In which our little wolf deals with her injuries.
*Year 304 After Conquest (AC) - New Future*
Death was a strange and confusing thing. Sure the young wolf had never been fully experienced it thus she cannot be comparing it with anything else. Perhaps this is exactly what death feels like, for all she knows. But, nonetheless, it was not at all like she had expected – maybe white fluffy clouds and a rippling river – at least there should have been something resembling the Heavens from all the songs and prayers. Instead, she was stuck in this weird darkness.
Not even a peaceful one at that. She had felt the fire engulfing her as her whole body drench in sweat due to the excessive warmth and then there's shouting and utter chaos before she was hit with a heavy wind slapping her face. The wind was so strong that it had kept her eyes closed, sealing it effectively even if she wills it to do otherwise. So, Arya had succumbed to the force and continue being in these abnormal circumstances.
Sometimes, she would hear phantom voices around her and not one of them was familiar. She never caught what they said as her head was starting to hurt, along with other parts of her body. It felt like her whole body is beginning to wake up. Piece by piece. Inch by inch. The feeling of her fingers was the first sense that she gained and then her toes, where it flowed through her ankles, up to her knees, and from her arms to her – Oh gods that hurt!
Heavens were not supposed to hurt. Perhaps, she was not in the Heavens after all. Why would she be? She had done many things that are horrible and unkind. Killed many people. She even cursed the Gods just before she had died. Maybe she belongs in Hells after all, as she deserved.
The pain was beginning to radiate through her body and she was literally squirming in the darkness. The excruciating pain seemed to be coming from one part of her body in particular, or rather a couple of parts, on her back and shoulder. It was as if an actual flame had lick their way up her back and shoulder, eating her skin and flesh. It had probably lasted for eternity for all she knows since there is no way to differentiate the time in this darkness.
But, as fast as the pain comes, it went away and she can feel herself getting lost in her own body. It was an unsettling feeling, but somehow Arya felt an odd sort of comfort in it. She felt herself slip into deeper unconsciousness and the dark become impossibly darker.
She had no way of knowing how long she was out for or how long she had let herself get lost in the dark. But all good things come to an end as she was jolted awake by the sharp pain from her back. Her entire body tensed up as she willed her mind to attached itself to her own, gaining her control when she clenched her hands into fists in order to endure the pain.
Ever so slowly, Arya felt her eyes flutter a few times before they open fully. She looks ahead in a daze before finally registering what's in front of her or rather what it is that is staring at her.
Its glossy black feathers were shining from the reflections of the sun. It sits there silently, eyeing her while cocking its head to the side by the open window. Arya stares back at the lost raven and swallows dryly, trying to make sense of it all.
Am I still alive? She wonders.
The raven's loud croak brought her back from her trance confirming her suspicion. She focused back her attention to the black bird sitting by the window. It tilts its head again as if to welcome her back into the living before spreading its wings and fly off to the horizon.
Arya let her eyes wander as far she can around the place she was currently at. The room was as big as her old room in Winterfell. She was lying sideways in the bed. The side table was prepared with a glass and a full jug of water. She forced a lump down her throat suddenly feeling very thirsty.
She tries to move and gets up but the movement shot fire through her back and shoulder, making her groan in response. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around her middle as the pain subsides slowly. Squaring her jaw, she moves again for the second time. It was still as excruciating as before but at least now she knows what to expect.
A few torturing and grunting moments later, she finally able to get up. Her legs hanging by the bed as her hand reach for the jug of water. The weight of the liquid caught her by surprise as the jug slips through her fingers and onto the floor. The shattering glasses were loud to her ears.
Before she can mourn for the loss, her ears caught a few sets of footsteps outside, along with murmurs. She snaps her head to where the door is and suddenly panic starts to fill inside. She didn't know what and who might burst through the door. The last thing she remembers was Qazlas, the burning men and – she stops short.
Dragon. And a black-red huge dragon.
Not wanting to appear vulnerable to whoever might walk in here later, she pushes herself forward, leaving the comfort of her bed. As soon as her bare feet touch the cool and smooth floor, her face follows soon after with a thud. She closes her eyes tight not wanting to make any unnecessary sound. It was tempting to just lay in the floor right then.
