Wary on Daenerys's behalf and more than a little cautious Arya made it a point to go in first, to prepare for whoever had come. If necessary, she would pull Daenerys aside and prepare her as well. It was a sound strategy, but ultimately toothless.
The woman's presence caused Arya's steps to falter. She recovered quickly, but that was all the time Daenerys needed to catch up to her guard and see for herself who had summoned her.
There was tension in the air, and yet the woman on the padded bench looked perfectly at ease with her long, dark hair perfectly styled. Her dress shimmered in the sunlight coming through the window. On her wrist she wore a bracelet with the mark of her birth family. She didn't appear unhappy that Daenerys had made her wait, and she similarly wasn't annoyed by the fact that it was a trio and not the Princess alone who had come to answer her.
Ashara stood from her seat and stepped around the table to approach the Princess. "Lovely to see you again, I apologize for coming here unannounced, I'm sure you are very busy."
Arya peeked at Daenerys whose bad day seemed to be improving. Since there was no danger, Arya stepped back, giving the noblewomen the chance to reunite. "Lady Musgood, what a surprise," Daenerys gushed before they embraced. "You needn't apologize, this has been a trying day and your visit unplanned as it was, is exactly what I require."
Just as Arya fell into her role as guard, Missandei stepped into her duties as the handmaiden. "Lady Musgood, may I get you something to drink?" she offered kindly.
The Dornish smiled at the slave. "Dear, I told you, you should call me Ashara," her eyes danced to Daenerys, and she smiled a little wider, "you all should," she continued, "we are friends here."
Missandei ducked her head slightly, but obliged. "Drinks Ashara?" she asked, almost like she was testing the word on her tongue.
"I'll have whatever you're having dear," she replied. While Missandei got to work, the Dayne's violet eyes landed on Arya. "And you," she began, going so far as to point a finger at the Martell soldier.
From the corner of her eye, Arya could see that Daenerys was just as surprised by this as she was. "Me, m'lady?" When Ashara nodded, Arya was already moving forward. "How can I be of service?"
"I know it is your job to protect this one," she said, looking suggestively toward the Targaryen, "and I hear you do it well."
"She does it very well," Daenerys insisted. Arya couldn't hold back the smirk. She hadn't meant to say that, Arya could tell by the blush currently coloring her cheeks. Daenerys just couldn't help herself, rushing to Arya's defense against anyone and everyone who might try to question her worth.
"I have no doubt Princess," Lady Musgood said to Daenerys before her focus returned to the Stark. "Which is why you will be able to join us for a drink won't you?"
She was framing it like a question, as if Arya really had a choice, but foster or not, she was no fool. She knew Ashara wanted her to join them, she just couldn't for the life of her imagine why. "I'll be outside," she announced, "I'll ensure you aren't disturbed."
One look at her face and it was clear Ashara was unhappy with that. "Nonsense," she declared loudly as she bent over the table and picked up an item, at random. It was nothing special, a small, iron candleholder with two wax candles sticking out of the openings. Since it was still daytime, and the light coming through the windows was sufficient, neither wick was lit, but that didn't matter to Ashara. She raised the iron by several inches, while studying it with a critical eye.
Like Arya, Daenerys and Missandei were struggling to keep up with what they were witnessing. No one spoke. This was the Lady Musgoods show. She'd come here. She was the one making demands, and now she was the one wielding the candleholder. All they could do was wait.
"If Oberyn is half the trainer he claims to be, then surely you could protect the Princess while sitting next to her, could you not?" Ashara challenged.
"I could," Arya conceded, "but with respect, you didn't come to King's Landing to see me."
"Actually," the Musgood corrected, "I came to see all three of you." She used the candleholder to point to the various seats around the table she'd stolen it from. "Sit please, we have a lot to talk about."
R-C
She'd liked her from the start, heard nothing but good things from the people she trusted and yet Ashara Musgood still managed to impress Daenerys at every turn. She was treating Missandei like a friend and not a servant or a slave, and then she took up the task of trying to change Arya's mind, no easy feat Daenerys knew. She wanted Arya aand Missandei to be a part of their conversation. Once Arya had chosen a seat Ashara pushed the candleholder down the table, toward her, in the event she needed it as an impromptu weapon.
They were on their second refills by the time they finally learned what compelled her to come. "You're doing well Princess," she said, setting her juice down. "I've been to the Kingswood, I've seen it. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but what you've done, I don't think anyone else in all of Westeros could have achieved it."
"I had help," Daenerys told her honestly, as she fought the burning on her cheeks that always came with compliments.
All eyes in the room moved to Arya. "Yes," she acknowledged, "you did. The Tullys and the Arryns fighting for a Targaryen, I never thought I'd see the day." Before anyone could comment, she went on. "Well done," she said to Arya, reaching out and patting her hand as an approving grandmother might. "Your father would be proud."
Daenerys's tongue suddenly felt too large for her mouth. She couldn't make it move. She could only stare, a -prisoner in her own body. From the day she learned the fate of the Starks, Daenerys had been very careful not to bring up any of Arya's kin recklessly. Ashara didn't hold the same reservations. She waited for Arya to respond but the soldier just looked at the woman from Storm's End and nodded in silence. If Daenerys had to guess, she'd say it was taking all of Arya's considerable talents to remain seated, keep her mask in place and continue to breathe in and out at appropriate intervals.
Since Daenerys was too busy fretting over Arya, it fell to Missandei to steer them to a safer subject. "Did you come to check on your men?"
"Actually," Ashara said, looking down at her empty cup. "it isn't on the business of the Musgoods that I came to see you, I am here on behalf of my other family."
It took Daenerys a moment. "The Daynes," she remarked aloud, hoping to make it easier for Missandei to keep up. She had no doubt that Arya already concluded who Ashara was referring to.
