In which our former assassin is forced to face her demon.
*Year 304 After Conquest (AC) - New Future*
"Arya."
The young Stark groans in response at her name being called. She kicks the cover away from her feet when the warmth irritates her. One of her arms draped over her throbbing head and the other over her gradually aching stomach.
"Arya, get up. It's already midday."
The voice continues and it echoes loudly through her sensitive ears. She let out another grunt in annoyance and slowly flutters her eyes open. The light from the sun almost blinded her as she tries her best to recognize the perpetrator who had just stir her slumber. She frowns as she met with questioning brown eyes, the one from Missandei.
"Care to tell me what happened? I heard Lord Tyrion came to visit last night, and judging by your condition, one might think that you two are best friends now, drinking all night together." The former slave commented accusingly. She quirked an eyebrow as she studies the dishevelled little wolf on the bed and back at the empty bottle of wine on top of the table.
Arya's frown deepens at the older woman choice of word but more so because her head was spinning wildly.
"He is not my friend let alone best of friend." She murmurs as she slowly sits up, feeling a sudden rise from her stomach that wants to get out. Missandei gave her a pointed look urging her to explain more and so Arya swallows dryly and continues.
"We didn't drink together. I drank the wine alone after he left."
And she regretted every last drop she had. Last night had been confusing and overwhelming to her. After Tyrion told his side of the story about how the Kingsroad attack happens and what transfigured after, her mind blanked and her feelings went numb as she tried to connect all the dots together – she guesses, that's what happened when your mind overload with information.
So, Tyrion was the one who freed Jamie and later was the one who brought his troops to ambush the royal escort, massacring Robert's men alongside the Lord of Winterfell and his oldest daughter. If only he didn't set Jamie free of his confinement, then her family might still be alive and she would not be so far away from home, living years as a slave.
But, Tyrion was just trying to save his brother. Would I not do the same, were I in his place?
There is this small tugging deep in her heart, that she knows if she hadn't kill Cersei in the first place, Tyrion would not have to free Jamie at all. She assumed he felt cornered and desperate enough when the trial was interrupted, thus, only trying to save his remaining family. Of that, she can understand perfectly. After all, she was doing the exact same thing when she released the arrow.
But, that does not mean she can easily forgive him either. He is still a Lannister and even though he didn't directly involve in murdering her father and sister, the doubt and lingering feelings of sceptical are ever-present whenever the dwarf is involved.
Arya let out a sigh as her head starts spinning again. Her complicated thoughts only make it worse it seems. And on top of that, she had to think of what to do with her current situation regarding a certain silver-haired queen.
More fucking choices that I have to make.
She rests her head down on both her hands and shuts her eyes, slowly drifting back to slumber. It must have been a while because the next time she opens her eyes, she was lying back in bed, curling around herself and Missandei was nowhere to be seen. Her headache was still there but it was more bearable this time. Given that nausea seems to disappear too, she supposed the hangover was probably gone by now. So, she sits up with a grunt while trying to get a hold of herself.
This has been one of her worst hangovers yet. Even in her previous lifetime, she never struggles with alcohol. But, that was probably because she never truly drinks to her heart's content, much like last night.
She glances towards the table that should occupy her goblet and the empty jar of wine but instead it was replaced with a tray of food. Arya swallows dryly as she realised just how famished she feels. Within seconds she was across the room, making herself comfortable on the seat while sipping the lukewarm clear broth. She didn't know what it was but whatever it is, her stomach approves of it and her headache seems lighter if that was even possible.
A creak was heard then but Arya didn't bother to acknowledge the older woman coming inside her room as she was too busy devouring her meal.
"The she-wolf still live," Missandei commented. Arya glanced up at that remark and met with a stoic face of the former slave, though her eyes were glazed over with certain mirth to it.
"She-wolf?" she questioned back. Missandei stride closer before taking the seat across her.
"It's what people called you." She answered with the smallest shrug. Arya frowns in response.
"What people?"
"Oh, you know – only the cooks, the handmaidens, the healers, and the guards," Missandei replies with a slight smile when the younger woman was barely holding her eye-rolls at her listing every group of people that lived inside the Great Pyramid.
Arya focuses back on her forgotten soup before her mind automatically wanders to a certain man that once called her that and the phantom pain that always seems to follow.
"I hate that name," she commented, leaving the former slave stunned by the sudden coldness. "Qazlas used to call me that. And the people there would chant and cheer that name whenever blood was spilt in the arena. They didn't care whose blood it was, only that there is."
Missandei stared back silently at the confession as the young Stark looks at an invisible point, lost in thought. Her face was calm and collected though her grey orbs seem to struggle to fight the ghosts from her past. She wanted to give some kind of comfort to the young woman but her intention was cut short when she was interrupted.
"What is that in your hand?" Arya asked, focusing her eyes back at the person in front of her. Missandei takes a moment to right herself at the switch of conversation before she remembers the purpose of her coming here in the first place.
"The healers had this concoction stored away for a reason particularly like your own. It will soothe your headache and your urge to throw up every second." Missandei said, offering the vial to the younger woman.
