Chapter XVII: The Prying Eyes

The doors opened and the Dragon Queen entered with her company. Arya stood up with Jon and Sansa, as she looked at the Queen properly for the first time.

Anyone would be a fool not to see that she was very beautiful. She wore a lovely smile, but it didn't fool Arya. Beside her stood a dark-skinned woman, a very few years older than the Queen. There was also the dwarf, who Arya noticed, was wearing the pin of the Hand. Behind them was the Commander of the Unsullied whom she had seen the day before.

"And you must be Princess Arya," the Queen said, looking at her with curiosity.

At least, she addresses Jon as a King, Arya thought.

"Yes," she replied. She could feel Jon and Sansa were tense.

"It's good to see you again after such a long time, little Stark," Tyrion said. Arya offered a mummer's smile.

"I wish I could say the same, Lord Tyrion."

She saw the Queen send her a pointed look, but she ignored it and turned to Jon.

"Don't you think we should start the feast, brother?" She asked, sound all too civil and joyous. If Jon was surprised, he didn't let on, and simply nodded.

The food and the wine was brought and served. The Queen accepted everything with a thank you, and a smile. Arya knew she was only pretending, and that every intention of everyone present would be truly revealed after the feast ends and the real talks begin. She would praise Sansa on her delicate act as well, so very convincing in showing off her manners and gentle courtesies. Anyone would think her a proper Lady, but only Arya could read her eyes and tell how determined her sister truly was, and how strong. Once, she could even see the Imp look at Sansa with admiration.

The dais was the only place that was comparatively quiet, even after more than one hour had passed. The men were getting drunk one by one, and snorts and laughs and occasional shouts could be heard. Sansa and Tyrion were trying their best to keep the conversation going, and the rulers were mostly silent, answering when asked something and acknowledging when necessary.

Arya gulped down her wine again, feeling the strange taste quite lovely on her tongue.

"Too much, don't you think, little sister?" Jon asked, smiling lovingly at her.

Arya rolled her eyes.

"Second glass, Jon," she said, and raised her brow sarcastically as he himself finished drinking another glass. "It wouldn't be wrong to say the wine is the only thing pleasant about this feast."

He laughed softly.

"Thank you for coming. I thought you would disappear like yesterday. Where were you?"

"Just around." She shrugged. "With Gendry."

Jon nodded slowly, and leaned closer to her.

"There is something I need to tell you about him."

Arya was puzzled. What could Jon know about Gendry that she didn't?

"Will you tell me now?" She asked. At the same moment, she coincidentally caught Gendry's eye. He winked at her, looking slightly drunk.

"Later," he said. "Not the time or place."

She nodded.

"Jon?" She asked softly.

He turned to her, looking worried all of a sudden.

"I am sorry," she said. "For being too difficult, and not listening to you, and- You know I love you, right?"

He took her hand and pressed it.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I was being stupid too." He gave her a wide grin. "And I never doubted that you do, little wolf."

She smiled back at him, just as a shiver ran through her entire body, and the glass fell from her hands on the floor.

"Arya?" Jon held her arm. Everyone on the table turned towards her.

"Are you fine?" Sansa asked, ready to rise from her seat.

"Yes, I'm alright," Arya said.

"Are you sure?" Jon asked, worry etched on his face.

Arya nodded, and just then, a guard came towards them.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing. "A raven arrived for Princess Arya from Castle Black."

Jon and Sansa looked puzzled as Arya took it, and before anyone could ask or say anything else, she stood up, with a strange feeling in her legs. She remembered feeling it that night when she was with Gendry and Bran had-

"I would like to retire to my room now," she said, but Jon caught her arm before she turned. He stood up too, and so did everyone.

"I will escort you back," he offered. Arya bit her lip, and shook her head.

"There is no need," she said.

"For my sake, please," he insisted. He turned to Daenerys without waiting for an answer. "I apologize for leaving, Your Grace. My sister will keep you company till I return."

Sansa offered a smile, and a nod.

"Very well, King Jon," Daenerys agreed, looking sceptical. "I hope you are well, Princess Arya."

"Yes," she answered, and felt a tug on her arm. She turned to Jon and he nodded.

