In which the future caught up with everyone
*Year 305 After Conquest (AC) – New Future*
Arya wipes the sweats off her brows with the back of her hand. The air feels cool to her skin but she can feel the beginning of her heart thumping and her blood rushing as the violet gaze is still on hers.
Carrot decides to cut their distance then as he trots closer to the new presence. Daenerys smiles, reaching out to pet the horse. "Hello, Carrot." The mare gives a soft nicker in response.
"Did you come alone?" she managed to finally voice out.
"I did," Daenerys answered, looking up to her. "Jon's at Kings Landing."
"Is that wise? Leaving him alone?" It can be quite a handful to deal with the Southern lords and Jon has only been wearing his crown for a short while.
The dragon queen smiles. "You underestimate your brother. He is more than capable to govern the kingdoms without me… Besides, he's not alone."
Arya didn't have anything to add to that, though Sansa seems to have one.
"If only you have the same concern about me." Her blue eyes are scrutinizing.
The young Stark finally realizes her sister's presence there. She must have been the one that had greeted Daenerys arrival, which also means that the meeting earlier would have finished. "Well, that's because I know how good you are in handling the meeting." Arya appealed though Sansa doesn't look the bit gratified by it.
"Is there disputes within the court?" Daenerys eyed the two.
"No, but petitions that the other lords had proposed," Sansa answered. "I was going to discuss them with Arya later before writing you… But, I guess we can do that over dinner or after. You should do what you came for first and visit the glass garden with Arya."
The young Stark shifts on top of her saddle. "I don't think I'm fitting to give the queen a tour." She's sweaty, her hair unkempt and she doesn't know if she smells.
Sansa seems well aware of what's bothering the young girl and only smiles sweetly. "Who else would be fitting if not for the Queen of the North herself?" she finds Daenerys then. "There's no one who knows better about the glass garden than Arya since she practically lives there."
"I don't live there." Arya reacts but to deaf ears.
The red-head ignores her, focusing at the dragon queen still. "She spends most of her time there resting and gardening, or here, practising archery and riding... There's nowhere else she would rather be, even if there is an important gathering that she needs to attend—even if that means leaving her sister alone with the eager and keen lords and ladies of the north to be dealt with."
Daenerys looks between the two sisters, contemplated. Arya, on the other hand, can only sigh inwardly. Osha's right. She needs more than honey cakes to make up to Sansa.
"So, I'll leave you into the good hands of my sister, Your Grace. If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to… I'll see you two at dinner." Sansa dismissed herself without a second glance.
As the older woman disappeared inside the castle walls, Arya finally sighs loudly. Exasperated.
"I did warn you before." Osha chided from the ground and starts to detach the straps from Arya's legs. Once done, she then proceeds to carry her off from the horse and put her onto her wheelchair and taking away her bow last. "I'll take care of Carrot." She gave a quick bow towards the dragon queen and dismissed herself.
The young Stark can say nothing else when the older woman is already walking away with the horse, leaving her behind. She holds her tongue at calling out as Osha disappeared behind the castle walls as well. The presence of her guest is looming at her side and for a moment Arya wishes that she was in a dream and Daenerys is just another one of her many imaginations.
"When you said that Sansa helps you a lot…" Daenerys trails and Arya can't help but to turn and acknowledge her presence. "You are not joking, aren't you."
"Don't judge me."
"I'm not."
She definitely is. "I missed one—one meeting."
Daenerys said nothing though her face speaks volume and Arya had the urge to explain herself further.
"I have never missed one before. They had the second meeting in the same month and we've never done that. And I always went out to Winter Town in the morning and then practise my archery later… I had a plan laid out for the day and I'm not going to mess them up. Besides, it's not like I had time for myself every other day. I had to do other things as well."
"We can stop talking about it if it irks you so." There is a gleam in the violet orbs.
Arya shuts her mouth. The cool from the air is now replaced with warmth as it spreads to her face. It doubles when she sees that Daenerys is trying to hold a smile from breaking free. She looks away, cursing herself at becoming such a mumbling mess.
Fortunately for the young Stark, the dragon queen didn't comment further at her embarrassing outburst. It takes her a second to realize that Daenerys is no longer at her side. The older woman has moved to the immobilized target near them and pulls out one of the embedded arrows from it.
"Perhaps someday you can teach me how to shoot… I'd always want to learn at least one type of weaponry."
"You have dragons. You don't need any more weapon than that."
Daenerys shrugs. "I guess I'm greedy like you are when you wanted to catch arrows with your bare hands."
Arya gives a pointed look. "Catching arrows with bare hands is the ultimate form of mastering archery."
"Is that so? Who said that?"
"I did."
The older woman chuckles and Arya defends. "Who else should we listen to if not ourselves."
The violet eyes in front didn't waver for a long while and Arya lets the violet abyss takes her into another world where nothing else existed but them. Daenerys still had a small smile pulling on her lips and the young Stark can't help but mirror it. "What is it? Is my face that amusing?" she joked.
Daenerys doesn't take the bite. "You're such a peculiar woman."
"Is that a compliment?"
"No, it's not."
Arya ignores it. "I'll take it anyway." Her insides spread with warmth when Daenerys smile grows.
*
They enter Winterfell after basking in the cold air for a while longer until the young Stark no longer feels sweaty and her body clammy. Daenerys offered to push her along the way and Arya lets her. Her arms are too sore from the training and she'd rather not stumble and embarrass herself in front of the older woman.
Greetings and quick bows from the occupants of the castle accompany them as they trod the paths. And all the while, Arya uses the time to remind and ground herself to act natural. She keeps whatever left of her feelings for the older woman at bay.
Daenerys is her family now. Nothing more.
"So, this is the infamous glass garden of Winterfell," Daenerys said, admiring the scenery before her as soon as they enter the glass building.
"The one and only."
Slowly, they move further inside. Arya can't see Daenerys face but from the silence, she reckons the older woman is absorbing everything around her at once.
The walls of the establishment are entirely made of glass panes of green and yellow locked in frames. And it is completed with high ceilings so that the fruits, vegetables and flowers inside can have the space to grow.
When they finally reach a bush of blue flowers, Daenerys stops and goes around, crouching near the abundance of winter roses. "You're right." she reaches for one and gently caresses the icy blue petal. "They are beautiful."
Arya can't help but smile at the sight before her. "I always am, most of the time."
The prideful tone didn't go unnoticed by the older woman. She gives Arya a pointed look but said nothing else as she decides that the roses are more worthy of her attention. Arya can't really take offence to that.