Arya chance a glance at the vial holding a darkish content inside it and back at the former slave. Truth be told, if the older woman had presented a rather doubtful looking vial to her last week – claiming it can help grow her bones to be taller – she would have trusted her words and gulp it down without second thought.
But, things have changed now. Her queen had made it clear for everyone that she hates her or rather her family as a whole. And yet, the woman in front of her still treats her with the same kindness before she knew her roots of the North. Arya did not understand her motive at all.
"I don't need it anymore. I feel fine now," she replies, politely rejecting Missandei.
Arya pretends she didn't see the confused and dejected look that crosses the older woman as she continues sipping her soup.
"Are you sure?" Missandei asked softly. The young Stark only hummed in response as she moved on to the bread and cheese next, taking a large bite.
Seconds pass by before it turns to minutes. It was becoming more awkward, to say the least, with the sound of her endless chewing fills the room as the bread seems to last forever inside her mouth. Missandei's scrutinizing stare didn't help either.
"Is something the matter?" the older woman finally asked. Arya stared back towards her with a raised brow, chewing still. "You have something to say…or something that bothers you, didn't you?" she points out.
Arya swallows the remaining bread inside her mouth before reaching for a cup of water. "Why would anything bother me? I have a roof over my head, meal served thrice a day, and I'm coming home with 100 fleets of ships – probably more – alongside an angry Targaryen Queen that wants the iron throne that's taken from her family," she said back nonchalantly. The sarcasm in her voice didn't go unnoticed by the other woman.
"Daenerys is not a bad person. She will be a good Queen for Westeros." Missandei retaliates.
"I don't know about that. I don't know her."
"Well, I do. And I can assure you, she's not a bad person." The older woman stated firmly. Arya was about to say something else but clearly Missandei is not finished yet. "She freed me from my master just like she freed and saved your life. She's fair and gentle with her subject and most of all, she inspires people. The city of Meereen chose her as their Queen as am I."
Both women stared at each other pointedly, with neither one even blink an eye.
Arya clenches her jaw tight, not backing down. "None of those qualities she presumably has will make a difference when her dragons rain fire on my home, killing my remaining family." She said, accusingly.
The young Stark expects another outburst from Missandei to defend her queen, but instead, she let out a small sigh as her face changed to something akin to defeat. "Both of you seems to only expect the worse from each other." She commented softly.
Arya was dumbfounded at the offset remark that she didn't even stop Missandei from getting up and walks out of her room. By the time she was aware, she was already been left to her own solitude again.
*
It has been two days since she last saw Missandei or rather considering that she cannot get out of her own room, it has been two days since the older woman has not visited her. Her meals were brought by other handmaidens of whom their sole purpose is to do just that. They hardly made eye contact with her let alone strike a conversation.
The lack of human interaction should bother her but surprisingly Arya was fine by it. After all, what is two days comparing to years being all alone in the dark and barren cell? At least, she doesn't have to worry about where to scrap from if she was hungry here.
Now that she was alone, all she has ever done in the past couple of days is to think and some more. She thought about the last conversation she had with Missandei and how defensive she had been of Daenerys. Arya ponders over the possibilities of it all. It's true that the silver-haired queen had never treated her badly yet. She could put her in the dungeon – as Tyrion points out that was where he was placed, the first time he presented himself to Daenerys – but instead she had a comfortable room of her own. Only that it is still a prison albeit a more luxurious one.
Then, she thought over the days she was confined in the same cell as Daenerys. Before the mother of dragons knew her family name, she was all of those things that Missandei had claimed her to be. Her cellmate was kind and gentle to her even though all Arya ever did was giving her the silent treatment. It was like Daenerys actually cared. Of course, that sentiment was all gone once the silver-haired queen knew whose family Arya belongs to. And Arya can't help but wonder if she will ever see that side of Daenerys again.
The young Stark blows a sigh as she stares over the horizon outside from her open window. The stars are already taking its turn replacing the sun a few hours ago or so. Arya longed to be outside, to walk or run under that stars. She missed the cold wind that blew her face, not the hot and humid one that currently assaulting her face. If anyone asked her younger and innocent self, would she miss the snow once she left home, she would answer them 'no' in a heartbeat. But now that she was away from it all, it was the one thing that she vividly remembered and missed about her home. She guesses she truly is a child of the North. At least her remaining family are where they belong.
Arya wonders what Jon would look like now that he's a grown man.
Will he muss my hair for his pleasure like he always did? Will Robb be the same protective and annoying brother like he always been now that he is Warden of the North? Will Mother still rain down kisses on my face if she knew I was still alive? And will Rickon even recognize his only living sister when we meet again? Will they all?
A sudden knock stops her train of thoughts and she glanced over her shoulder to find the door creak open. Tyrion's head peeks over searching for the occupant inside the room. When his eyes found his target, he let out a smile before fully comes inside.
"Lady Arya, glad to see you are still awake. Care to join me?" he asked as he plops down the chair that he occupies several days ago.
Tyrion sets the jar of wine and two goblets on the small table before pouring generously into each cup.
"You look like you need a drink...or two." He continues lightly. Arya slowly walks away from the open window she stood and towards him instead, taking a seat across him.