But the thought of an incoming possible threat gave her the surge of energy she needed. With every last bit of strength she had, Arya pushes herself up again. She takes the largest piece of the shattered glass along the process, as her legs finally able to hold her weight. With ragged breathing, she wobbles her way to the closed door and stationed herself against the wall, away from the door's eyes range.
Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than sword. Fear cuts deeper than sword.
She tightens her hold on the pointed glass as her breathing starts to calm down, ready to pounce whoever that is about to come in. The sounds seem louder and closer. Any second now.
The door suddenly creaks open and with it comes a flash of silver along with the others. They walk past her and further into the room, not noticing the young girl with a sharp glass against the wall.
"The people of Meereen is recovering as best as they can, Your Grace – considering the damages that have been made." A foreign deep voice echoes inside the room.
"Good. Make sure to disperse both the Unsullied and the Second Sons to aid them. Clear the rubbles, rebuilt their homes and provide them with enough reserve to hold for a month." Another voice replies though this one sounds feminine and somehow familiar.
Arya studies silently from the back as they exchanged their talk. There are half a dozens of people in front of her. Two women and four men, though one of the men looks much older and armed-less. There are too many for her to take out with the condition that she was in with her barely able to hold herself up.
Silence stretch for a moment as the woman – who they called 'Your Grace' – walks further into the room and towards the bed, she had been a few minutes ago. Deciding that this is the best time to attack before they realize she had disappeared, Arya forced herself forward leaving the support the wall provided. As fast as she can move, she lunged at the person who is the nearest to her.
"Where is – " the woman's voice was cut short as a surprised scream enters their ears.
All heads turn Arya's way, realizing for the first time of her existence. When three of the men unsheathe their weapons unanimously and pointed them at her, Arya tightens the grip on her left arm, securing the neck of her captive against her.
"Let her go." One of the men said with a thick accent. His head bald and he wears a sleeveless black armour. His dagger was amongst the weapons ready for her.
Arya backs away and threateningly place the sharp glass below her captive's chin, which she later found out was the other woman. She ignores the woman's heavy breathing against her arm as much as possible while trying to find a way out of here. But, her threat deems fruitless as the men move forward with every step she takes until they had her cornered against the wall. It seems they had no love for the woman in her captive. Or perhaps they need an enhancement. She thrust the pointed glass further to her skin until it brought blood.
"Arya, stop!"
She stops short – surprised to hear her name – just before she can do actual damage to her captive. She scans the men in front of her until her eyes finally caught the other woman. Her violet eyes come into her view first before her silver-haired did.
The older woman looks cleaner from the last time Arya saw her. Her silver hair in a simple yet elegant braid. Her clothes were something any royal would be dressed in. She blinks a few times before settling on her features again. Daenerys was watching her with a frightful look.
Arya swallows dryly before she opens her mouth. "Daenerys?" she called her name for the first time. Her voice sounds small to her ears but clearly it was enough when the said woman forced a smile at her.
"Yes, Arya," Daenerys said kindly as she moves closer to her. But, her steps were hindered as the men put themselves against the silver-haired queen.
"Khaleesi, it's not wise to move further. She's dangerous." One of the men interrupts. His sword still pointing at her.
"Move away, Ser Jorah," Daenerys ordered. When the said man just stares at her, hesitating to do what she said, Daenerys turns her gaze towards the others. "Put down your weapons." She orders again with a regal authority in her tone. "I will not ask twice."
That seems to do the trick when the men slowly and carefully sheathed their weapons back where they came from. She continues her strides then to where she had intended and stops just a few feet from the confused and pale looking girl in front of her.
"Arya, you're in a safe place." Daenerys starts. She locked eyed with tearful brown ones, hoping to give her the comfort that everything will be alright. "This is Missandei. She's a friend. I would like it if you restrained yourself in putting any harms against her." She finished. Arya frowns as she stares at the queen and at her captive, Missandei.
Silence stretch before them as the young wolf studies each one of them. The men possessed no threats now, though she can tell that their body is tensed and ready to attack her at any moment notice.