"We Daynes have prospered under Targaryen rule, there is no denying it," Ashara confessed. She was talking quicker now, no less clearly or refined, but faster, like she was desperate to get the words out.
The Dragon sought to set her at ease. "Nothing is going to change in that regard," Daenerys assured her. "Your family," she paused and amended her statement, "both of your families will continue to rule be it in Storm's End or Starfall.
Ashara kept her eyes focused on the table and not her companions. Daenerys had to wonder if she heard any of the reassurances the Princess provided. "When one of Oberyn's daughters travelled to Starfall to tell us about this," she looked up and gestured to the trio of women, the slave, the foster and the Princess, "when we heard what you were planning to do, we joined up right away. Daynes will fight in your army Princess, right next to the men from Sunspear, and under Oberyn's command."
Daenerys already knew this, but she didn't think telling Ashara that would be beneficial in any way. "I appreciate that."
"The Musgood armies are here also," she went on, without acknowledging Daenerys's comment. "They're good men. They'll fight for you, and I have no doubt the throne is in your future."
She had so many things to say, so many questions to ask, but she bit down on her bottom lip to keep them all contained. Whatever Ashara had come to say or do, Daenerys wanted to give her the chance to finish. Eventually, it became clear that she was done, so Daenerys carefully dipped her toe into the water. "We will win," she confirmed, as confidently as she could, "with the help of all our allies from Dorne, the Stormlands, and everywhere else." Speaking of her armies reminded her of the pressing decision she had to make, and soon. Would she free the Unsullied and risk losing them, or would she command them and become everything she hated? She pushed that thought away and tried to focus on the ongoing discussion she was having. Her worries, however, didn't go far. Her brother had given her a deadline, and unless she increased the speed she and her people were moving, they weren't going to get everything done in time.
"I believe you Princess," Ashara admitted boldly, "and I believe in you. You will help the Realm and its people, and we are long overdue for that."
Ashara's words pulled her from her thoughts, but she knew she'd be back there soon enough. When this business with Lady Musgood was finished, she'd need to devote some serious attention to deciding the fate of the Unsullied.
In the meantime, she tried to keep her focus on her guest. "I appreciate that. I thank you for your friendship, and your loyalty, your counsel and your discretion."
Ashara nodded along with every point. "You have it, you do, but I'm afraid the reason I came is more personal."
Sensing that the time had come for her to excuse herself Missandei stood. "I'll leave you two to speak privately," she said.
Daenerys wasn't going to send her friend away and it pleased her when she realized the Musgood wasn't either. "Sit dear," she said sweetly. Missandei did and then Ashara continued on. "It is not an accident that I wanted all three of you here. I understand that you two provide wise advice to our future Queen. She may be in need of such aid before we're through."
Daenerys was momentarily stunned. Ashara Dayne, the beautiful and powerful woman who ruled the Stormlands had just proclaimed her the 'future Queen.' She could have dwelled on that detail for hours, but circumstances demanded she save any reflection for later. Daenerys looked at her friends and could see the easy conversation had shifted into something else. No one drank now, and everyone was sitting up just a little bit straighter.
"What troubles you?"
"It's my brother Princess."
"The Sword of the Morning," the soldier among them contributed.
Ashara graced Arya with a smile. "I usually just call him 'Arthur'," she quipped, "but yes."
"He is a member of my father's Kingsguard," she stated. It wasn't a question, because she knew he was, she just needed to buy herself the time to try and make sense of the muddled thoughts racing around inside her head. The Kingsguard were going to be a problem, she'd known it from that first day, sitting across from Oberyn, and now as they neared the end, they were equally vexing. A dozen of the best swordsmen the Realm had, all lined up against her. She didn't want to kill them, if it could be avoided. That said, she didn't particularly want many of them serving her either. There was a lot of middle ground in between, she just hadn't found the right spot quite yet.
"He is, and I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but I swear on my children it is true; if Arthur knew what we were doing, he'd join us."
That was a bold claim, but unfortunately one that was almost impossible to test.
"What does your brother think brought you here?" Missandei asked the highborn woman.
"A visit," she answered without hesitation.
Arya was next. "And the Starfall and Stormland armies, why does he think they have come?"
"Training, wasn't it?" she asked no one and everyone. "You told them they are training in the Kingswood."
"Yes," Daenerys conceded, "we did." She stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts. "So, your brother doesn't know about any of this, about me or our allies?"
With a serious expression on her attractive face, Ashara replied. "Not a word. I forbid any of the men from speaking about it to anyone." Sensing that the Princess might need more, she gave it willingly. "I did not want to put him in a position to have to choose between his family and his oath."
"I can understand that."
"But that doesn't mean I do not worry. What do you intend to do with the men loyal to your father when all this is done? Is my brother going to be killed, his head put on a pike? Will he be thrown in the dungeons, or sent to the Wall? What awaits him?"
In truth Daenerys didn't really know. She had ideas by the bucketful, but they weren't full-fledged plans, and they couldn't be, not until Daenerys saw how Aerys's Kingsguard acted when they realized she planned to replace him. Ashara was one of the first who pledged her army, and beyond that, she kept Arya's secrets and was kind to Missandei. For those reasons, Daenerys didn't lie. Her friend was owed the truth. "I don't know." She could see Ashara preparing another argument, so she sped up her explanation. "What I can tell you is that I hope we will be able to seize the city and the castle with a minimum of bloodshed." Understandably, Ashara didn't look convinced. "To answer your question, no, I have no desire to execute every member of the Kingsguard, nor do I plan to force them into the Night's Watch."
Ashara was too smart to just accept that, so Daenerys wasn't the least bit surprised when she pushed back a little. "But?"
"But, when our armies break through the throne room doors, when they flood into the city and the castle, when I stand before my father and accuse him of crimes against the Realm, what happens next won't be up to me."