"I will never drink that again. Not in this lifetime." She stated, pushing her full goblet of red wine back towards the dwarf. Tyrion looks up at her with wide eyes.
"Whatever the wine did to you? They didn't deserve that treatment." He asked incredulously.
"They did enough. I don't like the aftermath." She said back evenly.
"Oh for the love of all that is Holy, I thought that our Queen is the only one that has the tendencies to be overreacting. Missandei told me about your hangover, but she also said you recovered fast. You don't even need the shit-taste medicine the healers made." Tyrion said back pointedly. Arya ignores the comparison he made of her with Daenerys and decides to stare at him silently.
Tyrion let out a sigh when he sees that the young Stark made no attempt to say anything. "Well, if you decided so. It's your loss really."
He takes his first sips and the second before Arya speaks up again. "Do you have something else you want to tell me after last time?" she asked, clenching her jaw tight as the event from the Kingsroad attack played in her memories uninvited.
Tyrion swallows the remaining wine and pours another fill of his cup. "Well, if you want to ask anything else, feel free to do so." He offers.
"Now that I know that you set the killer of my Father and sister loose, I have nothing else to ask of you. It pretty much covers everything else."
At that cold tone, Tyrion looks up at the young woman in front of him. A sudden chill cross at the back of his neck as steel grey orbs pierces his soul. He knows Arya would come to that conclusion sooner or later.
"I was only trying to save my brother. I know Robert had it arranged to kill Cersei. The trial was never a fair play when the Hound was involved, and Cersei would have walked away without any punishment. Such betrayal would make any man do so, let alone a King of Westeros. He would have Jamie killed too." Tyrion defends. She didn't bother to correct him about his sister's killer.
"And you would have saved hundreds of people's life if you just let him be. You would have saved House Lannister from extinction. You would have saved my Father's and Sansa's life. And you would have saved my life." Arya retaliates. Tyrion's face softens at that.
"I'm sorry about your father and sister. Ned Stark was a great man – an honourable man. And Sansa…is still too young when death greets her. And I know how terrible it must be with you being in enslavement…and I truly am sorry"
"Don't presume to know what I've been through, Lord Tyrion."
"I only–"
"I think you can find someplace else to have that drink of yours from now on. Get out."
The tension that fills the air is enough to suffocate both of them, but neither made any move to back down. Instead, Tyrion sits up straighter, studying the hard grey eyes in front of him, his wine now forgotten.
"Arya…" he begins. "Jamie is my brother, my own blood, and were I given the chance to go back and change things, I would still stand by my choice. I would save him either way, - and would have actually stopped him from doing anything stupid in the first place – even if it cause others misfortune. I'm sure you understand how much family means."
Arya understands it too damn well. She also knows that the dwarf is not fully responsible for everything that happened. But, she can't help to voice them out anyway, hoping to find something or someone else to blame than herself. In the end, their choices didn't matter, since the person they are trying to protect died anyway. She closes her eyes trying to calm her nerves at the sudden ache in her chest that tries to swallow her whole.
"It would be best if you get out now. I don't think I can control myself with you so close." Arya speaks softly more for his sake rather than hers.
"What? Are you going to kill me?" he joked lightly.
Arya opens her eyes then, to find Tyrion staring back with a forced smile.
"I might."
His smile drops as the word left her mouth. But, he quickly recovers with a chuckle. "And how are you going to do that? Do enlighten me." As soon as he said that, he knew he would regret it later when the grey orbs in front of him glazed impossibly darker.
"I could bash your head with the jar of wine and when the glass shatters along with your skull, I'd plunge the sharpest shard left through your neck. Or I can jump over this table right now and strangle you with my own two hands. But, that will catch too much attention. The guards outside the room will come to your rescue before I can do any damage. So, I would choose to knock you out cold first and dump your body outside the window instead. The fall down the pyramid will surely leave you with broken bones…preferably with a broken neck." Arya finished.
Tyrion blinks a few times as he looks at the young Stark, loss of word. The girl in front of him spoke of threats to kill him like she was speaking of the weather. There is this strange calmness in her yet it makes her all the more frightening. What makes it worse is that he believes she can do all the above if she wants it.
He swallows dryly as he gathers his courage again. "You don't hate me that much." He guessed.
"I don't like you either." Arya deadpanned.
"Ha! I knew it." Tyrion shouts, his face lights up suddenly. Arya frowns in response. "Sure, you don't like me. Everyone doesn't like the dwarf, let alone a Lannister dwarf. But…you don't hate me." He finished proudly as if he was winning an argument that only he can understand.
And within seconds, his mood changed to be better. He takes a sip of his forgotten wine before continuing. "The same as Daenerys doesn't hate you, and you her."
Arya quirked an eyebrow at the shift of conversation. "You seem to know better about what others feel and what I feel when I have a hard time recognizing them myself." She commented dryly. Tyrion shrugs off her sarcasm and instead let out a smirk.
"I'm a good judge of character." He replies. Arya let out a scoff.
Tyrion settles his wine down then, leaning forward against the table. "Don't you want to have a home to go back to?" he asked gently, all playful gone from his tone now.
