Chapter 5 – Arya
Arya ran. It was so much easier without the horrible shoes. She had taken Cersei's face off – only for the time being – and had donned the face of a simpleton boy. It was a lot easier to move and Arya was so far undetected. She sighed. Word had probably gotten to Daenerys by now that Cersei Lannister had escaped her chamber…
It hadn't been difficult. Arya had simply used a hairpin to pick at the lock of an adjoining chamber to the one she had, changed her face, removed and stored her shoes in one of the many deep pockets of the cloak and left. The Dothraki hadn't paid her a second glance, assuming her to be a random servant.
Arya slowed to a walk halfway down the hundreds of steps to the beach, and tried to relax. I have another part to play now she told herself. She decided she would go back later (and of course pretend like nothing had happened), but for now she wanted fresh air and to be free.
The first alarum came when she spotted Tyrion Lannister moving towards her, heading the other way. Arya almost froze, before she remembered that she wasn't Cersei anymore. Instead, she nodded to the dwarf rather brashly as she carried on down the steps.
"Boy," the little man said suddenly. Arya turned around.
"Yes, my lord?" She winced, remembering the lesson Tywin had taught her all those years ago. Low born girls say 'milord', not 'my lord'.
"You haven't seen anything strange lately, have you? Nobody running around?"
"No, milord," she replied impassively.
The dwarf nodded seriously. "Go on." He turned and hurried back up the steps. Arya continued down them.
She didn't know where she would go. It had been a whole day since Gendry had visited her. He had insisted, yet again, that Jon was there at Dragonstone as well. Arya had a hard time believing him. Part of her wanted to find evidence for his appearance – maybe even to see him. She knew she would not truly reveal herself until after she had spoken with Daenerys and explained herself. Arya struggled to believe the rumours she had heard were true. Jon – King in the North? He was meant to be at the Wall! It wasn't like Jon to break vows. Gendry had told her he spent a lot of time in the dragonglass caves. Maybe that was why he was at Dragonstone – to ask permission. Arya wondered why Jon would need dragonglass, and she wondered if he would be there in the cave now. It was only afternoon, after all.
She found it easily enough, and was able to sneak into the back of the cave, undetected by the miners. Many of them had northern accents, but Arya did not recognise any of them from her childhood at Winterfell. She felt a jolt in her stomach when she realised that most of the people she remembered were probably dead. But I'm not she thought, pulling herself together. And neither is Jon. For Gendry had been correct: once Arya had got into the dragonglass cave, the direwolf sigil of the Starks was everywhere.
Arya wandered towards the back of the cave. It was warm back there, so she peeled off her disguise in order to breathe better. It was there that she was able to appreciate the sheer beauty of the cavern, the glittering and slightly iridescent obsidian. It almost held a certain magic to it. Arya looked around, to see strange carvings in one wall of the shimmering glass. She stepped forward, as silent as a snake, and had a closer look. The first picture depicted some figure-like beings, above what looked like knights. The Children of the Forest and the First Men, fighting together Arya remembered suddenly. Just like Old Nan's stories… She looked around and saw the other carving. And this was what they fought against. These figures were thinner, almost skeletal, with skinny weapons and unnervingly blue eyes. The White Walkers. Arya shivered. Were they real? Was this dragonglass what Jon needed at the Wall, to fight them again?
Then she realised. That was why Daenerys needed to sit on the Iron Throne. Jon must have been here a little while; maybe they were allies. Arya thought, as soon as Daenerys Targaryen was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps she would make everyone march north to fight them. And Arya certainly didn't want to miss out on that. Maybe I need to become Cersei again she thought. I'll get spotted and then maybe, maybe I'll get to talk to her. And Jon… Without a second thought, Arya slipped the heeled shoes back on, loosened her cloak a little to conceal Needle and swapped her face to that of the hated Lannister queen.
As if on cue, footsteps came. Arya steadied her breathing, and turned to face the dragonglass. Whoever it was would have to speak first.
"Your Grace?" The voice was quiet, disdainful, yet strangely respectful. And the northern accent hung on each word. Arya turned, stomach flipping, to find herself face to face with Jon Snow himself. He had grown a little taller in the years since Arya had last seen him, and his dark curls were pulled back. He wore a long cloak, similar to hers. He looked just as solemn and serious as before, and he had a long scar near one eye. His dark eyes, always soft around her, were hard and unforgiving as he looked at who he thought was Cersei.