The suspicious looks did not go unnoticed by Daenerys. "These men will not harm you." She counters. Arya focuses her attention back at the older woman. "I won't let them."
Determined violet eyes against doubtful grey ones. Arya let her words sink in and as she studies the silver-haired queen, she traced no lie in her words and features. Deciding to trust the woman in front of her, slowly, her grip loosens and she puts the sharp glass away from Missandei's neck.
Not until both her arms down to her side that Missandei finally walks away and into the arms of one of the men. The bald one.
Arya did not let go of the sharp glass as her captive reunited with – who she assumed – her lover. Instead, she tightens it more around her grip as the other men kept eyeing her warily. She settles on violet eyes again. She had so many questions that she wanted to ask.
Where is this place? Where is Qazlas? How long was she out? Did the dragon burn everyone and everything in Qazlas Pit? And who the hell are these people?
"What happened?" Arya asked in a shaky voice instead. A frown on her face as the pain starts to crawl all over her body again. Daenerys strides closer.
"You need to rest." She said, gently but firm.
Maybe it was because of the excruciating pain taking its toll on her or maybe because of the gentle violet eyes in front of her, either way, Arya didn't even realize when Daenerys had reach for the pointed glass around her hand as she takes it away. But, she wasn't allowed to protest as her vision starts to spin and before she knows it, she was swept away by unconsciousness as fast as she was awake.
*
It was cold and then it was hot. And then it was nothing both. Her body seems to have an episode of its own and Arya can do nothing about it but endure. It felt like forever as she struggles to keep it together. Sometimes, she would dream of home, of Winterfell. Of Jon, Robb, and her mother. Even little Rickon. And in some other times, the faces of the dead haunt her.
Her father would appear, smiling at her. Not looking at all grim but for once he looks happy and content. Then Sansa came in with a perfect smile on her face making her ever so beautiful. They both look blissful and for that Arya wanted to believe it. Even if it is just a dream, she wanted them to be happy and not worry about the living. She let them stays for a while until the feeling of guilt takes over. As if on cue, they both disappear into thin air, leaving her in utter darkness again.
"Wake up, Arya."
A faint voice suddenly appears out of nowhere. She tries to focus on it but found nothing in the dark.
"Wake up."
The voice sounded again and this time Arya knew who it was. His familiar voice has somehow turned deeper. The memories of him came uninvited as he ran after her along the courtyard in Winterfell. When they raced climbing on a tree. And when she always sneaked into his chamber to borrow some of his clothes.
As if he's being called, Bran appears. He looks the same but somehow different. His face wears a sad and knowing smile.
"You will be alright, sister. When the time comes, you will make the right decision." He said.
Before Arya can response, he vanished into thin air leaving her alone once more. But, it didn't last that long as she was jolted awake a few moments later.
Her shallow breathing accompanying her as she takes her surrounding once more. She had somehow lying sideways on her bed again. The room was dark except for a few candles lighting at the corner. She blinks a few times as her gaze stops by the open window.
A black raven stood silently while tilting its head to the side, staring back at her. It's a pair of black eyes glistening under the moonlight. Arya swears it was the same one which she founds earlier. Just like before, it spreads its wings and flies off to the darkest of night. The sound of its flapping wings was the only thing left behind of its existence. But, it too grows fainter and completely disappears. She didn't have the time to ponder over it as her eyes grow heavy again. And like an old friend, the dark swallows her whole.
*
The third time Arya was forced awake from her deep slumber, she felt annoyed and frustrated. The movements from behind her make her wanted to scream and kick the person whoever it might be. She can clearly hear the click and clank sound violating her eardrums. Gods only know what they might be doing.
She tries to ignore the noise as much as she can, hoping to continue her much appreciated sleep. But, as always she never got her wish as a rustling sound of cloth was heard soon after. Arya would have let it be but when she felt the corner of her own cloth being pulled up from her body, she jerks her body upwards, turning around to face the perpetrator. She grits her teeth tight as the familiar pain shot through her back and shoulder but she ignores it.
