In which life teaches one how to lose and gain.
*Year 304 After Conquest (AC) - New Future*
They had gathered by the upper deck when the Ironborn Captain notified how close they're getting in reaching White Harbor. The young Stark, however, doesn't need to be told for she had been among the first one to catch sight of her homeland up the crow nest, to begin with, just after her daily chores had finished and as she takes refuge up there later in the evening.
It wasn't night yet, but the sun's rays cosseted behind the grey cloud makes it looks like nightfall is fast approaching. The lone castle up in the hill takes a shade of grey as a result and so do the taverns and homes of the villagers near the harbour down below. Others might find that the scenery was rather glum and bleak, but to Arya, it was a perfectly beautiful sight. It was familiar and it was her home.
Black Wind is sailing with much less speed now ever since the northern harbour is insight. And when the murmurs down the upper deck become more prominent, gingerly Arya climbs down the spar, walking pass the soldiers and head over by the deck where the silver-haired queen stood, watching over the horizon.
The purple eyes instantly caught hers even before she gets close enough. Decided to keep her distance, Arya tilts her head to a nod at the Targaryen Queen in acknowledgement. They hadn't spoken since the night she boldly rejected the dragon queen's confession and Arya is more than glad that her plan had worked - judging by the cold and distance treatment she received by the older woman is any indication – though her heart still strangely ached by her own actions, she doesn't regret any of it. The young woman is confident that whatever she's feeling towards Daenerys will pass eventually. When the said woman focuses her attention back to Jorah who's still talking without throwing her a second glance, Arya decides to do the same.
"You must be thrilled to finally see your family again."
The familiar voice sounded before the figure emerges fully at the side of Arya's line of vision. Missandei looked straight ahead over the horizon mirroring the younger woman as they both watch the infamous largest harbour in the North getting closer by the minute.
"On the contrary," Arya replied softly.
Missandei tilts her head to the young Stark curiously. "Don't you miss them dearly?"
The question lingers for a long while as Arya ponders over that simple question which seems to be much more complicated than that. She thought about the endless possibilities of how her coming back home could affect the fate of her loved ones, whether it was right to be coming home after a long time with a Targaryen queen nonetheless. What would her family think about her allegiance then? What would Jon think? Truth be told, she was scared of their reaction. "I do miss them."
"Then, you have absolutely nothing to worry about."
Arya finally chances a glance at the Naathi then as she gifted one of her trademark smiles. The young Stark has long since stopped trying to decipher how Missandei seems to know what she truly felt, so she only stared back ahead when her voice sounded again, clearly not finished yet.
"I'm sure your family would be thrilled to find out you survived." Missandei tacked on.
Of course, Arya wouldn't know that for sure until she saw them with her own eyes. For all she knows, they might not even recognize her with all the changes she's been through. Without wanting to, she suddenly becomes more self-conscious of all the scars over her body now. She's nowhere near a perfect lady, let alone a Princess of Winterfell.
"If they truly love you, they wouldn't mind how or whom you come home with. I know I would feel the same if I were in their place."
Arya shot the older woman a look. "Even if I brought along thousands of foreign soldiers back home with me?"
Missandei arched a perfect eyebrow as her lips curved into a slanted smile. "Only if those soldiers meant no harm to the North and the Targaryen Queen behind them gave her words to the lost Stark in return."
A slight chuckle escapes Arya involuntarily. Again, the older woman seems to know just the right thing to say to relief some of the tension she felt. Perhaps by knowing nineteen variations of languages help. She takes another look at Missandei then.
"Do you have a family?" she asked, mostly curious now. The older woman's gaze turns sad for a flicker of seconds that if Arya wasn't paying attention, she would miss it. But, being an expert in face reading herself, she doesn't and instantly she regrets ever asking.
"I have a mother and a father of course…same as every babe that came to this world, for without either one I wouldn't be here. But, I never had the chance to know them. You see, I was enslaved at a young age of five by the Masters of Astapor. If I had siblings, I wouldn't know them as much as they wouldn't know me." The former slave explains.
"I'm sorry." Arya offered.
"Don't be. None of it was your fault."
Arya doesn't say anything further because what Missandei said is true. But, part of her still felt sorry for the older woman's fate and how unfair the Gods were. "Don't you want to go back home and find your own family?"
Missandei looks away then as she silently thought the question over. "I don't need to go back to the island of Naath. There is nothing for me there. I am exactly where I want to be…with the people I want to be." She declares, shooting the young Stark an honest smile. Arya can't help but mirror a smile in return.
Any more words that are about to come from either woman stops then as the horns of the fleet blow loudly, snapping their attention on them. The crew moves swiftly at the call and rolled the sails in an orderly manner before throwing the anchor in the ocean to secure the vessel in place.
"It's time," Yara calls from not far just as her crew arrange for a small boat to change their means of transport to get to the land.
Without another word, Daenerys walks over to where Yara is. Tyrion, Grey Worm and Jorah trailing close behind her. Arya takes a deep breath before she pushes her leg forward, walking close after Missandei and Yara. Another Unsullied and a couple of Dothraki men join them soon after.
Not a single word is said when the small boat starts moving to the edge of White Harbor. It was a short but torturing journey for the young Stark as she tries to calm her nerves and abnormally rapid beating heart. When they finally arrive and step on the northern land, they are greeted by small troops of northern soldiers. The murmurs from the common folks behind the wall of men fill their ears as they warily eyed each other. Among them, a man with a massive belly and fingers the size of sausages stands in the middle. His white hair and wrinkle on his features betray his old age.
"Who are you and what matters do you have in White Harbor?" his voice looms over the entire harbour, making the murmurs from the villagers quieten down instantly.
Daenerys takes a step then, presenting herself apart from her advisors and guards. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen." She answered with no stretch of her voice though it resonates perfectly through everyone present. "Now, you have me at a disadvantage, my lord, as I have yet to know yours."
Silence ensues as the dragon queen's last word hung heavy in the air. The said man only stares down at her as his face contorted into a scowl. "The name's Wyman Manderly. Lord of White Harbor." He finally said.
Daenerys let out a slight smile. "Lord Manderly, a pleasure to have your acquaintance."
