Outside the temple, the Queen's most loyal were waiting for them. Daenerys was still holding her assassin's hand as they descended. "Now all you need is a name."

Ser Jorah arrived, sparing her from having to answer. "The girl is coming along?" he inquired, his tone alone making it clear how he felt on the subject.

"She is," Daenerys answered confidently. "It will be a long voyage and she can teach our troops a lot while we travel."

"We don't even know who she is," he reminded her harshly. "She doesn't have a name, she's a mystery."

Daenerys remained unbothered by Jorah's concerns. Turning to the assassin she squeezed her hand. "You do need a name, if not the name you were birthed with, then another of your choosing, any you wish."

She didn't know how to answer. She wanted to tell the truth, to declare herself Arya Stark again, no longer No One, but she couldn't. She didn't know how Daenerys felt about her family and upon hearing her name the dwarf would surely put two and two together.

"You see Khaleesi, it's not safe."

"No name?" she joked. "All right then, how about a letter, the first letter of your name, let's start there."

That she could do. "A, your Grace."

"A, very well then. Ser Jorah, this is A and she will be accompanying us to Westeros."

R-C

The ship was speeding as fast as it was able, racing to meet up with the rest of the fleet on route to Westeros. The newly named A was sitting at a table on the deck, looking at the stars without purpose until she heard the shuffled footsteps that could only belong to one man. "Dwarf," she said without looking away from the sky.

"Killer," he countered with a grin. Sitting next to her he raised a bottle of Dornish wine from its hiding spot along with two glasses. He filled his first and then hers. "I hear we are to call you A," he commented, attempting to appear casual.

She nodded. "At least until you remember our last encounter, then you'll know my true name."

Slowly the little man's eyes moved over her face and down her body. Last time he'd seen her she had the face of a man. Now she was all feminine, even in her aggressiveness. Her lithe body was lined with taut, ready muscles that seemed aching for an excuse to work, and her sword-scarred arms told of a violent life. Her hands, while small were rough and calloused, not the hands of a Lady certainly. He noted her dark hair, strong features and deep eyes but couldn't put a name to the face. He tried to blame it on the disfiguring scar that marked her but he knew that was a lie. "We weren't…" he trailed off suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "Not to brag but I was with quite a few, I can't remember…"

She gagged. "Seven Hells, no. Thank the Gods for minor miracles, but no that is not how we met."

"Well its never too late," he said before he hid his mouth behind his drink.

Resisting the urge to strike him she rolled her eyes. "I think not."

"Well not now," he admitted sadly, "but after a few weeks at sea you may change your mind. Circumstances such as that might require unusual concessions."

She finished her wine in a single gulp and set the cup on the table between them while standing. Looking around the crowded deck, she spotted Missandei and Daenerys sitting together, talking quietly. "You're right Imp," she teased, "a trip like this will surely require many, many concessions."

"Many? Really, well I'm glad we agree…"

"Do you think Missandei would be interested?" she asked casually as she barked out a laugh and headed off away from the stunned Lannister.

He called out to her when she was halfway across the deck. "Oh I knew there was a reason I liked you killer. Well played indeed."

Without looking back, she held up a hand and offered him an offensive wave.

"At least tell me when we met!" he pleaded.

She kept walking, aware of the others listening and watching them. An audience that now included the Queen who had stopped talking and was giving Tyrion and the assassin her full attention. She threw a look over her shoulder at Tyrion who was watching her flee, her eyes landing on the scar that divided his face. "When we first met Lord Lannister, it was long before the Blackwater made you pretty."

R-C

It was midday when Daenerys came to the area where A was teaching Kovarro some tactics. The Blood-Rider was mesmerized by his teacher and Daenerys could understand why. She watched as the injured woman fluidly moved around the deck, ducking, swirling and twisting in a dance that always ended with her blade against something vital.

She was still watching when she realized that she wasn't alone. Missandei stood beside her. "She is quite impressive Khaleesi. Our army will be the best that ever was."

She smiled at her friend and together they watched as A corrected some of the Dothraki. The language barrier made it difficult, so Daenerys sent Missandei to translate.

