Author's Note: I still don't own anything. Thank you to everyone who has read this story, or left comments.
R-C
Daenerys was sitting next to her savior's bed and watching her sleep. She was a restless creature, moving about almost constantly but she didn't seem to be in too much discomfort. Daenerys was glad about that. After all the stranger had done for them, for her, the least she could do was ensure her comfort. What started as a visit to check in on her condition grew into an hour long visit, then one became two and before long she was sleeping in a chair with her head resting next to the woman who might die.
In the middle of the night the wounded warrior woke to a surge of pain and a sudden realization that she was still alive. Apparently the Queen had decided to spare her. In the voice of her first dance instructor she heard the familiar words, words she still said in prayer before she went to work - 'There is only one thing to say to the God of Death?' Her voice cracked, dry and raw from screaming as she answered her private question aloud. "Not today."
Her weak voice was enough to wake Daenerys who was too worried about the woman to rest deeply. "W…what?" she stammered, lifting her head. Noticing the girl awake she came to her senses quickly. "Are you in pain?" she asked as she stifled a yawn and wiped at the corner of her eye with a thumb.
"Y… your Grace you should be resting. I'll be fine."
Ignoring her words Daenerys reached for the glass of water and held it near to the girl's mouth so she could take a sip.
After she had her drink and the glass was once again on the night table they simply looked at one another. The assassin could see the Queen was tired, she had little color to her skin and deep marks under her eyes. In addition, her dress was slightly wrinkled and her hair was unbraided and loose down her back.
So focused on Daenerys that it wasn't until she caught the Queen staring for the second time that she realized the problem. Already knowing what she'd find she reached up and touched the face - the nose, the lips, the chin that didn't belong to her.
"What is your name?" she wondered. "I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Queen of Meereen and I owe you my thanks for saving my life and the lives of my friends. I can't possibly do that properly if I don't know your name."
Her heavy eyes had fallen closed but at the question they opened, grey, like the sea in a storm. "We don't have names," she explained in a weary voice. "We are all No One, we don't require a name to serve."
"Well what about before? Did your parents give you a name?"
Rather than lie she pretended she was asleep.
R-C
The days slowly passed and although it was beginning to feel uncomfortable she continued to wear the soldier's face. She could only imagine how odd it would be to see her with the face of a man and the body of a woman, but so far no one had asked, and for that she was grateful. Since she'd been given her first face she'd been told it was possible to focus the blessing and change her entire body to match her face, but she wasn't that skilled. Despite many attempts she'd never been able to shift anything below her neck.
As much as she wanted to wear her own face, she was afraid Tyrion might recognize her. She'd been spared when in madness she threatened the Queen but she doubted she'd receive a second pardon if the Targaryen learned she was a Stark.
The Queen had been beyond generous, giving up her own servant and allowing Missandei to serve the assassin as she recovered. It had been a long time since she'd been waited on like nobility and it made the woman she had become quite uncomfortable.
Beyond that she got regular visits from Daenerys, and Kovarro, while the others just nodded politely when they saw her. Only Jorah held contempt for her, while the others seemed largely indifferent. Tyrion was the exception. They spoke rarely but more than once she caught him watching her from a distance, staring or squinting, trying to determine who she was and where she knew him from. Recovering being as boring as it is she took a small measure of entertainment from the growing frustrations that not being able to solve the riddle was causing him.
When she asked about Nazir she heard that he was gone by the time Grey Worm and the others arrived. Since the Queen seemed disinclined to kill her, and her wounds were no longer grave, all she needed was a few more days to rest and she could hunt Nazir herself and finish the job.
In her mind she easily pictured Daenerys, and how furious she'd be if she knew what the killer was planning. The thought made her smile as she drifted off to sleep again.
R-C
They sat together in her tent with only the brazier for light. "Tell me about yourself," the Queen said. It was not a demand or a royal decree just a question among equals.
She was immediately weary. "Not much to tell your Grace, I am just a woman like any other, nothing special."
From where she was sitting Daenerys shook her head at the notion that this woman was plain in any sense. "Daenerys," she corrected gently, with a warm, engaging smile. "Here, away from others, please call me Daenerys,"
"Daenerys," she parroted the word back, testing it. She noticed as she said it for the first time the Queen's smile only grew larger. "Ok, well I was just a girl Daenerys."
"Tyrion suspects you're from Westeros…" the Queen treaded carefully, afraid to spook the girl. "From the North specifically." In the privacy of her mind Arya cursed her choice to take a Northern Face from the temple before she left. If she'd taken the face of a man from the South, it'd be easier to hide the truth.