"Say that for yourself. I don't feel any slight pleasure at all meeting the Mad King's daughter." Wyman spat back. The dragon queen is sure the words uttered are meant to hurt her but she felt nothing of importance. Perhaps she has finally accepted and comes to term that her father was indeed a mad man.
"The only reason we are here is to get pass and head to Winterfell. I gave you my word that my men, dragons and I meant no harm. We can raise our own tent and camp out outside the village." Daenerys explains and stares back defiantly, unperturbed by the earlier comment.
Wyman's eyes narrow into slits. "Did you say dragons?"
Daenerys didn't have the chance to answer when her children decide to show up at that exact moment, shrieking loudly as they fly past the harbour in a leisure manner. She would have laughed at the dumbfounded look Manderly wears as he tries to take covers when Drogon flew low enough to the men in front of her before taking the sky again, but her face remains calm and her composure still.
As the gasps and murmurs of the town are alive again, the dragon queen speaks up then. "As I've said before…my men, dragons and I meant no harm to the North and its people. We only seek safe passage to Winterfell."
Wyman and his men don't seem to be paying attention to any of the words the mother of dragon uttered. The awestruck on their faces are hard to miss as they openly gape and shout curses among themselves, all the while, their gaze fixed at the flying dragons above them as the villagers acted more or less the same.
A few minutes pass by as the Targaryen Queen waits patiently for the Northmen to focus back at her. When Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion finally flew further and far away from the harbour, the Lord of White Harbor immediately snaps his head back in front. "We aren't afraid of those beasts. If you think you can come here and take our home from us without a fight, you're deeply mistaken." He seethes as his hand reaching for the sword that hung over his belt. His narrowed eyes burn silently, challenging the dragon queen to make the first offence.
Daenerys only let out a tight smile in return as she clasps her hands together. "I came here with no intention to take anyone's home…only to seek mine. My enemy is the usurper, Robert Baratheon and I plan to take back the throne from him… Now, my lord… according to my informant, the North doesn't care about the Southern King or the Iron Chair and for that, I intend to leave them be as my army and I made our way South… Unless you proved me wrong, then I gave you my word that we will not cause any harm to any of you."
A mirthless chuckle escapes Wyman. "The word of the Mad King's daughter is worthless to me." He trails as he takes another step forward, automatically pulling the foreign soldiers guarding the dragon queen towards him too, as they stand in a protective manner around her. "If anyone wanted blood, this lot of yours is the first to attack us… The Imp Lannister, the exiled Mormont and these savages." He said as he nudges his head towards Tyrion, Jorah, Grey Worm and the Dothraki.
Arya chanced a glance at the Lannister dwarf who is strangely quiet. Truth be told, she expects Tyrion to lead the conversation with the head of house of White Harbor but instead, he stands unbelievingly still beside Daenerys. Given that the Lannister is the traitor to the crown with a bounty on his head, Arya can't really blame him. Though his scarred face shows no fear, she can still see discomfort along those lines.
"And who the hell are you? Your face seems familiar."
Arya tilts her head forward again to find Wyman and all the others are looking at her. Her eyes flicker to the violet ones on instinct as she silently seeks the dragon queen's approval to answer the question that is directed to her. Daenerys gave nothing away but the determined and calm look which Arya took as consent. She settles back her gaze at Wyman then. "People always say I resemble a lot from my father… You knew him as Lord Eddard Stark."
A moment passes by as Wyman's frowns deepen, trying to put two and two together. His eyes grew wide as realization finally hits him.
"Yes, I'm Arya Stark," she spoke before he can.
"But, Arya Stark is dead!"
"Well, obviously I can't be if I'm here now."
Wyman scowl in return, clearly not amused. "I can kill you right now for even saying that name." he taunts.
"I appreciate you defending my name, Lord Manderly. But, it's unnecessary to do so."
"You're a fool if you think I'm going to trust your word that meant nothing more than the Mad King's daughter." He commented snidely.
Arya pursed her lips in a straight line as she takes a few steps closer to Wyman. Her steel-grey eyes harden by the second. "The way I see it, this event could turn into two possible outcomes…the first is; you let your stupid pride in the way of you seeing reason and we end up fighting a meaningless battle which I'm sure you can guess the winning side given the dumb look you gave away when the dragons flew by a few moments ago…" She trails with a raised brow. Wyman shifts his weight uncomfortably as the young Stark takes a few steady steps towards him.
"The second is; you somehow miraculously won the fight against hundreds of thousands of Dothraki, Unsullied and Greyjoys combined, alongside three grown dragons… And when Robb found out that you murdered his long lost sister among the battle, he's going to look past your victory and demand your head then." She finished calmly.
The tension that surrounds them is palpable to everyone presents as her last words hung heavy in the air. She proceeds closing her distance with Wyman then, as they are barely inches apart now. "So, what do you say, my lord? Which of the two possible outcomes will you choose?"
A few seconds pass by in silence as they eyed each other guardedly until that tension breaks apart when Wyman cracks a laugh out of nowhere. His cackle rips apart the seriousness and gave way to confusion instead for both his men and the Targaryen group. Arya only raised a brow and waited.
"By the Gods, you really are a Stark. I wouldn't say you resemble Ned but Lyanna instead… she was a fierce young woman once, even more so than Ned…same as you are." Wyman finally commented.
"You're too kind my lord… My aunt Lyanna was to be said a true northern beauty and I'm nowhere close to her in any way." Arya replied with a slight tilt of her head.
Wyman let out a chuckle at that. "Alright then, I'll be damned but I'm going to follow my gut and let you through only until I send a raven to Winterfell. The King in the North will have my head if I let you lot pass without informing him, especially if you're his sister."
Arya blinks a few times at his choice of words. "The King in the North?"
"Yes. Haven't you heard? Robb Stark is king now… we don't need no king in the South, who doesn't even know shit about how his people get by."
"And Robert is alright with Robb being the King in the North?"
"Don't you hear what I just said? Robert doesn't give a shit about anything."
Arya turns her head to Daenerys who is staring back, with her brows furrowed. Clearly the new information startled her too.
"In the meantime, you can stay at New Castle. I'll have rooms prepared for you and your company." He trails as his gaze narrowed at the Targaryen queen and her advisors before he focuses back at the young woman in front of him. "If you will follow me, Princess."