After brief, half-hearted conversations with Tyrion, Jorah, and Barristan she wandered back toward the area of the ship where the warriors were training. What she found was beyond impressive, every soldier on the boat, and many who were not fighters stood in a circle, watching the lessons provided.

As a teacher A was clear, intelligent and even-tempered. With Missandei translating the lesson went smoothly.

When it was over Daenerys walked over and offered her instructor water. "I see my choice to hire you was wise. Although I didn't expect you to start training anyone until after you were fully healed."

She looked down at the offending wound. "As long as the stitches stay closed, I'll be fine," she promised. In a dramatic motion she rolled her arm in a circle, testing her shoulder as well, showing off her ability. "A little slow moving up and left," she demonstrated, "but better than most."

"Be careful please," Daenerys whispered before she could hold back the words.

"You needn't worry your Grace, I'll be fine."

She was called away from their conversation by Grey Worm who wanted a sparring partner. Looking rather pleased by the offer she shrugged her shoulders and reached for her sword.

"Be careful please," Daenerys repeated, whispering into the empty space where the assassin had been standing.

R-C

They'd been at sea for six days before Daenerys could hold her tongue no longer and marched into A's quarters, finding her in bed, on top of the covers naked and alone, sprawled out on her stomach.

Groggily she rolled over when she heard the door, revealing a blushing Daenerys who was frozen between the door and the bed.

Forgetting that she was naked she moved off the bed and bowed her head. "How can I be of service, your Grace?"

Startled Daenerys turned her back, so she was facing the door, but not before getting a good look at the assassin's naked body. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were resting. I will return and we can speak later."

"I'm awake," the killer assured her. "Is something wrong?"

Daenerys looked down at her arm, the bandage had come off and a thin line was the only proof of what had happened. She traced the injury with her finger. "Can you explain to me how you know what you know about this?"

With a nod she began moving about the room, finding a pair of loose brown trousers and pulling them on, before searching out a shirt. She began answering before she'd even found the garment. "I'm not sure how or why, but I'm able to connect with animals. Its just something…"

Her usually confident words felt stunted and uncivilized as she sought to explain something she herself didn't understand. Mercifully Daenerys got to the heart of the matter much quicker than the assassin expected.

"Animals?" She thought, a determined look on her face as she thought back. "The bird!" she exclaimed after a pause. "That bird I saw it wasn't a dream. That…"

"Yes, that was me" she answered, stopping the Queen from finishing. "I meant you no harm your Grace, I swear, I was just concerned about your welfare, so I looked in on you."

There was another pause while Daenerys grappled with the new information. Her eyes flickered down to the scar. "What happened the night of the attack?"

"I was in the body of the bird," she explained, finally finding a shirt and slipping it over her head. "I was watching and could see the boats approaching. I made as much noise as I could and tried to show Grey Worm and the others the boats before they got too close."

Daenerys shivered as the memories flooded her. "The dog?"

Turning around she faced her Queen but avoided her eyes intentionally. "The dog was on one of the boats your Grace, with a man who was holding a ladder."

"What happened to him?"

With a predatory smirk the warg bared her teeth. "His dog bit him my Queen, a gruesome injury to be sure."

In her mind Daenerys did her best to reconcile her memories with the new point of view she was hearing now. "I wondered where the dog came from but when it attacked the assassins I decided I didn't really care."

After peppering the killer with questions Daenerys thought of one that terrified her to the core. "The dog, it died, I remember. Did that, hurt?" her voice broke on the last word and she moved closer to the statue-like woman.

"Only for a moment. I had only bonded to the dog once, so we were not very connected."

"So if you bond with an animal more often, the connection is deeper?" she clarified.

"Yes," she answered, picturing a direwolf, the only animal she ever felt truly connected to.

So lost in thought she was that the Queen had to repeat her next question to get an answer. "What do you bond with the most?"

Aware that she couldn't say too much without revealing who she was, who she used to be, she chose her words carefully. "I had a pet when I was a girl, Nymeria. She is the only animal I bonded with frequently."

"That's incredible," she gasped, finding yet another reason to be fascinated by the young woman. "In Braavos, they don't know do they?"

She shook her head and pushed her fingers through her long hair. "No one has ever known, until today."