With a sombre expression and a stoic nod, Ashara understood. "If the Kingsguard attack you…"
"I hope we can avoid that," she interrupted, "I sincerely do. I hope that once the men see fighting will benefit no one they'll lay down their arms."
"And what of the King?"
"I'll deal with my father," Daenerys promised. Reaching out she took one of Ashara's smooth hands. "I wish I could guarantee your brother's safety. If there was a way I could, I would, but it's impossible to know."
Ashara's eyes filled with tears while Daenerys watched. "I know, I know, I just… " she trailed off and then went right back to it. "He is my brother."
"I understand," Daenerys swore, because she did. Her brothers might not be worthy of the same level of devotion, but many in her life were, and for them, Daenerys could easily imagine herself occupying Ashara's half of the conversation one day. In an effort to leave things well between them, she gave a little more. "I can not promise you much, but I can say with certainty that if your brother lays down his sword and does not resist, then he will not be harmed." Daenerys took a deep breath and let her fingers tap gently against the back of Ashara's hand. "I know it's not much, but…"
She didn't get to finish. "It is," she disagreed quickly, before she popped up onto her feet to lock Daenerys in a hug. "It is," she said again, with her mouth next to the Princess's ear. "It's more than I thought I'd get."
R-C
Daenerys had hoped that the day was improving after she was unexpectedly reunited with Lady Musgood, but the short reprieve didn't last. As soon as they parted ways, as soon as Ashara wasn't there to provide a much-needed distraction, it all came rushing back. Her fight with her brother, his spiteful and arbitrary decision about when Arya would be leaving, what to do about the Unsullied, Varys, Viserys, and now thanks to Ashara she could add the Kingsguard to her never-ending list.
She was determined. She made up her mind long ago, and she planned to see it through, regardless of the cost. She struggled even deciding where to start. How could she, one, lone woman mend such monumental problems? She didn't know, but if they were going to have any hope of success, any chance at victory, if the Realm was going to begin to heal, then Daenerys would need to find out.
Her brother's words echoed in her head at every moment. Arya would be gone. He was doing it, he was actually forcing Arya to leave. The thought turned her stomach and as she tried to imagine saying goodbye to the woman she loved, Daenerys felt tears prick the back of her eyes. With a sniffle she wiped them away and steadfastly refused to give in to her emotions. It wasn't over yet. She had two weeks. She could do this. She could overthrow her father and seize control of the most secure cities in all of Westeros. She could, if it was the only way to keep Arya.
With a surge of purpose that felt a lot like fury coursing though her veins Daenerys marched to the door and slammed it shut. It was decided. She was going to sit down at her desk, and she was going to stay there until she made some progress.
As she moved to take her seat, she glanced out the window and guessed it would be time for dinner soon. In just a few minutes people would start trickling into the hall to sit. Daenerys would not be among them. That was fine. She wasn't hungry anyway. She had work to do.
R-C
Fresh off a bout of training with Aemon, Arya climbed the stairs and planned to steal a few precious minutes with her lover before dinner. She wasn't especially shocked to find Daenerys sitting at her desk, but what was concerning was how frazzled and disordered everything appeared, the Princess included.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Daenerys hadn't heard her enter. Seconds passed slow with no acknowledgement of her presence. None was forthcoming. It gave the guard the perfect opportunity to study her charge. Her usually immaculate hair was messed, as though she'd been running her hands through the silver strands. The bracelet on her left wrist was unclasped and dangling loose. Perhaps if Arya wasn't such a fervent scholar when it came to the subject of Daenerys Targaryen that might have confused her, but Arya knew the Dragon had a habit of fussing with her jewelry when she was nervous. It was clear to Arya that she'd been releasing and reattaching the clasp only to stop in the middle of the cycle.
The desk seemed to match its owner's appearance. Generally speaking, Daenerys liked her desk kept orderly. Whether she was writing a letter or reading a book, she'd gather up the necessary items, set them out, make use of them and then return them to their original places. During her early days in the capital Arya had teased the royal more than once about being so obsessive about cleanliness when she had what the soldier described as an army of servants to clean up after her. To justify her actions Daenerys told her that she didn't want the staff to have to work too hard, so she liked tending to her own things. That explanation satisfied Arya until she got to know her love better. Later, after they were sharing a room and a bed Daenerys elaborated on her reasoning. At the root, there was concern. She worried that if she left things out, on her desk or elsewhere they might be moved, thrown away or misplaced. Daenerys didn't want anything she valued or cared about to be lost, so she made sure everything was in its place, limiting the chances for any errors or misunderstandings.
Knowing that about the Targaryen, Arya was a little taken aback to see the desk and the surrounding area in such disarray. Books were open, including the book of maps Missandei gave Daenerys for her nameday. Several scrolls and small notes were also scattered around. The well of ink which usually sat in the desk's top corner had been moved and was resting much closer to Daenerys hand, suggesting that she'd either been writing or intended to in short order.
She'd wanted to wrap Daenerys in her arms and hold her for a few minutes, but it was obvious given her current state that Daenerys needed someone to talk to more than she needed a lover. With care she closed the door, noticing that the woman at the desk didn't even look up from the note she was reading.
The Princess ran her small hand through her hair, making it look even more unkept than it had. Arya continued to observe, hoping Daenerys would sense her there and stop, but her focus was singular.
Clearing her throat gently, she tried to alert Daenerys to her existence before she said, "Is everything okay?"
There was an audible gasp and Daenerys nearly knocked over the ink as she jumped in her chair. When their eyes met, Daenerys's looked red, as though she'd been crying. It broke Arya's heart. What had happened? She hadn't been gone that long, and before she left Daenerys had been okay. Arya knew she wasn't having the best day, but she never would have gone to see Aemon if she thought Daenerys was distressed. It made her question every moment. What had she missed?