Arya tries very hard not to let the others know how mortified she felt at the title Wyman just called her by as she follows his retreating form. She can sense Missandei's building smile at the corner of her eye as the others follow close behind her. It doesn't help in the slightest bit when the young Stark turns around and caught the amused look on Tyrion's and Yara's face soon after either.
*
Later that night found Arya wandering around the castle after Wyman had tried his best to accommodate and settle them in that same evening. Since New Castle is not as big as Winterfell and most rooms are already occupied by its regular occupant, not everyone has the luxury to stay behind the stones wall. The remaining soldiers proceed to raise their own tents and camps as per plan on the outskirt of the town.
The young Stark walks down the hallway silently with the shadows envelop her frame as she studies the layout of the castle. It would do her good to memorize the routes if the needs arise. It never hurts to take precautions. As she turns a corner to an open veranda, she did not expect anyone to be there. But, a familiar figure of a silver-haired woman emerges, standing silently with her back against her.
Arya glances around the lone Targaryen Queen and found not a single soul near her beside herself. A frown automatically forms on the young Stark's feature when no guards are on duty.
"Are you going to stay there in the shadows and watch me silently like a creepy stalker?"
Arya focuses her gaze forward again to find Daenerys is staring back with a raised brow. She decides to move towards the dragon queen then. "You shouldn't be here all alone. Where are the guards?" she asked as her eyes roam over the open space and at the darkest night down below.
"Sleeping I presume, as they should be. And you might find it alarming, but I do need my personal time…without anyone breathing down my neck all day." Daenerys replied making the grey orbs stay on her. "Besides, I don't think Lord Manderly has any ill will towards our entourage given the treatment he gave you is any indication."
Arya held her gaze for a moment as she studies the violet eyes in front of her. Now that Daenerys has opened the subject of what's been worried her all day since she knew of her family status, she decides to let her question free. "Does that bother you? With Robb being King in the North."
Grey orbs against violet ones silently measure one another as the question remain unanswered before Daenerys looks away and stared ahead to the dark sky. "Tyrion thinks its great news. He's positive that I can convince your brother to bend the knee… being your lifesaver and all. And since the North has obviously become independent, the chance of them getting involved with me claiming the Iron Throne is slim to none." She finished calmly.
"And what do you think?" Arya asked back. Daenerys turns her head to the young Stark in question.
A few moments pass as the dragon queen silently ponders over her thought. The shimmering grey eyes in front didn't help in providing the answer she needed. "I don't know… I'll decide when I meet your brother."
Arya tilts her head to a slight nod, acknowledging the dragon queen's word before she stares back ahead. Daenerys mirrored the young Stark as they fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the night view. The moon is full tonight and its light shone down, a diffuse glow, lighting the forest from pitch black to charcoal grey. And when Arya steals a glance beside her, the moonlight spilt onto Daenerys features, making her glow heavenly stunning.
The young Stark didn't realize she had openly stared at the Targaryen queen without shame and even when the said woman had notice and is now staring back at her with the same intensity, Arya held back. It takes all of her strength not to succumb to the power that is making her wanting to lunge at the older woman and ravished her soft lips again.
But fortunately, she still had her sense and the promise she made to herself keeps popping up inside her mind, swallowing down her desire for the dragon queen. When Daenerys lips open and about to form a word, Arya immediately intercepts. "I should go." She said, looking down and closing her eyes for a moment, regaining herself, before opening them again. "Good night, Your Grace." She said and turns in a hurry.
Daenerys let out a resigned sigh as she silently watches the retreating form of one that is Arya Stark.
*
It had been two days since the Targaryen fleet set afoot on the Northern land and after Wyman had sent out a raven to Winterfell as he said he would, they decide to wait for a reply before heading towards there in a hurry. Furthermore, the Dothraki and the Ironborn were reportedly enjoying their time in the village taverns and brothels alike with the Unsullied and the Northern soldiers to supervise them. And Wyman was more than happy that his people have increased their business prospects in some way even if he still treats the others wearily. But, not only after Arya had told him that the Targaryen queen had saved her life and asked him to look pass family names, did he relented and tried to shake off his hate.
Arya deems her effort as successful when the next day at midday the lord of White Harbor invites everyone to the common hall to have lunch together. She was about to head there herself when she spotted the familiar bushy hair in front of her. A smile naturally forms on her face as she gradually walks closer towards the older woman. But, that smile vanished when she spotted the woman in front of her is walking on a slight limp. "What happened to your leg?" she calls out.
Missandei let out a short gasp, startled as she turns around to the source. Both her hands are holding a tray full of glasses and a jar of wine. "Good Gods…you surprised me." She sighed with relief. The young Stark raised a brow as she gestured to her limping leg.
Missandei let out an assuring smile then. "It's nothing… I fell down the stairs last night. It was really embarrassing and I appreciate if you didn't say a word to anybody about it." She explains further.
Arya gave a calculating stare at the Naathi as she looks the older woman over. "Alright, but you should get a Maester to look at it…just in case."
Missandei only nods back. "I'll do it later. I promise."
Arya gave a satisfying smile in return and decides to lessen the burden of the older woman as she reached for the tray. "I'll carry it for you." She offered.
"No, it's fine," Missandei answered back in haste.
An uncomfortable silence fell down upon them as Arya stared back in confusion.
"The Princess of the North can't be seen carrying a tray full of wine or I'll lose my head," Missandei answered dramatically.
Arya let out a sigh. "I'll never stop hearing about it, won't I?"
"It's best you start getting used to it now." the older woman tacked on with a smile earning another sigh from the young Stark.
They proceed to the common hall side by side in silence and notice that everyone else has already arrived. The silver hair automatically caught Arya's attention and the violet orbs soon after. Daenerys held her gaze in return before Arya breaks it and addressed the head of House Manderly.
"Lord Manderly." She said in a way of greeting. Wyman smiled widely as he gestured for her to take a seat. She did just that at the opposite side of the rectangle table with Daenerys across her.
"Princess, I believed you haven't met my son, Wendel," Wyman speaks up as he nudges to a man sitting beside him.
Arya tries to control her expression and not to cringe at the title yet again, but judging by the amused look Daenerys wears in front of her, she knows she had failed terribly. "My lord." She said politely.