"It's a shame that they can't be grown in the South. I'd love to wake up to this sight every morning." Daenerys said wistfully.
All Arya can see is Daenerys profile, yet it is more than enough for her. She remembers how restful she was when the older woman was at her side another lifetime ago. How placid and content she was, waking up to Daenerys face. "Yes… It is a shame."
Oblivious, Daenerys asked, "Did you know that every flower has its meaning?" Her gaze is still on the roses.
"Not in my knowledge, no,"
"Peonies are usually gifted for prosperity and good fortune. Lotus flower is often associated with spiritually strong people and for those who know how to use their strength to their advantage…" Daenerys trails, standing up and finally meeting Arya's eyes. "And red roses mostly are to convey deep emotions, be it love, longing or desire. White ones are the colour of purity, chastity and innocence and yellow roses are of friendship and caring."
The young Stark quirks her brow and offered nothing, all sceptical and Daenerys noticed. "You don't believe it?"
"I only questioned the value of your interpretations. Do you gather that information in a particular book? Because I'd love to read it."
Daenerys looks away, and if Arya didn't know any better, she thought she saw an eye-roll.
"Even if it didn't come out from famous scholars, it doesn't mean that it means any less."
Her intuition is right. "So, you made it up."
Daenerys finds grey eyes again. "The information is from my sources—reliableones."
"Of course." Arya fights the urge to smile and instead say nothing else as to not provoke the older woman to her amusement. She tried for another. "So what would you say the winter rose means?"
Daenerys turns to the blue roses in front of her again, thoughtful. "I don't know yet. I'll need more stories to put a meaning behind it." The violet eyes find grey ones then. "What about you? What does the winter rose means to you?"
The young Stark looks to the flowers that are blooming beautifully on the ground. She remembers the smile that her father wore when she gifted the rose to him. His amused grin of what happened to her dress and the ordeal that she must have gone through to get him the flowers and he said nothing but thanked her with a proud smile as if she had done something worthy of it.
And how can she forget the time when she gave the winter rose to Daenerys another lifetime ago. The older woman beamed with the most beautiful smile as she accepted the flower. Arya looks up to find Daenerys is still looking at her, waiting. She smiles softly because despite everything Daenerys is here and she's safe.
"Eternal love." Arya finally said. Because she will never stop loving them however many lifetimes she has.
The silence that comes after must have been for some time now because she cannot count the moment that passes by as they watch each other in silence. Or perhaps the time itself has decided to pause and give her the luxury to unashamedly stare into those lovely violet depths longingly.
Daenerys breaks the spell almost instantly. "Are you not going to explain further?"
"No," Arya answered late.
The older woman cut their distance. "It can help with the building of its history."
Arya doesn't know if Daenerys realised how close they are. "It's personal and I'd rather not share it."
The dragon queen quirks her eyebrow. "Even with me?"
A lift at the corner of her lips. "Especially you."
Daenerys mirrors the smile though hers is more of a challenge. "I'm going to find out one way or another."
"Not from me, you won't." She taunted.
"You are such a torment."
It lacks the heat behind it and Arya can only smile.
*
As the sun almost completely dived into the horizon, the occupants of Winterfell methodically finish up their work for the day. Candles are being lighted up in the main rooms and new guards are being replaced on duty for the next hours.
Arya has just finished her long and much-needed bath hours ago and is now heading to the Great Hall for dinner where Daenerys will be joining them.
"How was it, earlier?" Osha asked from behind as the older woman pushes her through the usual paths.
"You hold back a lot longer than I expected. I'm impressed." Arya answered instead. She had been receiving sideways glances from the wildling the moment she brought her away from the glass garden until now.
"Alright, little lady, don't try to change the subject now. Tell me what happened."
"Nothing you would deem worthy of."
"Is it?" Osha asked, unconvinced.
Arya sighs softly. "We just talked."
"About what?"
"Flowers."
Osha turns a corner. "For the whole day?"
"There are many flowers to be talked about." She defended.
The older woman provides nothing else at that. And Arya lets the creaking sound of her chair gliding on the stone floors fill her mind. There was really nothing else they do than talking. She recalled where Daenerys suggested that they should try to put a story behind each flower and what they could mean. They end up putting meaning behind each one and even for the ones that the glass garden doesn't plant. Only when Osha had interrupted them did Arya notice the darkening sky outside.
"You don't have to worry." The young Stark said. She knows the older woman means well. "I'm alright… And I will not do anything to risk Daenerys and Jon. Their life is more important than my feelings."
Osha stops and Arya glances behind to see what's wrong. The older woman's gaze softens. "I never worry, little lady." She continues their way then.
Comfortable silence fills the rest of the path which Arya completely basked in. With nothing to do, the soreness of her muscles and joints announce their presence. Her bed is calling at the back of her mind and she promises herself she will retire early today.
As they near the archway of the Great Hall, the young Stark sits straight and get rid of all the mundane thoughts in her head, focusing instead to host a dinner for her guest. When they finally enter, her younger brother is already seated by the table. Osha moves her to the usual place by his side without a word.
"My supplies of carrots are lessening." Rickon greets her.
Arya frowns, baffled. "I just got you a whole bag this morning."
"I know, but I used most of those making rolls." He answered with an almost pout before straightening and wipe it off. "Here, you should try these later. I stuffed them with carrot and cheese fillings. They're good. Everyone said so."
At the centre of the table lay a basket full of bread rolls similar to the one they had in Kings Landing once. "Everyone?" Arya asked, curious.
"I made enough for the whole castle." He smiles, chins up.
"You sure they are not just being nice to you?" Osha butts in. "Remember that time when you made carrot pie and made Arya and me sick?"
His face reddens. "I was nine and it was my first time baking."
Arya holds back a smile. "I'm sure these will taste wonderful."
He relaxes at that but still shooting daggers at Osha. Just then their silent bickers got interrupted by the arrival of Sansa and Daenerys. Their demeanours change instantly as they greet and acknowledge the two.
Arya's gaze inadvertently settles at the dragon queen. She has changed her earlier clothes to a less thick one. A midnight blue knee-dress with fitted trousers. Her sister then guides the dragon queen to the dining table as they take the seat across. With Daenerys right in front of her, Arya doesn't have anywhere else to look other than at those violet orbs—which isn't a bad thing at all, she thought.
Osha clears her throat as if knowing. "I better go… Enjoy your dinner, Your Grace." She dismissed herself and about ready to leave the room.
Before Arya can speak up, Daenerys beats her to it. "Won't you join us?"
