Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Days, weeks, months, years—who knew? Who knew how long it would take for a particular ashy grey ship bearing a direwolf figurehead to discover what’s on the edge of the world? All of it still remained a mystery to every single living being. But the youngest Stark girl possessed an obstinate eagerness to find out what truly lies beyond the vast Sunset Sea.

It had been a few months since the fall of the reestablished Targaryen dynasty with the new King-Beyond-the-Wall being the cause of its demise. Arya didn’t quite have a say in what his fate would be as she wasn’t inclined to make any significant decisions. All she knew was that Jon was still her brother. He was not a dragon, but a wolf. Despite having a valid claim to the Iron Throne, they all knew that he always belonged in no other place but the North. They also knew that he didn’t want anything more than to stay in the North. And so here they were, all four Stark children bidding each other their farewells.

Sansa got what she wanted. She became a lady, more importantly, she became the Queen in the North. Arya knew she’d do a great job. Hearing all the horrors her older sister had been through during their time of separation, Arya assumes that she has surely learned a lot. She saw how Sansa led the forces during the battle and admired her rationality even if their resources were scarce. Bran on the other hand, became King of the Six Kingdoms. It was a very unexpected conclusion for the realm, but then again Arya could care less about who ruled. Her younger brother wasn’t the same one she knew before they left for the capital but instead he was rather odd and always bore this mysterious smile that implied that he knew all the answers to everything. He wasn’t like the same sweet Bran who used to climb every tower in Winterfell. But she trusted him and she knew he was now a wise young man. Westeros might finally have a chance to thrive with him as their King.

The grey-eyed girl was now boarded on her ship, her own galley which she named Nymeria, after her once loyal friend. Ever since she was just a child, it was her dream to commandeer her very own fleet and sail through the many seas, discovering all these countless uncharted territories. And now, a girl has fulfilled her dream.

With the sound of leather soles hitting wood, the youngest Stark girl walked towards the edge of the deck overlooking the limitless sea. As far as grey eyes could see, their first stop wouldn’t be of view for more than a week. She rested her gloved hands on the ledge as the salty breeze blew on her pale, bare skin. The girl would take a deep breath in as she shut her eyes, the familiar scent of the sea bringing back memories to when she first rode a ship to the eastern continent of Essos. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she remembered the excitement that came with riding a ship towards a place she has never been before. All the hardships and lessons she encountered in Braavos were definitely worth it. If it hadn’t been for a certain man she met all those years ago, Arya wouldn’t be as skilled as she is now.

These memories were quickly shut off when she heard a group of men yell just below the deck she was on. From her standing position, she swiftly turned around and took a few steps forward. “To Arya Stark!” One man announced as he raised his hand that was holding what seemed like a mug of beer. Various voices uttered and exclaimed the same words in symphony as they nodded towards the direction where the young assassin stood. A one-sided smile spread across her face as she gave them a grateful nod before the group of Northerners downed whatever liquor it was they were having. She was truly fortunate to lead these men just like the way her late father did. It seemed as if she garnered the same amount of respect as the honorable Ned Stark once had. For them to eagerly join her in this expedition without a question was something she was thankful for.

“Eight more days until we reach the Lonely Light, my lady.” A tall, bearded man spoke beside Arya as he looked down at her with smiling eyes. It was Ser Rodner, a reliable knight sent by Sansa who swore to protect her sister and assist her in leading the ship. Arya didn’t really know the man, but she remembered growing up around him and his family, the Cassels. That was somewhat enough for her to be able to rely on him. The girl tried to shake off the queasy feeling she experienced as the knight called her a lady. She simply let it pass this time. “I’ve heard that’s the farthest castle that is still part of Westeros, is it?” She’d now turn around and face the sea once more, only meeting the man’s eyes for a few seconds before solely focusing on the deep shade of blue. “‘Tis, my lady. The Farwynds have been long overdue for a visit, but the Greyjoys don’t seem to give a damn about them.” Rodner shook his head as he let out a scratchy chuckle. “Must be why Queen Sansa asked for us to pay them a visit. None of the other houses received any word from them for quite some time.” Aside from the fact that he kept calling her a lady, the knight was a bit too talkative for Arya’s liking. He was getting on her nerves. Yet, she knew he was simply trying to gain her trust and respect. And for that, she cursed Sansa in the back of her mind for urging her to have a sitter accompany her along her journey. It was as if she hadn’t seen how capable the younger Stark was during the battle that took place not long ago. For that, Arya resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

All she did was purse her lips and nod, still keeping her eyes glued to the infinite horizon. She could care less about the Farwynds in all honesty, it’s not like they were important. But she was doing this for her sister, to whom she felt like she still owed a lot to for all the years she tormented her. Thus, the reason for their first destination. Apart from that, Arya also wanted to inquire about the many things they would encounter on their journey. She wanted to prove all the tales she heard from Old Nan about the sea dragons, krakens and leviathans lurking underneath them. The grey-eyed girl assumed the Farwynds would know, considering that they live in the middle of the ocean with the nearest sign of land being miles and miles away. She also heard about the few people who went on the same journey as her and never came back, but Arya was determined to be the first successful person to do so. Her ancestor, Brandon the Shipwright, Elissa Farman, who was said to have stolen three dragon eggs that came to be Daenerys’s dragons, and even Rhaenys Targaryen herself had considered it. Just the mere thought of riding on the back of Meraxes flying over the Sunset Sea made her grin in excitement.