The said man smiled back. "Princess Arya, a pleasure to finally meet you."
The young Stark forced a smile in return as her eyes roam around the table. Jorah and Grey Worm are sitting beside the dragon queen with Tyrion and Yara join at Arya's side of the table. Missandei is still busy pouring down the wine to every occupant of the table before she finally takes a seat beside Grey Worm. The moment she did, everyone at the table starts eating.
"So how did you say you come to be in the company of a Dragon Queen again?"
Arya turns to the head of the table to find Wyman looking at her, waiting patiently for her to answer. She glances to Daenerys again like second nature before she turns to Wyman. "I didn't... It's a long story." She answered short and takes a full bite of the cut pork.
An awkward silence fell upon the hall before Tyrion decides to jump in and save the conversation. "If you must know, my lord…it all begins when…"
The young woman decides to tune out the rest of the words as she continued devouring her meal. She lets her eyes roam down the table as she chews her meat. She caught Missandei staring at her with a raised goblet before she looks away again. Arya puts another meat over her mouth as she silently glances towards Daenerys instead who is concentrating on what Tyrion is saying before the dragon queen decides to put a few comments of her own.
The young Stark is about to look down to her plate again to cut the remaining meat when she felt another gaze from across the table. When her head turns slightly to the source, she caught Missandei staring again, but this time at the Targaryen Queen.
Something flashed beneath the surface of Missandei's calm expression as her gaze stay rooted on Daenerys and Arya hurried to investigate the sudden shift. But, it was gone as fast as it came. She was too late, the emotion disappeared before she can identify it, like reaching for a fish through a stream of a river with bare hands; the water made the appearance of the fish so tantalizingly close but the bare hands that caught in between pushed it away and it's lost forever. Though, it was enough to put the young Stark on edge and the beginning of a stir in her gut.
The Naathi seems to notice that she had been caught staring and instantly let out a small smile at the young woman before she focuses on her own meal again. A slight frown appears on Arya's features as she too looks down to her meal. But, the pit of her stomach continues to rumble in anxiety and dread as millions of possible and horror thoughts cross her mind. Her jaw clenched tight as she looks up again.
"Missandei, do you remember when you said that you were taken at a young age of six by the Masters of Astapor?" Arya suddenly speaks, successfully rendering everyone silences including the on-going conversation. Missandei blinks hard at the unexpected question, but before she can answer, the young Stark continues. "You said that your brother was killed by the Sons of Harpy when they attacked Meereen…what was his name again, I couldn't recall."
The Naathi frowns in confusion as she glanced over the people around the table who sport the same look as her. "I think you're mistaken…I told you that I don't have a brother or siblings. Even if I did, I wouldn't know if I had one." She answered with a sad smile on her face.
"Right…forgive me," Arya said with a tilt of her head before she proceeds looking down her meal again. She can feel the other penetrating gaze but she couldn't care less about that now.
All Arya can think of is that Missandei hasn't corrected her age of when the Master of Astapor enslaved her. It was supposed to be the age of five, not six and the Naathi should know about that damn well because she's the one that told her so.
A moment passes before the conversation goes on as per normal again around the table and Arya decides to shake the ridiculous doubt that surrounds the older woman. Perhaps, Missandei didn't hear her say her age correctly the first time and she's just being paranoid. But, when the young Stark looks up and found that the older woman is stealing glances to the dragon queen yet again, all the doubts inside her made an appearance for the second time.
Her knuckles are white from gripping the fork and knife too hard as she thought things over for the hundreds of times. When Daenerys reached for her wine of glass that is still full, Arya decides she couldn't let any harm falls to the dragon queen.
"Stop."
Though her voice is not loud, it is loud enough for everyone to hear as they halt their conversation and regard the young woman in question.
"Don't drink that. It's poisoned." Arya said through gritted teeth as she locked eyes with Daenerys.
The dragon queen blinks a few times before the words sink. "What? It couldn't be…poisoned." Her frowns deepen as she lowered down her glass anyway. She snaps her head where Wyman looks back with the same confusion.
Arya decides to turn to the person who she thought is responsible instead. "You brought the wine and you served it to us yourself…" she trails.
A mirthless chuckle escapes the dragon queen uninvited. "Are you accusing Missandei of poisoning the wine?" she asked incredulously.
Before Arya can answer, another already beats her to it. "If the wine is indeed poisoned as you claimed, we all would be dead by now…since the others and I already had a sipped." Jorah suddenly speaks up with a crease on his brows.
The young woman takes a breath, regaining her composure. "The wine isn't poisoned…the cup is." When she locks her gaze at brown ones again, the older woman is sporting a look of confusion that Arya almost believes it. But, as more time passes by, the angrier she felt at the act.
"Ar–Arya…do you hear yourself right now? Why would I want to poison my Queen?" Missandei finally said.
"Because you're not Missandei. You're not her," she muttered under her breath. Her grey eyes grow impossibly darker as her breath turns laboured. "Where is she? Tell me where she is before I gutted you open like a pig."
Something flickers beneath the face of the Naathi for a second before it turns horrified at the words directed to her. "Arya, stop this… You're scaring me."
The young Stark's grip on the cutting knife was so tight that if it weren't made from steel, it would break in half already. "You should be scared…because if you don't tell me now where the real Missandei is, I'm going to do a lot worse than just kill you. You're going to wish you were dead." She taunts as her face distorted with rage.
The silence was deafening to everyone presents as they eyed the two women in shock and confusion still. But, Arya was tired of waiting and with a speed of light, she threw the knife towards the woman who claimed to be Missandei.
A few gasps and shouts echo around the table as the knife flew but found no flesh. Instead, it planted straight at the back of the chair the Naathi sat where she managed to dodge it.
"What are you doing?! You could kill her!" Grey Worm shouts in rage as he stands up. But, when he turns to the said woman, he doesn't know whether to be relieved by the fact that Missandei swiftly escapes the line of the moving knife or to be alarmed that she could do it so easily. Even he himself didn't saw the knife coming at her.
Missandei eyed a watchful gaze at the perpetrator before her face turns expressionless with no sign of feelings. Her brown eyes changed to hollow and without warning, she abruptly stands up and flees. Arya had expected that as she jumps over the table, kicking the plates of food that got in her way and follow suit soon after. She ignores the calling of the others from the common hall as her feet speed up to catch the woman.
