Chapter 8 – Arya

It was so much easier being Arya Stark than it was Cersei Lannister. It was also arguably more powerful. Daenerys, while wary, seemed to like her. Jon, while shocked, was overjoyed that she was alive. The Dothraki seemed tense around her, and it was fantastic to have Gendry back again.

Arya's time with the Faceless Men had taught her to be distrustful of people in general, but so far, everyone seemed to be relatively simple in motive. The Dothraki and the few Unsullied soldiers she had seen around Dragonstone were devoted to Daenerys. Arya had been suspicious of the Mother of Dragons' motives at first, but she seemed to have Westeros' best interests at heart, and Arya knew she had done the right thing by killing Cersei. She had also been frugal as to the extent of Daenerys and Jon's relationship. But it was easy to see that they got along fine; in fact, Arya suspected that they secretly loved each other – even if neither of them knew themselves yet. This was another thing she had learnt in Braavos: to be vigilant of human emotions. Anyway, she knew she would have fun teasing Jon about it over the coming weeks.

Arya wasn't particularly looking forward to the meeting she knew would be held today. Daenerys had told her she wouldn't be needed straight away, and that she would be sent for if and when she was required. Arya knew she would be though. She killed Cersei, and she had set plans in motion that she hadn't discussed with anyone else yet.

For now, though, she just wanted to let loose and enjoy being at Dragonstone. Gendry was here. Jon was here. Before too long, Arya hoped she could continue north to Winterfell, but before then…

Sparring with Jon had been the first real fun Arya had had in a long time. He was so much better now than Arya remembered from her childhood days at Winterfell. He was always good, but rarely won when put against Robb or Theon. But the many years he had spent on the Wall had turned him into a warrior, and a good one. Arya felt fairly confident that her half-brother's combined skill and stamina was better than that of the Hound's. It was purely her different, Braavosi style of skill that would've have had Arya victorious, she was certain. She knew he must have some mad story that had him go from a young recruit of the Nights Watch to King in the North. She wanted to know it, and while she felt Jon would disapprove of some of the things she had done over the years, she wanted him to know her story too. But that would be for another time, Arya knew. He, Daenerys, and all the other important people at Dragonstone had the council meeting now.

She wandered around the island, feeling slightly restless. Arya wasn't looking forward to having to attend the meeting herself, and face the likes of Tyrion, while everyone else looked on in awe or fear. She also didn't particularly want all of Daenerys' advisors knowing how she worked. What if she had to use one of her faces against them in the future? Who knew how things were going to turn out?

Arya was also saddened to realise that Jon hadn't brought Ghost with him. After seeing the grey insignia of House Stark, she had hoped her brother had brought his white, red-eyed wolf with him. She still missed Nymeria despite the time that had passed since they had parted.

After a while, Arya found herself in the dragonglass caves again. She smiled as she was once again reminded that it was better to be Arya Stark, and the memory of being reunited with Jon here. She followed the cave through to the back. There were a couple of miners still hacking away at the obsidian, but they didn't notice Arya, small that she was. Arya once again stared in unsettled awe at the cave paintings, depicting the last Long Night and the living's struggles with the dead. It was here that she was hit by a pang of realisation. Dragonglass kills White Walkers. That's why it's shown here. That's probably why Jon's here. Almost as if on cue, footsteps came, and her half-brother arrived beside her.

"How did I know I would find you here?" Jon said with a smile in his voice. "You seem to like the dragonglass, don't you?"

Arya smiled back but her voice came out as flat and calm as a Faceless Man's. "Dragonglass kills White Walkers, doesn't it?" she said, turning back to the ominous wall painting.

Jon looked pained in response. "Yes, it does. One of the very few substances that does. That's the main reason why I came here. I found out there was an abundance of dragonglass underneath the castle at Dragonstone. We need it, in the North – to forge into weapons so that we're ready when the army of the dead march south."

"And you hoped that Daenerys would offer to help," Arya replied rhetorically. "You hoped she would send the Dothraki and the Unsullied and anyone else she could rally north, and bring her dragons to help fight for Westeros."

"Something like that."

"But she didn't?" Arya turned back to face him.

He looked defeated. "No. She'll only help us if I bend the knee."

Arya glowered. "Why can't she just let you remain King in the North?" she asked. "It's not like you're going to take up arms against her. You wouldn't do that, and besides, you're friends."

"The thing is, I would do it," Jon told her. "But the northern lords would never agree to submit to a southern ruler. They would all desert me, go home, and I'd have even fewer fighting men for the Long Night."

"Not if they lose their heads first," Arya replied fiercely.

"I worry about you," Jon said, smiling gently and shaking his head. "But for now… you're needed at the meeting. Just to say exactly what happened – the events from your perspective."

"Will Tyrion be there? Cersei's brother?"

"Yes," Jon countered. "But don't worry. There was no love lost between the two of them. In fact, I have a feeling Tyrion might be more annoyed that you beat him to it."

"Fair enough," Arya said, feeling slightly comforted but also confused. Family had been everything to Arya; she had done so much in order to avenge them and try to get back to them. She and her sister, Sansa, had never been remarkably close when they were younger, but she could never imagine wanting to kill her.

