Chapter 15: Headlocks

Storm's End

Only when she was locked up, Arya started realizing the gravity and danger of the situation she was in. She was abducted and taken to a strange place where she knew no one. She tried the hardest to calm herself, but the truth was that this was not something she could get herself out of alone. She should never have left, but how could she have known? How could she have known that she was to be ambushed in the middle of the road? The panic was evident in the way her blood boiled beneath her skin and her eyes scanned her prison.

Any kind of escape.

She hurried to the other side of the room and opened the window, glancing out. All she saw was the night sky filled with clouds, not a single star to be seen. Her room was apparently so far above the ground that she couldn't dare try to flee through the window. She was a few feet above the ground, and even if she took a chance, there were enough men down there to thwart every one of her plans.

She remembered the man's face. His black hair, his blue eyes. She had fought him as hard as she could, but he was too strong for her to ward off. His stare and knife had hit her at the same time. She would still have stayed upright, but someone had hit her on the head. She was unconscious before she could turn her head around.

She only remembered the journey vaguely. The times she woke, the man pushed food inside of her mouth and made her swallow it by forcing her to drink. The drink was so strong she could barely keep her eyes open, and most of the way she was asleep.

Arya knew why they took her. She knew her Father, and there was no doubt he would do everything to make sure she was safe. She may not be a pro in battles, but she knew that with an army as vast as the North's the Targaryens would win in no time. She would wish for no harm to come to Jon; she would never wish for her Father to withdraw his army. But even if he did, wasn't the entire Westeros on Rhaegar's side? Wouldn't he win the war nevertheless?

Were they planning on keeping her locked up in this place? For how long? Her head was spinning.

I should never have left him.

His face had never left her vision since she had regained consciousness fully and realized which place she was in. Did Jon know she was here? She missed him; his eyes, his laugh that had seemed so rare before but was now as common as breathing when she was near.

Arya shook her head amused. She remembered all those stories Sansa used to tell about damsels in distress and knights who would cross seas and mountains to rescue them. It was ironic that somehow, she had found herself in a situation quite the same.

Now I am the damsel but I don't want to be rescued.

She truly didn't. Not if it meant danger for Jon. Arya was capable enough - she knew she was - to get out of this place by herself. She would keep fighting until she was away from this godforsaken place. They didn't know her.

I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.

They cannot put a direwolf in a cage. Everyone would pay. Robert Baratheon, the one called Gendry.

Everyone.

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"One day you have to show me Winterfell."

"No. I cannot do that."

"Why? You do not wish for me to see your home?"

His hands were drawing patterns on her stomach. Arya kept pushing his hands away as it tickled, but he was persistent. He turned her around swiftly. Arya laughed when she saw him pouting.

"You will surely catch a cold or worse, a fever. I cannot possibly risk your health."

Jon raised his eyebrow at her skeptically.

"Don't tease me, love. I will carry you to Winterfell right now over my shoulder."

"I will kick you!" Arya challenged.

"Your kicks cannot hurt me, you little thing." He kissed the tip of her nose, as Arya glared at him. She punched him in the stomach, and Jon was somewhere between laughing and wincing. Arya knew he intentionally let her punch him and shove him. She recognized the glint in his eyes everytime he looked at her. She knew she must have the same look in her eyes as well, like a love-struck fool. It was just that she didn't care anymore. She had tasted true happiness with Jon, and she knew she always would as long as he was with her.

When Arya woke up, her body was drenched in sweat and her heart was racing inside her chest. She pushed away the sheets she had curled around herself the previous night. For a while, she thought she was in her room in King's Landing, only minutes away from reaching Jon. The images from the dream were floating in her mind and she felt herself shiver when she realized how much she actually missed him.

Was she going to dream about him every night?

Arya guessed she probably would. But she had to make sure she escaped from this place before she ran out of memories to dream about.

King's Landing

Aegon was leaving.

Dragonstone had always been Aegon's seat. He visited it often, and he loved the place. Jon had been there quite a few times as well, but he preferred King's Landing more.

Despite everything though, this wasn't a time he was willing to part with Aegon; not when he had absolutely no idea what to do about anything.

His shock and distraught at the news was soon replaced by seething anger for his Father. Rhaegar had made the worst decision at the worst time. When Jon needed Aegon most, his Father was sending him away. He had apparently commanded Aegon to do it rather than ask for his opinion.