Her breath came in a small spurt, hot and furious. At her sides, scarred fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make her run faster. In front of her, Arya could see the long legs of Missandei running further away and she wills her own two feet to speed up. She keeps running down the hallways and corners until a door greets her face. Without second thoughts, she pushes the door open with such force that the hinge might go off as it bumps to the stone wall with a loud thud.
The many eyes of cooks and maids in the room were all looking at the young woman in confusion at her bold intrusion. Her heart pounding sounds loud to her ears as adrenaline almost burst through her skin. With a calculated step, Arya steps forward to the kitchen quarters. Her eyes are busy scanning the room and its people. Before she decides to move on to the next door across the room that could possibly lead to another space, her feet stop abruptly as her gaze fell upon a familiar appearance.
She was a pale woman with a gaunt bony face and dark eyes that look as big as saucers. The memories of that said woman assaulting and beating her to a pulp another lifetime ago in the House of Black and White came rushing to her brain. Arya blinks rapidly, willing the taunting image to disappear from her mind but the perpetrator was still there. The Waif was still there, watching her with a mix of confusion and intrigued crossing her features.
It only takes a moment before hell breaks loose. The Waif swings her hand forward propelling a knife flying towards the young woman. The seconds Arya realized what happened, her hand automatically reached for an empty pan beside her, successfully blocking the rapid blade from slicing her head into two. And with the flying knife clatters down the floor noisily, chaos erupted inside the kitchen. Curses and screams of the cooks and maids fill their ears as they scurry out of the kitchen quarters in a chaotic manner, leaving the two women to their unfinished business.
"You know me." The Waif speaks up. Her familiar voice sounds loud now that only the two of them left. "But, we've never met before, yes?" She finished as she thinks her own words over.
"Where is she?" Arya asked back instead, seething. The Waif shrugged in response as she gifted her slanted smile.
"If you're smart enough to recognize a Faceless Man and the poisoned cup, then you're smart enough to know that it doesn't matter where your friend Missandei is, Princess." She taunts.
Arya had her fists so tight that her nails are digging the skin painfully. Her eyes twitching and her body trembles with pure rage. "Where.Is.She?!" she shouts.
"I'm doing you a favour. You don't want to see the last image of her without a face now, do you?"
The word triggered something feral inside the young Stark and she squeezed the pan tight in her hold before she screamed and lurched forward, pouncing at the woman. The Waif however easily sidestepped the attack before she reached for an abandoned knife on the working table near her.
The assassin advances and slices through the young Stark in return. Arya slapped the blade away with the pan each time it tried to cut her flesh open. The anger guides her in defence but somehow, she didn't notice the leg that swings to her side. The feeling of the boot against her ribs was excruciating but she didn't let it get to her as she finally saw an opening. Without further ado, Arya slammed the pan to The Waif's throat in return. The woman choked her own breath as she stumbles away, gasping for air, with the knife lost on her grip.
The black eyes turn hostile as The Waif grab her own throat, trying to soothe the pain. When the older woman decides to advance again, Arya mirrored her action. They meet in the centre as the young woman swings her deadly pan towards the assassin again, trying to find a landing. But, it wasn't easy as the first time when The Waif effortlessly ducked and dodged the attack. The young Stark begrudgingly thought about her time sparring with the woman in the House of Black and White where The Waif was always a better hand to hand combat than she could be. Her train of thoughts is proved right when a fist found her ribs again and then her face soon after.
The pan Arya held was kicked out of her grip as she tried to regain her composure. And when she decides to lounge at The Waif anyway, fists ready, she did not expect the said woman to throw a handful of foreign powder on her face, that she grabbed over the working table. On instinct, she tries to block away from the substance but it was too late when she can feel a huge amount of it slips through her eyes.
The sensation that came soon after was literally burning her eyes out. And when she rubs against them, attempted to clear them and regains her vision, it only becomes worse. She couldn't open her eyes and darkness swallowed her whole as her chest takes another force of the boot from the assassin and her body ended up crashes against the cupboard on the wall. A grunt escaped her lips as she was down on all four. The splinters on her back are painfully digging through her skin. She heard the approaching footfalls and she can't help the sudden itch to laugh. And so Arya did.
It started with a chuckle before it turns to a full one. She was laughing so hard even though there was nothing funny to be laughing about. Missandei is dead, The Waif killed her and it's all her fault. Just like last time with Lady Crane. And now she's temporarily blind yet again, fighting her nemesis. There is certainly nothing amusing to those things at all yet the young woman can't help the sound that coming out from her mouth. Perhaps all the time travelling has finally made her go insane.
"Care to share what's been tickling your feather, Princess?" The Waif sounded.
Tears or sweat – Arya couldn't tell – was leaching through her closed lids and over her face as she tries hard to stop laughing and compose herself. "You wouldn't understand but…" she trails as she takes a breath and pushes herself upward again. Her eyes are still burning like hell. "I'm going to kill you and peel the skin of your face myself just like last time." She said assuring. The corner of her mouth curved upward, taunting the assassin. Though she can't see The Waif's face, she's pretty sure that she had gotten under the older woman's skin. Even if it didn't, the young Stark wanted to believe that anyway.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Arya heard the rustling of clothes before she felt the sudden change of air to her left side. In an instant, she twists her body to the opposite side, successfully avoiding a blow before moving in towards her opponent. The Waif clearly didn't expect such moves from the temporary blind woman as she left her side unguarded making the young woman able to land another punch to her throat, rendering her imbalance and kept a hold of her in close proximity.
The two women grunted as they took handfuls of each other's clothing and attempted to wrestle the other to the ground. The Waif released a hand-hold and used it to start jabbing the young Stark in her already broken ribs she caused. But, Arya only clenched her jaw tight, absorbing the familiar pain like an old friend before released both hands and grabbed the assassin's head at the side, poking both her eyes with her thumb until she can feel hot liquid oozing out of her fingers and the satisfying scream that matches her own, coming out from the older woman soon after.