The sensation of her face stretching brought her back into reality as she looked up at Ser Rodner with a weak smile. It seemed as if a few minutes had passed with not-so-comfortable silence in the air. “Well, Ser Rodner, I trust that this voyage will run smoothly upon our arrival?” She’d tilt her head up to face the man as she asked the question, subtly beginning to take a step away from the highest deck. The knight then bowed his head as a sign of agreement before following her suit as the two captains made their way down to where most of the crew were. Some were managing the sails, others were transporting boxes of their rations and the rest were carrying beers and rums and the finest Dornish Wine one could ever consume. What a great way to start their expedition. “Looks like our men are as prepared as they can ever be.” Arya knew he was trying to initiate some small talk and for that, she quietly sighed. “They should be. We don’t know how long it will take until we reach the edge of the map.” The assassin answered in an authoritative tone as she linked her hands behind her back and stood at a ready stance. Everyone on the ship knew not to mess with the Stark as it was very clear she could kill anyone that stood in her way. Hells, she defeated the Night King. Could there be any reason not to fear her?

From the corner of her eye, she saw a glimpse of worry on Rodner’s face after she spoke her stern reply. Perfect. It was the reaction she was hoping to get. Arya wanted him to know who truly was in charge even if he was sent to be in charge of her. A dumb proposition, really. “Correct, my la—” Before he could finish, Arya cut him off. “You don’t have to call me that, you know.” She started. “I am not a lady, I would prefer it if you drop the formalities and simply call me Arya.” Her body was half-tilted facing him while her hands were still clasped behind her back. A smug grin was on her face while she had her chin lifted up as if she were challenging the knight. Rodner on the other hand had his lips parted in surprise but simply nodded again. “Alright then, Arya.” He replied, a respectful smile now spread across his lips. The man then cleared his throat and looked down towards the men and women who were going about their day. “This trip will take us a lot of time, what do you intend to do to keep yourself busy?” Arya had a neutral expression on and it was hard to know what exactly it was she was thinking of. After a few seconds of silence, she replied, “Whatever it is captains must do; manage the ship, give orders to the men and plan our voyage. Now then, Ser, shall we head on to the officer’s quarters to discuss with the rest of them?”

Chapter Text

Anger.

Anger was all she felt while she was perched on top of the back of the only dragon she had left. This is what they deserved. To see the kingdom burn into ashes while the towering walls fell to the ground. To see their legacy end right before their eyes. To see that they have lost, and that they were hopeless.

“Dracarys.”

This is what they get for lying to her, for disrespecting her.

“Dracarys.”

This is what they get for killing one of her children and her closest friend right before her own eyes.

“Dracarys.”

This is what they get for refusing to bend the knee and for opposing her.

There was only one thing on her mind, and that was revenge. To get revenge for those she loved. To get revenge for herself. To get revenge for her family. These usurpers are like vermin: she needed to pluck them out in order for her to claim what is rightfully hers. Though under all that tough and angry exterior, there was this feeling deep in her gut that began to stir up. She didn’t feel like herself at all. This, all of this was not her. She didn’t come here to massacre the entire capital nor to kill innocents. She came here to take what was stolen from her and to rule with peace and prosperity. But why? Why was she destroying all of King’s Landing? She couldn’t just stop now. The damage has already been done. From the day her brother Viserys was burnt alive, she always kept telling herself that everything she does is right, that she never made any mistakes. And so the silver-haired woman pushed those regretful thoughts away and replaced them with all the evil things Cersei and the Lannisters have ever done.

Holding onto Drogon’s scales even tighter, she directed him towards the Red Keep and already felt the heat of the harsh flames welling up inside the dragon’s stomach. She didn’t even have to give the command anymore, he knew what was to be done already. The warmth on her face indicated that fire was already being blown out onto the towers, but there was no sign of Cersei. This enraged her furthermore. Behind her was a thick, dark cloud of ash that had now begun to fall down onto ground. Burning piles of debris and dead bodies could be seen as they’ve already somewhat formed into pyres of their own. She could barely see anything.

It seemed as if Drogon was giving his all in the destruction of the castle as he kept on releasing his flames without stopping. Everything else around them was basically broken, on fire, or covered in ash. Daenerys decided this would be the final blow in order to prevent wrecking the Iron Throne and its room. She was sure the Lions were already defeated anyway.

Was it really anger that she felt? Or was it pain, very severe and excruciating pain that made her do all of this? Were her reasons even valid? Or has she simply gone mad just like her father? It was, to say the least, expected of her. Every single person that knew of her family’s infamous tendencies to succumb into madness waited for the moment to happen to Daenerys even if she convinced them it would never happen to her. But as everyone predicted, it did. Now the greatest legacy built by her ancestors was now in flames. That didn’t matter now though—the battle was won. And Daenerys was focused on recouping the kingdom that belonged to her.

——

There was nowhere to go. Fire, death, ashes and chaos were in every corner. Families of all classes were scattered all over the narrow streets, running away, hiding, or simply left to die. All of the passageways were almost blocked—either with a swarming crowd or with flaming deadwood.

She pushed her way through a group of people, many of whom were agonizingly screaming their lungs out. The young assassin tried to ignore what she heard as she was firm to escape the place. Her plans on killing the Lannister Queen had to be aborted. Sandor himself told her to leave this instant, for she was taking a leap to her death if she continued on her scheme. It was right of her to listen to him, he was a vengeful man whose sole purpose was to kill his brother. And now, Arya knew he was a dead man.

As annoying as it was that she forever lost the chance to kill Cersei, the grey-eyed girl chose to live another day than to hunt her down. It wasn’t worth it in the end; as long as she was dead anyway. So when she saw an opening, she immediately rushed towards it. Arya knew King’s Landing very well. During her time in the capital several years ago, she became the Cat of the Canals and knew where every single concourse was and where they led to. She took it as her advantage and ignored all the other people who didn’t want to follow her lead. There wasn’t anything else she could do, she would just waste her time trying to convince them.