With his face closer, the young Stark's attention automatically drew to his mismatch orbs. The emerald in his right eyes sparkle, which gives a lovely depth to it. She focuses back to his face, remembering his question. "Of course, I do. But, those fleets and armies she has will cause more damage than good in Westerosi land. And you know it." She said evenly, knowing that the dwarf was well aware of who she just mentioned. Tyrion didn't back down though.
"Then, give a reason for Daenerys to not consider you her enemy. She would not harm the North. She would not harm your family. Winterfell will stand strong just like it always been."
"Or I can just kill her instead and be done with it." Arya retaliates with a stoic face. Tyrion let out a sigh at that.
"And let her dragons fly free without anyone controlling them?" he argues before continue. "Don't you have enough blood on your hands to last a lifetime? Not all problems can be solved by slitting people's throat, Arya. Believe me, if it does, it will save us a lot of hassle. And besides, you're not that kind of person. You would never harm anyone for the sake of pleasure. You would never kill anyone that doesn't deserve it. And Daenerys has done nothing of the sort. Give her the benefit of the doubt. She will surprise you, probably more than you can imagine." He counters, intently seeking her eyes.
Arya let it for a moment before she breaks away from his intense gaze, confused and afraid that his words would crawl its way to her heart. "She will bring foreign soldiers across the narrow sea and cause war to our homeland. Why would you support that?" she asked, fixing her eyes back at the dwarf.
It's not that Arya has any care for the current King of Westeros or the iron throne. But, with Daenerys bringing her army and three grown dragons, without a doubt, there will be a war and Arya had lived through the War of five Kings to know how bad it can go. It was the people of Westeros that have to suffer from it. Not the lords and ladies of major houses but the citizen, the common people.
"I'm supporting her because I believe she can make Westeros prosper. You don't know how Robert rules all these years. There are rumours and proofs of his ruling that has caused more damage to every continent even before I was exiled. Westeros is already at war as we speak. Believe me when I said that no one will miss him when he's gone." Tyrion stated calmly. Arya didn't know what to say to that.
If what the dwarf told her is the truth, then she wonders if the North is affecting by it in any way. Is her family even safe within the walls of Winterfell?
"Most of all, I support her because, like you, I wish to go back home." He continues with a longing smile on his face. "Besides, it's her homeland too, you know."
His last words hung in the air before Arya silently leaned back to her seat with Tyrion still holding his gaze. As if he's waiting for her to retaliates back. Arya let out a sigh suddenly feeling very tired. She leaned forward to the table then, reaching for her intended goblet of wine and gulps down the whole content. She scrunches her nose at the tangy taste that leaves her tongue and throat.
"Whatever happens to 'I will never drink wine in this lifetime'?" Tyrion asked, amused at the expression from the young woman.
"One glass won't hurt, I guess." Arya shrugs lightly.
Tyrion hummed in agreement, though by his experience, more than one cup won't hurt either. He proceeds to pour another into his own then, not noticing that the young Stark eyed his every movement.
"Can you ask her if she will grant me audience before we set sail? Daenerys I mean. And don't worry, I won't try to slit her throat or anything." Arya said, assuring. Tyrion glanced at her dumbfounded, forgetting that he's pouring wine to his cup.
When the wine overflows and spills the table, he clumsily stops his action. But it was already too late as the red liquid makes its way to Arya's side. Seeing that he has no success in containing his damage, he shrugs it off and focus back at the person in front of him.
Remembering her question again, he let out a smile. "I will certainly ask her and let you know."
*
Arya has been patient as she waits for approval to meet with the Queen of Meereen. But, when it comes to the third day – since she asked of it – and Tyrion comes to her room with an apologetic look, saying Daenerys doesn't have time for her with all the preparation to sail to Westeros, she called it a load of crap. Clearly, the silver-haired queen doesn't have any intention to meet with her in any way. How busy was she, that she can't even have mere minutes for her?
Or perhaps she forgot I existed and locked in her pyramid?
With each day passed, her time nearly ran out. On the morrow, at first light, they will finally set sail and Arya wants to settle this before then.
As hard as it was, she had to admit that Tyrion Lannister was right. All those things he said last time he was in her room, it strikes a nerve in her even herself didn't know she had. She could take the easy way out – kill Daenerys and get out of here to her family – but she doesn't want to. The older woman doesn't deserve that and Arya was tired of fighting. Last time, she tried killing a Queen, her Father and Sansa died. So, she decides to take the advice the Lannister dwarf gave her.
Give Daenerys a reason.
That was what she planned to do anyway. But, now that it seems her plan had backfired, she would have to go with another counter plan.
If she doesn't want to see me, then, I will come to her instead.
With her patience wearing thin, it only solidified her next action. Steadily she turns around from the open window, breaking her gaze from the dark night outside and walks towards her door. Reaching for the handle, she purposely pulls it open with a loud creak. Sure enough two unsullied guards are stationed on each side of her door. They turn around and stare at her and each other before settling again at her.
"I'm going to see the Queen. You can come with me or you can try and stop me." She offers. Neither said a word.