Though her vision is nothing but black, Arya can almost see the red of the blood that flowed from The Waif's eyes socket as the said assassin noisily staggered backwards with a painful moan. And the imagination satisfied her dark sadistic heart. The young woman took steady and calm steps towards the noise and then she suddenly heard the clashing of steel blade against air. Somewhere along the way, the older woman must have come across an abandoned knife. She waits for the clumsy approach as the blade sound clearer to her ears by the minute. And when she notices the change of air again, this time to her right side, Arya blocks the incoming blade with both arms and land a kick at The Waif's left leg that she remembered was injured, when she saw her limping down the hallway earlier.
A grunt escaped the assassin's lips as her knees buckle and she ends up kneeling on the floor. With her hand still gripping the knife, Arya put all her weight into twisting the arm towards its owner. The sound of bones breaking and then of a blade cutting through flesh were like music to the young Stark's ears and she keeps thrusting the older woman's hand towards her own chest, repeatedly stabbing herself.
Decided to end this once and for all, the young woman pulls out the armed knife again only to push it further, but this time towards The Waif's throat instead. She heard the gurgling and choking of breath from the assassin as if she tried to say something for the last time. But, Arya couldn't care less and with a scream she ripped apart the knife away, taking parts of the victim's throat with it. The assassin's body slumped heavily against her until it slides down and fell to the floor with a thud.
The guards decide to show up at that moment then, bursting through the door. For a moment, all the heavy footfalls and shouting gets swallowed down as she takes refuge to her own comforting world, that is until she felt the soft hands caressing her cheeks and heard the soothing velvety voice calling her name soon after.
The young woman wanted to lean into the hands that are cradling her face with such gentleness, but she knows she doesn't deserve it. So, with difficulty, Arya tries to pry her eyes open. Her vision was blurry at first but as seconds go by, the frightened and concerned purple eyes in front of her become clearer.
"What is going on? Whe–where is Missandei?" Daenerys asked with a frown. Her own eyes wildly searching the swollen red-rimmed ones in front of her, desperate to hear the answers.
Arya pulls the dragon queen hands off of her face, leaving the comfort as she stared back through painful breaths that has nothing to do with her broken ribs. She ignored the sting of sweat in her eyes as she answered. "Missandei is dead."
*
The young Stark doesn't know how she got to her room, but somehow she did and now she's sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes glued to the stone wall and she just stares at the blank wall as it paints with memories of a certain Naathi. With each image flashed by, the heaviness in her limbs and her mind doubled. Things she used to find funny now only caused a deepening of the pain. She should have been there when Missandei needed her. She should have been there to protect her. But she failed.
She failed terribly just like she had failed her Father and Sansa. Just like she had failed her family in another lifetime ago.
Her chest ached. With each intake of breath, it was impossibly painful to get air inside her lungs and it was becoming exhausting by the minute. Though however excruciating it felt, it can never be compared to the aching and emptiness in her heart, the numbness pounding her brain, and the sheer nothingness that now took hold of her soul threatened to engulf her entirely. The awful hollowness, the waves of wretchedness are there again welcoming her like an old friend.
Time was moving, she knew that but she couldn't care less. She had remained in the same position for hours, perhaps days. Her body sore all over through her chest ached less now and her breathing aren't laboured anymore. Her eyes hurt and her head pounding in return demanding for rest but Arya doesn't give in. What right does she have to such liberties anyway? And so, she stays awake.
A knock and a creak soon after were loud against her ears but she remains still not even moving her head to acknowledge the person coming inside her room. The heavy boots were calculated as they approach and stops a few feet from where she is. At the corner of her eye, she saw the silhouette of the Imp Lannister.
"You should get the Maesters to take a look at your injuries. It could be fatal." Tyrion pleaded.
Silence.
A sigh escaped him as he takes another step closer. "We searched everywhere. From inside the castle to outside the town and down the piers…but we couldn't find her body." He said, trying to gauge a reaction.
But, he was greeted with another silence.
Gingerly, he moves closer and takes a seat on the bed next to her. Another silence passed by as he waits patiently for the young woman to tell him to get lost but she never did. "You know, I never get the chance to say thank you."
A frown graces her features as she turns her head to him in question. Tyrion let out a satisfying smile when he finally gets a reaction from the young Stark. "For saving my life." He explains further.
Arya trails her gaze down the scarring on the dwarf's face. The memories of the naval battle flashed at the back of her mind uninvited. She could only see another one of her failure in those images. After all, she was too slow to kill the man that gave Tyrion that scar and she was unsuccessful to save Derwin and old man Xander from getting killed.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Arya… You cannot save everyone." Tyrion speaks up softly as if he knows what's going on inside the young woman's head.
Arya closed her eyes tight, willing the hurtful memories to go away. When it did, she turns her head to the wall again, ignoring him completely.
Another sigh escaped Tyrion's lips as he gathers his thought. "Daenerys needs you…and despite what you may think…you're the only one that can truly protect her. If it wasn't for you, our Queen would be dead by now and millions more as well when her dragons go on a rampage knowing their Mother had been murdered."
The only reaction Arya gave was the clenching of her jaw and the tight clasp of her hands on the bedsheet. But, it was enough for Tyrion as he decides to stands up and takes his leave.
"She hasn't let anyone inside her room since…since the incident yesterday. Wanting to be left alone to her thoughts or so she said. I know it's inconsiderate of me, but if you have the time, would you please go and see how she's doing? I have the feeling that you would find your way inside despite how many locks she used to bar the damn door."
With that, he turns around and walks out, leaving the words he said floating around Arya's head. She thought it over for the hundreds of time before finally making her decisions. With a grunt, she pushes past the pain and stands up, walking out of her room.
A few turns and stairs later found her along the hallway of the dragon queen's quarters. Two Unsullied guards are stationed outside the room and for a moment Arya debates inside her mind whether she should proceed or not, given the guards are already there should the need arise. But, her swirl of thoughts vanishes into thin air when a crash sounded inside the said room.
Her feet moved into their own accord and the young woman found herself intercepting both the guards that are trying to unlock the door when she completed their job herself. She bursts inside once the door is unlocked with the guards close behind her.
The mess of the room was the first thing her eyes lay upon. The table got turned, the chairs are upside down and the floor scattered with parchments, quills and ink spots. The only thing that remained untouched is the bed which Arya is sure the Targaryen queen hasn't used.