"Jon!" the word, spoken softly and with some longing, had escaped her mouth before she realised. Her half-brother looked at her with some surprise. Stay in character, you idiot.
"Lord Snow," she amended, doing her best to make her voice sound cold. She just managed a Cersei-like smirk. "It's been some time."
"I last saw you at Winterfell, Your Grace," Jon replied coolly. "The same day my brother fell from the tower." Inwardly, Arya seethed. She had wondered a few times over the years if Cersei had been in some way responsible for Bran's condition. She silently cursed herself for not asking her before she killed her.
"…I remember it well," she faltered after a few seconds, though she managed to keep her voice strong.
Jon looked her in the eyes with a cold expression and shuffled his feet. "You realise I need to take you back up to the castle, don't you?"
"Will I get to see Daenerys Targaryen?" she asked, trying very hard not to sound excited.
"It's likely," Jon replied levelly, as he motioned for them to leave the cave. "She will want to know how and why you escaped. And why you came to Dragonstone at all. To be honest with you, I am curious to find out these things too."
"Why did you come to Dragonstone?" Arya asked as they walked. "Last I heard, you were at the Wall with Unc- your Uncle Benjen."
"I suppose you'll end up finding out soon enough," Jon replied with a suppressed sigh. Arya felt slightly alarmed. Had she misjudged Daenerys Targaryen? She knew she was the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and everything she had heard so far seemed good. But had she forced Jon to do something he didn't want? Why was he here? Arya's mind buzzed with nervous questions.
"There was one thing I wanted to ask you, Your Grace," Jon's voice broke her out of her musing.
Arya raised her eyebrows, trying to appear uninterested. "What?"
"When my father became Hand of the King to Robert Baratheon," – Arya's stomach flipped – "both of my sisters went to Kings Landing with him."
"So they did," Arya almost squeaked. Now they had reached the end of the beach and were starting to climb the steps to the castle. Arya's feet hurt with every step and she occasionally had to clutch at the wall to stop herself falling over.
"I know what happened to Sansa," Jon said quietly. "But what matters is that she's home safe now, and I won't let anyone hurt her again. But Arya… I don't know what happened to her." He broke off and stared at her. "What happened to my little sister?"
"Arya…" She broke off uncomfortably, unsure what to say and pausing for a moment. "She escaped the Red Keep when her father was arrested. Nobody knows where she went or what she did. Most people think she's dead. But she's not."
Jon looked at her, with a mixture of hopefulness and distrustfulness. "How do you know?"
Arya smirked, though she felt bad. "I suppose you'll end up finding out soon enough." She didn't look back at Jon.
The smirk was wiped from her face very quickly. They turned a corner to find several Dothraki approaching them, arakhs poised and ready.
"They will escort us to Daenerys, I assume," Jon said quietly, not looking at her. Arya nodded wordlessly, not wanting to show she was afraid. She had heard of the Dothraki while she had been training in Braavos, and had admired their alleged skill on horseback and talent with weapons. Maybe if I had come as Arya, and done it that way, I could have asked this Daenerys if I could train with them she thought. But it was too late now.
They moved in silence towards what Arya assumed was a throne room. The Dothraki would occasionally grunt something at each other in their own language. She glanced at Jon. He looked very uncomfortable.
"Are you and Daenerys… allies?"
"Wouldn't be the word I was thinking of," Jon replied thoughtfully. "But I suppose so. Friends, I think." Arya nodded. She didn't expect Jon to say anything to the person he thought was Cersei, but of course he wouldn't lie. He was like Ned Stark come again. But she noticed the way her half-brother's dark eyes sparkled when he spoke. He likes her Arya realised. Not that he'll ever admit it.
The throne room had a cool and unforgiving aura to it, as did its occupants. As soon as they entered, Jon moved halfway up the steps and stood to one side, nearby a younger woman who Arya assumed was one of Daenerys' advisors. Arya noticed the dragon queen give Jon a small smile, which made her even more curious as to what their actual relationship was. To Arya's relief, Tyrion Lannister was not there. Maybe he could not stomach the sight of his sister. Maybe he still cared a little and was hidden away, painfully preparing for Cersei's 'death'. Arya did not know. She had spent as little time around Cersei Lannister as possible when she had been in Kings Landing before, and she did not really know much about the relationship between the old queen and the dwarf. Tyrion's absence made things a lot easier as far as Arya was concerned.