As Arya moves forward, their spears form an 'X', blocking her from going any further. She looks at both of them sharply before turning around and enters her room again, closing the door shut.
Fine, then. The second choice it is.
She counts to a hundred silently inside her head. Once finished, she reaches for the goblet that is made out of metal before walking towards her door again. This time, the door opens silently, revealing the same guards faithfully at their post, with their back facing her. Unaware that the little assassin is figuring out whom she should hit first.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Arya secured her grip on the goblet and swing it with all her might to the guard on her right. The force was so strong that it knocked his helm off and then himself off the ground, rendering him unconscious. Arya speeds up then, reaching for the fallen guard's spear before it hits the ground.
The second guard is more prepared given that he knows there is a threat now. His spear points at her, drawing Arya into the hallway. She noticed the Unsullied glanced down to her left hand that holds the metal goblet and frowns in response. Probably not believing she had knocked his companion out cold with it. She tosses it over the ground to have both grips on the stolen spear instead, pointing it at him too. She waits for him to strike but he never did. Though she was curious about that, she doesn't have time to ponder over it. So, she strikes first but he easily blocks it with his own. Spear against spear, they danced along the narrow hallway – turning, twisting, and ducking all the blows – for a minute or so.
And within those times, Arya was the one who initiates the attack while he blocks all of them. Even though he did attack back, his moves were easily expected. It was as if he doesn't want to hurt her. She decides to put her theory into use and intentionally lower her spear down just when he's about to counter-attack her next moves. She knows where it will go but even then, she made no move to avoid it.
When the Unsullied finally noticed that the young Stark was waiting for the blow, he instantly lowers his momentum before fully stopping his pointed blade inches away from her neck. He looks at her with questioning gaze not noticing that he had left his side open for the young woman to knock his helm off and hit his head with the blunt back of her spear.
Arya watches as his eyes roll over into unconsciousness and join his partner on the ground. She turns around then and walks away towards her intended path with the last fight still playing inside her head. Her guess was right when he doesn't want to hurt her and Unsullied only takes such order from their Queen.
Stupid. They should just go with me then.
A few steps and corners later, she finally arrives at Daenerys' private chamber in the lofty apex of the pyramid. Her red ebony door stands tall and surprisingly vacant. Arya expects guards to watch over her room, probably more than she has, but instead, she doesn't have any. Deciding that she should give a good impression, she left the spear she stole outside before proceeding to enter the Queen's chamber. Pushing the unlocked ebony door silently, she invites herself in for the second time.
Her room was still as splendorous as she remembered. She walks further into her chamber and found no one there. Her bed is empty and she wonders if the Queen was out on a field trip again like last time. She was about to turn around when a sudden noise caught her ears. Looking over her shoulder, she notices a small hallway that she never knew existed. She walks to it then, finding the noise much clearer. The hallway has its wall made of glass and inside it, lays all sorts of greenery that she has a hard time recognizing.
So absorbed by the beautiful garden of flowers both on her right and left, Arya didn't even notice her foot has taken her further than necessary. She stops abruptly when there are no more glass walls and colourful roses but instead another room. Her eyes roam the surrounding and she stops short when she found the person she wants to talk with.
Daenerys was inside a large pool, humming that familiar tune she used to hum when they were locked up together. She was leaning against the wall of the pool with her back against the young woman. Arya let her eyes closed as the tune surprisingly relaxed her tense body. It probably lasts an hour for all she knows as she stands there, unmoving until the tune sounded no more and was replaced with splashes sounds of water instead. She glanced towards the older woman who was strangely quiet in the bath.
Naturally, her feet brought her closer and a frown formed on her face when she sees there are steams coming out of the water's surface.
How cold is she, if she's bathing in scalding hot water?
Arya's feet stop abruptly as her line of view goes further than she intended. She backs away then, feeling that she has invaded an intimate space. She clears her throat awkwardly, trying to get the Queen's attention. As soon as she made her presence notice, Daenerys snaps her head to the younger woman's direction.
Wide violet eyes against calculative grey ones.
Daenerys holds her gaze in silence at the young Stark as if she was trying to make sense of her presence in her private chamber and Arya let her. For a moment neither speaks a word but the silver-haired queen finally decides that the young woman was real and she breaks her gaze then. Gracefully, Daenerys stands up and out of the pool, leaving a trail of water on the floor as she makes her way towards the corner of the room that holds her cloth.
Arya looks away then, not wanting to invade any of her personal space again. But her eyes seem to have a mind of its own when they steal another glance at the older woman. And what she saw made her breath caught in her throat.
How can anyone be that…breathtakingly beautiful?
Her bare pale skin shines under the candle lights and Arya wonders how it feels like to touch the smooth skin that has never been assaulted by scars before. She studies each part of Daenerys natural form silently, starting from her shining silver hair to her pale shoulder and down to her back. When the older woman decides to turn around facing her, the young Stark swallows dryly as her gaze continues trailing down her neck and down in the middle of –
"Liking what you see, Stark?" Daenerys voice interrupts as she pulls on a silk robe over her shoulder, successfully covering herself. Arya immediately snaps her eyes back up at the older woman, suddenly feeling very warm.