"I'm alright…the glass just slipped my fingers is all. Leave me be." Daenerys voice sounded and Arya turns to the opened window where the older woman's back was against them.
One of the Unsullied takes a step forward then. "Your Grace–"
"I said leave!" The dragon queen cuts in. Her cold voice leaving no argument behind and it was brought to fruition when the Unsullied reluctantly turn around and make their leave.
Arya followed suit until she let the guards out and closed the door behind them. She turns back around and waited silently against the inside of the door. A moment passed before Daenerys let out a sigh and finally turns around. She froze as her eyes fell upon the familiar grey ones across the room.
The look on the older woman's face tear Arya's inside apart as her guilt doubled. Daenerys looks like she hadn't slept in days. Her eyes swollen and there were dark circle under her eyes. Her face gaunt and her skin have lost its usual glow. The young Stark wonders how anyone can change so drastically in a day. But, she knows better what the death of your loved ones could do to you. And Daenerys once said that Missandei is more than just her advisors.
"Did Tyrion send you here to watch me over?" the dragon queen speaks up with a raised brow. Her face voids of any emotion. "Don't worry, I won't drop dead just by slipping a glass through my fingers." She tacked on.
Arya chance a glance to the wall across the room where the remnants of the said glass decorated the paint and the remainings lie shattered down the floor. She's pretty sure the glass didn't justslipas Daenerys claimed.
"Now, leave me be, Stark."
The only response Arya gave was a blink of her eyes as she silently stared back ahead.
Daenerys clenches her jaw tight as she takes a deep breath, knowing that she will never have the young Stark does as she instructed. Her eyes twitching with anger at Arya's silent defiance, but two can play the game, she decided. She walks towards the overturned chair and reaches for it, trying to correct it to its original position before she can take a seat, unaware that her fingers slipped through splinters of wood instead. She hisses in pain as it cut her palm open leaving blood dripped down the floor.
Before Daenerys can take a closer look at her wound, another hand has already beaten her to it. She looks up to find Arya looking down her bloodied palm and then at the splinters with a ferocious gaze as if she wanted to murder it. The young woman then bit the edge of her clothes with her teeth and rips apart the fabric, before wrapping the said cloth around her bleeding palm, successfully stopping the bleeding.
Daenerys couldn't find it in her to look away as Arya worked over her hand with utmost care. Even when the young woman has done attending to her injury and is staring back at her silently, the dragon queen still won't break their gaze. There is something peaceful in those ashen grey orbs as she decides to get lost in it and perhaps if she stays there, then Daenerys won't have to face the shit reality of life.
"Don't do this to yourself."
The violet orbs instantly focus back to the young woman as she tried to make sense if Arya really said something.
"None of this was your fault… If you wanted to blame someone, then blame me."
The voice sounded again followed by the resigned look on the young Stark's face. A frown appears as Daenerys finally let the words sink. "What are you talking about?" she asked with a shake of her head.
"I let The Waif…I let the Faceless Man get close. She murdered Missandei and she almost poisoned you. I should have known better." Arya said through gritted teeth. Saying it aloud, acknowledging it is even harder than knowing it deep in her gut.
Daenerys blinks hard a few times before she reached out the young woman's hand with her good one and sighed. "If I wanted to blame someone…then I would blame the assassin. I would blame Robert for hiring the assassin. And I would blame myself, even if you said I shouldn't…but I would blame myself because every decision that I've made had brought me to this very day. It had brought me deaths after deaths… loss after loss." She trails as the grey eyes in front of her turns gentle. "I would never blame you, Arya… You saved my life. And you should never blame yourself for it either." She finished, squeezing the calloused hand tighter for good measures, daring the young woman to say otherwise.
They stay like that, holding hands for a long while as they stared at each other's eyes. Time seems to take a standstill as Arya felt the warmth on her grasped hand, building towards the pit of her stomach. Even the guilt and hollowness inside her seems to subside and filled with the violet depth of the dragon queen instead and it frightened her beyond measure. In an instant, she looks away, breaking their gaze and then pulled her hand away from the older woman's grip soon after.
"I'll get the Maester to check your wound," Arya said as she slowly turns around and heads for the door.
A mirthless chuckle sounded then, rendering the young Stark's advance. She snaps her head to the owner where Daenerys looked at her with frustration written on her face.
"Why do you always do that?" the dragon queen asked with a crease on her brows.
"Do what?"
"Walked away when we have something…a moment or whatever you called it. Because I know you feel it too. I can see it in your eyes."
Arya opens her mouth to say something, anything at all but no words came out. She closed her lips and eyes, shaking her head. "I can't." she finally said.
Daenerys takes an advance towards the young Stark then. "You can't?" she echoed incredulously.
"You don't need…you don't want me like that, believe me." Arya said with a hardened gaze, hoping that the older woman will let the subject go.
But, it seems to only get the opposite effects as the violet eyes harden in return. "All my life, people always have a say in what I should do, what Ineed. I married men against my will because they say I need to, for political gain. And I killed men, burn them to ashes because that's what I needed to do to win the war. And now here you are telling me that I don't need whatever this is between us." She said with another mirthless chuckle. Arya opened her mouth to say something, but quickly got interrupted by the older woman when clearly she's not finished yet.
"I've never wanted anything more in my life…even the Iron Throne than I wanted you. You have no idea how much I care. So, go on and tell me that you don't feel the same way."
Silence stretch as Daenerys words hung heavy in the air. None of them backed away from the intense gaze that is directed upon one another but neither said a word either. The wheels inside Arya's head keeps turning and turning to find an escape that wouldn't hurt the older woman more than she already has. The correct and logical action is to politely reject her like last time she did, but Arya found that she didn't want to. She had done that before and kept her away, kept everyone away really, but look where they are now. Death still took away her only friend, Missandei, even though she promised she would not let them close. And at that moment, for the first time, all she wanted to do was to follow her heart.
"Be honest with yourself and tell me what you really want, Arya." Daenerys tried again.
Grey eyes focus on violet ones as Arya finally decides and made up her mind. Her fists tightened with determination. "Right now...all I want to do is to kiss you. It's all I've ever thought of since last time."
Something akin to relief and approval flickers beneath Daenerys features. "Then, what are you still waiting for?" the dragon queen asked.