The wildling stops and looks at Arya, at a loss. On normal days, they usually have breakfast, lunch and dinner together. The four of them.
Throughout the years that they have gone through together, Osha has become part of the family now. And Arya wasn't going to let the older woman felt left out even if they're dining with some other nobleman. Seeing that Daenerys sincere action only left something warm inside her heart.
"Please, sit. Don't be a stranger in my regards." Daenerys continues.
Osha still looks a bit reluctant but as she finds urging grey orbs from the side, she finally takes a seat beside Rickon.
Satisfied with the arrangement, they finally start passing the bread, gravy and meat along the table to fill their plates. Arya takes her first bite of the bread roll and it was lovely. The carrot paste and cheese fillings complement each other and the dough itself is soft and buttery.
"Did you make this, Rickon?" Sansa asked as the half-eaten roll is in her hand.
"I did. How does it taste?"
"It's delicious."
Rickon smiles smugly making sure that Osha doesn't miss it. The wildling only chuckles as she too takes a bite.
"I didn't know you could bake." Daenerys joins in, surprised and astonishment grace her features.
Rickon sits even straighter if that's possible. "I taught myself since I was a child… Some even say that I was a prodigy."
"That rotten carrot pie would disagree, little lord." Osha teased making others fill with smiles except him.
Arya noticed his deflated reaction. "Come now Osha, stop teasing him." She said with a subtle warning.
The wildling raises her hands in defeat. "I was just reminding him is all."
"You don't need to remind him of his failure every time." She pointed out which Osha hums in acknowledgement. "And you," Arya finds Rickon next.
He snaps his head to her in surprise. His mocking smile that was directed to Osha now gone. "There's a thin line between confidence and arrogance, and you should be careful not to cross the other. Fancy words alone cannot prove anything better than the result itself."
"I'm sorry." He mumbled, head hanging between his shoulders.
The two continue eating then and Arya does the same. She feels the prickle of being watched and sure enough, Daenerys is staring at her with an unreadable expression.
"So, when did you start venturing in the art of baking?" The dragon queen asked, finally tearing away from the grey orbs.
Rickon brightens up at the older woman's attention as if nothing happened. "When I was nine… I was in the kitchen trying to snatch some carrots away when I saw Mary, our head cook making bread with some ingredients that I found interesting. I asked her to teach me and I started baking using my recipes. I've been baking ever since."
"Ah, I see... Your hard work had definitely paid off." Daenerys smiles softly.
Clearly, it was a compliment and Rickon grins wide.
"Speaking of hard work," Sansa trails, sipping from her cup and Arya had a feeling where this is heading. "I wish someone had the same passion she has when she's demolishing the sacks outside than when she's governing the North."
Arya sighs internally. "That sounded worse than it is."
Blue orbs finally look across the table in a challenge. "Does it really?"
Luckily for her, Daenerys decides to step in and save her from Sansa's ire. "Did the lords give you a really hard time earlier? Perhaps I should join the next one and give them my words personally to ease their minds."
It worked as Sansa turns her attention to the dragon queen now. "Are you planning for a longer stay in Winterfell?"
"If it helps, I don't mind a few more days."
"It will," Sansa confirmed.
"Then I'll stay." Daenerys offered.
The exchanges happened so fast that Arya is left dumbfounded about what had been decided. Letting Daenerys stay longer is a bad idea—well, at least for her.
"Are you sure you can extend your stay? What if Jon needs you?" she asked. Ridiculously, she doesn't know why she should feel guilty about this arrangement.
Two pair of eyes looks onto her and she tries her best not to fidget under their gaze.
"Right now, the North needs Daenerys more." Sansa reasons. "The lords are concerned about the new arrangement of power within the kingdoms and with Daenerys presence in the meeting, they would be more convinced."
Arya tried again. "I can do that… If assurance is all they need, then I can persuade them there is nothing to fear of the transition."
Sansa doesn't offer anything else at that as she shares a silent look with the dragon queen beside her.
Daenerys meets Arya's gaze then. "It is not my intention to encroach in your administration. I only wish to offer them an assured future within the seven kingdoms but if you don't want me to, I understand and I respect that."
The silence that comes after is deafening. Arya can feel everyone's gaze on her and just as before she's left feeling flabbergasted at the turns of event, especially at how crestfallen Daenerys looks in front of her—however small.
"I didn't mean—you're not intruding… I only," she pauses, exchanging glances to everyone at the table but they didn't offer anything else other than judgment stares and silence. She finds Daenerys again and caves in. "I think your presence will be a tremendous help in the meeting… If it's not too much for you, I'd like for you to stay."
Daenerys finally smiles, victorious. "Of course. It's the least I could do."
*
It seems that she cannot keep her promise to retire early tonight as Sansa wanted to discuss further what had transpired in the meeting earlier that day. Rickon and Osha had long gone right after they finish their meal and Arya envied them.
The servants had clean up the table soon after and Sansa recounted the events without missing a beat. Arya listened dutifully as best as she can. The dragon queen earnest display and caring of the matter almost become too distracting to her.
She can't help but glance at Daenerys once too many times, as she too, listen attentively and even offered her own opinion on the issue at hand. In short, Daenerys presence alone is too distracting for Arya to bear and since the older woman is planning on staying longer, she needs to control herself better. Especially if she doesn't want to embarrass herself in the future.
Sansa suddenly gets up then, successfully breaking her thoughts. Her sister walks towards the small table beside the fireplace and picks up a bottle and three goblets. It was the one that she bought from Winter Town.
Wordlessly, Sansa pours the content to each cup and offered them to Daenerys and Arya before taking a sip herself. And then she continues where she had left off, clearly far from done.
Arya takes the first sip of the many to come.
*
"This taste is…exquisite," Daenerys speaks up from the rim of her cup. "It is well crafted. I've never tasted anything quite like this one before."
Arya tries not to smile. "It's just ale."
It was much later in the evening and they had nothing else to do that they can't do in the next morning. So, Sansa excused herself to bed and when Arya decides to do the same, Daenerys stops her and offer her another drink. She had a hard time saying no to the older woman.
Three cups later and they are still here in the Great Hall.
"It is not just ale." Daenerys reprimands. "Ale's taste is ghastly. It's vile and horrendous. This," she raises her cup pointedly. "is not."
Her speech is still clear and distinct. The only thing that gives her away is the rosiness of her cheeks. "What did the ale did to you to receive such dishonourable mention?" Arya joked.
"Violating my taste bud for one."
She can't help but smile. "Poor tongue." She pours Daenerys another when the older woman had emptied her fill.