She laughed humorlessly. "The dwarf is still pretty clever I see," she retorted without thinking. Only after the words were out did she realize how they would sound and the follow-up questions it would spawn.
Daenerys's wide smile grew wider still. "So you do know Tyrion. I was beginning to think that he was torturing himself trying to recall a meeting that never happened."
"It was along time ago, my Queen. He'd rightly not remember me." After a hard stare from the Khaleesi she amended her error. "It was a long time ago Daenerys."
They spoke for hours, long into the night. The Queen forgot about the goings on outside the tent and told stories of her childhood, about meeting the Khal, about her dragons and her plans. For her part the assassin focused on the places she'd been and the things she'd seen in her travels.
"Can I ask about your face?" Daenerys finally asked without preamble.
"I'll answer what I can," she responded cryptically, treading carefully while not wanting to outright refuse.
"Missandei told me the rumors that your kind can take the face of another, but I wasn't sure if I believed." She blushed her pale skin flaring red with Dragon's blood. "Should I believe?"
"You should."
There was another pause before Daenerys's next question slipped out into the darkness. "So that's not your true face?"
She chuckled, tracing the stubble with her fingers. "No, I assure you my face has much less hair."
Although she could see only an outline of her figure in the diming light she could hear the smile in the Queen's voice. "I am certainly happy to hear that," she joked. "So you wear another face for your work?"
"Yes," she explained in a whisper. "Nazir would never have hired a female sell-sword, and the five men who tried to kill you wouldn't have allowed a woman amongst them, so I was given a face more appropriate for the task."
"Does it hurt? When you take someone's face?" For three long seconds there was silence while the Faceless Man tried to decide how to explain, but nearby Daenerys had thought of something and the whispers were replaced by a yell. "Five! Did you say five?"
Addled by pain of her slowly healing wounds, and not by the beauty of the Queen, it took her far longer than normal to understand what the woman was talking about. By the time she did, the silence had stretched on and the Dragon Queen's eyes were full of fire, her small arms crossed over her chest.
"Yes, there were five of them, plus myself."
Her eyes narrowed and her head bobbed before she pinned the assassin in a stare and leaned closer. "I remember only four; the one Kovarro killed, the one you killed to save Kovarro and the two you stabbed at the end. There was a fifth?"
She nodded and felt a tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with her injuries. "I was sent with another sell-sword to block your escape, that's why I was late arriving,"
In the dark she reached out and took the assassin's hand, holding it tightly. "Thank you again. It seems I have even more to thank you for than I realized."
"I need no thanks," she said without letting go of her hand. Privately she was pleased it was dark as she was certain her cheeks could rival Sansa's hair. "Those men were vile and even if it were not my purpose, I would have done the same."
"You're a hero, regardless of your motives, and that's how I shall remember you in the years to come."
As their talk continued they both stretched it out for as long as they could. Much later they both surrendered to the exhaustion and laid down side by side on the bed. The assassin fell asleep first, in the middle of a story about her favorite sword, a little Needle of a thing.
R-C
On the thirteenth day of her recovery the assassin had had enough. In addition to going stir crazy being cooped up, she was also growing concerned about Nazir. He tried to kill Daenerys once, he'd surely try again, and again until he succeeded. The only way to prevent that would be to find him first and give him the Gift.
She woke before the sun, struggled against pain and weakness to wash herself and dress without help. While successful she was glad to be alone, embarrassed that she twice needed to stop and rest.
With limited options she staggered from the camp, unarmed, bloodied and frail. On the docks not far from where she'd first encountered Daenerys she saw a wild dog roaming about, scavenging for food. She recalled another one of Arya's memories from back when she too was digging for food in the trash. Sitting with her feet dangling off the side of the pier, she closed her eyes and focused on the dog.
In a blur of light and pain everything shifted, her senses grew more powerful while her eye-line dropped much lower to the ground. To anyone passing by she would appear to be sleeping but in truth she was running inside the body of a dog, using his keen sense of smell to hunt for a slaver.
R-C
Daenerys woke from an uneasy sleep and crept from bed. Although she noticed Darrio lying next to her she didn't spare him a second glance as she pulled on a silk robe and pushed some hair back behind her ear.
As had become her secret ritual Daenerys crossed the camp to the tent where the killer who saved her was resting. It was hard work planning the invasion of Westeros and even harder to rule the lands she already held. Before her day could truly begin she had to check on her wounded guest.