The entire time she ran through the streets towards the gates, a mother and daughter followed her despite the injuries they’ve sustained. Arya thought about all these innocent people who were suddenly terrorized for no valid reason at all. Her eyes traveled up to the sky just in time for the large black dragon to fly over them. Immediately, the people ducked and hid behind corners, expecting a gush of flames going wild on the exposed places. Fortunately for now, it had other plans. The Stark girl furrowed her eyebrows and squinted her eyes menacingly towards the woman who was riding the dragon, seeing the familiar silver hair she read about in books. The legends of how they rode their majestic dragons to conquer Westeros and how powerful and fierce her family once was—until their downfall. How has she come to admire someone who was now so tyrannical?

Arya ran and ran yet the mother and daughter weren’t able to catch up and instead left to die until fire overtook them. There was nothing she could do. Her heart was pounding up until her ears, her breathing was short, her vision was blurry, until there was an abrupt stop to the screeching and burning. It seemed as if the Targaryen decided to stop.

After everything had settled down in a way, the silver-haired woman landed Drogon by the edge of what remained to be the castle and leapt off to address her people. With a fire in her eyes and a power in her voice, she began speaking in her army’s native tongues, telling them the battle is won, that they will be rewarded for keeping their promises to her and that they will rule all of Westeros together.

Arya was able to catch up during the height of her speech. Hearing all the Dothraki’s screams and the Unsullied’s spears hitting the ground in unison, she knew that they were celebrating victory even without understanding any of the languages. But she was not impressed. This wasn’t a way to rule. Her brother should have listened to his siblings. But now here they were under another oppressive rule. She’d walk over to Jon after Daenerys’s speech, half-surprised that he was still alive especially after the catastrophe happened.

He, too, was very surprised to see her.

——

The Queen had a satisfied and triumphant smile on her face as she looked at the multitude of warriors that were her army. She’d then look over to her trusted advisors: Grey Worm nodded in agreement with her, but Tyrion and Jon looked appalled. That was enough to change her mood once more. But then her eyes traveled to one person who distinctly stood out from the crowd. Arya Stark. The savior of the world. The woman who ended the Long Night. It was hard to believe that a woman of her stature could kill the Night King, but then again she has proven herself valiantly. She intrigued Daenerys. Mysterious as those grey eyes could be, she knew there was a whole other story behind them. She wanted to know more about this Arya Stark, the fabled sister of Jon. She heard a lot of stories from him and was aware of how close they were. Aside from that, her mind traveled back to the night they first met. The night they first spoke to each other. It was just a brief moment, so it wasn’t enough for her to actually get to know the Stark. It was one of her more interesting memories though, but enough about that. She shouldn’t be distracted now. The Queen then also saw the same look on the girl’s face. Shocked, disappointed and even a slight bit of worry. No, she shouldn’t just doubt herself now. She finally won. Why should she concern herself with the opinions of others, right?

That was until her Hand ripped his pin off of his chest and threw it down the steps as it clanked on the concrete. He had just denounced her authority. That enraged her. Daenerys put her trust in him and even cared for him. And now he just decides to betray her. She then chose to blame it on his lineage. He was a Lannister after all, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The new Queen now ordered for him to be seized and that he will be dealt with later. For now, she wanted one thing. And that was to sit on the Iron Throne.

From the corner of her violet eyes, she saw the two Starks muttering something to each other. Jon had a sullen look on his face. But that didn’t matter now, did it? The Queen then left the crowd and ventured into the castle. She walked into the throne room in all its glory. Despite it being filled with ashes, it looked marvelous. This was what she deserved. This was her birthright. The throne her family built upon all the enemies they’ve defeated, just like what she had done on the same day. Daenerys admired the throne, taking in every detail of it. It wasn’t exactly what she imagined it to be. She expected it to be larger and taller. The woman would rest her soft hand on the arm of the throne. This was hers now. A smile graced her lips as she turned around to sit, until she saw a familiar figure from afar. Her smile grew even bigger. Daenerys approached Jon and he did the same. Though at first he was accusing her of being evil, going mad and killing poor children on the streets. She tried to justify her actions but she knew it wasn’t enough. In the back of her mind, she also knew it was wrong. But she was the Queen now. She shouldn’t admit her mistakes. Besides, it was already done. They then spoke about ruling the kingdoms together and breaking the wheel together. The two were hand in hand and deepened it into a hug. He confessed his love and loyalty to her despite his anger not long ago, and she then thanked him with a kiss, but in return, he thrusted a dagger into her heart. The Queen stopped as she felt the sudden gush of pain. Her violet eyes widened, looking straight at dark brown ones before traveling down to her chest. Blood began to find its way out of her mouth, then her nose. She could barely breathe. Everything around her began to blur, even the face of the man who had just betrayed and murdered her. She could never forgive this man. The moment that she finally took the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, her most loyal ally killed her. She should have expected this. The silver-haired woman was very enraged that she might bring this anger to the next life.

Thanks to Jon, her heart had stopped. She was dead. There was no sign of life in her. With eyes wide open and lips parted with blood, it was clear she wouldn’t breathe anymore. But Daenerys was still in there. Even in her lifeless body, she still chose to fight death. She just couldn’t move. The only thing she could do now was fight the urge to leave her body. She could not see or feel, but she could hear. It was unclear and muffled, but she knew there was something. Just above her, she heard the familiar screech of her only dragon left. Drogon. She wanted to reach out to him and tell him everything was okay. From his distraught scream, she could tell he was upset. If only she could give the command, to burn the men who betrayed her.

Daenerys’s ears were slowly giving up. Everything started to feel like nothing. She felt numb. But that was until she heard another screech, one that she heard the whole day today. He was breathing fire. The thought made her want to smile. Maybe he burned Jon. Maybe he burned what’s left of the Red Keep. Maybe he even burned her. But he didn’t. Instead, she suddenly began to feel again. It was like a lucid dream: she wasn’t actually feeling it, but she knew she was supposed to. Drogon carried her and flew away as fast and as high as he could. The last thing she remembered was the air and the ashes that kissed her face, but after that, there was nothing.