The person startling face came into view next and Arya recognized him instantly. He was one of the men that came in here from before. His white hair and wrinkles on his face confirming of his old age.
"Get away from me," Arya growls at him. The man held his hand up in defence as he stands on the other side of the bed.
"I am just the healer, girl. No need to be afraid. Let me do my work and I will be off before you know it." He said back, kindly. Arya frowns as she studies the old man.
"Your wound needed cleaning and a new bandaged after. It can get worse if you left it untreated. Infectious even." He continues, forcing a smile on his lips.
As if on cue, her back and shoulder shot another wave of pain as if to remind her of their existence. Arya looks down to the bed where a tray of various things she assumed needed to treat her wound was at before settling at the old man.
"I'll do it myself." She said.
"Do you know how?" he asked curiously.
"I'll manage." Her eyes cold, leaving no argument for the old man. The thought of the old man seeing her half-naked strengthens her decision.
Seeing no other way to persuade her, the healer inclined his head as a goodbye bid and turns around for the door, leaving the young girl to attend her own injury. As soon as the door shut close, Arya let out a sigh as her features soften. She reaches absent-mindedly for the new bandages on the tray that has been left behind.
There are a few other things on the tray. A bowl of some kind of ointment, a bowl of water, a piece of cloth, and a pair of gloves. With a frown on her face, she takes them one by one to examine them before putting them back in place, trying hard to find a way to attend all these to her back.
Just when she is about to lift her shirt up to see her injury, the creaking sound of the door echoes through the room.
"I said I can do– " Arya's word stops short when not the old man that came into view but a woman instead.
Her brown eyes locked with hers, displaying no emotion. She had fluffy curly hair and darker skin tone. A small bandage was plastered just under her chin and Arya instantly recognizes that. Since it was her own doings after all.
Missandei strides closer to the bed, unaware of grey eyes studying her. "The healer said you shoo him away." Not a question. "Unless you have a pair of eyes at the back of your head, you won't be able to attend those wound." She said as a matter of a fact.
"Get me a mirror then." Arya retaliates. Missandei arched an eyebrow, surprised. But, there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
"I could do that." She trails. "Or I could just attend to your injury. It will save you a lot of trouble and mine." She finished, standing by the bed now.
Arya studies her with a frown. She looks harmless. Her eyes show nothing malice. If anyone, it should be the older woman that needs to be wary of her, with what Arya had done to her.
Seeing the doubtful look on the young wolf, Missandei takes that as a sign of agreement. She plops down the bed, reaching for the tray. Arya let out a defeated sigh and turns towards the open window, feeling defeated. She pulls her cloth up, revealing her back bare at the older woman.
Silence stretch among them as both are occupied with their own work. With Missandei washing away the wound on the back of the young girl before putting another new layer of ointment and with Arya trying hard to withstand the pain every contact her skin made.
"Where is this place?" Arya asked after a while. She had been wanting some answers and thought that this is her chance before she can meet another living person.
"You're in the Great Pyramid of Meereen," Missandei answered. Arya frowns.
"So, she's really a queen then?" she asked.
Missandei stops her action, not understanding her question. Arya looks over her shoulder to catch brown eyes.
"Daenerys I mean."
If Missandei was bothered by Arya using her name so casually, she didn't show it. "Yes, she's the Queen of Meereen, among other things as well." She answered back. Arya looks ahead again pondering over her next question.
"How do I get here?"
"With Drogon."
"What's a Drogon?"
"It's one of her Grace's dragons."
Her words hung in the air as Arya tries to understand them. She came here with Drogon? A dragon? As seconds go by, her eyes open wider with acknowledgement. She turns around so hard, her waist hurts.
"I rode a dragon?!" she asked, bewildered. Missandei blinks her eyes a few times, startled, before managing a nod at the young girl.
A huff escaped her at the older woman's confirmation, surprised more than anything, as she looks ahead again.
I rode a fucking dragon. A shame I didn't remember any of it.
"It was a surprised for us too when her Grace suddenly shows up while the city is at war... with you in tow," Missandei speaks up from behind.
"War? With who?"