Nothing. Arya decides, as her feet slowly move forward and closer to the older woman. With them merely inches apart from one another, she let her hand rested below Daenerys ear, her thumb caressing her pale cheek as their breath mingled. Glancing to the purple eyes again, Daenerys gives no sign of rejection at her bold actions, as the older woman only stares back expectantly.
Hesitantly, Arya leans in, brushing her lips, just barely against the older woman's soft ones, debating for the last time inside her mind to pull away before she lost herself but the young Stark can't seem to. In this moment of closeness, her senses have been subdued and she can no longer think straight. So, she finally moves in and presses her lips against Daenerys.
She can feel her lips naturally moves against the older woman, tasting every inch of Daenerys plump, soft ones in a tantalizingly slow pace. Hoping against all that she is doing this right somehow. Gods know she lacks the experience. The older woman's lips are agonizingly delicious, sweet and addicting all at the same time and when Daenerys responds much the same way, Arya sneaks another hand up the older woman's neck, pulling her impossibly closer together as she continues her long-overdue kiss.
Daenerys ran her fingers down the young woman's spine in return, pulling her until there is no space left between them and she can feel the beating of Arya's heart against her chest. She inhales sharply and the familiar scent of pine and faint earthy smells assaulted her senses. Their lips are moving, dancing around as the young woman continued to press her lips more impenetrably and rougher onto hers.
"Daenerys," Arya whispered slowly, trailing and savouring every bit of sweetness of the older woman's lips as they break apart to catch some breath.
Daenerys let out a smile, her heart fluttering at the voice as she rested her forehead against Arya's. Never before has her name ever sounded so wonderful from anyone, she thought as she leans in for another kiss.
The two continue to taste and test each other and only breaks apart when the air seems to be missing from their lungs. Shaky and shallow breaths are the only thing that can be heard inside the room before they open their eyes.
And they stare, deep into each other's eyes. Arya's full of wonder and curiosity, Daenerys full of care and passion.
Feeling more confident of herself now and unable to contain any longer at the separation, even for a while, Arya pulls Daenerys into another fiery and passionate kiss. Her mouth and tongue work in ways she never thought possible as a soft moan breaks out from the older woman, sending the warmth satisfaction down the pit of her stomach. She can't believe she had waited so long for this to happen as her fingers ventures over Daenerys curved body, exploring.
That seems to spark something for the older woman as she pulls away and guides their body, moving to a certain direction and when Arya wanted to ask her about it, Daenerys silence her with her own mouth. The young Stark happily obliged as she staggers backwards while trying to fight dominance over her lips at the same time. She let out a short gasp as the back of her knees hit something hard and she buckled down, falling on something soft behind her back. But, the sensation turns to pain when Daenerys weight pinned on top of her, crushing her bruised ribs. She can't help the groan that escapes.
"What…What's wrong?" Daenerys asked with shaky breaths, instantly breaking apart and lifting her body off the young woman.
Arya closed her eyes tight, willing the pain to go away as she shakes her head. "N-Nothing I can't handle." She replies. Her voice wavers, exhilarated from the tension between them and the shooting pain. She opens her eyes then and pulls the dragon queen close again before continue what they had left off.
But, Daenerys was having none of it. "You're hurting." She scolded as she pulls apart again, concern laced her features.
Arya only sighed. "It's fine… I've gotten hurt a lot worse than this before." She reasoned.
"Does that supposed to be comforting me?" Daenerys breathed out with a raised brow.
Arya only hummed in response before she stopped and blinked hard, wondering if she should say something else when the older woman shot her a glare.
Daenerys fights the urge to smile as she saw the adorable befuddled look that crosses the young woman's features. Keeping a straight face, she gently leans in and kisses Arya's warm lips for the umpteenth times before pulling apart again. "We should stop." She decided.
At Arya's confusion and later aghast features after her declaration, the older woman finally let out a smile. "You need to rest and heal." Daenerys continues as she finally gets off the young woman completely.
Arya released a defeated sigh as the dragon queen's warmth and closeness left her body, already missing it. "Fine, you should try and get some sleep too." she relented.
The young Stark was about to stand up and head for the door when a hand caught her arm. She turns her head to find Daenerys looking at her incredulously. "Where do you think you're going, Stark?"
"To my room?" the young woman answered hesitantly.
"I find it better if you rest here instead."
Arya swallowed a lump as her eyes wander to Daenerys perfect face and then the bed that they are currently sitting on.
"We can sleep together." The older woman tacked on making Arya choked on her own breath.
Daenerys can't help the chuckle that escapes her as the young woman's face reddens by the second. And when the said woman squirms uncomfortably under her gaze, Daenerys cupped her face and lean in for another short passionate kiss that seems to relax the young Stark instantly.
"We'll just sleep…nothing else." The dragon queen breathed out, resting her forehead against the young woman.
Arya managed a nod then. "Alright."
The dragon queen takes the young woman's hand and guided her to the centre of the bed. They make themselves comfortable as they stretch their legs and lay side by side. A comfortable silence ensues as they lie, their face-up facing the ceiling, with the feather bed against their back and their hand still clasped together. Arya almost succumbed to the power of the soft bed when suddenly Daenerys voice sounded.
"This reminds me of when we're in Qazlas Pit, locked together in the cell…don't you agree?"
Arya let out a huff at that. "I believe you and I remembered Qazlas Pit very differently, Your Grace." She commented earning another chuckle from the older woman.
Arya's mouth quirked upward in her own volition at the beautiful sound until the older woman's laugh quieten down and leave them with a comfortable silence. A beat passes when Daenerys voice sounded again.
"I remembered meeting Missandei in Astapor where she works as an interpreter for the Masters…she was so young back then and too smart for her age. Have I ever told you how she managed to filter every awful word the Masters directed at me and come up with her own version of pleasant words instead?"
Arya turns to her side then as she looks to Daenerys. The older woman features turn sad as her violet orbs shine with unshed tears. She decides the only thing that the older woman needs now is a friend and she's willing to give everything that Daenerys ever needed and wanted. "No, you haven't," she said softly.
Daenerys turns her head in return. A small smile playing between her lips before she turns her body fully, mirroring the young woman. She closes in their gaps then as she decides to continue and tell the story.