——

Chapter Text

It was dark outside. The stars were shining bright, yet the clouds stopped them from doing so. The moon was hiding behind a thin layer of fog. Under the sky, inside warm chambers, and atop a hard mattress, a woman was asleep. Yet she was tossing and turning, a cold sweat trickling down her temple. Her eyebrows were knitted together as her mouth battled itself, trying to fight groans, whimpers and words from coming out. Until she finally gave in and jolted up. Her eyes were as wide as they can ever be. She was panting as she sat up on her bed and looked around frantically as if she were trying to make sure she was in a safe place. She could barely see, though. The only source of light was coming from outside her window. It was somewhat enough to make up the outline of the room. Realizing where she was, she took a deep breath in and sighed. She rubbed her face with both hands and ran them across her disheveled hair. Another nightmare.

She then shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and dangled her legs. “Seven Hells.” The girl muttered under her breath then stood up and got dressed, shivering as the sea breeze blew inside through her window. She can’t just shut it right now. She needed the light. Groaning to herself, she searched the room for a candle and lit it up. The girl fumbled with the matchsticks and muttered another curse before finally lighting it up. She then walked over to the window and shut it almost forcefully. It was clear she was still shaken by the previous events in her dreams.

Once fully clothed, the girl fastened her scabbard around her waist and climbed up the ladder before pushing the trap door. She was greeted by a salty scent and the gusty wind. Arya climbed out and shut the door behind her, dusting off her gloved hands on her thighs. She walked to the edge of the deck where she normally stood. It was quiet, apart from the waves hitting the bottom of the ship. There was no one in sight aside from a handful of men who were in charge of watch. It was still too early for it to be the crack of dawn, but the sun would rise in a few more hours. Arya then looked as far as she could once again, hoping they’d reach land already. It had been days since they left for the trip. She was becoming restless, but if there was one thing she learned all those years, it was patience. Luckily for them, it hasn’t stormed lately. The whole ride was indeed peaceful and exciting, nothing too life threatening. Maybe the whole trip would be this way, she hoped. But nothing was ever too easy.

Arya would then stay on the same spot for more than an hour, watching the waves on the water and the fish that would swim up high. Her mind was clouded with thoughts as usual, the past experiences in her life still impacted her. All those people she killed, those ravaging wights she slaughtered and those innocents dying before her. But she wasn’t scared of them. They just so happened to come back and haunt her in ways that try to incite fear. She felt a darkness inside of her, she felt like she was evil even if her intentions were not. She felt like she could never deserve forgiveness. What would her family think of her? What would her mother and father say? This is not their daughter. A murderer, a sadist, a maniac. The last thing she wanted was to see the look on their faces.

And what if they discovered that she didn’t pray to any of the Old or New Gods and instead pray to one: the Many-Faced God? Ned and most especially Catelyn, were very devout people and it certainly would be a disappointment to them to find out about their daughter’s conversion. It wasn’t like there would be a huge difference anyway, they were still all-powerful deities. She has served the Many-Faced God in ways that no one could understand. It was her calling, her sole purpose in life. She simply had to offer him another life when needed. Arya hasn’t taken a life for too long and sometimes she needed to do so to make her at peace. Sometimes she’d like to think Death was one in the same with the Many-Faced God. They both wanted lives. She was supposed to do her God’s work, but for now, she was stuck on a ship for God knows how long.

“Land ho!” One of the sailors in charge yelled. This brought the Stark girl out of her thoughts as she lifted her gaze up to the said land. She’d squint her eyes as a grin slowly appeared on her face. Her excitement now masked the fear many layers over. From the distance, she saw the outline of a tall castle as the waters hit the rocks by the foot of the land. It wasn’t clear enough yet, but thanks to the sun that began to rise, the rays brought out the Lonely Light’s silhouette. There would still be some more time to go before they reach the castle, but Arya was as thrilled as she could ever be.

Men and women alike began filing out of their quarters as they leaned on railings to see the said land. They, too, had the same reaction as their captain. Some even yelled in joy. It had been too long on the galley that they needed a place to stop by first. Hopefully, there’d be enough taverns and brothels and more wine for the celebration. It might be unlikely though, the castle was in the middle of the sea.

A certain tall, bald man with a scruffy beard approached Arya once again. She immediately knew who it was and for that, she wanted to groan. “Don’t forget what your sister told ‘ya.” Ser Rodner started. “Be kind to the Farwynds and make allies with them.” He spoke as if he were quoting someone, and that someone was Sansa Stark. It sounded almost stupid coming from him, but that was just Arya. The younger sister bit the inside of her cheek and let out a long breath through her nose. “I don’t usually forget, Ser. But I also don’t usually become kind.” She spoke back, a bark almost can be heard in her voice. Arya was trying her best not to lose her notorious temper, but it was hard for a girl like her. Thank goodness Rodner wasn’t quick to be offended. The knight’s patience was almost admirable to her. Almost.