"Trying to get me drunk now, are you?" the dragon queen accused.
Arya raised a brow. "You already are."
Daenerys chuckles and hums in agreement. "We should finish this bottle. You're clearly still not."
"I have a high tolerance for alcohol."
The older woman rolls her eyes. "Always the perfect lady." She mumbles at the rim of her cup. Arya chuckles.
They fill the remaining silence with more pouring and drinking until the bottle becomes near empty and Daenerys pours the last servings to each cup. Arya raises her goblet and clanks it with the older woman's, making a resounding sound before they take the last mouthful of the beverage.
With nothing to do now, she can't help but fall back into the violet depths where Daenerys is waiting. The liquid from the drink gives her the strength to say the next words.
"I've made a decision." She starts, determined.
Daenerys frowns slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I've decided to retire and give the crown to Sansa."
The older woman's gaze freeze on hers and she waits for Daenerys to say something as she's sure that the older woman had perfectly heard her earlier.
The haziness from the drinks is starting to clear as reality kicks in and Daenerys tries to think of something to say as she studied the person in front. "Where is this coming from?"
"I've been queen for far too long now and I'm exhausted. I don't think I have much else to offer… Sansa, on the other hand, will be a good ruler. She knows the people and how to please the lords and ladies in court. I'm sure she can handle the North. She is already doing it without knowing."
Daenerys straightens and stare. But, her thoughts are running wild to see reasons. "Did Sansa agree?"
"I didn't tell her yet. I want you to know first."
The dragon queen doesn't really feel proud of that. "Why not Rickon? He's the next male heir."
"Rickon's still a child." It's not that Arya doubts his potential but he should be protected from the dirt of politic and have a fulfilling childhood instead. At least one of them should be given the luxury to do that.
"You were the same age as him when you first take the crown," Daenerys responded.
"I didn't exactly have a choice back then and neither did they. Every other Stark is either dead, taken as hostage or unreachable. Rickon was even far too young at that time so they picked me… I was never meant for the crown, but we're at war and they need someone to be their queen."
Daenerys wishes they had more of that beverage. "They may have been forced to choose you then, but you had led them to victories after another ever since. You gave them a chance to start over. They look up to you… I don't think the others will agree."
"I'm aware of that. But, you might want to know that I'm also good at persuading people." She tried to lighten up but the dragon queen doesn't buy it. Arya wipes the half-smile off her face. "It's not going to be immediate. I have to tell Sansa and Rickon and hear their thoughts on it first before a decision can be made. And I will help you deal with the transition of power among the kingdoms as well."
The dragon queen offers nothing and looks away. The silence that follows is deafening. It may look like this is coming out of nowhere for the older woman but Arya had always think about what she truly wants to do and what would make her happy.
There was once a time that Daenerys is her future but not anymore. She needs to deal with reality.
"If they agree, what will you do then?"
She looks up to meet Daenerys eyes. "I don't know yet… Perhaps I would sail west of Westeros and discover something new." She smiled solemnly. That dream felt too far away from her now. After all, she's not the same girl that Lady Crane cared for back in Braavos.
"I never wanted to be queen." The silver-haired queen suddenly speaks catching Arya's attention. "Viserys was the rightful heir of the iron throne and he makes sure to tell me each of my waking days. I depended on him and let him make decisions for me because, in the end, he would convince me that he's doing it so that we can come back home… I went along, struggling on foreign land, marrying powerful men so that I can help him take back Kings Landing." She paused.
The young Stark blinks, unsure of what to say. Daenerys decides to save her the trouble and continues. "When he's gone, I continued. I had lost too much and done too many things that I wished I hadn't to stop then. And when I finally got the iron throne, I was disappointed by how uncomfortable the seat was. It doesn't feel like home at all… It's only much later that I realized Kings Landing is not my home and neither is all of Westeros. It's the people that I grew close with that becomes my support and shelter. My family… Home is them."
Daenerys reaches forward and takes Arya's hand into hers. The young Stark glance down to where their hands linked. She feels the familiar warmth radiating through her skin and fight off how her body reacts.
"There's nothing for you west of Westeros, Arya. I know we're in peaceful times now, but why would you abandon your sister and brothers—your family, after just securing our victories?" She gives a squeeze on her grip for good measure.
Arya needs to get a hold of herself. "I won't…" she trails, catching fiery gaze in front. "It was only a suggestion."
Only when Daenerys is sure that the young Stark meant what she said did she finally let go. It takes all of Arya's willpower not to stop her from retreating. The violet orbs still have the smouldering behind them.
"I'm sorry if I offended you in any way." She tried.
Daenerys gaze finally flickers to her as if she's been to another place just now. "You didn't."
"Are you sure? Because you look offended."
The dragon queen quirks her brow. "You're right. I'm beginning to feel offended now."
The corner of her mouth curve upwards. "I'll get you another bottle of this ale tomorrow."
Daenerys mirrors it. "A wise decision."
*
The next day cannot come fast enough. For the first time in many years, Arya slept like a new-born babe. The night was free of her usual nightmares and dreams of another life. And she wakes up feeling energized and ready to face the day.
As Osha pushes her through the Great Hall to break their fast, Sansa and Rickon were already there, getting started. The two greets the new arrival and continue their meal.
"Where's Daenerys?" Arya asked as soon as she joins them.
"Still asleep," Sansa answered, taking bacon strips from the platter to her own. "I knocked on her door, but there was no answer."
"Perhaps she's tired. She did ride all day yesterday." Rickon provided not before shoving his bread inside his mouth.
Osha starts to fill her plate too. "The dragon did all the hard work though. How tiring can that be?"
Rickon snickers. "I'd like to see you say that after you rode one."
"Did I mention how I chase after a snow bear for three days in a row back in the days?"
He groans. "Yes, you did. More than a thousand times now. So, don't even bother."
Osha doesn't seem to care as she starts her historic tale when she was living north of the wall much to Rickon's dismay.
Arya tuned out the rest of the conversations as she recalls last night instead. They did retire pretty late and Daenerys might even have a minor hangover judging from how much she drank. She suddenly feels guilty in letting that happen.
"What did you two do last night, after I left?" Sansa inquired, having been studying the silent form of the young woman since earlier.
Arya snaps out of her trance at her name being called. Silence ensued as all heads turn to her, waiting. "We had a drink...or two." She trails and hated how anxious she's feeling. She had done nothing wrong. "We end up finishing the whole bottle."
"Well, I guess now we know why she overslept," Sansa concludes.