"Yes. I-I mean… No." she stutters and curses inwardly. Daenerys lips curve upward automatically at that. It only strengthens her smug smile when Arya looks back sharply at her.
"Is there a purpose that you decides to break into my private chamber, other than watching me bath?" Daenerys asked while tying her robe for good measures. Arya takes a deep breath before the warmth in her face goes back to normal.
"I've come here to bargain and strike a deal with you." She stated firmly. Daenerys quirked an eyebrow.
"Can't it wait until in the morn? And how do you even get past all the guards?" she asked curiously. Arya shrugs slightly.
"I was afraid you would be too busy, come the next morn. Besides, Unsullied guards that are ordered not to hurt me are hardly a challenge." She answered back. When Daenerys didn't even bother to correct her, Arya knows her guesses has proved right. She decides to continue then. "And I didn't break into your chamber, your door was already unlocked."
Daenerys fakes a laugh at the last statement. "And I supposed my guards magically disappear as well when you come in here?"
Arya stares back at the older woman with a frown. "There were no guards." She said softly.
"Yes, of course. Well, if you hurt any of– "
"You had guards outside your room?" Arya interrupts. Daenerys looks at her incredulously.
"I just said so, did I not?"
Arya ignores the silver-haired queen irritated question as she turns around and studies the room. It was odd before she came in here, the Queen of Meereen's private chamber unlocked and unguarded. Sure, the guards would have possibly takes their rest or something but Arya doubts it. The Unsullied are disciplined soldiers. They wouldn't leave their post carelessly unless being ordered to or defeated. Somehow, she believes the second reason to be more plausible.
And whoever that might have defeated the unsullied guards outside Daenerys' room, may as well be already inside before she came crashing in. Looking around the room, the young assassin cannot find any place where a person can hide. She walks towards the hallway again and looks through the glass wall. No one can certainly hide in there as it is practically an open field. She turns around again and strides to the pool next, where the clear and hot water abandoned with no signs of living things.
Daenerys who has been watching the young Stark moves around her room ignoring her completely, closes her eyes in irritation. She decides to do the same and walks to the small table across the room, which holds some of the refreshment. She pours herself a cup of wine before settling back at the invader in her room.
"Whenever you have finished ogling my chamber, Stark… I'll be here." Daenerys jeered as she takes a sip.
That seems to snap the young woman focus back to her and with one last glanced over her shoulder, Arya strides closer to the older woman, still frowning and her eyes busy. Daenerys waits for her to come closer and her grey orbs to focus back at her before she speaks again, but they never did. Instead, her grey eyes grow sharp and darker at something over her shoulder as she stops a few feet from her.
"I know you're there," Arya calls out, narrowing her eyes at the screen that divides the corner, creating a separate space. She didn't realize there is a divided space before the Queen calls out to her. Now, she was sure whoever it was, is hiding in there since there is no other place to do so.
Daenerys looks at her like she was crazy and delusional, but Arya pays her no heed. The silver-haired queen was about to say something when she stops short and caught a blur of movement beside her. She snaps her head at the direction and surprised to find a man walking out of the wooden screen.
His black eyes were scrutinizing the young Stark before he finally settles at violet ones. The man was average height and his body lean. His attire is as black as his eyes. As Daenerys glanced down to his fingers that hold a dagger, everything that Arya told her and her actions make sense now. She slowly backs away creating a fair amount of distance from the real invader.
Daenerys was rooted in the middle with Arya on her left and the man on her right. Neither of them said anything as they study each other. The stranger shifts his weight and tightens his grip on his weapon before his cold black eyes find the steel grey ones again.
"If you leave now, I shall not hurt you. I've come here to take only one name and only one I shall take." the man offers. His voice soft but cold at the same time.
Arya stares back silently, as his words sink into her. His choice of words is strange to the young assassin but somehow familiar. She had a guess of where he might come from and if she's right, then she would have close to no chance in winning him over.
Daenerys watches wearily between the determined assassin and the calculating young Stark as theyeyed each othersilently. "And I supposed that name you're going to take is mine?" she asked then, breaking their intense gaze.
A small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tilts his head to a nod, rectifying her question.
"Under whose order are you doing this?" Daenerys asked again.
"I did not ask and questioned." The killer said simply.
Arya would have guessed that much. That is how they work after all. The Faceless man never asked and never cared, as long as a face is added to the Hall of Faces. That is also the reason she fled from the cult in the first place.
"What say you, Lady Arya of House Stark? Leave us and you can return home safely to Westeros." He offers again, ignoring the silver-haired queen and looks back at the former assassin.
Arya would have been surprised if it was anyone else who knew who she really was. After all, the youngest daughter of House Stark has long disappeared and presumably dead by everyone else. But, being a faceless man, she expects that much from him. Words must have been going around in the pyramid and if he stays long enough in here, he probably has heard the rumours slipping through the walls. Safe to say, that he probably knows of her background, being the she-wolf of Qazlas Pit too. It was the only reason why he would try making a deal with her instead of overpowering her in the first place.