"The great masters. They tried to retake the city and reinstall slavery."
"I assume you won then. If not, we won't be here right now."
"Yes. But not without casualties."
Silence engulfs them at Missandei's last word. Arya can feel the new set of bandage against her back and she knows her time is almost up.
"What of Qazlas?" she asked.
"I did not know the details but the Queen had freed all the slaves from his pit while Daario and Ser Jorah dealt with him and brought him back to Meereen. I believe he died along the journey. Being dragged by a horse become his undoing." Missandei replied.
Arya felt no pity at that. The only thing she felt was the regret of not having to kill Qazlas herself. Well, at least now he will not do any damages to anyone ever again.
So caught up in her own world, Arya didn't even realize the older woman had finished attending to her wounds.
"I will bring some food later." Missandei's voice cut through. Arya looks over her shoulder to find the older woman is already preparing to leave. The tray was on her hands as she stands by the bed.
Gingerly, Arya slips into her cloth again before turning around.
"Thank you." She said. Missandei gave her a nod and turns around to head for the door.
Arya watched as she walks gracefully across the room, pondering over the things she should have said to her sooner.
"Wait." She said in a hurry. Missandei stops just outside the opened door to turn back around.
Arya swallows dryly before finding the courage to lock eyes with brown ones.
"I wanted to apologize." She trails, trying to find the appropriate words. The older woman's judging gaze did nothing to calm her nerve.
For what? For hurting you? For trying to kill you?
"For the cut. I didn't mean to...well I did mean it to happen, but that was before I know who you are." Sherambles awkwardly as her eyes flicker towards the cut that she left on Missandei and back up to brown eyes. Missandei stares at her with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, though the young woman doesn't notice it for she breaks her gaze and looks away after.
"Um...so, you know. I'm sorry." Arya finishes lamely.
"It's fine," Missandei answered after a moment. Arya instantly turns to the Naathi again searching the woman's features.
They exchange a look of understanding silently. When Missandei is sure that Arya knows she had accepted the apology, she gives a dismiss nod and turns around, walking out of the room, leaving the young Stark alone in her room to rest.
*
It had been two weeks of recovering and boredom for the young wolf. She goes about the same routine almost every day. If not Missandei, then someone else would come by and bring her food and attend to her wound. By the time that her back and shoulder only left with numb pain, she can get on her feet steadily and roam around the pyramid, with discretion, of course.
At nights, she would sneak out of her room and wander off into everywhere inside the pyramid. It was delightful to say the least, walking and studying each of the layouts. It left her with amazement at the fact that it had three-and-thirty levels to begin with.
Arya had spent her time fully by going into each level. On the second level, where her interest lay, the armoury is located while the third level holds the training hall. She would sometimes marvel on the weapons posted there and might have borrowed some of it for herself.
She would have gone back home to Westeros, if not for Daenerys intend to see her first before she did so. And Arya agreed, deciding that it's the least she can offer after the hospitality she received. The fact that the Queen was away only made it harder. So, she had to wait until the silver-haired queen return from wherever she might go before she is free to go. And it had stretch another week of her absence.
Arya let out a sigh as her eyes roamed the empty queen's apartment. It was located in the lofty apex of the pyramid on the highest step. She only comes here to confirm her doubts. But, as Missandei said, Daenerys is in fact not around. She proceeds down the steps, passing the audience chamber before she got to her room on the thirtieth level.
She didn't get any sleep that night afraid of what she might be seeing in her dreams. It had become weirder every night. Bran would sometimes come, saying things she did not understand and then Nymeria.
Nymeria would be there, or rather she would be Nymeria. She would howl, run, and pounce at anything moving beside herself. Tearing them apart with her sharp and long teeth before devouring them whole. Arya swallows dryly as the bile taste of blood still lingers inside her mouth.
It was only when the fourth week came, that the Queen had finally returned to the Great Pyramid. One of the handmaidens had come by to get her from her room, saying that the Queen is ready to see her. And Arya wasted no more time to linger. She follows the young girl climbing the steps to the Apex of the pyramid and they stop just in front of a huge ebony door that she never gotten inside yet.