"She's probably going to need some concoction for relief. We should send some food to her room too." Arya suggested.
Osha stops her eating then. "I'll take care of it." She was about to stand up and do the bidding when Daenerys herself walks in the room.
"Good morning." The dragon queen greets and takes a seat.
"Are you alright? You drank quite a lot last night." Arya questioned worriedly.
"I'm fine. A little bit of headache but nothing too severe." Daenerys said sheepishly.
Studying the older woman's complexion in front of her, she looks well and not at all seem to have a sickness. So, Arya accepts it and relax.
"That's excellent." Sansa joins in. "I hope to ask for your opinion regarding some matter after breakfast if you don't mind."
Daenerys smiles. "Of course, I'm glad I can help."
They continue their meal in comfortable silence. The young Stark steals glances now and then at the person in front of her and later, reprimands herself in doing so. She focuses on her meal instead.
Just then, Arya heard it first. There is a sound of metal chains brushing against each other creating a clanking sound from outside the hallways. She stops and looks to the entryway and sure enough, moments later, Maester Wolkan emerges.
"Your Grace," he greets between breaths. It seems as if he's been running to get here. His gaze finds Arya's first before he realizes the additional presence. "My apologies for interrupting, but I have an urgent matter."
"What is it?" Arya pushed. He looks terrified.
He walks further then until he's standing right by her side and hand over a scroll.
"Is this…" She can't continue as she watched the red liquid oozing out from each end of the rolled parchment.
The others at the table can see it too and they shared silent looks of uneasiness and horror.
"I'm afraid that there's a high chance that that's blood." Wolkan continues. "The raven that carries the message is soaked in it too." His eyes look at someplace above her shoulder, reliving the event when he received the bloody bird.
Arya had a sunken feeling that something is terribly wrong. She examined the scroll and come across the wax seal. It's in the colour of red as well. The seal had an eye beneath a crown supported by two crows. She breaks it free and finds that the words are written in red too. It was smeared at the edges but she can still read the sentence.
And her breath caught in her throat at the message.
"Arya," Daenerys calls worriedly. "What is it?"
She looks up to violet orbs and then to her other family before reading the letter for the second time. The sentence doesn't change and the message is still there, written in blood.
She swallowed a lump in her throat. "It's Yara Greyjoy. She's dead… Euron Greyjoy has taken over and declared himself as King of the Iron Island."
*
Drogon shrieks from up the sky announcing his presence—as if his massive figure isn't enough of a statement already. And seconds later he lands himself on the ground, outside the castle walls where Daenerys and the others are waiting.
Daenerys turns to address the Stark sisters. "I'll write to you as soon as I reach Kings Landing."
"I'll call in the bannermen and gather our men." Arya offered reluctantly. They had just won the war against the Lannisters and she knows how broken the men were even after such victories. And now, they might have to do it all over again.
"It might not come down to it." The dragon queen offered. Though she sounded unconvinced herself, Arya appreciates the gesture nonetheless.
Sansa hands over a bag then. "Some supplies for the ride."
"Thank you." With one last glance, Daenerys turns and walk away.
As they watched the dragon queen leaving further away, Arya felt something weighing heavy in her chest. She doesn't know why at this very moment that her mind decides to take her back to another life where she last saw the older woman with a knife twisted in her heart. Her hands reach out and push her chair forward. "Daenerys!"
The silver-haired queen stops climbing Drogon and turns. She walks towards Arya again with an inquiring gaze.
Arya pushes the nightmare away at the back of her mind before finding violet eyes. "Please be safe."
Daenerys softens. "I will…" she trails with a building smile. "Tell Carrot I'll come back with Lavender."
She chuckles softly. "I don't know if you notice, but Carrot is a horse. He doesn't understand human language."
A shake of a head is all she gets as Daenerys smiles. She turns and walks away. With one last bid, Drogon flaps his wings and fly off, leaving behind Winterfell.
*
Three days later, as promised, Arya received Daenerys letter. The dragon queen has safely arrived in Kings Landing and in there, she also told of her plan to attack Euron Greyjoy at the Iron Isle and sentenced him of his crime. The dragon queen doesn't mention anything about needing reinforcement. And the young Stark doesn't know what to feel of it.
She knows Daenerys can handle herself well. After all, this is not the first time that the older woman had dealt with those who oppose her. Furthermore, Jon will be there by her side too. She can count on them to protect each other.
But still, something is gnawing inside. Scratching beneath the surface of her insides making her restless and unable to sleep at nights. She can't stop thinking about the bloodied letter. How impossible it is that the blood doesn't dry up. It took at most two days for a normal raven to fly back and forth from Iron Island to Winterfell. With those times combine with the constant wind, the blood should have been well dried up, yet it is not.
And when she had tossed the bloodied scroll into the fire, the flame had licked it hungrily and danced and crackled more than the usual. The smoke that comes out felt wicked.
'Dream Bran' had started to appear in her sleep too. He kept talking something of importance but each time Arya tries, she can't make out what. The strange thing is that she knows that it was some kind of a warning. It frustrates her to no end when she wakes up in sweat and chest heaving as if she had run a mile.
And it affects everyone else. The mood inside the castle grew sombre befitting what she felt. There's no friendly banter from Osha and Rickon as they saw her worried appearance. Even Sansa decides to go easy on her.
Nearly a month later, she can't take it any longer. They haven't received any news from Daenerys since the five days ago that Arya sent a raven asking about the situation in the south and she needs to do something about it.
"Call in the bannermen."
"I don't think that's wise." Sansa objects. The two of them are currently in the study trying to discuss what to do next.
Arya sighs, frustrated. "Daenerys and Jon still have not written us back. It's been nearly a week now since I last wrote. We don't know what's going on in Kings Landing." She tried to reason.
"Exactly. We don't know what has happened. It could be nothing."
Her sister is obviously trying to calm her down. But, the blue orbs in front wavered even as she tries to be positive. They both know that things could go wrong too.
Arya takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Her head feels heavy and she needs to collect herself and do better. "We should send someone." She meets Sansa's eyes again. "Two or three men to go to Kings Landing to investigate. It's been too long since we last heard of them and if somehow they're in trouble—"
Sansa nods in understanding. "I doubt they are. You saw Euron's letter. He's one for extravagance… If it's true that he managed to defeat them, I'm sure he will not keep quiet about it."
"I hope you're right."
The red-head stands up then. "I'll get Ser Bailin and Ser Javer to prepare for the travel at once."
"We should get Sandor as well." Arya proposed. Sansa paused, reluctant on her features at the suggestion.