"W…what?" Daenerys stammered. "Did you need something?"
If she required more proof that something was amiss, Arya now had it. It wasn't typical for Daenerys to speak to her so formally. Those words, in that tone were similar to how she spoke when forced to interact with Tywin or her father. Arya didn't like being lumped in with them. "I just wanted to see how you are. Aemon says hi."
Violet eyes flickered to the desk and the documents laid out in front of her before she looked back to Arya. "You were with Aemon?"
She nodded. "He wanted someone to spar with."
"Mmhmm," Daenerys hummed, moving one page from directly in front of her and putting it off to the side. Her concern growing with every second this strange exchange went on, Arya approached the desk and picked up the note Daenerys had just finished with.
It was a list, seemingly of decisions Daenerys had to make. Arya read through it twice and then cursed herself for not realizing sooner just how much weight was being placed on her lover's shoulders. It wasn't just the burdens Daenerys herself chose to carry, she was responsible for everyone and everything else too. Their interests weren't necessarily conflicting, everyone who supported Daenerys wanted essentially the same thing, but their motives were unique. For example, the reason the Tullys supported Daenerys differed from why the Freys did. They were allies in this instance, but each had their own reasons for choosing Daenerys over Aerys. Before seeing the list and really giving it a proper amount of consideration, Arya failed to comprehend the immense number of often personal choices she was required to make.
The list Arya was holding appeared to begin with the most recently discussed matters and work backward. She concluded this when the first item was 'Kingsguard – Dayne and others?' Arya recalled their meeting with Ashara. She couldn't fault the Dornish for wanting to ensure her brother's safety, Arya would have probably had a similar request if she were in Ashara's place, but in doing so it added more to Daenerys's plate when it was already plenty full.
The next few sentences were written in a heavy hand, with several words underlined for emphasis. 'The Unsullied' it said, with some sort of tally beside it. There were no headings, and no labels, so it was difficult for Arya to guess what Daenerys was calculating, but one side of the ledger clearly had more markings than the other, whatever that meant. Below that, Daenerys had created separate entries for both Grey Worm and Missandei. Before she moved on to the next topic, she wrote the words 'the whip?' and underlined it twice.
In addition to the Unsullied, there were notations about Varys, about the woman in Red and what she said. Despite the intervening days, Daenerys had been able to transcribe the priestess's message exactly as Arya remembered it, proving the strange meeting stuck with Daenerys too.
Viserys was on the list as well. Arya had been there when Daenerys had ordered the Spider to send for him. The Spymaster was reluctant, but Daenerys was determined and persuasive. She'd said she wanted to settle all her business at one time, and Arya could understand that logic, but it left Daenerys in the unenviable position of having her dangerous, impulsive, vindictive brother in the same city and the same castle. That would be difficult for anyone.
After one brother came her next, followed by the remainder of her family. Dealing with Viserys would be a monumental task on its own and yet it was only a fraction of what Daenerys would need to undertake. Methodical and detailed, Daenerys didn't minimize anything. Even Aemon was included, getting the second to last entry near the bottom of the page.
She wasn't aware of just how engrossed she became in that simple list. Her mind was racing. She couldn't say how long she stood there, staring at the note she was holding, her eyes narrowly focused on the last name Daenerys wrote. One of the many problems facing her just happened to be the same man who ruined Arya's life and destroyed her family all those years ago. The memories were breaking free from their cages.
She would have been pulled under by the past had it not been for Daenerys holding out another scroll to her. "What's that?" she asked, setting one list down and taking the one Daenerys was offering.
"The rest," she announced. "The one you read was all the big things, but there are others."
Hadn't she been thinking about how massive and daunting the list was? Daenerys still had more. Her eyes swept the wet ink and found that as impressive as that first list had been, it wasn't everything. Just as Daenerys promised there was a lot more she needed to deal with, at some point.
The first few were names Arya didn't have to inquire about. She knew why Daenerys would need to be wary of her father's Hand, and his pyromancer. Arya for one wouldn't be shedding any tears over the fact that Jorah Mormont, a man who betrayed her father and used dead Northmen to buy his knighthood was also mentioned. She wrote a fairly comprehensive list of all those who were more likely to be loyal to her father than they would be the Realm. Some of the lower entries confused her, however. Near the midway point of the page were the words 'Winterfell – Sansa and the Boltons?'
Why was Daenerys fretting over the North when she had so many other, more pressing matters to contend with? Beneath the mention of her family home was another strange addition; 'Visit the Night's Watch.'
Whatever else Daenerys included, Arya had seen enough. She let the list fall carelessly to the desk and then reached for Daenerys's hand. When she came in, she erroneously thought the Princess needed counsel and not affection but plagued by all this stress, Arya now knew she was mistaken. The many questions she had about the future, about Daenerys's plans for Winterfell and the North fell away. She needed to be in this moment, right here, right now. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she pulled the Targaryen into her arms.
They fit together as perfectly as they always did, and Arya held on fiercely. "For what?"
She shook her head, refusing to release her. "I didn't…" She shook her head again. "Seeing it all written out like that, all the things, all the people you have to worry about, it makes me see how stupid I've been."
That was enough to get Daenerys to pull away. Mercifully, she didn't go far. She backed up less than a step, just so she could look at and review Arya's features. "What are you talking about?"
With one arm still around Daenerys, Arya waved her left toward the desk. "All this," she replied, "I didn't see, I didn't understand. I should have helped more." Determined to make certain that Daenerys really heard her, she locked their eyes together before she finished. "You are not in this alone Daenerys, I promise. I'll help you in anyway that I can."
Clearly Daenerys did not understand the sudden intensity in the message. "All you've done from the day we met is help me Arya."