Arya shifts her attention on violet eyes that are doing the same. Even though Daenerys face shows no sign of fear but the young wolf can still see flickers of uncertainties. It was as if she really believes the young Stark would take that offer. Somehow, Arya was disappointed by her reaction.
She looks straight ahead at the assassin again, finally deciding. "I'm going home either way, so I think I'll stay."
At her declaration, the tension in the room shifts uncomfortably in an instant. The man inclined his head in respect to her decision before sprinting towards Daenerys at the middle. Arya expected that, as she does the same before the man even moves into action, gaining her a few steps ahead.
Daenerys stays frozen in her place as both of them race towards her at incredible speeds. But, her violet eyes are drawn to the black figure from her right. She can see his black eyes grow impossibly darker before the tip of the blade replaced them, inches away from her face. A tugging on her left arm makes her body jerked backwards, successfully getting her out of the blade's way. The room spins until it stopped and she realized she had landed unceremoniously on the floor, a few feet from the meeting point of both fighters.
Carefully, Daenerys gets up on her feet. The two fighters are strangely quiet for the chaos they created, not even their breath can be heard. The only sound that fills the room is the sound of the blade cutting through the air. Her violet eyes automatically land on the smaller frame of the fighter and she can't help to think back of what Arya said. Truth be told, Daenerys thought that the young woman would accept the killer's offer and be gone in a heartbeat, leaving her to her demise. But, once again the young Stark surprised her. Not only did she decline, but she yanked her out of harm's way and tries to protect her too.
Her train of thoughts got interrupted when a sudden thud echoes loudly in the room follows by a grunt. Daenerys looks over to find that Arya was sprawling on the floor. The man closed in slowly, twirling the blade within his fingers. And for that moment, her body goes rigid. Cold sweat begins to form on her forehead as she truly believes that Arya is going to die. Before she can sprint forward to stop the man, the said woman who was on the floor moments ago, flips herself back on her feet, as if nothing happened. Daenerys released a breath that she didn't know she held, relieved to find out that the young woman is alright. But, it might not stay for long, if she let them go at it. The man is a professional assassin and Arya had just recovered from her injuries not long ago. Not to mention that he has a weapon and she has none. Her eyes instantly search for the way out to find help. But, with Arya and the assassin duelling in the middle of the said exit, Daenerys finds it hard to walk past them.
The rather one-sided fight seems to go on for an eternity, and maybe it had for Arya cannot tell the time when all she can think of doing is avoiding the damn dagger. That is why she doesn't even try to avoid when the man suddenly kicks her on her chest out of nowhere, as she was too distracted by the blade. The young wolf had learned her lesson and she's not going to make the same mistakes again. First, that dagger has to go, she decided.
Reaching for the fabric that is left on the small table, Arya goes forward and waits for him to lunge his knife at her. When his piercing arm stretches out, she steps out of the way and wraps the cloth around the pointed blade and his wrist, successfully tying him with her. Though he had another freehand, Arya didn't let him think of a counter-attack as she lands a kick at his manhood.
The man let out a groan of pain as his legs gave out, and he ends up kneeling. His grip on the dagger loosens and Arya takes that opportunity to tighten the cloth around his wrist before she yanks it off completely. At the force, the fabric flies away along with the dagger, where it successfully landed on the floor at the corner of the room, out of reach. So delighted that she finally managed to disarm him, Arya didn't realized that the assassin has recovered from the blow she inflicted. The next thing she knows, she heard a crack and her vision doubled. Her steps faltered backwards as her hands automatically on her face. But, at the contact, she hissed in pain. She can feel warm liquid trailing down from her nose and into her lips.
Seeing the red that smeared on her palm only confirms her suspicion – that her nose is broken. She glares at the man in front of her, before walking towards him again. Now that he is unarmed, Arya can fight with him equally. She attacks first with a right hook and the man blocks it with his arm before he counters with a right jab at her face. Arya ducks away and gave a murderous glare at his choice of place to attack – which he probably wants to put more damage on her face again – before she spins and lands a kick to his head in retaliation. It successfully hits him and he staggers back to recover from the blow. Arya didn't waste another time as she lands another kick at his ribs and a strong punch to his face soon after. Blood trails down his broken lips but he is still far from being defeated. The man wipes away the blood with the back of his hand and walks towards her again like it was nothing.
This time it was him that strikes first. Arya raises her arm to block his hit but somehow the force has double since last time, making her arm painfully weakened. The surprise must have been obvious on her face as he smirks down at her before he proceeds with another hook at her open side. She managed to block that one too, although she wonders if it is really a success - when her arms throbbed in pain as she did so. She didn't even bother to counter his attack, not believing that her force will be enough.
That seems to be her downfall as her body weakens and a blow managed to slip through her defences and land on her ribs, knocking her out of breath. Before Arya managed to recover, another blow hit her face again. Though this time, the force is more powerful than before that it sends her face-first down on the floor. Her ears ring with a strange buzzing sound before it was replaced with someone calling her name. She forces her eyes open and sees a pair of leg walking away towards the person across the room. And when she looks up, Daenerys face comes into view. The familiar violet eyes are glazed with concern as she looks down to the floor at her and back at the assassin nearing herself.
