Chapter 12 – Jon
"Arya? I have a question." It was a day later and Jon had just about finished his preparations for the journey back north. They were set to leave that afternoon. Arya would accompany him to Winterfell, and so would her friend Gendry, it had been decided.
"What's wrong?" Arya asked, grey eyes slightly crinkled with worry.
"Nothing wrong, just a thought," he started. "When you were in Kings Landing, pretending to be Cersei Lannister, what did you tell the people what you were doing when you set sail for Dragonstone?"
"I told them I was giving the throne to Daenerys," Arya replied. "Considering what happened at the Sept of Baelor and everything else that Cersei did… people didn't exactly complain about it."
"But what was Cersei's –" he broke off and made quotation marks with his fingers – "long term plan?"
"To find refuge in one of the Free Cities," Arya answered. "Not necessarily Braavos. I decided she was going to flee there to escape from Tyrion, who she believed wanted her dead still. I figured that was pretty much the most realistic explanation for Cersei not returning – and not making it look like Daenerys killed her."
Jon nodded, secretly impressed with how his little sister had thought things through. "Someone should tell her that, really."
Arya gave him a wicked grin. "Maybe you should," she suggested, even going as far as to open the door for him. "Something tells me she wouldn't mind an excuse to spend time with you."
Jon flushed and immediately changed the subject. "What were you two doing, earlier?"
"Her secret, not mine," Arya said breezily. "Though I expect you'll find out soon enough."
"Nothing reckless or dangerous?" he asked, remembering his sister's affinity with doing things that were just that.
"Absolutely reckless and dangerous," Arya told him with a smirk. "Go on. Go and spend some time with the Mother of Dragons. It'll be a little while before you see her again."
"Maybe you should go and spend some time with Gendry, then," Jon teased her back.
"Maybe I will," she retorted. "I'm getting him to make me some proper armour, for when I join you in the fight against the dead."
Jon nodded in response, though he now felt even more uneasy. He didn't want to think of Arya having to fight the undead monsters on the other side of the Wall. He especially didn't want to think of that fiery little spirit of hers becoming icy and dead if she lost.
He eventually did leave.
When he finally shown into the chamber of the painted table, Jon found Daenerys talking with Tyrion.
"Lord Snow," the latter said in greeting, a twinkle in his eye as he sipped from a cup of wine.
"You seem excited at the prospect of leaving this place, my lord," Jon pointed out, smiling slightly at the dwarf's enthusiasm.
"I am excited to get back to the capital, as a matter of fact," Tyrion replied. "I just hope my sister did not drink the cellars beneath the Red Keep completely dry before her death."
"It would be nice if you would stop before you drink my cellars beneath Dragonstone completely dry before we leave," Daenerys interjected, giving him a disapproving look. "Remember what I said about you advising me while you can speak in complete sentences?"
"I do," the queen's Hand replied, draining the cup. "But the next segment of my advice won't be needed until we set sail tomorrow, and this is today." He sighed as Daenerys continued to stare at him, and he looked over at Jon. "I'm the only one around here who drinks," he complained. "Grey Worm doesn't, Missandei doesn't, even Mormont doesn't. Do you drink, Jon?"
"Only when I have to," he replied seriously.
Tyrion laughed. "Why, I had to drink all the time when I visited the Wall, just to get through the evenings with some of your brothers." He paused. "Or ex-brothers, I suppose. Those men could never quite get their heads round a decent joke. That Ser Alliser… Thorne, was it? He was one of the worst. Did you ever even see him smile? Once?"
"No," Jon answered shortly. He didn't want to think about that man. How he had hung him beside Olly and the others. What he had done to him.
"Wouldn't have thought so," Tyrion sighed. "Anyway, I'll leave you to it." He walked over to the side and placed his cup down. He then looked meaningfully at Daenerys. "Be careful." And with one final twinkle of the eye, he left.
"I wonder if there has ever been a day where he hasn't consumed any alcohol," Daenerys mused, rolling her eyes. She took a step closer, an intimate gesture, but her tone remained formal. "What can I do for you, Jon Snow?"