Flattered to be rewarded with the truth Daenerys smiled and took the girl's hand squeezing softly as she wound their fingers together. "No one shall hear your secret from me, you have my word."

R-C

By the third week on the water A's injuries had healed and she was beginning to feel as though she was back to her natural state. As was becoming habit, after an afternoon of training with Grey Worm, Kovarro and the other soldiers, she joined the Queen and Missandei for a drink.

During their conversations they learned more about one another and the assassin was finding it hard to balance on the knife's edge. She had been Arya Stark, then No One, and now she was A. Daenerys never pushed or pried but her innocent, unthreatening way of asking questions cut through to the heart of the matter with ease. More than once she caught herself about to answer a question with the undisguised truth, something she hadn't uttered in years.

"Tyrion is staring again Khaleesi," Missandei pointed out as they sat together. All eyes shifted to where Tyrion was standing with Jorah, both men looking toward the women, and both sets of eyes on the newest arrival.

"Its not me he's staring at," Daenerys said with humor, making the Northern girl blush like a child.

"He still can not recall you," Missandei said, as all three women looked away from the dwarf and back to each other.

"That's probably for the best," she muttered, more to herself than to the ladies. Sensing this was a suitable time she decided to broach a delicate subject. "Your Grace can I ask you something?"

With a warm friendly smile Daenerys's flawless hand reached across the tabletop to touch the scarred one. "You may ask what you wish, as long as you remember to call me Daenerys."

So out of practice with all things noble she groaned at her own foolishness. "Of course Daenerys."

"Now what is your question?"

With the moment upon them she found it hard to find the right words. "Well, uh, I was just wondering if, how you knew you could trust Tyrion. He's a Lannister and they are still the true authority in Westeros, both in King's Landing and Casterly Rock. Were you not worried?"

Daenerys's expression softened and she turned thoughtful before she answered. Her bright eyes got a faraway quality to them briefly before the fog cleared and she spoke in a voice that was unwavering in its certainty but also tinged with sadness. "My father was 'The Mad King', she said simply as if that would explain everything. "My brother was a cruel man who was no dragon at all. I as surely as anyone understand that we can not choose our family."

Unsure of how to respond no one spoke, but Daenerys wasn't finished. "I was certainly concerned at first, questioning Tyrion's loyalty but he knows more about Westeros than I could ever dream to learn and he's been honest, helpful and honorable since he arrived here. If I don't wish to be judged for my brother's actions and the evil deeds of my father, I can not rightly hold Tyrion accountable for the actions of his father, his brother or his sister."

The Northern girl nodded in both understanding and agreement. She was still eager to hear the truth about Tyrion's involvement in the deaths of her loved ones, but she suspected he was not an active participant. It was why she hadn't found it difficult to be around him now, because she didn't hold him as responsible as the rest of his bloodline for her suffering.

It gave her a measure of hope, hearing Daenerys speak on the subject. Maybe there was a way, she could reveal who she was, and become Arya Stark again. If Daenerys could allow a Lannister in her service, then surely there was room for a Stark too right?

The decision was taken from her when Ser Jorah arrived to steal Daenerys away for an important conversation that simply couldn't wait. As soon as the Queen was gone she excused herself and fled like a coward to her quarters.

Behind the closed door she wondered if she'd just been spared or tortured. Had Jorah's interruption been a saving grace meant to postpone the Queen learning the truth or was it cruel to push the conversation along until later?

R-C

Training with Kovarro was the most fun she'd had in a while. He was clever, naturally violent and had an edge that made him a terrific partner. The two spent hours together, dancing on the ship's deck, in the heat of the sun and long after the sky was dark.

After a particularly rough session where Kovarro had sliced her shirt several times and left more skin exposed than fabric she headed back to her quarters with a slight hitch in her step and blood running from a cut at the bridge of her nose.

Waiting in her room the Dragon Queen already had bandages prepared. "Your… Daenerys."

She smiled and looked younger. "Yes I am, now come sit so I can tend to your wounds."

The killer didn't move. "That won't be necessary…"

In a flash Daenerys's voice was full of authority and undisclosed power. "You would defy your Queen?"

"Of course not."

She patted the bed with a small hand. "Then come sit so I can tend to your wounds."