“For Queen Sansa, I know you would honor her wish.” Rodner said in a less enthusiastic tone. Yes, he could get on her nerves sometimes, but Arya also felt a sense of security when he was around. After all, it was her first time commandeering a ship. The man was like one of her new guardians who would probably be able to teach her a lesson or two. He almost reminded her of her own father: a calm and sensible man who had that same distinguished Northern accent. But he wasn’t her father. He might simply just be among Syrio Forel, Sandor Clegane and Jaqen H’ghar. The Stark girl almost didn’t notice that she was probably staring at the knight for too long that she cleared her throat and immediately looked away back towards the distant castle that seemed to begin to crystallize. Arya then marched going to where the helmsman stood and gave him a curt nod. Of course, Rodner followed suit. “Mind if you let me have a try?” The girl asked, lifting both hands to gesture towards the steering wheel that was currently being maneuvered by someone else. The man nodded and smiled, leaving his spot hurriedly as Arya took over. She gripped the wheel lightly and steered a few meters to the left, then back to the right. A grin was back on her face. She didn’t even answer the knight’s last comment about Sansa’s wish anymore, she just wanted to enjoy the moment for as long as she could.

The trip went on for another hour or so with the Stark behind the wheel for the remaining time. She was rough on docking the boat, but with a little help, it came smoothly to her. After all, she was a quick learner. The island was rather small but it was big enough to live on. They had crops and livestock and judging by the other smaller boats floating on the docks, it was still a place where trade was still being carried out. One thing that stood out the most though, was how quiet and eerie it was. Arya was aware of the stories about the peculiar noble family that lived here, so she prepared herself to expect worse.

Various chatter can be heard on her ship though, some were complaining about their seasickness and even hurled sometime before their arrival. Others were excited to be on land again and the rest stayed behind on the ship and will follow later. Her men brought down a ramp and positioned it on a flat surface of sand before letting Arya pass first. She then placed her hand on her waist then behind her back as she slowly walked down and examined the area. She had her trusty old dagger in hand just in case they were on the wrong island. Grey eyes scanned the place. It was still quiet. It was as if no one was on the island. But the dim orange lights in the castle windows say otherwise. Had it not been for her attentiveness, she wouldn’t have noticed the light for it was already the break of day. The sun’s rays highlighted the waters behind them as they gave extra color to the somewhat dull-looking trees. An orange colored cloth could be seen from afar. Right below it was a stone path that wore off. Upon further inspection, the cloth was the Farwynd banner. It also looked stained and rugged, but it seemed like it was hung up only recently.

From afar were a few smaller islands that had rookeries. Rumors said there were sea lions and seals, two types of animals that Arya has never seen before, but now she has. Their plump and rounded figures can be seen swimming, walking and growling. She was amused by this and chuckled lightly.

A group of the Stark men and bannermen filed up right behind Arya, both there to protect her and to make their presence known. A few of them had their swords ready just in case. The grey-eyed girl signaled them to follow her in complete silence as she began to walk the path casually. It kept going and going as they neared the castle which now towered above them. Several animal noises were scattered around the lush area, but still not a sign of a human. The path of rocks was suddenly buried by sand towards the end, and Arya had no other choice but to continue walking until it led them to a large wooden door. It looked sturdy, but it also looked like it could come off after two more swings. Arya then stopped right in front of it and lifted a hand, gesturing that they should yield their swords. Her men followed, of course. Just as she was about to open the door, Rodner stopped her and shook his head with furrowed brows. She, in return, also furrowed her brows in confusion and annoyance. The knight simply reached out to knock, but the door already swung open backwards.

They were greeted by a boy who looked like he was supposed to be a guard, yet he looked very frail and scared. His knees were locked together as he slouched, an obviously worried look was on his face. His hair was a dirty blonde and disheveled that they almost turned white because of his unnecessary fear. “G-greetings! Arya Stark of Winterfall! I am—“ Rolling her eyes at his mispronunciation, she immediately interrupted him. “Enough with the greetings, boy. Where can I find Lord Gylbert Farwynd?”

The young man looked even more scared and worried if that were humanly possible. He fidgeted the entire time, stuttering as he tried to do what was ordered of him until another man walked over to them and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He looked just about Rodner’s age, only a bit older.

“Looking for me?” The man spoke, a smile could be heard from his voice. Arya stared at the man for a good five seconds before returning the smile and reaching her hand out. He gladly took it. “Lord Farwynd.” The girl said as she shook their hands. “You are Arya Stark, yes?” Gylbert asked. She then let go of his hand. “I am. The Queen in the North sent me to see how you and your family are doing.” She informed him as she sheathed her dagger back. Nobody noticed, though. He didn’t seem dangerous, but Arya was still as cautious as ever. “How very kind of her. You know, let us discuss it inside. I am certain you are tired from sailing all this way.” Farwynd spoke, an odd accent evident in his rather slimy voice. It didn’t sound like an Iron Born’s, but it was similar to it. “We’ve received word of a ship with a direwolf head coming to our island to discuss some concerns. I’ll admit, it excited me.” He chuckled lightly to himself.

Gylbert led the group into the castle and what seemed like a council area. Arya looked around and took in the place: it looked just like any other castle in Westeros, only darker, wetter and saltier even. It wasn’t too bad. There were a few servants inside, most of whom looked as old as the First Men. Not too many people, and that was understandable. She observed the place, checking for any exits and blind spots. Farwynd spoke to her men, telling them where to go for them to eat, drink and rest. Some of them were hesitant to leave, but in the end they all went as they were tired and hungry. Rodner was left, though. He swore an oath.

In the middle of the hallway, there was a table with six seats. Gylbert nodded towards it and implied that they would sit there and discuss. Arya walked over to the table and stood. She didn’t bother to sit down. The Lord, however, took a seat. “Please, sit down.” He offered, but the woman shook her head. “My sister tells me you have not been responding to any of the ravens being sent here.” The Wolf girl spoke as direct as ever. “That is unless they got lost on their way, which is unlikely.” The same suspicious smile remained on Farwynd’s face, it looked almost similar to Bran’s. One that seemed like it had a hidden agenda behind it. She shook the creepy feeling off but her face remained a serious mask. Arya was a master at it. Gylbert took some time before he replied. “We appreciate your concerns, but for many, many years, House Farwynd remains strong with little to no help from any greater houses. We are a private family.” He explained and linked his hands together before resting them on the table. Still, he smiled.