When she was healthy enough Daenerys would broach the subject of the assassin joining her and her army in their journey to Westeros. Perhaps the girl missed her home and wanted desperately to return? The Queen could hope.
She'd long since learned the value of allies but something about this felt different. She felt safe in the scarred woman's company, not just protected but truly safe. Those feelings shattered like waves against the rocks when she reached the tent and found it empty.
R-C
With the aid of a very helpful and filthy dog she tracked Nazir to his new home. Hobbled as she was it took nearly two hours for her to go from the docks to the decrepit hole he was hiding in. Along the way she 'borrowed' a small curved blade from a merchant who likely wouldn't miss it.
Stopping to catch her breath she thought about what she was doing. While she told herself she was simply completing her task, and fulfilling her duty to the Many Faced God, a quiet part of her mind knew it was more than that. Nazir could wait, she could heal and could deliver the Gift to him when she was back in good health but where would that leave Daenerys? Every day she spent resting in bed in that fucking tent was another day Nazir could put together another plot to murder the Queen. And next time he could get lucky, she couldn't allow that to happen.
She knocked on the door and did her best to appear surprised when Nazir opened the door, naked from the waist up and in the middle of eating a leg of greasy chicken.
Still wearing the face of the sell-sword he'd recognize she played up the extent of her injuries. "By the Gods, there you are," she said reaching across her body and covering the gash on her side, drawing Nazir's dark eyes to the damage. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
Momentarily speechless Nazir almost dropped his dinner before the killer pushed past him into the squalid home. "I thought you were dead."
Lifting her shirt slightly she allowed her target to see the edge of the bandaged area. She played up the extent of the injuries a bit, but most of her discomfort was real. "Close. Are you alone here? Did any of the others survive? Are they here? Do you have money, or weapons? The Queen is going to be coming for me!"
The frenzied act was strategy and it worked. Under the surface though her hate grew every second he drew breath. This was the bastard who hired men to murder Daenerys. He wanted her dead and for what? So he could sell humans like cattle without consequence?
"I've got some money hidden," he told her, finally putting down the food.
She waited and when Nazir moved to the corner of the room and kicked over a small table she knew it was almost time. With his back to her, he grabbed the corner of the dirty rug and pulled back hard. The killer needed no further invitation. Drawing the stolen weapon, she approached him from behind and pressed the edge to his throat. "W…what is this?"
Leaning down she put her lips directly against his ear. "The Dragon Queen says hello." The steel moved along with her tongue and by the time the man understood, it was already too late. Looking down at the Many Faced God's newest arrival she thought of Daenerys and the danger she was in. Nazir wasn't the only surviving slaver. More would come, if not now then soon.
A morbid idea came to her standing over the body with his blood on her hands. From where she'd been leaning against the wall she stood straight and with purpose got to work on her self appointed task.
R-C
Daenerys was trying her best to remain calm. Dragons don't panic. Queens don't panic. Nearby Missandei tried to distract her with idle conversation that she only half heard.
"Where do you think she is?" she asked her most trusted friend suddenly.
"I am sure she will return Khaleesi."
Since finding the tent empty she'd dispatched a third of her army to scour the streets of Meereen until she was found and returned safely. The longer the search went on Daenerys didn't know whether to feel hopeful, or dejected. She was a Queen - how hard could it be to find one girl?
R-C
With her work done the Servant of Death looked down at her blood soaked clothes, and crimson hands and felt satisfaction. People would be less likely to question Daenerys's rule now.
She thought about leaving for Braavos immediately but doing so didn't feel right. Not only had Daenerys had her weapons taken and stored but she felt it appropriate to say goodbye to the woman who had spared her life.
She snuck back into camp just as she'd left that morning. The blood on her bandages was spreading quickly but she wasn't concerned. Torn stitches were common place. In hours she'd be on a boat to Braavos and she'd have plenty of time to heal.
She saw Daenerys pacing, speaking with Missandei, waving her hands in agitation. She approached from the rear and sank to one knee in the mud, bowing her head. "My Queen."
She spun as if struck by lightning, turning toward the voice. "By the Gods, there you are!" she cried, reaching to grasp her arm, attempting to raise her from the ground. "I've been worried sick!" Taking in sight of the blood her worries didn't decline.
"I had something I had to take care of," she said in a low voice. "It was urgent."
"Urgent!" the Dragon roared. "You nearly died and you think your task was urgent?!"
"Everybody dies your Grace," she told her simply. "Some tasks are worth courting death."