"I found out some information from my sister," he said. He then proceeded to tell her how the people of Kings Landing now viewed Cersei.
"That is good to know," Daenerys said when he had finished. "Thank you, Jon." She smiled. "Arya certainly is extraordinary."
"You don't say," Jon murmured fervently. "I'm glad the two of you seem to get along so well, though. I doubt Arya's met many people she likes during her travels."
"It is nice being on her good side," Daenerys agreed, smiling a smile that made her entire face light up. "I can imagine life not being particularly so, was I not."
"She seems so intent on helping me fight," he said, the concerns pouring out of his mouth without him really thinking about it. "We've been separated for so long… I don't want her to die, or worse, in the wars to come."
"I can understand that," Daenerys said gently, taking his hand. "I know you love her. I know you want to protect her. I would be suspicious if you didn't feel that way, and I wish my brother had felt the same about me. But I think Arya has demonstrated that she is quite capable of taking care of herself, don't you think?"
"Aye." Jon couldn't help but agree, but the worry still churned in his stomach.
"I know the long term future isn't so bright," Daenerys continued. "It's all you men seem to think about, the long term. It is all Tyrion is planning for, and you, but perhaps you too need to think about the short term. You're going home, you're going to see Sansa and Bran again and enjoy the reunions between them and Arya. You won't even need to march north for a little while, surely? You'll want to secure Winterfell and gather your forces first?"
"Yes," Jon nodded again.
"You have things to look forward to," Daenerys said softly. "Just try to focus on them for now. Then, in a couple of weeks, we can focus on the Night King and our enemies north of the Wall."
"Thank you," Jon replied eventually.
The queen smiled, looking radiant. "What for?"
"For your wisdom," Jon answered honestly. "Your hospitality. For agreeing to help me, and letting me mine the dragonglass."
Daenerys simply shook her head. "It's nothing. I want to help the north, not conquer it."
"At least not to start with," Jon added, smiling at her.
"Well," Daenerys grinned back. "I'm all for short term, you know."
"But of course."
She took another step towards him. She was impossibly close again, close enough for Jon's mind to wander to how beautiful she was, as well as how regal, how strong and how smart and kind and brave in equal measure.
"I suppose this is farewell," she said, her voice as soft as a whisper. Her iridescent purple eyes bore into his. "We'll see each other again soon, Jon Snow."
"Aye," he replied, struggling to swallow, as he gently tucked a loose strand of her silver hair behind her ear. He couldn't deny that he wanted to kiss her, to finally stop running rings and to take the next step. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet, with so much depending on their military alliance. Plus the fact that he wouldn't see her again for some time. Leaning forward, he settled for a chaste kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you soon, Daenerys."
It was the memory of her true words of wisdom, her beautiful face and her smile that got him through the ten-day voyage to White Harbour.
"How do you think Sansa will react when we all turn up at Winterfell?" Arya pondered as they spent some time together. They had reached White Harbour that morning and were beginning to set up camp with Lord Manderly's men, waiting for Daenerys' forces to reach them. The queen herself would join them first, accompanied by the dragons, with the Dothraki riding hard on the Kingsroad, expected to be a few days' behind. The Unsullied would leave Kings Landing after them and spend three weeks travelling to Winterfell, and they would not march north until the latter army had been adequately rested.
Jon pondered for a while before answering. "Suspicious. Not of us, but of them – especially of Daenerys."
Arya tutted. "Obviously. I was suspicious of Daenerys until I actually got talking to her. Then what?"
"Even more suspicion," Jon sighed. "Sansa didn't want me to go to Dragonstone – none of them did. She won't trust Daenerys at all…"
"It would've been awkward for me if you hadn't been at Dragonstone when I got there," Arya commented, before going off to find Gendry. And as Jon reflected, he realised she was right.