Arya raised a brow towards Rodner, trying to communicate to him with no words. He quickly picked up and frowned. He didn’t trust him. “You have lived without any needs from the mainland? Not even extra produce?” The knight chimed in as he now looked down at the peculiar man. He nodded towards Rodner. “Yes. We have very rich lands here and the Greyjoys do not forget about our existence now that Yara is our Queen.” Gylbert answered. The Stark was getting tired now too, everything seemed to go well anyway. “Alright then. Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Farwynd. We will send word to Queen Sansa in the North regarding our discussion. If you don’t mind, we would like to know where we could stay for a night or two—and if we could use one of your ravens.”

“Of course you may, Lady Stark. You are our guest. Now come, let us head to the feast which was prepared for all of us. We don’t want to leave the food to spoil.” Gylbert smiled again, as usual, and led the two Northerners to another room which was a grand hall. She saw the familiar armor of her men and the white and green colors of her family’s banner. They all seemed to be doing fine and eating a lot. It was a force of habit for her to check first. Her memory of a certain great feast wasn’t exactly what she wanted to happen now. But it was a pleasant memory for her. She defeated the treasonous enemies of her brother Robb.

It wasn’t just the Northmen who were eating, the hall was also filled with Iron Born. They all seemed to get along especially now that the two Queens were allies. There was music playing in the back with women sitting on people’s laps, seducing them either for the money, for the pleasure or even for both. It was just like they were in Westeros all over again and Arya was happy to see new faces other than her crew. Lord Farwynd kept walking to the front of the hall and onto a large table where three other men sat. Gylbert took his seat and ordered a servant to bring them more food. Arya followed after she did her usual sweep of the place.

She looked at the three other men, scrutinizing each of them slowly. “These are my sons. They are all of age to marry and I am sure you are, too.” Farwynd chuckled. As if the offer could get anymore obvious. “Beautiful, this one. Curious to see if she could pick the one with the largest cock.” One of the brothers spoke as all the Farwynds laughed together. Arya wasn’t amused, but she masked it perfectly with a sly smile. “It must be you then. You certainly do have the balls to say that.” She hopped along with their joke as they laughed even more. She smiled even wider, but she was getting even more unamused by the second. “So who’s it gonna be? Him?” Another asked as he pointed to the first brother that spoke. “Pick me instead. I like a woman who knows how to joke. There are barely any of them here.” The last brother added. They all had a disgusting look on their faces as they stared at Arya up and down while their father did nothing. She still kept her smile, though. “Why not all of you?”

Ser Rodner was getting very uncomfortable as the conversation went on, but he said nothing because of the way the young woman handled it. He was proud and shocked. He didn’t want to ruin anything if the girl were truly being serious. So he just sat there and drank.

“All of us, eh? Where’d you pick this woman up, huh, Father?”

“Yeah, we don’t get to have our good share of girls anymore, not after that massacre in King’s Landing.”

“They had the best whores there. Shame they’re all dead now.”

“My sons, I did not pick this woman up. This woman is Arya Stark of the North. She has come here for our aid. But I told her we will manage just fine.” Gylbert spoke calmly unlike his swine-like sons. Arya’s smile fell a bit, but she did keep it there and made sure it wouldn’t leave her face anytime soon. It’s okay. She had a plan.

The three men dropped their mouths, raised their brows and widened their eyes in shock upon realizing that they had utterly disrespected a noblewoman. A woman of the great House Stark. They all spoke their apologies in symphony that Arya didn’t understand nor care what any of them said.

Instead, she took the pitcher they’ve all been pouring liquor from and gave herself a splash. She drank it slowly, swishing the liquid in her mouth to appreciate its taste. Of course it tasted like piss. Everything back on the ship tasted way better. Arya hid her disgust, though, even if she’d rather drink saltwater than what they served in here. “You sure have wonderful sons, my Lord. Charming ones.”

Silence fell upon their table as she spoke; it was clear that the three men didn’t know how to respond to that. They didn’t know if she was being serious or not, but because of how egotistical they were, they chose to take it as a compliment. Before they were going to speak, the girl overtook them. “So, are there any stories here about what’s beyond the Sunset Sea? Have any of you gone west? Any creatures to watch out for?” Arya asked casually as she raised a brow towards them. After her question, she downed her drink and swallowed it without a second thought. It was disgusting. To remove its taste, she poked her fork at whatever it is they served and took a bite. Not so bad.

Lord Farwynd shifted in his seat and it was apparent that he was the one who was going to speak. His sons were useless, all they did was drink and whore around. Two of them already had their eyes on an auburn-haired woman roaming the room. “Oh, there are many stories about the great sea that surrounds us. I am sure you have heard your own versions back on the mainland. But I would say that ours are the most correct ones.” Gylbert began as he faced Arya as if she were the only one there. “Many before you have gone on the same journey yet ended up nowhere to be found without a single word. To other people, it may seem like such a tragedy. Losing someone that would never come back just like that. But to me, it is a blessing. For many years, my father and his father before him have spoken about tales beyond the Sunset Sea where every man becomes a King and his wife a Queen. There will be rich and bountiful lands with an abundance of resources. A paradise, one can call it. Where there is eternal happiness that once it is visited, it is impossible to leave.” It was quiet once again after the Lord Farwynd spoke and there were different reactions from each person on the table. The sons continued eating since they’ve heard the same story countless times already, Rodner had a scorn on his bearded face, and the wolf girl had a neutral expression, but if one were to look closer into those grey eyes, there was a spark of interest. “When I was about your age, I used to think it was all rubbish.” He chuckled. “But then I started seeing these dreams, these visions in my sleep. A beautiful, bright land. It was like it was telling me that paradise truly awaits beyond the sea.” He paused once again as a reminiscent smile appeared on his face. The two Northerners thought that he’s gone mad.