Finally managing to get her to her feet Daenerys led the bloody killer into her tent while she sent Missandei to fetch some water. "Is this blood yours?" she asked, concerned as she helped peel off her shirt to get to the flesh underneath.
"Some," she admitted, "mostly Nazir."
Understanding passed over her face. "You risked your life to hunt Nazir down and kill him. He's just a slaver, you shouldn't have.""
Stormy grey eyes met violet. "I did my duty and provided the Many Faced God with an offering."
"It's done then?" she asked, wondering what would happen now.
Scratching an itch near her nose she smeared blood on her face with abandon. Eventually she nodded to answer Daenerys's question. "It is done. Nazir is dead, his sell-swords are dead and you know to be more careful."
There was a commotion outside the tent just as Missandei returned. "What's going on?" the Khaleesi asked as she listened to the sound of most of her army rushing in one direction.
"I'm not sure Khaleesi. Apparently one of the Masters was found murdered," Missandei informed, passing along what she'd heard through the camp.
Daenerys's eyes shifted to the blood-stained assassin. "Really?"
Missandei continued. "It is being said they found one of his limbs in the four corners of the city while his headless body was discovered in the alley where we were attacked."
"And what of his.. h …his head?" she inquired, her voice breaking slightly before she cleared her throat and tried again.
"On a pike in the center of the market your Grace, with a message written in blood."
By now Daenerys wasn't looking anywhere but into the assassin's eyes. "What did the message say?"
"'Slavery is a crime punishable by death,' your Grace."
Armed with this new information Daenerys took the water and sent Missandei to find the Maester, leaving her and the murderer alone. "You did all this?"
Looking down at her bloody hands she whispered, "A message was needed. Once the Masters hear what happened to Nazir they'll be less likely to oppose your authority while you are in Westeros."
"Thank you," she said honestly. "Seems all I do is thank you for your help."
A smirk passed over her lips. "Yes, I'm very helpful when I'm not holding pieces of glass to your throat," she explained, beginning to wash the blood from her colored skin.
"A youthful indiscretion," Daenerys said with a chuckle. Taking a step closer she took her other hand without permission and got to work cleaning it. "Now that your work is done, you'll return to Braavos?"
"Yes, I'll return."
A smile settled on the Queen's narrow lips. "You know, you could always…"
Her words were halted by Missandei's arrival with the Maester. After taking one look at the bloody woman he insisted on giving her a full exam. Daenerys reluctantly released her hand before she excused herself politely.
The Queen waited just outside the tent for twenty minutes while the killer was tended to. Daenerys barely blinked, too terrified to step away for fear she would vanish again before they could finish their conversation.
Within seconds of the Maester's exit, she was in the tent, looking at the scarred back. "Are you well?"
"Healthy enough to travel," she assured her Queen, as she reached for her tattered shirt.
In a rare moment of nervousness, the Last Dragon felt her cheeks heating up. "Yes, well, perhaps if you are healthy enough to travel to Braavos, you might consider coming to Westeros instead. I know it was your home once…"
Stunned by the suggestion the killer dropped the shirt she was holding only to pick it up and turn around. By the look on her face it was obvious she had never considered joining the voyage to their former homeland.
"My Queen…" she began formally.
"Daenerys," she reminded gently. "Call me Daenerys."
She nodded and pushed a hand through her choppy, uneven hair. "Yes, Daenerys. I can't go back, there is nothing left for me there."
Unwilling to let this moment pass without another attempt she moved closer. "Are you certain? Perhaps…"
"There is nothing left for me there," she repeated with more force. Bending down she grunted in obvious pain as she reached into her boot, feeling around for something. When she straightened she was holding a worn, iron coin in her hand. She rolled it between her fingers while the Queen watched. "Should you ever find yourself in need, my blade and I will be at your service."
Reaching out she took Daenerys's wrist in her hand, skimming her fingers along as if it were the most breakable of glass. When she reached Daenerys's hand she opened the fingers gently and placed the coin against her palm.
"What's this?" she asked in a quiet, raspy voice as the assassin pushed her fingers closed around the gift.
"Should you need me for any reason, send one of your men to Braavos with this coin. If they sho w it to anyone there, they'll find me."
Daenerys's grip on the coin tightened as she understood its true value. "Send one of my men?" she repeated with humor. "Do you not think me capable of travelling to Braavos myself?"
The light in her eyes made the killer smile in spite of herself. "You'll be far too busy ruling the Seven Kingdoms to concern yourself with me, your Grace."