"I didn't do enough. Seeing the list like that, seeing name after name, your family, your friends, people you care about, you shouldn't have to do it alone." It poured out of Arya in a rush. She couldn't explain it. Something about seeing Daenerys's lists, made it all the more real. It wouldn't be over until every name had been crossed out. Each and every one of them would need to be dealt with in one way or another before they had peace.
This time it was Daenerys who instigated the embrace. She closed the minimal distance between them and held Arya tight. "You're the only thing that's kept me from going as mad as my father," she confessed plainly. The fact that Daenerys was openly speaking about her father's illness was signal enough, but that wasn't what twisted Arya's gut. To the soldier the way she said it was more telling than the words she chose. She sounded so tired, but it went beyond mere exhaustion, she also appeared calm and almost accepting. As if she'd already come to terms with the possibility that the path she was on might one day make her as incoherent and delusional as Aerys.
"Just tell me what you need," Arya pleaded. With any other living person, the near begging would have made her extremely uncomfortable, but Daenerys was worth it. If this was what she had to do to help, if she had to kill or die, she would.
It was quiet, for a long while and then another. When she answered, Daenerys was looking at her and not the desk. "I need time," she decreed simply. "I'm just getting started."
"What's next?"
"I suppose I'll just pick one of the names and sort it out. It's not going to get any easier if I wait," she predicted accurately.
She'd said she'd do anything to help Daenerys and she meant it. Having a hunch what the Princess needed, she tried to deliver it. "Would you like to be alone?"
Daenerys hesitated, because she was kind and decent and she didn't want to send Arya away. The Stark didn't mind. Daenerys needed time to think and Arya knew that could be hard when you had to share your space with someone. If privacy resulted in a shorter list, then Arya would oblige. She had already come to terms with what Daenerys needed from her. Still, it made her smile when Daenerys tried to soften the blow a bit. "Why don't you go train with Aemon some more?" she proposed.
"I just might do that," Arya exaggerated. In truth she didn't plan to venture further than the hallway, but Daenerys didn't need to know that. "First though, why don't I go downstairs and find Tyrion and Missandei. I'll tell them you aren't feeling well and that you're going to retire early."
"You don't have to…"
Arya didn't let her object. She knew she didn't have to. She wanted to. "Would you like me to bring you u, in case you get hungry later?"
Just as it had before, the hesitation in Daenerys's response, which amounted to little more than a fragment of an instant was enough to set Arya on her path. Even if the food went uneaten and became cold, she'd still rather Daenerys have it than not. True to form, Daenerys had trouble accepting assistance. "No, it's okay. I'll be too busy to really eat, and I don't want you to go to all that trouble." For the second time that day Arya noticed that the things Daenerys was saying to her were less sincere than usual. She was telling the guard what she thought Arya wanted to hear. She didn't take offense. Arya understood why Daenerys was acting like she was. Until recently, until Missandei and Arya, Margaery and Tyrion all forms of kindness Daenerys experienced always came with strings attached. It had to be quite a change. Moreover, it wasn't unreasonable for person to fall back into old habits, especially when under strain, as Daenerys undoubtedly was.
R-C
Daenerys wasn't sure of much about the world, about herself or about life, but she did know with absolute clarity that she did not deserve Arya Stark.
When she'd come in earlier, after a late afternoon sparring session with Aemon, Daenerys had been barely coherent and bordering on rude. Most people would have been offended by Daenerys's behavior, but Arya pretended nothing was unusual. They spoke about the lists Daenerys wrote, with the Princess leaving out how overwhelming the process was. With Rhaegar's looming deadline and a collection of problems that grew larger with each day, it was enough to bring her to tears and it did. Once she'd gotten that out, she moved on. Daenerys thought it prudent to write a collection of the most pressing things she needed to resolve. For some of them she already had strategies, in varying degrees of detail, but for a great many, she was at a loss. How could she hope to be Queen if she couldn't even manage to replace her ill father?
When Arya held her and apologized needlessly Daenerys felt a little more sure, a little more capable and a lot less lost. That one hug reminded her why she'd agreed to this in the first place.
How many people did she know? Hundreds? Thousands? How many can say they had at any point in their lives enjoyed a relationship as meaningful as the one she and Arya shared? She didn't have numbers, but she didn't need them either. She knew, deep down inside that what they stumbled upon in Dorne by accident was rare. It was a damned tragedy that most people would never get to feel the bond for themselves.
She hadn't been exaggerating when she said Arya was the only thing that kept her from descending into madness. Each time Daenerys thought she couldn't go on, Arya would smile at her or kiss her and banish those ideas from her mind.
Tonight, Arya put her dedication to Daenerys on display while at the same time making use of her talent reading the older woman and her moods. She knew Daenerys needed time alone even before Daenerys could think of a polite way to ask for it. Then about an hour after they separated, she arrived with dinner. Daenerys had told her not to, but she was too sweet and generous for her own good. She didn't like the idea of Arya doting on her like a servant, so she declined when she offered to bring dinner, but as the night wore on and the smell of the beef continued to taunt her, she couldn't deny she was starving. She devoured the food much faster than she would've if she'd been surrounded by an audience in the hall. She promised herself she'd thank Arya later when the thoughtful woman came to bed.
Setting the plate aside, she went back to her work. She'd gotten a lot accomplished. In many instances, she took vague, general strategies about how to resolve a situation and considered various solutions until she found one that fit best.
She started slow, picking the easiest name off her list and then devoting hours to it. It was odd, but that simple victory, resolving the easiest and least threatening problem gave her hope that she could follow the same pattern and conquer the others as well.
By the time the moon was high in the sky outside her window, Daenerys had plans in place to deal with almost every name on the second list. Admittedly those were the lesser problems, but progress was progress, even if she was taking baby steps.