“If it’s great as you say it is, why haven’t you gone?” Arya was skeptical, though. Never in a million years would she believe what the peculiar old man said about all the tales beyond the sea. Someone should have at least returned to tell the good news about the said place. Gylbert sighed quietly and looked the girl straight in the eyes. “I am afraid that I only remain in one place, and that is here in the Lonely Light. I have to stay as Lord of the Castle for my sons are not yet prepared. Not only that, I am already old and frail. I am too weak to not be able to travel for that long. But my sons are strong and if you would like, they can accompany you.” The thought immediately made Arya cringe, but instead of showing it, she pursed her lips. She’d inhale deeply before speaking. “And what of the creatures that are lurking in the waters? Are they true?” She ignored the smirks coming from the three swines who were apparently amused by her dodging the offer. “I am sure you are familiar with the Greyjoy sigil, the Kraken. Though I have not seen one myself, surely there are a few of them in the waters.”

Arya decided she received enough information even if most of them sounded unreliable. It just further proves that no one truly knows what’s out there unless they go there themselves. She really had no other choice but to discover things on her own. She also couldn’t really trust this man with his stories, but it was worth a shot. The Stark girl then nodded and bowed her head to eat the remaining portions on her plate. Everyone went quiet for the rest of the time as they continued their business, though the knight and the Lord began their own conversation. Meanwhile in Arya’s mind, she thought about all the wonderful things she could do to the Farwynd sons. They were assholes. They even treated her like a whore. As much as she wanted to kill them, she chose not to. It was too small of a reason to take three lives. So she instead chose to take one. Yes, she decided to just take the eldest brother’s life. The one next in line to the Lordship. The one with the cheekiest and ugliest grin. Arya observed that he was always the one who started throwing uncouth remarks which resulted in his two younger brothers following right after him. She had already devised a plan in her head. Oh, how excited she was. It’s been too long.

The two younger brothers were now off with whores and drinking while the eldest remained. It was like the Many-Faced God was paving a way for the girl; He left him open and undistracted. Since the Farwynds were seated opposite Arya and Rodner, she scooted to the left, farther from the knight who accompanied her. The two old men seemed very into their own conversation about the traditional Kingsmoot.

She now turned her attention to the eldest son and gave him a smirk. “I haven’t gotten your name,” She feigned coyness and saw that the effect worked when the man grinned narcissistically. “It’s Gyles.” He responded and shifted in his seat to reach his hand out. Perfect. The first name in her new list. Gyles Farwynd. “That’s a handsome name.” She took his hand and shook it. Gyles was about to let go but she still grabbed onto it, caressing his hand sensually. Arya then smiled towards the man in a seductive manner. She looked at him for a few seconds until a figure moved behind him. It was far, but because of the almost white hair, it still caught Arya’s eyes. The figure looked like a woman of small stature, somewhere around Arya’s height. Her hair was long as it reached her waist, the platinum blonde wavy curls moving side to side as the young woman walked to serve the men. She reminded her of a certain Targaryen Queen, but it was impossible. She was already dead. By the time she was about to turn their way, Gyles took her hand and pressed his chapped lips on it. Arya’s attention now averted back towards the man. She chuckled in a girly voice. “You’re such a dear.” The Stark spoke in a saccharine tone before standing up, still holding onto his hand. He followed immediately and led them both away from the table. Arya ignored Rodner’s questions, but he stopped when he saw how comfortable she was with Gyles. He certainly didn’t want to get in the way of the two. She walked up beside the man and tiptoed to whisper in his ear. “Let’s head somewhere quiet.” Gyles grinned from ear to ear and nodded before leading them to an exit. On the way, she caught a glimpse of the same white-haired figure. This time, she saw her face. It definitely wasn’t Daenerys. She didn’t carry the same grace the former Queen had. For some reason, it scared her to think about the Targaryen returning to finish what she started considering the violent way she conquered King’s Landing. These thoughts were cut off once they reached a dark hallway with no people.

This was where Gyles was all over here. He pinned the woman on the miry walls and kissed her roughly before he began to unbutton her tunic. Arya had to act and go along with it, so she kissed him back no matter how much it sickened her. She pulled away before smiling at him. “Why not go to your room?” He nodded and ate her face once again before leading them to another corridor higher up in the tower. Gyles pushed a door open and then locked it before throwing he and Arya onto the bed. He was on top of her as he moved his kisses down, but then Arya suddenly changed their positions, making her straddle him. She grinned almost excitedly. She then took his shirt off and placed it beside him. How sad. Maybe she should let him enjoy this moment first. Arya moved her waist on top of his, causing Gyles to close his eyes in pleasure—until she twisted his shirt and stuffed it in his mouth. His eyes then opened wide as he made muffled sounds. Arya had her dagger in her left hand already and showed the Valyrian steel to him. “If you try anything, I promise I won’t make it quick.” She threatened as he whimpered in fear. He didn’t even dare try to push her off or disarm her despite his hands being free. “You’re a disgusting man, don’t you know that?” She moved further up his body and onto his chest, completely pinning him down. “Of course you don’t. You were raised to be the golden child. The role model. The blameless. Why are most first-borns cunts?” He shook his head and continued making inaudible noises. Once he tried to take the cloth out of his mouth, Arya thrusted her dagger onto his shoulder, twisting it halfway a revolution. He yelled, but it was muffled. “Don’t forget what I promised you. You tried something, now for that, I’ll pop your shoulder off.” Arya said menacingly and was about to go through with her statement before Gyles exclaimed even more. Tears welled his eyes as she shook his head, clearly begging for her to stop. She stopped for a few seconds and reconsidered before pulling the dagger out. “Fine then. Let me at least let you die with dignity.” She took the cloth off as well as he started talking. “Please, please! D-don’t do this…” Arya looked down at him, her face showing no emotion at all. She remained there without a word as Gyles’s cries filled the air. It all came back to her: the thrill she had before she killed someone. It felt good to bring justice once again. “Unfortunately for you, Lord Farwynd, I’ve already made up my mind. And it’s hard to change my decision. So you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your now shortened life.” She almost whispered and kept her eyes on his. The tears kept flowing as he spoke, “Please, no—“ With that, her dagger sliced cleanly through the bare skin below his chin.