Removing her shirt on the way to the bed, she took a seat beside the small queen and waited. The touch as she cleaned away the blood was lighter than a breeze, leaving goosebumps behind on her skin.

As she worked Daenerys's eyes roamed the collection of war markers that dotted her skin like a roadmap. Taking note of a particularly angry looking, purple scar near her hip Daenerys cleaned the area needlessly before she skimmed her finger over the raised, uneven flesh. "What happened here?"

The heat from the Dragon's hand as it moved about her body had her on fire. She was strong enough to swallow down the moan that had been on the tip of her tongue when Daenerys touched her, but she couldn't control her eyes which seemed to close of their own accord with Daenerys so close.

Her question brought the assassin's eyes open and she looked down at the mark in question, going back in time to remember how she earned it. A vicious smile graced her hardened features. "That one was from Ilyn Payne, your Grace."

A throat cleared from the doorway and both women looked to see Tyrion standing there, with a smug smile. Ignoring the killer's state of undress, he stepped inside. "I'm sorry to interrupt but Missandei thought I might find you in here."

Daenerys wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with their situation. She was fearless, just like she'd been in the alley. "It's fine Tyrion, I'm just ensuring our friend didn't get hurt too badly training."

With a knowing grin Tyrion took another step toward the bed. "Yes, well that is very important."

"Is there something you needed Lord Tyrion?" Daenerys asked formally.

"Oh nothing that can't wait your Grace," he answered. "I think I'd much rather the killer finish her tale." He nodded to the scar in question, that Daenerys was still tracing in a soothing motion. "Ilyn Payne gave you that?"

Sitting up fully Arya moved out of the Queen's reach before she went in search of a shirt that would cover her. "A long time ago," she said as she opened a drawer, answering his question while successfully avoiding two sets of intense eyes.

"He was a vile bastard," Tyrion said plainly. "Is he still doing my sister's bidding?"

She tugged the shirt down over her stomach and adjusted it before she turned. Her eyes were hard and the rage in her barely concealed. "He isn't doing anything anymore."

"Really?" he prodded. "Well isn't that interesting. What did the cruel Ser Payne do to you?"

Arya took a deep breath and her hands shook at her sides so violently she stuffed them into her pockets. This was it, the moment of truth. She'd either have to tell them or not, but this was the crossroads. She could lie and remain as A, the unknown Faceless Man or she could tell Tyrion the truth, introduce herself to the Queen and hope for mercy as she became Arya Stark of Winterfell once again.

Tyrion was looking at her like a puzzle he couldn't solve, eager for the answer, but Daenerys's expression was different. Her eyes were wide and bright, and she shifted to the edge of the bed, as if sitting closer would allow her to hear the answer sooner. It was then she realized just how curious Daenerys was on the subject. Still, she'd never once pressured her for information and for that she was grateful. Perhaps it was time to repay the Queen's kindness, with the truth.

"I killed Ilyn Payne because he murdered my father." There was an audible gasp from behind her but Arya's eyes were on the dwarf alone, watching for the moment he understood. Lifting up her shirt she showed a small mark just above her belly button. "This one, I almost got skewered getting close to Meryn Trant, he killed my friend and my dancing instructor."

"Trant?" Tyrion repeated. "Payne…" his words were whispers in the tense air.

Having come so far it was too late to back out, letting her shirt fall back into place. "Walder Frey took a little more effort," she explained. Moving closer to the stunned Lannister she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt. "It was a lot of work, but sometimes its worth it, like while seeking revenge on the man who murdered my brother and mother while I was outside waiting to see them."

And there it was. Knowledge. With an awestruck expression Tyrion wrenched away from Arya's hold. "It can't be," he gasped. "Impossible."

In the background Daenerys demanded answers, but they were both too lost in their memories. "What's the matter dwarf?" Arya asked, her words as sharp as her blades. "You don't recognize family?"

"Family?!" Daenerys roared, no longer content to be ignored.

Tyrion tried to clear up the confusion. "Your Grace…"

With a nudge that almost sent Tyrion falling out the door she turned and faced Daenerys again. Looking at the furious dragon she fell to her knee. "My Queen, as I'm sure Tyrion will confirm, before I was one of the Faceless Men from Braavos, my name was Arya Stark of Winterfell. I offer my service and my sword to help you reclaim your throne."