She had always known she was intelligent. All her life she'd been required to attend lessons on a wide range of topics, and she enjoyed and excelled at almost all of them. Learning to trust in her own abilities, to have faith in herself, took some convincing. Slowly though, it was getting easier.
It still took her breath away sometimes. It felt like a different lifetime and a different girl, comparing who she'd been before that fateful trip to Sunspear to who she'd become since. She'd come a long way and had a lot to be proud of, and she was, but that wasn't the whole story. Learning to believe herself capable took no small amount of effort, but it wouldn't have amounted to shit in Daenerys's opinion if she hadn't also put as much time and energy into learning her limitations.
So, yes Daenerys had been able to sit down at her desk, study the information available, think about each problem individually and craft a potential solution. It worked and worked well when the subject being reviewed was Loras Tyrell, or his sister. When it came to Sansa, Daenerys had little doubt, she already knew who would be the Warden in the North under her rule. She also made a final and definitive decision about how she'd handle her former friend Jorah.
It was a lot to accomplish, and even more so in a single night. Had Daenerys not understood her limitations, she might've sought out the next name and kept on going, but she didn't.
She knew that unlike the earlier challenges, the ones that had yet to be handled were not the sort of things that should be decided alone. In her mind she went back to the road when those bandits blocked their path. That day she had no desire to be a Queen, she was just a Princess who was beginning to accept who she was and who she wanted to be. She remembered calling a makeshift meeting of her own strange Small Council. A foster, a dwarf, and slaves providing advice to the Dragon. She wasn't the least bit ashamed to admit that if she'd been alone and had to choose what action to take, those good, innocent people could've and probably would've died.
Unlike her father who already had more than enough voices talking in his head, all at the same time, Daenerys liked the back and forth of debate. It didn't matter that as a Targaryen, the final say would be hers. She saw the benefits of seeking out the viewpoints of those she valued and trusted. In the same way she was a better person with Arya, she believed she could be a better Queen if she surrounded herself with the right advisors.
Without anyone to bounce ideas off of, Daenerys quicky moved on to the next task before her. It was one she'd been working on for days, whenever she had a spare minute.
Rather than leaving tangible proof of her treason in her desk or hidden away, Daenerys reviewed each strategy until she committed it to memory, and then she had the pages burned.
Her lists, she kept, locking them up in her desk, tucked away under the drawings of her ship. Even if someone broke the lock and found the notes, they were intentionally vague, a name, and a few disconnected sentences or a jumble of words without context. She was certain only she would know what each entry meant.
Since learning of the whip, she had devoted hours to making the right choice. Daenerys remained unsure. Although it was true that she didn't promise the Unsullied their freedom until after she was Queen, she wished she could have given it to them already. She'd offered to let Missandei leave and start a new life, but the handmaiden always chose to stay, saying she was happy. Daenerys knew that originally Missandei didn't trust her. After they became close, Missandei stayed out of a sense of friendship. Later she fell in love with Grey Worm and while Missandei might have been tempted to run on occasion, she wouldn't go without him, and he wouldn't go without his men.
Now, she had a way to set them all free but in doing so, she might be destroying her only chance to replace her father before it could truly begin.
With this in mind Daenerys found a map of the Red Keep. Room by room she reviewed the document, looking for any likely landing spot where the whip might be. Missandei confirmed that she hadn't seen it since they arrived in the castle, so it had to be there somewhere.
While she was trying to solve that riddle, another presented itself. She may have started looking for the whip, but with the map laid out in front of her, she couldn't deny it was useful in imagining how her armies might hope to take the castle if she could get them into the city.
Inspired by her whip hunt, she adjusted the method to address a different issue. She flipped through her book of maps, page after page until she landed on the first of many maps of King's Landing. Overcome with purpose and working hard to ignore the yawns that had begun within the last hour, she started drawing her own map of the capital. She didn't have the right-size paper, and using the maps commissioned by her father to show the city's greatness felt wrong. It was the oddest map ever conceived, she was sure. Numbered pages that had to be laid out in the right order to get the proper view. Making the map herself allowed her to focus the majority of her efforts on the areas of the city that were most important.
Each task completed filled Daenerys with a sense of real accomplishment and pride. All her life she was regularly praised but the things she was being heralded for weren't hers. Her only real accomplishment until recently was being born Targaryen. Similarly, she was bathed in constant praise but not for things she did, just her beauty, which she had no control over. This was different and she liked it.
R-C
Arya was standing guard in the hall, a physical barrier between Daenerys and any and all who might interrupt her. It was an easy job, and Arya was committed, but it left her with plenty of time to devote to her thoughts.
Outwardly, she was the stoic Dornish soldier she'd always been. Internally however, she was worried about the woman on the other side of the door. Had she eaten anything? It had been hours since Arya took the meal in, but that had been their last contact. Daenerys needed space and Arya wanted her to have it, but that didn't stop the Northern woman from worrying.
Ashara wasn't to blame, although Arya might've preferred having someone to aim her anger at. No, Ashara did what any good sister would do, she tried to protect her brother. The Lady Musgood just had the unfortunate luck of being the one who tipped Daenerys over the edge. It wasn't what Ashara wanted that was the problem, it was what everyone wanted. Daenerys was trying to balance what was best for the Realm, what was best for Arya, Missandei, the Unsullied and Aemon. She likely should have foreseen Daenerys breaking down sooner, but she'd been handling everything so well, Arya got complacent. Truthfully, as she attended the meetings and saw her Dragon lead, Arya felt it came naturally. Even if it did, she failed to predict the amount of additional stress their plot added to Daenerys's life. She pledged to do better going forward.