Arya looked up at the Mother of Dragons. Wavy silver hair flowed almost to her waist and her lavender eyes sent a chilling glare her way. She was slight, slim, yet the most powerful in the room. She was beautiful, and it was easy to see why Jon liked her.
Daenerys regarded her coldly. "Thank you for travelling so far," she said, breaking the tense silence. Arya shrugged in response, which was difficult, since the cloak was so heavy. It was very warm at Dragonstone, even warmer than Kings Landing. Maybe it was the magical presence of real dragons that warmed the place.
"Where's Tyrion?" Arya responded, realising that nobody had said anything for several seconds.
"Not here, as is plain to see," Daenerys said. "I did not think he would particularly want to be here. He's told me all about you, and I never got the impression you got along very well."
Arya nodded, then very gently wiped Cersei's forehead. Not that it did any good. Arya was sweating under the disguise and the heavy furs of the cloak.
"You care about him?" she asked. "You trust him?"
Daenerys regarded her with an expression of surprise. "He is my Hand."
Arya looked at Jon. "What about him? Do you trust him?"
"Yes, I do, actually," Daenerys countered after a moment of thoughtfulness. Jon looked pleasantly surprised. "He is honest. Stubborn, perhaps, but honest." Arya nodded, before huffing with the heat.
"Why don't you just remove your cloak, Lady Cersei?" the young advisor standing by Daenerys suggested, sensing her discomfort. With all eyes upon her, Arya had no choice but to comply. Luckily she had borrowed a few of Sansa's old dresses from the wardrobe too. But she still looked very different with the sword and dagger at her belt.
"Very clever," Daenerys remarked, noticing them. "Concealing your weapons under a cloak. I'll need you to give those over in a minute."
"What am I going to do?" Arya asked indignantly. "If I harm you, anyone will come in and kill me."
"How did you escape?"
"How did you get that sword?"
Jon and Daenerys had spoken at the same time. The queen looked to him, confused, while he hadn't seemed to notice that she had said something too.
Crap Arya thought.
Jon took a couple of hesitant steps forward. "I know that sword. It's Mikken's work. From Winterfell…" he broke off to look at Daenerys and then back at her. "I gave this sword to Arya before she left for Kings Landing, and I left for the Wall." Despite his clear rage, he smiled softly a little at the memory. "She called it Needle. How did you come to get it?"
"It's a long story," Arya said. She had come to a conclusion that it was time for her to reveal herself, she just needed the time.
"I suppose it would be foolish to ask if you plan to bend the knee," Daenerys commented.
"Not at all," Arya replied. "I will. In time. And if Jon does."
Her brother once again looked uncomfortable. "I –"
"How did you escape?" Daenerys cut across. "Did you bribe one of the guards?"
Arya shook her head. "I don't have any money on me, making that a bit tricky. Though it did cross my mind. But I notice how loyal the Dothraki are to you, so it wouldn't have worked anyway."
Daenerys laughed bitterly. "A Lannister with no gold in their pocket. Forgive me, but I don't believe you."
"Gold's worth nothing to dead people."
"Meaning what?"
Arya slowly knelt. "I admit that you are the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms and all the titles that go along with it." She was concise, as she truthfully did not remember all the titles that Robert Baratheon had had. "The Iron Throne is yours… just be nice to Jon," she faltered, then bowed her head to remove her disguise.
She rose up slowly, to meet alarmed and confused gazes from everyone else in the room.
"Cersei?" Daenerys gasped quietly.
"No," Jon said, his voice echoing off the walls. He looked thoroughly shell-shocked. "Arya."
A/N: I swear this was the hardest chapter to write so far and I'm so sorry it took so long. Massive writers block + increased workload = less fanfic productivity! I'm also aware that this chapter probably sucks, so I apologise for that too.
I'll do my utmost to get the next chapter – probably in Jon's POV – out as soon as I can. In the meantime, please review because your words do mean a lot! How do you think Jon will react to Arya? Will he be pleased to see her, or disappointed in who she has become? What will Daenerys think?
Until next time x