As soon as they were inside her room, Arya let out a breath. Jon locked the door from inside and rushed to her side.

"What is wrong?" He asked.

"I think-" Arya began, but stopped when she remembered about the scroll in her hand. She opened it frantically while Jon looked on with surprise.

There was nothing but happiness left in her heart after she finished reading it.

"Bran!" she said, laughing. She looked at Jon and jumped up in his arms. He caught her eagerly, as Arya kept laughing against his neck. She leaned back to look at him. "Bran is at Castle Black. You will need to write to the Lord Commander. They do not believe he's a Stark, but he's safe."

She felt Jon still. His eyes went wide with disbelief.

"Bran is- He's alive?"

"Yes!" She felt her feet hit the ground. "Bring him home, Jon. Write that letter, and bring him home."

"Where was he all this time?" He asked, looking as if he was finally starting to believe.

"I do not know," Arya said. "He was the one who led me to Nymeria and the wolves. He is with the Reed girl, Meera."

"He led you?"

Arya bit her lip.

"I am a warg, Jon, and so is Bran. You are one too, aren't you? Don't you have wolf dreams too?"

Jon looked at her in shock.

"Bran is more powerful," she went on. "I do not know yet how, but he talked to me. Even today at the feast, that was what happened, or so I think."

"I thought only I was cursed with the dreams."

Arya glared at him.

"They aren't a curse! We are the same as our wolves. What they see, we see, and feel. Don't you see the beauty? I know you watched me through Ghost that day at Riverrun while I was fighting. Tell me, how is it not a blessing?"

"Not everything the wolves feel should be felt by us, little sister," he said softly.

Arya decided to let it go. She was too happy to argue about anything at all.

She placed her palms over Jon's cheeks.

"Bran is coming home," she said.

Jon smiled, then it slowly turned to a laugh, as he took her in his arms this time, and kissed her forehead several times. In that moment, everything was forgotten. Lannisters and Targaryens and White Walkers and wars and everything. She felt like a child again, sharing a moment of true happiness with Jon.

"Why won't you happy like this all the time?" He asked.

"Because you keep making me angry," she said, and playfully lifted her hand to hit him, but he caught it halfway. It was then that she started feeling afraid, because happiness in her life had never been constant. She was afraid of losing everyone and everything all over again, and she knew she wouldn't be able to take it this time, no matter how strong she was. If anything happened to Jon, she would crumble.

"You have to go back to the feast," she said, after a while.

Jon was looking at her with soft eyes, specks of silver shining through the grey, and she wondered if her own eyes ever changed color like that.

"I have to," he said, then pressed her forehead against hers with a sigh. "But I can choose not to."

Arya rolled her eyes.

"And what, stay with me all night?"

She immediately wondered if her question was improper or of it made Jon uncomfortable. She looked up at him, and for the first time since her training, she failed to read a face. Maybe she wasn't concentrating enough.

Jon took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, then her forehead and hair.

"Goodnight, Arya," he said, and left the room as quietly as anyone could.

She roamed through the wild with her brother in tow. The air smelt sweet and the moon shone bright, drowning everything in white, ethereal glow.

The taste of blood still lingered on her tongue even after an hour of feeding. The she-wolf turned to her brother, who followed her loyally and patiently to every unknown territory she thought of visiting. In the shadow of a tree, they sat down, exhausted. Slowly, the other wolf approached her, with eyes red as the blood on his teeth. She felt her brother's muzzle brushing across her stomach, and she kicked back. He came close again, and sniffed along her back, his paw scratching the skin, and in moments, she was pinned beneath his strength, and his nose was sniffing her entire body, slowly and surely.

Nymeria howled to her pack, and they howled back, but none came to stop the giant wolf with red eyes as he kept his sister down on the ground, not letting her move.

Arya gasped awake, hot and exhilarated. She kicked off the furs, feeling sweat drip down her neck. She saw the moon through the window and realized it was far from dawn.

She jumped down from her bed, and went to stand at the window. The soft, cold breeze brushed her face and chilled her sweaty skin. Her breathing was finally steadying.

Not everything the wolves feel should be felt by us, little sister.

She grabbed the windowsill hard with her hands, the wood turning her skin red, and heard a desperate howl far from the woods.