Since Sandor Clegane had been the one that saved the red-head and takes her away from Kings Landing and into the safe hands of her family in Winterfell, the two had formed a bond. She's not particularly sure of what kind but it doesn't matter as long as Sansa is safe and sound. And naturally, she had offered a place in Winterfell for the man. It's the least she could do to her sister's saviour.
Arya remembered how surprised she was as Sansa recounted how The Hound seems to care about her wellbeing in Kings Landing when she was a hostage and later on the road.
As in another lifetime ago, he was so keen in getting payment in returning Arya to her family, she can't imagine Sandor Clegane to be that open in his caring. But, he's different in this time. Less grumpy and even less rude. And Arya liked him better already.
"If you're fine with it, I think he can lead them faster. He knows the road well and he's more than capable to defend himself."
The concern is still visible on Sansa's face, but she agreed in the end. "I'll tell him." She said and makes her leave, clicking the door shut, leaving Arya behind with impending silence as a company.
*
Arya dreamt of weirwood trees and black crow. The Gods' face carving on the bark and the large black bird perching on the branch. Its feathers are glossy black and its eyes blood-red. It gives out a raucous voice and she startles awake, panting for air.
She keeps having the same dream or rather nightmares for three consecutive days. And each time it became much more vivid and clear. It was always the same Heart tree and always the same crow.
That is why she's here in the Godswood, in front of the Heart tree that had emerged in her sleep. She's convinced that it was the same one. The carvings of the Gods' face are eerily similar. The only thing missing is the black crow with its blood-red eyes.
Last time she was here, it was six years ago. The day of her coronation. She wonders if her time travel had anything to do with this place. Now that Arya recalled, each time that she had a sudden change in time and place was when she found the Heart tree. Even in her first lifetime when she first prayed to the Gods to take her back so that she can save her family was in the presence of a weirwood tree.
Perhaps the Heart tree is indeed an opening to another possibility. Another life. A much better one where her father, mother, Robb and Nymeria are still alive. Where Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Greta and Ronas are still at her service. And another life where Daenerys chose her.
"Arya."
A sudden calling breaks her thoughts and Osha comes into view. The black orbs look troubled. "Did Sandor write back already?" the man had only been gone a fortnight ago.
"No, it's Theon Greyjoy. He's here… You should come quickly."
A million thoughts cross her mind as the wildling pushes her towards a destination. And she has many more questions for him. When they finally arrived at a place, it was at Maester Wolkan's study. A group of people are already inside looking down onto something in the middle of the room.
At the none-too silent entry, everyone turns to find her by the door.
"Your Grace." Wolkan greets first. Sansa, Rickon and Ser Frederik, the Master-at-arms are there too.
"I heard Theon's here. Where is he?" Arya questioned curiously.
Instead of answering, they parted revealing the man in question lying on top of a wooden table behind them. Osha pushes her forward and Arya finally sees the man's face.
It is definitely Theon despite his pale skin and sunken cheeks. His naked torso was wrapped in bandages where bright red spots are visible, seeping through the material.
Sansa steps up to her side. "He was alone when he walked into the castle. Weak and injured."
The blue orbs look down to the unconscious man with concern. Arya meets the maester's gaze then. "Is he going to live?"
The old man pauses as he thinks about the probability. "The chance is slim, Your Grace. His cut is deep and it was already infected when he came. It's a miracle that he got this far… But, I will do my best to treat him."
A smile of gratitude is all she can offer. She turns to Ser Frederik. "We should move him to a more comfortable room."
The knight nods in understanding and excused himself to find men to carry the Ironborn. As he left, Theon suddenly stirs, head lolling side to side and groaning softly.
"Theon? Can you hear me?" Sansa spoke to his ear.
But his only response is incoherent words that don't make sense. The red-head place a comforting hand on his bicep and tries again. "Theon, what happened?"
Slowly, his eyes flutter open, the barest of slits. His head turns to her side and his mouth moves again. "He…Yara—everything… I ran." He coughs painfully between breaths and groans.
Arya pushes Sansa away and takes her place. "Is Yara dead? Tell me how it happened." she pushed.
Theon's throat bobbed with much effort. "He killed her…Euron—dragons…I can't…destr-destroyed Kings Landing."
Her hair is standing at ends. Theon can't mean— "What do you mean? What happened to Kings Landing? Were you there?" she asked frantically but he groans and repeats the same thing as if in trance.
"Arya." Rickon pulls her hands from shaking the now unconscious man.
She doesn't realize how hard she had pushed Theon for answers. She backs away and contemplating quietly. Her thoughts are imagining the worse that could have happened.
"We should call in the bannermen." Sansa breaks the tense silence. And Arya hates how right Sansa was.
*
It takes another fortnight to gather all the northern bannermen. Every lords and ladies that matter had arrived one after another from the moment Arya had sent her summons.
Once the Guest tower can no longer contain guests, camps and tents are being erected outside Winterfell to host the soldiers instead. The men had begun working on solidifying the castle walls with stakes and dug pits around the area almost instantly right after her first gathering with everyone.
"We had to assume the worst." She had said, to everyone's dismay.
The features of the men and women inside the Great Hall were grave and solemn.
"Are we sure we should act upon the words of a man mumbling in his deathbed? The Greyjoy was a turncoat once. There is a chance that he may set a trap for us." Lord Dustin offered which the others hum in agreement.
"I understand your concern…" Arya trailed, meeting each one of the lords and ladies eyes. "Going to war is the last thing that I wanted for us. But, all of you have received Euron's bloodied letter."
She had received ravens from them asking about the matter right after and Arya not wanting to cause panic at that time, had written back there's nothing to worry about since the dragon queen will settle it herself.
"Theon has nothing to gain out of this. Yara Greyjoy is killed by her uncle, Euron Greyjoy which Theon had confirmed himself. He was injured when he first got here, barely alive and he still hasn't woken up. He puts his life in danger to tell us this." She explained.
Sansa leaned forward from where she sat beside Arya. "All of the ravens that we sent out to Kings Landing, Dorne, The Reach, Riverrun—all of it, south of the Neck still hasn't been replied." She added.
"How about our scouts at the borders?" Lyanna Mormont inquired from across the table.
"Nothing but silence," Arya answered. She glanced to find Sansa's worried expression. Sandor still hadn't written to them yet as well.
Lord Hornwood shifted on his seat uncomfortably. "This is madness. If Kings Landing has truly been taken, then does that mean Euron Greyjoy managed to defeat the dragons? All three of them?"