It hadn't been that long really, since she stood in this spot for the first time, waiting for Daenerys to exit her room. The memories were easy to find, and yet the woman she saw in the familiar Dornish armor was a stranger. That woman existed, she survived but she wasn't living. In vivid clarity and bright colors Arya was hit by a rush of memories, the docks, the orphanage, Harvest Time. Daenerys often credited Arya for helping her grow and become a better person. Arya dismissed the praise, supremely confident in her knowledge that with or without her intervention Daenerys would have found her way eventually. What was less certain in Arya's opinion was what would have become of her, if she hadn't been forced to King's Landing to serve the Princess? She'd be in the Dornish army, having reached the goal she set for herself. She'd be serving under a Commander and working her way toward promotion. How she'd do that would be anyone's guess. Would she walk a patrol? Guard a gate? Escort a nobleman or protect his family? Maybe she'd be sent to quell some brewing unrest miles away from Sunspear. She could imagine it easily, the life she could've and would've had. It was the one she wanted, and yet it seemed almost hollow. Was it better than cleaning the Water Gardens? Absolutely. Was it better than King's Landing? Again, she'd say yes. But the rancid capital had one thing no other kingdom did and that made it worth all the rest.
She'd never like Aerys, Rhaegar, Viserys or Jorah but she didn't serve any of them. She served Daenerys, a distinction that made all the difference. Given the choice she'd gladly leave the Red Keep and never return, but only if Daenerys was in step beside her.
In her mind she went even further back. When she was a girl, she questioned why her mother had married her father. She knew the story, knew it wasn't love, they'd barely known one another the day of their union and yet, she'd done it to unite their families. From the perspective of a young girl, who was unimpressed by the duties and obligations waiting for her when she grew into a Lady, Arya couldn't help but ask her mother why she'd done it. Why leave her home and her life for a man, any man? Catelyn did all the cooking, cleaning, tending to the house, and raising the children, while her father was out riding and ruling with a sword and his men. It didn't seem like a fair trade.
When she answered Catelyn gave her youngest daughter an indulgent smile. "You'll understand one day sweetheart," she'd said, in that gently certain voice she used. "When you meet the right man and fall in love, all those things that sound like a chore now, won't be any longer."
The words rang true, and Arya was willing to acknowledge that her mother was right. Older and slightly wiser, Arya did understand why her mother was willing to move North and raise her father's children while he was busy doing Winterfell's business. She tried to put herself in the same position and asked what she would do to help Daenerys succeed? Just as Catelyn said would happen, Arya found herself wiling to do whatever was necessary, up to and including things she wouldn't contemplate for anyone else.
With a chuckle and a shake of her head she thought of her mother. Wherever she was, Arya suspected she was with Rickon and Robb and all three of them were enjoying a laugh at Arya's revelation.
Approaching, heavy footsteps announced the visitor before she saw him. She barely bit back the sigh that threatened when he came into her eyeline. What did Jorah Mormont want?
He'd been scarce of late, keeping his distance ever since Daenerys threatened him. Arya should have known their luck couldn't last.
He scowled when he saw her there and tried to march straight past. Arya moved with him, keeping her body between him and the door. "Is the Princess in there?"
"She asked not to be disturbed." As she said the words, she could tell by the expression on his face, he was not swayed.
Naturally Jorah didn't think the rules applied to him. "This is important. I need to know that she is alright."
"She is fine," Arya stated without emotion, as though she were reading from a book. "She wasn't feeling well, so she retired early."
"Let me see her!" he demanded.
Staring at the bigger, taller man, Arya had to wonder if he thought that scowl of his was at all effective. She glared back defiantly. "The Princess is not seeing visitors tonight."
He groaned. "I am not a visitor, I am her friend."
Was she bored? Standing there with only her memories of the past and worries about Daenerys to occupy her. Was that why she did it? "Maybe once," she retorted, "but I believe Daenerys made her feelings quite clear."
He blushed as she continued to refuse him. "She was angry. She didn't mean it. Let me in!"
Arya scoffed. "You don't know her nearly as well as you think you do."
Furious now Jorah fired back. "Oh, and you do?"
She said nothing, choosing instead to taunt him with a smirk. He filled the empty space. "You've lost your mind!" he accused hotly. "Yes, the Princess is upset with me right now, but she'll forgive me, she always does. She's forgiven much worse than my mistakes."
Arya bit her tongue to silence all the things she yearned to say in response to that. While every word was likely true what Jorah and the others around him failed to realize was that the Daenerys they knew, and the one currently working tirelessly to improve the Realm were dramatically different people.
"You'll be gone soon and once you are, things will return to how they were before. To how they are supposed to be."
Arya wasn't moved. "If you say so, but until then, the Princess isn't seeing visitors."
Nearing his limit Jorah groaned again. "I'm concerned for her, alright!" he shouted. "She wasn't at dinner. I just want to see for myself that she is well."
Did he think logic was going to win her over after he just finished insulting her? He was dumber than he looked. "The Princess is fine, she wasn't feeling up to the crowds, so she ate in her chambers tonight and retired early."
"I told you, I need to see her. I am a knight in service of the King, and you are required to do as I command."
Arya's smirk grew more prominent. It was so typical. Threats first, then false sweetness and when all that fails, make demands based on what he believed he is entitled to. He was about to be sorely disappointed. "I don't serve the King," she clarified for the fool, "I serve his daughter and she gave me a direct order that she was not to be disturbed tonight, by anyone, including you."
Slowly, Jorah's mind turned over the message and to Arya's delight, he discovered something that made him visibly uncomfortable. With a hard glare and red cheeks, he inquired, "Who is she in there with?"
Arya was tempted to laugh. Such a stupid man. It would have been easy enough to tell him she was alone, it was the truth, but that would deny her the pleasure of watching Mormont squirm. "I have no idea what you're talking about. The Princess wasn't feeling well, she retired early," Arya repeated.
"Don't lie to me!" he barked. "Move!"
Arya didn't flinch. "Walk away Ser."