Carefully, the girl pushes the door forward revealing its occupant. The first thing Arya sees is the round table and then her eyes dart forward where the silver-haired queen was. Her back was against them as she looks beyond the opened wide verandah. Then, came the sound of people talking and Arya shifts her attention back at the round table noticing for the first time they are not alone.
Missandei was there along with the Unsullied commander, Grey Worm – whom Arya had later found out – with a serious expression on their faces. She didn't have the chance to look at the others when Daenerys voice cut through.
"Thank you for all your concern, truly. But, what's done is done. I have come back in one piece and along with me a hundred thousand Dothraki army who are willing to cross the narrow sea. All we need now are ships. A lot of them." she said with that familiar regal tone of hers.
Someone suddenly cleared his throat. "Just so happen, Your Grace. Yara Greyjoy arrived last night to negotiate with you. She is offering the use of her fleet for the conquest of mainland Westeros in exchange for an independent Iron Island under her rule."
"And what did you say to that?"
"I said I'll take that proposal to the Queen. She's staying in the guest room in The Heart."
"Will her fleet be enough, lord Tyrion?" Daenerys asked, moving closer to the round table.
Arya blinks hard as all their words sink in. She felt like an intruder there, hearing things she should not listen and could not quite understand, but upon hearing the familiar name, her body suddenly tensed. The last time she met him was beside the dead Cersei after she had killed her. Her eyes dart towards where Daenerys was looking.
"I think so, Your Grace," Tyrion said with a smile before downing his favourite wine.
"Your Grace, Arya is here." The handmaiden's voice suddenly echoes, stopping all other conversation in the room.
All heads turn their way. For the first time, Arya felt exposed. Tyrion's eyes were on her the moment he realized she was on him. He blinks a few times at her. His mouth opening slightly as if to say something. But, it got cut short.
"Arya, how are you feeling?" Daenerys asked with a slight smile. Arya took a moment to right herself before cutting her gaze with Tyrion.
She swallows dryly as she locked with violet eyes. "I feel fine." She croaks and stares back silently, don't know what else to say. At the corner of her eyes, she can feel Tyrion's gaze still on her.
"I'm glad to hear that." Daenerys makes a move around the table, passing by Tyrion and the others so she can stand in front of the young wolf.
"Do you remember what I said to you during our stay in the cell?" she asked suddenly. A solemn expression on her face. Arya frowns, trying hard to remember back.
"You said a lot of things." She commented. Daenerys let out a chuckle.
"I did, didn't I? Well, you can't blame me, you're not much of a talker, back then." she counters. Arya let out a small smile at that, acknowledging it.
She can sense the others watching them both with interest, especially a certain Lannister. But, Arya decides to not let him in her head. After all, she has done nothing wrong. Except killing the bitch Queen, Cersei that is. But, he doesn't know that.
"I said that I would grant you a wish once we got out of there." Daenerys continues. "So, tell me what you wish for, and I will grant it if it is within my power."
Now that the silver-haired queen said it again, Arya remembers it clearly. It was right after she saved her from the slaves' rampage, where she had told her the first time. Even though she wanted to say that they're even now – since the older woman saved her from Qazlas anyway – but she guessed, she won't say no if the Queen really insist. Arya could use a little help along the way.
"My only wish is to go home." She said back. Daenerys let out a kind smile.
"Of course. I can have my men escorts you back to your home, safely." She said, comforting. "Where would that be?"
"Winterfell," Arya said back, without a second thought. Daenerys blinks a few times, wondering if she heard it right.
"Winterfell?" she repeated with a frown.
"Yes." Arya nodded.
Silence stretch among them as confused violet eyes locked with determined grey ones.
"I believe that you might have stumbled upon a lost wolf, Your Grace. This is Arya Stark." Tyrion speaks up suddenly, breaking the silence. All heads turn to him, letting his word sinks in before they turn to Arya.
"You're a Stark?" Daenerys asked even though, Tyrion just confirmed it.
The once gentle and kind violet eyes are now gone. Instead, they were cold and hard. And Arya can see nothing but hatred inside them.