Arya clenched her jaw so hard that it hurts. "As I said before, we have to assume the worse. Whatever is going on, South, soon it will eventually find its way to us. We have to be prepared." She doesn't want to think about what might have happened to Jon and Daenerys. She can't right now.
"Who is this Euron Greyjoy?" Tormund Giantsbane speaks up then, spitting the name. He was elected as the leader of the Wildling.
"I've heard tales of him." Wyman Manderly joins in. "He has a ship, black sails and dark red hull. Silence, he called it. His Silence was infamous in every port from Ibben to Asshai. If he's succeeded in taking the Iron Island and Kings Landing, then he must have gathered a number of men since then."
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with stillness. The tension was so thick that it was suffocating.
Lyanna stands up then. "The North is nothing but weak. If we put all of our forces together, we could gather 45,000 soldiers at the very least."
The young Stark noticed the subtle change in everyone's faces. Resolution sparks behind each gaze, however small. And she can only hope that it's enough.
*
The process was slow, but soon they managed to gather 53,000 men that are willing to protect the north. Arya sent out 15,000 to The Neck— reinforcing the borders if they still have one. Robett Glover was chosen to lead the vanguard. Tormund and his men went along as well.
Another thousand was sent out north of Winterfell to warn the villagers and the people of what may come their way. The remaining soldiers remain at Winterfell, finishing up to protect the northern seat.
Within the week, they had received countless common people coming to Winterfell to seek food and shelter. And Arya welcomed them with open arms. She cannot let the weak and the innocent to be held accountable and get in the crossfire. She will not let the same mistake happens again.
Winterfell will be protected.
Though, if the inevitable should happen and the castle falls anyway, she had escape routes ready for them. One down the crypt where a path leads to the Dreadfort and another one through the hunter's gate and out to the Wolfswood.
It was a sunny afternoon as Arya was out in the courtyard, checking the progress of every task. Sansa was recounting the things that they should be concerned of such as the lessening of food and other resources when there is a stir outside the main gate.
Before they can investigate, two men appear, supporting another between them. The man in the middle is tainted with red, head hanging low and he was practically being dragged by the two guards.
"Your Grace, we found Lord Glover riding on his own." One of the guards announced. They carried him closer until the man lost his footings and end up kneeling on the ground, taking the two along.
Everyone else gathers around them. "What happened?" Arya reached to his face and soon feel the wetness on her palm.
Robett Glover slowly looks up to reveal his bloodied face. His cheeks are torn apart, flesh sticking out. His right eye closed shut, swollen. His gaze finds hers weakly. "He's coming." He uttered. His voice was constricted and hoarse.
"Stay with me, Lord Glover." Arya tried but his eye roll backwards and soon, his body goes limp. He was no longer breathing.
Time seems to pause, the air stilled and the crowd is all but standing around them, eyes unbelieving at the limp body of Robett Glover. Arya's head is pounding as she looks down to the blood on her palm.
If the general of 15,000 soldiers walked here in the worst condition possible then the worse had truly happened.
"Incoming men!" a call shrieks from up the bridge followed by a horn.
One of the soldiers stationed there run down towards them. "Your Grace, I saw a sea of black, south of the castle. Thousands of men marching over." He panted, chest heaving.
She wipes her palm clean on her thigh. "How much time do we have?" she turns to Ser Frederik.
"Less than thirty minutes before they reached here." The Master-at-arms provided, shifting his stands.
"Get in formation." She ordered and without waiting, he runs to his intended destination all the while barking orders. And then the other men start to do the same as they fall in like waves. "Osha, bring me Carrot."
The Wildling moves as was told and Arya finds Sansa next. "Get everyone down the crypt and at the hunter's gate. Do as we planned. You have to lead them to safety if the castle falls."
The red-head provides nothing at first. Blue orbs meet grey ones in silent challenge. And then the next thing, she is being engulfed by her sister. "I'll see you soon," Sansa said. It was more of order if anything.
Arya forces a smile and nods. With one last glance, she turns and walks away, grabbing Rickon who was training with his wooden sword at the end of the courtyard earlier. He looks her way and their eyes meet. She forces another smile, trying to be genuine this time and gestured with her hand to follow Sansa. Reluctantly, he concedes, waving goodbye and finally follow the older woman's steps.
A silent breath comes out from her as she closes her eyes, unmoved amid the chaos around her.
Everything is going to be alright. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper—
"Arya."
She opens her eyes and one by one the noise seeps back into her senses. Osha is there standing close with Carrot at her side. Finally gaining her attention, silently the older woman walks forward, bending down and dons her armour.
"I need you to do something," Arya said softly. The Wildling moves easily and swiftly as she fastens the many strings of her armour. "I need you to protect Sansa and Rickon."
Osha stops. Her black orbs are scrutinizing. "I can't do that."
"I have around 30, 000 men out there already. You have nothing to worry about."
The Wildling pulls the last strings none-too gently. "Then, I guess one more can't do any harm." She moves to carry the young woman onto the horse next.
Arya waits until she had fastened all of the straps in. "You're not going out there, Osha and that's final." Her voice firm.
From down the ground, her gaze doesn't seem so stubborn anymore and the young Stark takes her chance. "You know the escape routes. Guide them well and I'll see you soon."
Osha sighs, frustrated. "Fine. But, if you died out there, I'm going to kill you again. Do you hear?"
A small smile adorns her features. "Loud and clear."
With one last glance, the older woman walks away from her and towards the path that Sansa and Rickon took. When her back finally disappears into the castle walls, Arya turns her attention to Carrot. Leaning forward to pet his neck and whispers soothing words to his ears.
The bags that Carrot has consist of quivers of arrows, a shortsword and knives. She takes two and straps them on her person and then taking the longbow and secures it across her chest.
Ready, Carrot gallops out the main gate at her signal.
*
She sees the banner first. A massive red eye with a black pupil beneath a black iron crown supported by two crows—the same one she saw on the seal before. And with it, men marching on foot. Silence but their pounding of boots against ground. They wore nothing of colour except black creating a sea of darkness crawling on the dirt.
"That could not be more than 10,000 men," Wyman spoke from beside her.
The northern soldiers are lined in the formation of defence far enough from Winterfell in hopes that they can stop the enemy before they get to the castle.
"I can't see any riders." He continued.
"They could be hiding…waiting to ambush us." Lord Dustin offered.
Even so, Arya doubts it. There is nowhere to hide from where the army came from. Which means that Euron only has at most 10,000 infantry as of this moment. Though, Robett Glover's bloodied face begs to differ.
