, was standing atop the stairs leading inside of the Red Keep.
Then, the woman of the hour herself appeared. The Queen had somewhat of a vacant look on her face like she was feeling everything and nothing at once. A pair of wings unfurled behind her, and for a second Arya thought she looked of another world— a winged goddess, here to bring chaos and rampage to the Land's already fragile state.
Then the wings flapped once, twice, and Drogon took off from behind the Queen, circling the Keep, before positioning himself on a broken pillar, beside his mother.
Of course, she wasn't winged, Arya chided herself. But, seeing her atop the stairs, and hearing the speech she delivered afterward, Arya thought she might as well have been.
She saw Jon look heartbroken. She saw Tyrion Lannister take off his pin and throw it on the ground, therefore resigning from his position as Hand of the Queen.
Daenerys' face had remained impartial as she had ordered him to be taken away, and Arya, for the life of her, and using all of her training, could not make out a single emotion in the Queen's demeanor, or on her face.
It was like she was void, and Arya's blood chilled at the thought.
What had happened in that head of hers, when she was flying over the city?
Had she thought about Tormund praising Jon about riding her dragon? Had she thought about her advisor —Missandei? — getting murdered? Had she thought about how isolated she had felt in that feast, up at Winterfell?
What could possibly warrant a human to do such a thing?
Suddenly, the speech was over, and the Queen was retreating back inside the destroyed Keep.
She saw Jon look to the ground, pained, then as she had predicted, he made his way inside the Keep as well, following the woman he loved.
Arya debated following as well, but she had a growing hollow feeling, in the pit of her stomach, that forced her feet to stay rooted to the ground. She opted on staying where she was, waiting for Jon to finish his business with the Queen, so they could finally return to Winterfell.
Her heart twisted at the thought of staying cooped up there for the rest of her life. It was not like she had any other choice, right? She had to protect Sansa from the Queen, who had shown how merciless she could be, just hours before. She couldn't leave her sister defenseless in good conscience.
She didn't know how much time had passed before she heard a heartbreaking screech, the already fragile walls of the castle threatening to crumble down to dust.
She heard the winged beast shriek louder, then she heard him breathe fire—a sound she had become quite accustomed to. Her heart tore in half, knowing it was her brother being roasted alive by the Queen's beast. She swore to kill her, right then.
Leave one wolf alive, and the sheep are never safe.
How does one convert a dragon to a sheep?
She ran inside the Keep, trying to keep her breathing under control. He couldn't be— he couldn't be—
She bumped into Jon as he was making his way out, his face empty, dried tear tracks visible on his dirtied cheeks.
She breathed a sigh of relief, though a knot tied itself in her stomach.
"Is she-"
"Yes," he deadpanned, broken and quiet, and the knot in her stomach tightened.
She would not feel sad about the death of a madwoman.
And yet—
Jon stood there for a long time, looking at nothing ahead of him, or maybe at what was left of King's Landing, Arya didn't know.
He had to kill the woman he loved. He deserved a few moments of mourning.
"Go," Jon said after a while, his eyes not leaving the horizon.
Arya looked at him curiously, and opened her mouth to ask him what he was talking about, but one look from him stopped her.
"I know you weren't going to stay in Winterfell. I… I understand. Go, Arya. You deserve to discover the world."
Arya's eyes filled with tears. She hugged her brother as tight as she could, grateful to have him back in her life. She could not believe that he had changed in Sansa's eyes. That she had started calling him cousin as if a Targaryen was all he was.
To Arya, he would always be her big brother, the one who believed in her, the one who gave her the first push forward to be herself, to not conform to anyone's expectations or traditions. Unknowingly, Jon Snow had started the creation of the Arya Stark she was today, and she would be forever grateful for him.
But, he was right. As much as she loved her family, Arya knew her place wasn't in Winterfell. 'A wanderer,' she called herself secretly. 'A voyager.'
The next day, she was on a boat and had decided to go southeast, seeing where the current would take her.
Her journey was uneventful, in a good way. She had opted to pay a merchant to ferry her across the Narrow Sea, and honestly, that was one of the best decisions she had made in her life.
The man in question was a wine vendor, so her cup was never empty. The crew and she became quick friends, bonding over throwing knives, drinking games, and telling stories from all over the world.
She had made a list of places she wanted to visit, solely because she wanted to put a face to the places the men had named.
At night, she would lay down on the deck, in a makeshift bed the sailors had fashioned for her, nothing but a sheet attached to two masts —the sailors had called it a 'hammock', and quite frankly, she found that it was more comfortable, and more fun, than her own bed in Winterfell. She would look at the stars, and imagine all the places she would go to, and all the ways she would recount them to her brothers and sister.
Would she have someone draw the places for her? Would she attempt to draw them herself? Would she send them trinkets and gifts from each place she visited?
The possibilities were endless for Arya Stark, and she had decided that she loved that life for herself more than anything else. More than living in a castle, more than being a lady, more than being a faceless assassin.
She was Arya, Voyager, Explorer, Wanderer.
She wanted to know everything there was to know about the world. She wanted to see everything there was to see, and she wanted to discover places no one has been to. She even intended to go to Old Valyria, just for the sake of adventure, to see for herself where the Dragonlords used to live and fly their dragons.
Her first stop was Volantis.
She had hopped off the boat, after profusely thanking the merchant, and bidding goodbye to the crew.
Her first few days of exploring the city had brought her a sense of liberty she didn't know she needed. It was the kind of feeling that was addictive; you would taste it once, and crave it for the rest of your life.
Fortunately, Arya was young and had all of her life ahead of her, and all of the world to see.
She wandered along the Long Bridge, peering into the Rhoynar and even taking a dip in it. She drunk in the taverns and shopped in the markets, buying all kinds of gifts for Jon, Sansa, and Bran.
By her third day, she had decided to stray from the typical touristic locations and go explore the deeper, more private areas of the city. She found that she enjoyed that even more than the public places.
She liked the thrill of staying hidden in the shadows, the excitement of being there in secret.
It was about noon on her third day. The young wolf had decided that she was starving, and began making her way back from the lemon orchard she was walking through, enjoying the sunshine, and the crisp, clean smell of lemons, mixed with the earthy scents that came after the rain.
She closed her eyes momentarily, breathing in deeply, and already imagining the feast she was going to buy herself for lunch when a sound she thought she would never hear again echoed in her ears.
A flapping of wings, once, twice, before a powerful takeoff into the blue sky.
Her head snapped up, trying desperately to find the source of the noise. Was it possible? The Queen's dragon had disappeared after her death, and it was said that he was seen flying east, but was it really him, just flying contently above the city? Weren't the citizens terrified?
And, with a smirk, 'do they need a knight in shining armor to slay the beast for them?'
Just as her cocky thoughts took the best of her, the dragon appeared just above her in the sky, casting a gigantic shadow over the orchard.
Arya was so distracted, looking at the majestic beast, that she didn't notice the person sitting on the ground, leaning against a lemon tree.
She tripped over said person, falling face first into the still moist dirt.
She grunted in pain, rubbing her face clean, exasperated.
'Seriously, Arya? Seriously?'
She began to stand up, ready to apologize to the person she tripped over when the word caught in her throat painfully.
Staring back at her were startled, glistening violet eyes.
There you go! i hope you liked it! review if you did, that'd absolutely make my whole day.
don't forget to check out my tumblr acropclis and to have a great day!