The next two days had been busy, preparing for Daenerys and the Dothraki. Making sure enough tents were set up and there was enough food to feed them on arrival, as well as sustain them for the journey to Winterfell. Gendry had been hard at work making weapons of dragonglass and Arya had helped drilling a group of children in self-defence, should the dead make it past the Wall. On the last night before Daenerys was due to join them, Jon sat with Arya for supper, deciding it was time he found out exactly what she had been up to during the years since they had last seen each other.
"So where did you go, after Father died, Arya?" Jon asked. "You never did tell me."
"I went to many places," Arya replied vaguely. "And did many things." She must have noticed the way Jon was looking at her. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "The reason why I don't really want to tell you is because I don't think you'd approve."
"Why wouldn't I approve?" Jon asked, his curiosity increasing.
"I killed Cersei," Arya reminded him expressionlessly. "Do you really want to know where and how I learned my skills? Who I have travelled and spent time with? Who else I have killed, and who has been killed because of my actions?"
Jon thought about it for a second. It wouldn't be a particularly pleasant story, but he really did want to know exactly how this new Arya worked. "Yes."
She sighed. "I thought that might be the case." She settled herself as comfortably as she could in the severe wooden chair in the tent.
"I watched Father die," she started, and Jon's heart writhed painfully in his chest. "From a way off. I escaped the Red Keep far before that, as you know. I had to kill a stable boy, who wanted to take me to Cersei. I stabbed him in the gut. I tried to get closer to Father when Joffrey called for his head, but Yoren grabbed me –"
"Yoren?" Jon interrupted. "From the Nights Watch?"
"Yes," Arya answered. "He was in Kings Landing trying to get more recruits for the Watch. Anyway, he had seen me with Father and knew who I was. He cut my hair short so that I could travel north with him. Gendry was going with him too – that's how I met him. Yoren was going to take me back to Winterfell, but we were attacked on the road…"
As Arya continued on with her story, Jon grew more and more alarmed. He had been appalled when he found that Arya had been the incognito cupbearer of none other than Tywin Lannister, then that she had travelled for so long with the Hound and had literally been outside during the events of the Red Wedding. He had been near tears when Arya recalled how she had seen Grey Wind killed, and his head mounted on Robb's dead body, and later when Arya told him about her brief time in the Eyrie, as he realised how close she and Sansa must have been, yet not crossed paths. Concern grew to deep worry when Arya confessed that she had gone to train with the Faceless Men in Braavos and learnt to be a true killer.
"When I came back to Westeros, I went back to the Twins," she continued on, finally. "And winter came for House Frey."
Jon gasped as he eventually put two and two together. "The massacre at the Twins!" he said, shocked, concerned and impressed in equal measure. "That was you?"
"Yes," Arya continued. "For what they did to Robb, and Mother, and all the others. The North Remembers."
Jon couldn't find the words to counter that.
"See?" Arya said, when she finished. "I told you that you would disapprove."
"Not all of it," Jon retorted, pulling his sister into a close embrace to reassure her. "I'm just amazed that you survived, and managed to get Needle back and hold onto it. Makes my training with the Nights Watch look very dull by comparison."
"I still want to hear your story," Arya replied. "Come on. I've told you mine. How did you end up being named King in the North, brother?"
"A long and dreary tale," Jon said glumly. "A story for another night, perhaps. Daenerys arrives tomorrow, we will need to be well-rested and ready for action."
"Of course." With a final hug, Arya had left to go back to her own tent, opposite Jon's own.
And a little while after first light the next morning, Jon heard the faint sound of three approaching dragons. He smiled as he got ready to meet with Daenerys.
A/N: Another week, another chapter! Thank you for reading!
A couple of you have been asking for longer chapters so hopefully the extra 200 words or so was ok. I just wanted to thank all of you lot for your continued support on this story. 400 followers is so weird and unexpected! Writing this is literally my only break from work and college and I'm so glad you guys seem to enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.
I don't know who's POV the next chapter will be in, at the moment I think Daenerys but that might change!
Thanks again, please review and let me know what you think, and I'll try and get the next chapter written for next Friday.
Much love, until next time x