How could 10,000 infantry manage to defeat 15,000 of her men with riders and archers and still manage to ridicule the general in the process? Do these men marching closer by the minute possess giant strength and immortality?
The young Stark turns to meet Wyman. "Ready the defence. Hold them off."
He nods in comprehension and rides away at the forefront of the line, shouting orders to his men. Lord Mazin and Lyanna Mormont follow after him.
As the infantry grew closer and closer, Wyman barks another order, keeping his men steady. Shields and spears in position. And archers prepared to lose their load at a moment notice.
But then, a thunder rumbles up in the sky. Only, the sky is clear and shows no sign of a storm coming. Little by little the thunder grows louder and her men exchange worried glances at the unusual sound.
Soon, it becomes apparent that those sounds were no thunder. Arya saw it first as the dragon emerges from the horizon. Roaring ferociously as it flies above the sea of black.
A small relief washes over her as she watches Drogon soars in his glory. And for a moment, she thought that Daenerys is here to help. But, her hope vanishes into thin air as the dragon pass over the enemy and towards Winterfell instead.
He lands on top of the bridge tower, not caring that he trampled over some men guarding the castle and then breathes fire.
Arya watches in horror as the flame catches everything in its path. From the Great Keep down to the crypt. Drogon flies off only to breathe fire again and destroyed the inner castle further.
The northern men gasp audibly and break their formation in confusion and fear. She turns to her men and hollered. "HOLD YOUR LINE!"
As Wyman barks the same thing and gets his men ready to face the infantry up ahead, she finds Lord Dustin beside her. "Get the archers." And then she's off.
Carrot gallops as fast as he can towards her burning home. She hears the multiple hooves and footsteps behind her and finds her insides smouldering with rage. When Carrot is close enough she released arrow after arrow at the beast. But, the effort deems fruitless.
Even as the many archers had joined her soon after, their arrows could not penetrate the hard scales of the dragon. When her eyes finally find the figure riding on Drogon's back, the tip of her arrow aligns with it.
She expected silver hair but instead, it was black as night. Arya faltered and the figure turns and caught her gaze. It was a man. A stranger. His skin pale and his attire match the dragon he's riding.
When she finally releases her arrow, it falls into nothing as Drogon had manoeuvre the last minute and flies off, leaving behind the mess that he created.
And then another roar sounded and Viserion emerges and rains down fire onto the remaining northern army that is fighting off the infantry. Half of her soldiers are now burned down to the crisp. She hears them wailing in pain and her nose clogged by the sickening burning flesh.
Sweat trickle down her forehead, her back and her chest. The sudden rise in the temperature did nothing to ease the pounding of her head and the thundering of her heart. She pulls Carrot reins and finds Lord Dustin near the main gate.
"I need you to put off the fire." She said but he was slow to react. Arya pulls him by his armour. "Dustin, listen to me!" his disturbed face finally clears. "I need you to put off the fire. Get your men and go to the river. Do everything you can to put it out. There are innocent people trapped inside there. Do you understand?"
He nods frantically. "Yes, Your Grace." And then he rode away, collecting his men to do his bidding.
Arya turns to where Viserion is, signalling Carrot to gallop faster. She pulls three arrows at once from her supply and nocks them all in line. Locking her target, she releases without second thoughts. One by one the arrows fly in quick succession, following one after another and embedded in his golden eye.
He screeches in pain and as Arya load another handful, Viserion flaps his wings and takes off with protruding arrows still on his face. With the dragons gone, she focuses on the enemy on the ground.
One after another falls as her arrows find their way on their chest, back and head. She doesn't know how long she had been doing it for. Her arms grow sore and heavy. And when the arrows run out, and her mind starts to venture into the possibility that Sansa, Rickon and Osha were caught in the flames, she pulls out her shortsword and rams the blade at the enemy's neck with a scream.
The victim falls with a thud. She moves to another and then another. Her eyes catch more black rather than grey and blue. Each time she cuts down one, two seems to pop out of nowhere. Someone managed to slash her arm and she loses her grip of the blade. The next thing she hears was the sound of flesh torn and Carrot squeals loudly as he buckles down the ground, taking her along with him.
Arya groans at the pain coursing through the back of her head and her whole body. A ringing through her ears rendered her in confusion. Slowly, she opens her eyes and the clear blue sky is the first thing that she sees. Moments later the smoke and the fire and the bodies of her men on the ground becomes apparent.
With a grunt, she props up and sees the enemies gaining on her. She tries to move but Carrot had trapped her under. "Carrot," she calls softly, leaning to the horse to check on him. But, he doesn't budge and remains stiff.
Biting off tears, she cuts the straps on both her legs with her knife. Once free, she uses all of her strength that left to crawl her way out there. A flying knife takes down one man as it sloshes through his throat. He falls at her limp feet.
A roar splits the air once again and Drogon and Viserion fly over her head. They land not far from where she is and as Arya stops her escape, she finally noticed that she was now surrounded. The men in black armour and darker attire from head to toe gathered around and look down to her silently.
Her chest heaves, tired. But, she doesn't cower. Her chin up and her eyes are frantic. She still has a knife hidden at her back and there is an abandoned bow and arrow within her reach. She can still take two or more men down with her.
Just then, the sea of men in front of her parted revealing another man. He has black hair with a dark beard. He wears a patch over his left eye and his skin looks pale in comparison. Arya recognized him as the one who had ridden Drogon earlier. As he walks slowly towards her unguarded, she reaches for the bow and arrow at her side and shot at him.
The swish sound stopped unnaturally as he managed to catch the speeding arrow by its shaft. The tip of the arrowhead didn't even scratch his clothes as it stops right on top of his chest. He throws away the useless arrow at the side and continues to march over as if nothing happened.
When he stops by her unmoving feet, he then goes down on one knee and leans closer. Arya takes the opportunity of his proximity and pulls out her knife. The blade swiftly finds the place where his heart is under those clothes, but instead of flesh, the knife found metal.
Unbothered by the advance, he easily grabs her wrist and seizes the knife for himself. And then he plunges it down through her thigh all the while not breaking any contact, gauging for her reaction.
But, Arya felt nothing as she looks down at her leg where the knife is. The blood slowly oozes out and seeps through her trousers, blending with the smeared blood of Robett Glover from before.
He pulls the blade out none too gently, making the patch of red bigger. His right eye which is as blue as summer sky glints the moment he brought the bloodied knife to his pale blue lips and licks off it.
"You look forlorn." Euron smiles and so does his eye. "It's going to be alright, crippled queen. All this will be over soon."