She knew he wouldn't, and he was nothing if not consistent. She saw his hand coming with more than enough time to move away, but she didn't. She allowed him to grab her armor under the shoulder and push her away from the door she was blocking.
Arya's smirk became a grin as she staggered and quickly regained her balance. There, now she had the justification for putting her hands on the knight. She was back to him before he could turn the knob. He felt her coming and rotated toward her. She ducked under the first punch and tried a kick of her own. She didn't want to hit him as much as she wanted to back him away from the door. It worked. "Stop this," Arya urged one last time.
"I need to see the Princess, she'll understand."
Arya thought of Daenerys and smiled. She was going to be furious when she heard about this. Thank the Gods for the thick walls and heavy doors that afforded the royals privacy. It would keep Daenerys in the dark as long as the door remained closed.
When Jorah came at her again, she stood her ground, rather than backing up and inching him closer to his prize. He tried to do as he had and grab her armor, but this time, as soon as he touched it, Arya closed her left hand around his wrist. He tried to tug himself free and was clearly surprised by the strength of her grip. Controlling his arm, she jerked it violently away from the shoulder and while his body shuddered in pain, she twisted it awkwardly behind his back. He fought her every second. He tried to free himself by swinging wildly with his free hand, but Arya countered by increasing the upward pressure on his captured arm, forcing him to relent. Guiding him by his arm, with her weight against his back, she pushed him into the wall opposite Daenerys's door. He groaned in obvious pain when the blow intensified his discomfort.
Jorah bucked like a wild stallion, but Arya was perfectly calm. "Are you done?"
"Let me go, you bitch!" he hissed.
Enjoying herself, she clicked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "Such crude words. Didn't they teach you manners on Bear Island Ser?" she mocked sarcastically. When no reply was immediate, Arya again pushed up on his arm, maximizing his pain.
"Enough!" he called through gritted teeth. She loosened her hold on his arm and decreased the strain on his injured shoulder. "Enough," he said again.
Standing so close to the knight, Arya could tell with certainty that he had been drinking. She could smell it on his breath. Was that what inspired this nonsense, or would he have done the same sober? Arya didn't know, or care. "The Princess is not seeing visitors tonight. Not you or anyone else."
"Fine."
"I'm going to let you go, and you're going to walk away," Arya told him in no uncertain terms. "I'll tell the Princess you came by when I see her."
"Fine." He was becoming more agitated the longer Arya detained him. "Now let me go!"
"Don't do this again," she said just before she released her hold on him and stepped back.
He rounded on her quickly, his cheeks, face, neck and ears all red. "Or what?!" he wondered, in a desperate attempt to save his manhood.
Arya ignored his comment. "We had a deal Ser," she reminded him, "I strongly suggest you honor it. It's getting late."
R-C
Daenerys woke with a sharp pain in her neck and a dull, throbbing ache in her lower back. The room was dark and without opening her eyes, she instinctively reached for the woman next to her. Something was wrong. Not only was Arya not in bed beside her, the more she thought about it, the more Daenerys began to conclude that she wasn't in bed either.
Lifting her head caused enough pain to force a whimper past her dry lips. Squinting to adjust her eyes to the darkness, she tried to think back. Slowly, through a fog, the details settled.
Instead of the soft pillows she was used to, she'd been resting her head on an open book. Rather than lying down, she fell asleep sitting in a chair. No wonder everything hurt as it did.
Wobbling on unsteady legs, she limped around the room, lighting the brazier as she passed. It was warm enough without it, but she needed a measure of light.
The sight of the room filled in a lot of the gaps Daenerys's mind had. She'd been working, trying to plan for every eventuality and she must've fallen asleep. She wanted to shake her head at her own foolishness but had to stop abruptly when her neck complained.
Yawning loudly, the bed called to her. She began disrobing as she walked. Her feet shuffled along, barely lifting off the floor with each step. She was nearly at the bed when she noticed for the first time how completely empty it was. Arya!?
With a surge of energy, Daenerys considered replacing her dress, before deciding against it. She grabbed a silk robe instead, wrapped it around her naked body and rushed toward the door. Where had Arya gone? She vaguely recalled her saying she planned to train with Aemon, but it was much too late to still be in the yard, wasn't it? Had she spent the night with Sansa?
The one thing she knew was that Arya would never leave her unprotected. And that meant, that if Arya wasn't with her, a guard would be. Hopefully he'd know where her lover had gone.
She wondered if she was dreaming when she opened the door and found no one standing guard. None of the Unsullied, no Targaryen men, no Castleguard, and no Arya. She was alone. How many times had she wished for a little privacy? Now that she had it, she'd give it back in an instant to learn where Arya was.
Since she wasn't dressed, she backed deeper into the room, and closed the door, but she made a point not to lock it. Perhaps it wasn't as late as Daenerys thought. Could she be coming later? If she did, Daenerys didn't want her to be held back by the door.
She shrugged off the robe just before she climbed into the warm, inviting bed. She laid her head back against the pillows and sighed, closing her eyes, but sleep never came. She'd been exhausted before, but things were different now. Now she knew she'd be sleeping alone. Her bed was empty. Arya wasn't there. She had more questions than answers and s restful, dreamless sleep felt near impossible all the sudden.
R-C
Author's Note: This chapter was not at all what I expected when I started writing it. It sort of got away from me. I just felt like given everything that was happening, a breakdown was reasonable and inevitable. You can't rule the world without an occasional moment of doubt. Plus, I liked the idea of Rhaegar, inadvertently causing all of this when he gave Daenerys the deadline. He doesn't know it yet, but he pushed things forward and forced his sister's hand. I hope Ashara was a surprise. I assumed a woman willing to kill herself after her brother died, would certainly want to ensure his safety too.
Thank you for reading.
Russell Craig.