"I wouldn't be so sure,"' she whispered.
R-C
She postponed her departure for as long as she could and actively tried not think about why she'd do such a thing. Her weapons had been returned to her, she'd thanked Missandei and the Maester for their help and had even been given a gift by Kovarro. With Missandei translating the Dothraki presented her with a beautiful curved dagger, a gift of thanks for saving his life and that of his Khaleesi.
She was looking down at the weapon, admiring its weight and craftsmanship when Daenerys, fresh from a meeting with Tyrion appeared next to her. "That once belonged to my husband, you know."
No she hadn't known. She looked at the blade with new eyes and felt guilty for holding it. It didn't belong to her.
She tried to hand it back to the Queen. "Then you should have it."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Daenerys's hair move as she shook her head. "No," she decided immediately. "One day, years ago Kovarro saved my life. When we returned the Khal was so relieved he presented his dagger to him as a reward. Now it's been passed along to you."
Unsure of what to say, she kept it simple. "That's very kind."
"You earned it," she countered. "Keep it with you and think of me," she paused and corrected, "think of us each time you use it."
She was just about to step away when Daenerys reached out and grabbed her forearm, pulling her back with surprising strength. Neither spoke but the two shared an intense look that said plenty.
"May I make a final request before you go?"
She tilted her head to the side. "You are a queen," she reminded her. "Queens don't make requests."
"May I see your true face now that your work is done? Just once before you go?"
No One was conflicted. Could she take such a risk? Could she afford to refuse? Looking around she saw Tyrion standing in the midst of a conversation with Barristan and Jorah, a safe distance away. As gently as she could she steered Daenerys into one of the many empty tents. "Are you certain you want to see?"
With a regal nod, she made her decision and the girl who had once been Arya Stark was stuck. Duty to the crown was not debatable, her father had taught her that. Putting her finger against her temple she applied the slightest bit of pressure as she spread her hand out over her face. The sting of the magic as if shifted was intense but not overwhelming. When it was over, her little finger reached up from near her eye to trace the familiar scar that marked her service to her God. With a deep breath she let her hand fall away. "See," she teased, "much less hair."
With a stunned expression she swallowed hard and stared openly. "That was most impressive," she finally confessed. "Does it hurt?"
She felt strangely content being back in her own skin and didn't feel rushed to end this particular line of questions. "No, not really, it hurts for a moment and then its done."
To show she understood Daenerys held her hand out over the flame of a nearby brazier. The assassin watched, unable to dampen her concern even though she was well aware of the rumors about the Targaryen girl and her dragon's blood.
Pulling her hand back before the ring she wore could melt to her skin she turned her attention to the assassin. "Thank you for all you've done. Will you still not tell me your name?"
"Names aren't important, deeds are," she retorted. "If you want to thank me cross the sea, take your throne and be a fair queen."
"You could come with me," she offered, trying one final time.
As memories that didn't belong to her raced around in her mind she fought to control them. There was a part of her that wanted to go back, to once again become Arya Stark and take the vengeance she was so owed, but she told the truth when she told Daenerys there was nothing for her in Westeros. She could return, kill all the people on her list and more but then what? Return to Winterfell so she could be Lady Stark, Warden of the North? She didn't want that, she never wanted that.
She was pulled from her thoughts by a breeze blowing into the tent, sending papers rattling while Daenerys shook. "Its cold."
With a smirk she approached the shivering queen. She actually thought the breeze was quite nice, but apparently the Dragon disagreed. Without thinking she reached out, placed her rough, calloused hands on the Queen's soft shoulders and began rubbing up and down her arms, producing heat in the process. "Winter is Coming."
While the assassin warmed her arms, Daenerys's hand went to her face, tracing the jagged, angry looking scar
that started on her temple and passed over the majority of her forehead before disappearing up under her dishevelled hair. She touched the uneven skin and watched as grey eyes widened in surprise and then closed under her attention.
Loud calls of both Missandei and Tyrion searching for Daenerys brought them both back to reality. She blushed in a way unfit for a Queen, while the assassin stepped back and avoided the intense eyes. "Thank you for all you've done," she said sincerely. "I will forever be grateful."
With one final bow of her head she showed her allegiance. "Good luck in Westeros, my Queen."
The sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention for the shortest of instants but it was enough. One moment she was looking into the dark eyes of the assassin then she turned away. It was only an instant but when Daenerys looked back she was gone, nothing in her place but some marks in the sand.