She dwelled on this all the way to the castle. Jon must have thought she was nervous, for he kept reassuring her.

"Nobody is angry with you, little sister," he said many times throughout their walk. To which she had nodded, not knowing what else to say.

The Dragonstone council chamber, big as it was, seemed all too empty to Arya upon arriving. The vast space suddenly felt daunting, though it did not scare her. Fear cuts deeper than swords she reminded herself for the dozenth time since arriving. Daenerys stood at one end, and Jon went to stand at the other, closest to where the map shaped table had Winterfell engraved into it. Tyrion regarded her with an expression of curiosity. The Dragon Queen's young advisor was there too, a younger woman who's name Arya had found out was Missandei. Ser Davos, the man who apparently was Jon's Hand, was there. Another older man was there too. She did not know his name, but he was hovering, Arya thought, ridiculously close to Daenerys. As if she would try anything here, even if she wanted to. A couple of Dothraki were there too – but that was all. Just the nine of them. Arya had expected more.

"La- Arya," Daenerys started, a twinkle in her eye as she dropped the formal title. "I thank you for joining us." Arya went to shrug, but then decided a smile would probably be more appropriate. Daenerys was queen now, after all. "We just had some questions for you, if you wouldn't mind."

"Alright," Arya said calmly, though not really feeling it.

"If you wouldn't mind me asking, my lady," Missandei spoke up very clearly, "but how did you get into the Red Keep in the first place? Isn't it heavily guarded?"

"No more or less than expected," Arya replied, shrugging in a very non-committal manner. "But I found it easy enough to surpass. In the correct disguise, nobody looks at you twice." It was difficult not to smirk in satisfaction at the looks on everyone's faces. Arya deliberately avoided looking at Jon, not wishing to see his disappointed and apprehensive stare.

"How did you manage to kill Cersei?" Daenerys asked, delicately looking from her to Tyrion and back again. "How did you get to her… whichever disguise you had?"

"Worked my way up as a servant, learning anything I could," Arya told them. "Only took a few weeks. Cersei was so arrogant that she didn't even suspect that any of her household would turn against her. That was her downfall, really, being totally fine with being in a room with me on her own." She could tell that Daenerys wanted her to elaborate further, but she was determined to be as vague as possible. She was never going to just spill the finer secrets of her newfound craft in front of all these people she did not know and definitely did not trust. But despite this, she did force herself to look into the eyes of Tyrion Lannister. "I apologise," she said stiffly, the phrase sounding foreign on her tongue. "She was your sister, after all."

Tyrion did not really acknowledge the apology, just looking down to the table for a few seconds, before looking back up to her. "Did you get Qyburn?"

"Yes," she answered. "He was even easier. And the Mountain, while he slept."

"The Mountain? I thought he was dead!" The imp's eyes were vehement.

"Sadly not," Arya shrugged. "He is now, though." Tyrion muttered some obscenities under his breath; Arya heard but she was sure it was probably down to her enhanced hearing skills she had acquired whilst blind. "But what happened to you? How did you escape Kings Landing? Nobody has seen hide nor hair of Arya Stark since Lord Eddard's imprisonment, or so I was told. Did you have these disguises back then, too?"

"No," Arya answered. "Barely anyone recognised me as daughter of the Hand anyway. I didn't spend much time with anyone, not even Sansa…" she broke off and looked down. "I saw… I saw my father's execution. And then I left Kings Landing."

"Was that when you met the lad, Gendry?" Ser Davos enquired.

"Yes," Arya said slowly. Gendry must surely trust this man, and Jon too. Maybe Arya could grow to trust this older man as well. "He was leaving the city with a bunch of new recruits for the Wall. Long story short, I ended up joining them…" she paused long enough to smile at her half-brother, who looked stunned. "I told you I tried to find you."

Silence reigned in the council room for a few seconds.

"Was there anything else?" Arya asked hesitantly, torn between being polite and wanting to get away. She was starting to get uncomfortable with all of the questions. Perhaps if it was just Jon and Daenerys it would have been alright.

"One last thing," Tyrion Lannister interjected, looking up at her. "What of my brother, Jaime?" Then, quickly, as if he was reading her mind as Arya's face began to contort: "I know what he has done. And I think I know plenty else. I only wish to know if he is dead or alive."

"We saw him at Blackwater Rush –" Daenerys began to say.

"That was then. This is now." He never broke eye contact with Arya, imploring her to continue.

"He's alive," Arya told him. "Probably, unless anything happened to him on the road back to Kings Landing. But before I came here, I left instructions that he was to be imprisoned. That's all. Ser Jaime hurt my father, and killed Jory. He killed Queen Daenerys' father. Winter has come for House Lannister, I'm afraid."

"Well said," Daenerys said – and even Jon gave her a little smile.

A/N: I think I'm just going to update once a week from now on – how does Fanfic Friday sound? Cheesy? Ok, sorry.

Thanks for reading! I feel like this chapter isn't one of my stronger ones. I've been plagued with writer's block all week and I had to hurry up and write this chapter in between college assignments. The next one I have planned is in Jon's POV and will be slightly more show canon (at least in the beginning).

Also, please don't forget to review! They help and motivate me, as well as give me ideas and I thank all of you who review regularly. Until next time :-)