Jon entered his brother's room without knocking. Aegon was sitting in a chair, wine goblet in one hand while the other was clenched so hard his knuckles were white. His posture was tight like a taut bow.

"Tell me he has changed his mind."

Aegon gulped his wine down, and raised his brows at Jon. His shoulders slumped lightly, but it didn't diminish his anger. Jon was too familiar with his brother, and he knew what kinds of things made him sad and weary and what made him furious. This was definitely one of the latter.

"Our dear Father? Oh no. He's busy locking himself up in his fucking study and doing Gods know what. A wise person to advise him would prove to be useful, of course, but his only company at the moment is Connington, who just nods his head at everything he says. Must be the reason he became the Hand of the King in the first place." Aegon's voice kept rising until it sounded like he was shouting.

"You're drunk," Jon said calmly. Aegon enjoyed indulging in alcohol but rarely to the point of being fully drunk.

"And why shouldn't I be?" Aegon walked so he was closer to Jon, their bodies inches apart. Jon could smell the Dornish wine on his breath. "You know the real reason why he is sending me away, Jon? It's because he still wants you to marry her. The Priestess keeps telling him about her dreams, and all he does is listen to her like a bloody fool."

"I would never. He knows that."

"You must convince him of that alone now. I won't be here to stand beside you. Quite advantageous for him, don't you think? I was always the more stubborn one."

"Not this time," Jon spoke. "Not in this case."

Aegon put the goblet down, his fingers shaking. The lids of his eyes were heavy but he sounded far from sleepy.

"When are you leaving?" Jon asked.

"The day after tomorrow. Apparently war is coming and there is no fucking time to waste."

"Sansa wouldn't like you swearing like that."

"Sansa wouldn't like me leaving," Aegon said, his voice softening to almost a whisper. "I don't think she would mind me swearing miles away in Dragonstone."

Jon lowered his eyes to the floor. "I don't know what to do. I truly don't."

"It's not your fault, brother," Aegon assured him, shaking his head at him. "Fate is playing vile tricks on us."

Jon remained silent. Tricks wasn't the perfect word for what was happening to him. To all of them.

"I haven't even told Sansa, you know. Have you?" Jon shook his head. Aegon combed his fingers through his hair.

"You should sleep now. I'll see you tomorrow," Jon said. His heart felt heavier with each passing second, and he tried to think of any solution. But these days he seemed to do nothing but feel helpless.

He wanted to rescue Arya, he wanted to stop Aegon from leaving, he wanted to stop his Father from making bad decisions. Jon realized that two of the three people who ever understood him and truly made him happy were slipping out of his reach. Absence only makes the heart grow fonder, but he wasn't willing to risk being separated from them. He knew he was too selfish for that.

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His dark mop of hair fluttered wildly, the crown resting on the top of his head. He was nothing like the Kings that earlier sat on the Iron Throne. His hair black rather than silver and his eyes grey rather than lilac. A dragon who was different than every other one.

Jon used his fingers to push his crown in place as it shifted slightly to the left. His eyes were stern and almost unmoving, something akin to a violent fire raging deep in them.

A hand reached out to touch his arm as if to calm him. The person was standing to his right, her eyes staring straight ahead.

A crown rested upon her head as well, shining on top of the auburn hair that was as bright as sunshine.

Melisandre opened her eyes instantly. Her lips twisted and formed a smile, and relief flooded through her veins. The suspicions of the Queen were now of no importance to her.

I know what I see.

She held no doubt now who the next Queen would be. For a few brief moments, especially after she had met Arya Stark in person, Melisandre had somewhat started to question her visions. There was something about the girl that had made her uneasy and think twice about everything. The girl had a great role to play in the war to come.

Until that moment, Melisandre had only seen fragments. She had never specified to the King which girl Jon had to marry. The King had chosen Sansa Stark, and she had not objected. She had almost been convinced though, that it was the younger girl after she had seen her fight beside Jon, but she knew she had to be sure before she spoke to the King.

Now, however, she was convinced the King hadn't been wrong and there was no need for her to correct him. She recognized the auburn hair clearly.

A/N: Short chapter. But I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading and please review. :)

Music:

What If Love (Rhodes)