R-C

Two hours after she revealed herself the three of them were still together in her quarters, discussing how such a thing was even possible,

"I thought Arya Stark was killed the day her father died," Daenerys said, repeating the lie she'd been told.

"Trant was sent after her, but she fled," Tyrion remembered. "The city was locked down, she was a girl, alone with no money and no help, it was believed she died before she could escape."

Daenerys's expression shifted from one of sadness to one of anger when she locked onto Tyrion. "And you!" she shouted at him. "How can you fail to recognize your own sister in law?" When no answer was forthcoming she prodded further. "You were married to Sansa Stark were you not?"

The horrified dwarf muttered his agreement, looking to Arya for help. When he didn't find any he ventured out alone. "An honest mistake your Grace. It was many years ago and Arya was just a girl when her father died." After a moment of silence, he thought of another point to bolster his case. "Besides Arya here looks of her father while Sansa was her mother through and through."

The three of them sat together at the tiny circular table in Arya's chambers and she told them the story that she'd hidden so long. It was difficult and painful to recall the events of her youth, but she felt she owed Daenerys at least that much, so she told her everything, of Syrio, Yoren, Jaqen, the Hound, the Twins, all the way to Braavos.

Her audience hung on her every word and she avoided Tyrion's eyes as much as possible. "This Hound, he's alive?" Daenerys asked, clearly thinking about her army facing him on the battle field.

Arya shook her head. "I doubt he survived," she said with a hint of regret, "but even if he did, you won't find him in King's Landing." Looking at Daenerys the killer winked. "To be honest I'm a bit surprised he didn't get here before I did, he was always talking about crossing the sea to find work."

When she spoke of the wedding and how she'd been there and seen her brother's body paraded through to cheers, Daenerys covered her mouth and shook her head in despair.

"Tell me you didn't know!" Arya commanded lunging for Tyrion as they discussed it, unable to settle her anger.

"I didn't," he answered truthfully, "not until after."

She didn't know whether to believe him or not, but in the end it didn't matter. Daenerys trusted him and that had to count for something. Just as Daenerys was choosing to give her a chance, she owed the same to Tyrion. If he wanted to prove he wasn't like his family, she would give him the opportunity to do so. She released him.

While she waited she thought of Sansa, her sister. She didn't think of their strained relationship or their many arguments but instead how scared she likely was, first having to contend with Joffery and then Tyrion. Sansa was smart and beautiful and strong but Arya worried she didn't have the skills to contend with the Lannisters on her own.

The tension in Tyrion melted away visibly and she waited until he settled before she spoke. "I won't hold you responsible for the actions of others, but I swear to the Many Faced God if you harmed Sansa in anyway I will personally send you back to Cersei in small pieces."

She heard an audible gasp but she wasn't sure if it came from Daenerys or the Lannister himself. "I never touched Sansa, in any way, ever!" he emphasized the last word to make sure his point was made.

The sincerity in his words was obvious. Even a Lannister wasn't that good a liar. She accepted his account with a simple, silent nod. "You killed your father?"

"Yes."

"Shame, I dreamt of killing him plenty."

Tyrion smoothed out the wrinkle in his shirt and reached for a jug of wine. "No more than I, Lady Stark. No more than I."

R-C

After confessing her identity, it took several days for Arya to get comfortable hearing her own name. After so long being anyone but Arya and then No One, it was a difficult adjustment.

Only Tyrion and Daenerys knew the truth, the others were told she'd chosen the name Arya for herself, but nothing beyond that. In addition, she'd began to learn both Dothraki and Valyrian so she could converse with Kovarro, Grey Worm, Missandei and Daenerys more completely.

Not long after she revealed her identity, Tyrion and Daenerys came from a meeting to find the ship's deck full of drunken sailors. On the short walk she was able to ascertain they were engaged in some sort of primitive drinking game. With raucous laughter and loudly stomped feet the Dothraki cheered. Both Daenerys and Tyrion looked and were equally surprised to find Arya standing on the table top with an empty mug in each hand, while a serving girl held up a third to her lips. Wild cheers erupted from the crowd and Arya threw her hands up in victory as she finished the last of the liquid.

