Chapter XIX: The Clash

Bran and Arya arrived before everyone else at the Wolfswood. The eerie silence would have scared many, but both of them had spent years enveloped in things worse than darkness.

"I saw you, you know. In my dreams," Arya said, running her palm over the trunk of a tree. The bark scratched her skin. "While I was in Braavos, but I thought my mind was playing vile tricks on me. I thought you dead for such a long time."

Bran was sitting on a chair, that had been made to make it easy for people to move him. The bottom of it was smooth to easily slide over the snow, and the seat rose high enough for him that he didn't have to look up at everyone.

"I have been watching Nymeria since before you crossed the Narrow Sea. She linked us, although you didn't really know it was her?"

Arya shook her head.

"I did know. Who else could I have seen through but her? The dreams seldom showed me other wolves, and places were always swallowed in darkness and too hazy to recognize. I knew it was her, but little else. I didn't even know where to find her. Thank you for bringing her to me."

"I missed you," Bran said, taking her hand. "Every one of you."

"So did I," she agreed. She had never really realized how much she had missed them until they were all back together again. She swore she wouldn't lose her family again, no matter the cost. No matter what she'd have to do to keep her family safe.

She saw Jon coming, his arm taken by Daenerys. They were talking, smiling, and Arya looked away.

"Jon hasn't told her," she said to Bran.

"Yes," he replied, their hands back by their sides. "Are you glad about it?"

Arya frowned, shrugging as if she didn't care. It was Jon's decision when he wanted to tell his aunt the truth, and truthfully she didn't want to be a part of it at all.

Jon threw her a radiant smile, and she hoped the one she returned was equally wide. Daenerys let go of his arm, and slowly enough, Tyrion was by her side. The Queen motioned to a few men to bring forth what all of them were waiting to watch.

"Why would she keep them chained?" Arya whispered to Bran, hearing the growls of the beasts. Being close to the Queen kept them comparatively calm, but perhaps they could sense there were strangers around even if they couldn't see.

"This is an unlikely place for them. Even if one person gets hurt, there will be consequences."

"But they are so-" she paused as the huge silk sheets were pulled down, revealing such large creatures, and of such beauty, that Arya's heart leapt in her chest, with equal amount of excitement and amazement.

"Beautiful," she finished.

The beasts roared in anger or just so, she didn't know. Her eyes were stuck on them, refusing to look anywhere else. All those stories of dragons; she felt like she was inside a dream. A magnificent dream that wasn't ending anytime soon.

One was black as night, and it's red markings shone like rubies. It looked ready to strike, but she wasn't afraid, only intrigued. One was green, and the other creamy white, almost like the Dragons Queen's hair. They were so large, looming so high over her. Suddenly, she felt a sense of admiration for Daenerys, but it didn't stay long. There was some part of her that refused to like Daenerys Targaryen.

The dragons were crying loudly, and crashing against their cages. Arya wanted to watch them breathe fire, but that would bring no one no good, she understood.

"Hush," Dany bid them, and they were getting less violent by the second, but not completely calm.

And then her eyes went on their own to Bran, and she saw him sit calmly, then suddenly his eyes turned white. She turned with excitement towards the dragons, and saw that the white one's eyes had turned the same color as it's skin's. The same color as Bran's eyes.

"What is he doing?" Daenerys asked, alarmed, but Tyrion stopped her from approaching Bran.

"No, Your Grace," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Let him."

Everyone stood still and watched Bran silently as he controlled the dragon, making it kneel and whimper almost like it was more of a tamed dog than a dreaded beast.

"How can he do that?" Daenerys asked in shock.

"He's a warg," Arya told her, smiling proudly at her brother. A minute later, Bran's eyes turned back to their own color, and the dragon's too, but it was much less violent than before, if at all.

Everyone was in amazement, and Sansa and Jon were smiling widely. Arya was somehow annoyed that Daenerys still kept looking at Bran as if she was angry at him.

A Stark controlling a dragon.

"He said I will fly," Bran mumbled beside her, only loud enough for her to hear.

"What?" She asked.

"The three-eyed raven told me I would never walk again. But I will fly."

Arya couldn't really understand his words, but the way he said them convinced her he was glad for it. Arya turned back to the Queen, and watched her whisper something in Grey Worm's ear.

Arya.

She stilled. Bran was inside her head.

Your turn.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Warg a dragon? But she wasn't as powerful as Bran.

"I cannot," she told him, voice a little louder than a whisper.

Try, he insisted.

Arya gulped, goosebumps forming on her skin. She inhaled sharply, and watched around. No one was paying attention anymore, at least not too much to them as much as to the dragons.