Daenerys desperate face pulls Arya back into focus. She shakes her head lightly trying to get a hold of herself before pushing her body upwards. Afraid that her legs might not hold on any longer, Arya sprints toward her assailant silently and jump over his back. The man never sees her coming. Not only after she latched herself onto him that he struggles, trying to pull off her arms around his neck and head, and her feet around his middle. It didn't work out the way he planned and Arya can hear his hitched breath as she tightens her arms, blocking his airway. He staggers backwards and away from Daenerys frozen form.
With the man wobbling around the room, the exit opens up and Daenerys makes a move towards it before she stops and looks over to Arya, conflicting whether she should leave her alone with the assassin. Before she can make her decision though, the man catches her attention by sprinting backwards and further away from her, crashing his back with Arya against the wall.
A painful groan escaped Arya's lips as her back slams with the hard stone wall. Her grips loosen on the man's neck as he pushes his body backwards again. At the contact, her back is practically on fire as her old wound seems to re-open and black spots cloud her vision. Her assailant takes the opportunity to his advantage and grabs her loosen arm before pulling her over his shoulder and tosses her onto the floor like a rag.
Arya curls around herself protectively as the fire from her back tripled. She wanted to scream but the pain was so excruciating that she barely had any energy left to do so. Her breath was loud to her ears as she tries to contain the pain away. And the familiar pain was making her seeing flashes of her past. As she's writhing on the floor, the perpetrator that is often assaulted her dreams shows up uninvited at the back of her mind. His wicked smile is so hideous that Arya has to close her eyes even tighter to force him out.
A scream assaulted her ears then and for a moment she thought it was coming from her but when another sound that of people fighting and struggling can be heard soon after, she knows it was not from her. She wills her eyes to open and after blinking the tears away, her visions clear again.
Her grey eyes search her surrounding tiredly and she notices the dagger her assailant used is lying on the floor just a few feet from her reach. Making a mental note at that, she continues scanning the area until her gaze stops at the form of a man sitting atop a woman. The man had both of his hands around the woman's neck, strangling her. And all of a sudden, all Arya can see is red. Her heart beats faster and her breathing laboured as her past decides to haunt her again.
This time it was an image of a young girl with thick auburn hair and bright blue eyes, lying helplessly on the ground. She called for help, but Arya didn't do anything. Her younger self just watched silently as the soldier pierced the knife through the young girl's chest, putting a stop to the once beating heart. Arya grits her teeth so hard, that it hurt. "No…not this time." The young Stark whispers as she pushes herself up. She staggers for the abandoned knife and reaches for it. Gripping it tightly, she turns around to the man and runs at him like her life depends on it.
The assassin was too slow to react as Arya already plunged the knife to his side. He grunts in agony before the force takes him down to the other side and away from Daenerys. The young wolf still had a hold of the dagger as he crashes down. She pulls it out before pushing it back through his flesh, inflicting another wound. A scream escaped the man's lips as the blade pierce through his ribs. He rolls over trying to get away from his attacker but Arya crawls back to him and sits atop him, reversing his position moments ago. Instantly, she drives the dagger to his chest and his heart, not caring that the black orbs staring at her are slowly drifting away from life. She plunged the blade at his body again and again until the red that she sees matches the red from her mind.
Daenerys scoots away from both of them on instinct while struggling to will air inside her lungs again. As soon as her breath evens out and her coughs settle down, she looks over to them. Her eyes are wide in shock to see what Arya is doing and still is. The dagger she had is still firmly planted around both her hands where she pierces it inside the assassin for maybe more than a hundred times, for all Daenerys knows. The blood splattered on both of them but the young woman doesn't seem to mind.
"Stark?" Daenerys calls out to her, but the said person made no response.
Daenerys moves closer then and calls out to her again but it was still the same. She crawls her way to be in front of her and watched in horror as the woman seems to be in a trance as if in possessed while mumbling something along the way.
"Arya!"
Arya stops with the knife over her head, before slowly lowering it down. She glanced up to find violet eyes intensely seeking her.
"He's dead," Daenerys said again, assuring the young woman.
Arya looks down at thenow unrecognized assassinand tosses away the dagger, making it clatter against the floor. She climbs off the body then and lands herself tiredly on theground. Daenerys moves closer and sits in front of her trying to gauge her attention. But her grey orbs seem to be far away from here.
"Arya?" she tries again, but the young Stark is still inside her own world. As Daenerys glanced towards the battered body, she wonders what kind of a world had Arya lived through if it makes her do things like whatever that mess would be called. But, then she remembered the young woman's time in Qazlas Pit and how horrible and how inhuman Arya looked the first time she met her. The thought greatly upset Daenerys.
The silver-haired queen doesn't know what else to do to bring the young woman back to reality, so she does the only thing she can. She leans forward and wraps her arms around Arya's shoulder in an embrace. At the contact, the young woman's body went stiff as a board. But, Daenerys tightens her arms around her anyway, stroking her back gently in a circle. It takes a while but gradually, Arya seems to relax inside her hold as her head rests inside the crook of Daenerys neck. Even when the young woman's body grows heavier, Daenerys doesn't let go.