With a belch that would have seemed large coming from a man twice her size she jumped down from the table, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs before she found her seat.

Tyrion looked at his Queen and couldn't hold his laugh. "Seems the Stark still remembers how to make friends."

"The Dothraki value strength, they honor power, and they save their greatest rewards for the best warriors. Arya is the embodiment of these principles," she admitted with a fond smile. "I suspect they'll get along well."

Tyrion's eyes followed the Queen's back to the table where Arya was now standing, cheering loudly as a Dothraki attempted to drink even more than she had. Taking note of her indulgent smile, and the way her eyes never left Arya, Tyrion made a bold prediction. "Yes, I suspect everyone is going to get along splendidly."

One night after dinner, roughly half the way to Westeros Daenerys called for the Stark to join her in her quarters. When she arrived Arya found her sitting in leather similar to Kovarro's, looking down at something in her hand.

She knocked and Daenerys turned and smiled when she saw her guest. "Arya, come in," she said warmly.

Inside the room Arya could see that Daenerys was playing with the iron coin she'd given before she left Meereen for Braavos. "Is something the matter, your Grace?" she asked, still unable to get in the habit of calling the Queen by name.

"I think I'd like to trade in this coin," she said tossing it into the air and catching it, looking satisfied when she accomplished her task on the first attempt.

Arya stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders. "I am at your service Daenerys. Tell me who needs the Gift and I will see it done."

The beautiful queen shook her head and Arya noticed for the first time that her long hair was braided and secured, tied back as if she wanted to keep it out of the way. "That isn't the service I need," she explained, sounding shy.

"What do you need?"

She looked away from Arya's face, looking instead at a spot on the wall over her shoulder. "I'd like lessons," she finally admitted. "The fight with the pirates showed me how little my knowledge translates to action." She took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I do not want to be one of those queens who simply hides behind her army. My ancestors went to war on the backs of dragons, I will not cower. I am Daenerys the Stormborn."

Arya nodded, both understanding and appreciating Daenerys's point of view. "When would you like to start?"

With a gasp Daenerys reached out and took Arya's hand. "You'll do it?"

She was surprised by the question. "Of course. Every queen should be able to wield a blade, if need be. We still have a few weeks before we make land in Westeros. I can have you ready by the time we get there."

In a flash Daenerys leapt into Arya's arms, hugging her tightly and speaking into her chest. "Thank you, thank you so much. My brother never let me learn the sword, insisting I didn't need to know. Afterward it was too late. I asked Darrio to aid me once and he laughed. Jorah said his job was to ensure I didn't need to draw a blade."

"They are all fools," she countered. "Everybody, man, woman or child should be able to stay alive. Even more so for a queen."

"Thank you Arya."

The assassin nodded. "First we must find you a proper weapon. The night the ship was attacked the sword you were using was too big, and too heavy, you couldn't control it."

Daenerys stood there, looking every bit the Khaleesi, in her riding clothes. "What would you recommend?"

From under her sleeve Arya produced a small straight, double-sided dagger. "In close, a weapon like this would be perfect," she predicted. As she handed it over she issued a warning. "Be careful, it's sharp."

Daenerys held the weapon tightly and moved it around in her hands. "It is really light," she commented.

"It doesn't need to be heavy to be dangerous. I killed Trant with that dagger. I stuck it through his eye." With a hard look at her pupil, she added, "You're short, so if you need to use it, you should aim for the neck or the ear." She took the dagger from the woman and showed her a proper thrusting motion. "Keep it hidden, wait for them to get close and then strike. Bury this in someone's neck and no matter how big they are, they'll fall."

Arya handed the knife back and smiled as she watched the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms practicing her form on an imaginary target.

Daenerys listened to every tip as if it were the meaning of life. "And if it comes to battle, like the night on the ship?"

Her eyes hardened and her voice grew even more serious than usual. "If there is trouble, I'll be there, so you needn't worry."

"I'm not worried," she resisted.

Arya smiled. "Of course not. In that case we'll get you a short-sword of some kind, something light and easy to maneuver. With a little practice, you'll be just like Nymeria and your ancestors before you know it."

Daenerys's eyes widened. "Nymeria? Isn't she your pet?"