She clenched her fists at her sides, and looked at the green dragon's eyes. It was smaller than the black one, and looked less fierce too. And she tried, to creep inside it's skin, be within it. The dragon growled loudly, and she felt only silence around her. Arya gasped, and kept looking at the dragon's eyes; eyes of an animal that could crush her under it's feet if it wanted to, and it wouldn't cost it a breath.

But the dragon only started growing more restless, hitting it's body against the bars of the cage, flames shortly flowing out of its mouth. Arya wanted to stop, but at the same time she didn't. She held her hand out towards Bran, and found his. Their hands locked as the Dragon screamed in pain this time, and Arya almost jumped back in fear.

"Stop it!" Daenerys ordered, voice panicked. The dragon was resisting, because Arya wasn't powerful enough to do it.

Go on, Bran kept urging her. I'm right here.

"Stop it!" Daenerys yelled, as the dragon breathed out flames across the snow, yellow and dangerous and everyone shrank back in fear. The Unsullied braced themselves, shields and spears in hand.

Arya felt a hand on her arm, fingers sinking over her tunic, into her skin. She turned abruptly, and the Queen glowered at her with fury in her eyes, lips thin.

"How dare you?" She said, spitting every word with anger. "You're hurting him, you insolent girl! Stop this madness!"

Arya looked at her with a frown, then at her hand.

"Leave my arm, Your Grace," she said, calmly, but it only made Daenerys grip her harder. The dragon screamed.

"Now!" The Queen growled. Arya saw Jon take steps towards them, and Grey Worm advanced his spear just a little. This was a dangerous situation, and she was disobeying his Queen with every passing second.

Arya left Bran's hand, and looking at him, realized that he was still trying to warg into the dragon.

"Stop Bran Stark," the Queen ordered. Grey Worm moved forward and in a flash, the Northern guards readied their swords, and then every soldier present. Arya saw Sandor Clegane move to Sansa's side and put his hand on his sword. Ready.

As soon as an Unsullied slipped behind Bran and put a hand on him, Arya's fingers went inside her cloak and she pulled out the dagger, pointing it towards the Queen, near her neck.

"Tell him to move away from my brother," she spat. Now everything was tense, and silent and she heard Jon call her name softly. Daenerys looked no less angry than her, but Arya's days of being intimidated were long gone.

Their eyes stayed locked for some moments; Daenerys ready to show Arya her wrath and Arya daring her to. All the Queen needed was to say one word and all hell would break loose in the middle of the Wolfswood.

"Arya!" She heard Jon's voice. "Drop your blade!"

Suddenly, she was angry at him too.

"Your Grace," Bran said, and she tensed a little. "I apologize for this."

Daenerys looked at her, but Arya moved first, dropping her hand and pushing her dagger back inside her furs in one swift move. She threw a warning look at Dany, but the Queen didn't look frightened, only perhaps, a little shocked. She backed away.

"She wouldn't have hurt me," Bran whispered to Arya. "You know that."

"She could've told you to stop, not order her Unsullied to make you," she said. Her eyes met Sansa's, and her sister, instead of looking shocked and appalled, only nodded in her direction.

She remembered the last time she had not been cautious. She had ended up soaked and bloody on the streets of Braavos.

She started walking towards the castle, but Jon was before her in a minute, eyes angry. He pulled her away from all of them, until they were hidden from the eyes of everyone else

"Why would you do that? Are you out of your mind?" He asked, grabbing her arm.

"Her soldier grabbed Bran!"

Jon groaned.

"For fuck's sake, Arya! No one would've hurt Bran! You cannot go and pull a dagger on everyone!"

"But she-"

"Stop it, Arya!" He roared. "I'm tired of your actions! I'm trying to keep peace and you mess everything by your childish actions! You could've started a fucking battle out there! You don't want me to kneel? Then don't destroy the chances of a negotiation or else you will be the reason the North will be burnt to ashes!"

Arya took short and sharp breaths. He had never talked to her like that.

"Alright, Your Grace," she said, voice as small as she could manage. "I'll stay out of your way from now on. I apologize."

"Apologize to the Queen," he said.

Arya felt the need to snap at him, but she didn't and nodded her head obediently.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Jon let out a breath, and Arya turned around to leave.

"Arya," he whispered, and his arm came around her neck and pulled her against him slowly, his chest to her back. He pressed a kiss into her hair.

Arya laughed softly.

"You are starting to prove my heart wrong, Your Grace."

Jon tensed behind her, and his arm lost its grip.

Arya slipped away.