She laughed, an honest to Gods laugh that shook her body and brought tears to blur her vision. "No your
Grace," she said as she fought to wrangle the laughter. "Nymeria was named after the famous Warrior Queen from Essos. Like her, or your ancestors the women were both royalty and warriors and you can be too."

"We can be," Daenerys corrected. "You're likely the rightful heir to Winterfell and one of the greatest fighters I've ever seen."

Looking down at her hands, the hands that had killed so many she spoke in a low, eerily calm voice. "I never wanted that. I didn't want to be a Lady, gossiping at court, sewing and cooking for some fat husband. I wanted to be a soldier, like my brothers, like my father."

Putting the dagger on her belt Daenerys took both of Arya's hands and held them in the space between their bodies. "I'm sure your father and brothers would be proud of you. You saved my life Arya, you're a hero."

She pulled her hands away more violently than she intended. As she turned away she pretended not to notice the look of hurt in Daenerys's clear eyes. "If they knew what I'd done, what I am, they'd hate me. I bring shame onto our whole family." Before Daenerys could decide how to counter that statement Arya was moving further away, whispering as she went. "Remember in Meereen when I woke up and tried to hurt you?"

"That was an accident," Daenerys said too quickly, silently wishing they weren't reopening this old wound. She had no desire to discuss this again.

"Do you remember when I submitted to let you kill me?"

Daenerys swallowed hard. "Yes."

"While I was waiting for you to do it, there was a moment where I actually felt relief. Relief because it would finally be over and I could stop shaming my father's memory."

A hand on Arya's shoulder tried to turn her, but she refused to go, so Daenerys settled for reaching around her body and hugging her from behind. "I never considered it, you know. Killing you, I never even considered it for a second."

She turned around in the cage that was Daenerys's arms and their eyes met. "You should have."

Daenerys lifted up onto her toes, inching closer to Arya's face. "Maybe I'd miss you if you were gone."

With her calloused hands resting on the hips of her leather pants Arya pulled the Queen just a little bit closer, tilting her own head to account for Daenerys's height. "We could find you a pet," she offered, licking her lips. "Then you wouldn't miss me at all."

With their mouths so close, Daenerys's words vibrated across Arya's lips, with a rush of warm, sweet smelling air. "A pet, like you had?" she asked in a breathy whisper.

"Mmhmm."

"What animal was she?" Their lips finally came together and any answer Arya intended to give was muffled by the Queen. It was like silk against her mouth and Arya felt a shiver course through her body that had nothing to do with the cold. With one hand on Daenerys's hip the other slid up her back and into her hair. As the kiss continued it was Daenerys's tongue that traced across the closed seam of Arya's mouth first, working for entry.

When her mouth opened Daenerys's soft tongue was quick to slither inside, rolling around and challenging her own tongue to a duel.

A strong hand pulled Daenerys closer to Arya's body, pressing them together in harmony as their mouths wrestled for dominance. Arya had never had a kiss like this, it was making it hard to think. Suddenly she was overrun with feelings, the feeling of Daenerys's mouth, her tongue, the softness of their bodies pressed together. Even the hand lazily roaming in her shaggy dark hair invoked feelings she wasn't prepared for.

When air became a necessity and the two women separated Arya blushed. "I'm sorr…"

"Don't you dare apologize," she snapped, dropping another shorter kiss on Arya's lips to still her.

At a loss she deferred to her Queen. "Ok, no apologies. What should I do then?"

Daenerys licked her lips, tasting the flavor Arya left behind. "Well you can start by telling me about Nymeria. What kind of animal was she?"

Feeling shy, Arya muttered the answer. When asked to repeat herself she managed to sound like she wasn't a complete invalid. "She was a direwolf your Grace."

With a smirk that looked rather proud Dany lifted up onto her toes for another kiss. "You know, if we're going to keep kissing you're really going to need to start calling me Daenerys."

Not wanting to pass up the opportunity she swallowed her nerves and kissed back. "As you wish, Daenerys."

Daenerys smiled and sat down, pulling Arya to the bed beside her. "So you had a pet wolf. That sounds dangerous."

Her response was a knowing chuckle and a roll of her stormy eyes. "Says the Mother of Dragons."