——

Chapter Text

The Queen walked the marbled and tiled floors of the dark room where the throne stood in all its glory. The only source of light was coming from the stained glass with the red and black dragon sigil right above it. It was quiet all around her, there was no person in the wide room. The silver-haired woman smiled as she approached the steps up to the Iron Throne that belonged to her. She was finally there to reclaim it, to get what she worked hard on, what she truly deserved, what she sacrificed with fire and blood.

It was quiet and serene. She was at peace. She had everything she wanted. All those years she suffered and endured just to get to where she was now. The feeling of victory, serenity and bliss all happened as she now had what truly belonged to her: the Seven Kingdoms.

“You thought you could get rid of me that easily, sister?” A familiar voice suddenly spoke from behind her. She was only an inch away from the throne until someone wanted to interrupt her. The woman turned around with a stern expression and a robust stance as she faced the man who prevented her from taking a seat. “Asking your horsey husband and his stinking savages to do the deed for you?” He continued. “That doesn’t sound right now, does it?”

“What do you want, Viserys?” She replied in a very serious tone, her voice resonating in the entire throne room. It was silent after it echoed, but then her brother replied with a cocky grin and a quick laugh that almost sounded like a scoff. “What do I want? Let’s see…” He paced around the room and pretended to think. “I want your armies, preferably those slaves with no balls. I’d choose them over those screaming brutes.” He paused. “I want a hundred wives to have heirs with and from my lineage will they rule all of Westeros. And, oh! I want the throne.” He stopped pacing and stood right across from her, mirroring her stance. “By right, it is mine. Not yours.” Viserys threatened and flashed a sinister grin. The woman was disconcerted by his attitude and knitted her eyebrows as she tried to think of a response. “What’s wrong sister? Can‘t speak?” He teased and pouted before marching up the stairs as he pushed her away. Daenerys’s eyes widened and she shook her head.

“No!“

Suddenly, she was back in her tent, holding down onto her husband’s face with a pillow. The large man struggled underneath, but this time he was actually screaming. He was shouting words in Dothraki, telling the moon of his life to stop. Daenerys panicked as she felt the warm tears streaming down her face and onto her lips, tasting the saltiness of it. “No!” She yelled, still keeping her hands on the pillow. She tried so hard to let go and stop, but for some reason, she couldn’t. Drogo kept yelling and fighting for his life despite his limbs being paralyzed. “No!” Daenerys screamed once again, struggling to fight herself from what she was doing. She kept crying and crying that she was beginning to have a hard time breathing too. It was as if someone was choking her to death, just like what she was doing to her Khal, her husband.

Drogo kept screaming until his movements slowly stopped, so did his yelling. He was dead. Daenerys killed him. And she didn’t stop. Instead, she laid there on top of him, still pushing the pillow down. But now that he was dead, she finally had the freedom to let go of the pillow. She wept and wailed, the horrible feeling of blaming herself for his death overcame her. She shut her eyes tight as all the tears left her eyes and fell onto the ground. Daenerys screamed her heart out until her voice cracked and got hoarse.

Now she was at Slaver’s Bay, ordering the execution of all the masters who refused to go under her rule. Grey Worm nodded as she gave her command before he spoke in Valyrian, relaying it to his underlings.

Hundreds of men who were knelt down had their throats slit by a number of Unsullied who stood behind them. The blood splattered all over the floor and into her dress. Daenerys tried to flinch and raise her arms, but she could not. She was frozen. She was restricted. Instead, she stood there, covered in blood, still crying over murdering her husband. From the corner of her eye, she saw Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah and Daario clapping with huge grins on their faces, proud of Daenerys for making the right decision: killing those masters in front of her people.

“No!”

She screamed once again and shut her eyes tight before opening them. Now she was on top of Drogon, flying above the large hoard of Wights that were making the ice underneath them break. Viserion was there as he fell into the water and drowned. She yelled again.

Daenerys blinked and now she was at sea. She turned her head to face Rhaegal and was glad to see him. But that was until he was pierced by two large arrows, causing him to plunge down into the waters, never to be seen again.

“No!”

Finally, she was at King’s Landing. Everything wasn’t in flames. It looked just the way it should be, until she burnt it. From above, she flew down to the Red Keep and stopped right in front of the throne room. She saw a man covered in furs, sitting arrogantly on the Iron Throne. Her blood boiled. She remembered the last time she was here: it was where Jon murdered her. Where he shoved a knife into her heart. She felt the pain on her left chest again which caused her to scream at the man on the throne. He looked like Jon, and that enraged her furthermore. Still on top of her dragon, she yelled so strongly that she felt an immense power in it.

“Dracarys!”

Flames so big and bright bursted out onto the throne that everything around her disappeared once again. Now, she was back to the same state that she was before all this happened. Darkness.

——

It only took a day with a few breaks here and there for them to reach the Free Cities. The journey was peaceful high up in the air, but down below, it wasn’t too pleasant. There were too many people that could interfere with them or expose them but they had to land from time to time to rest and eat, so there was no other choice but to do so. He chose to land on deserted terrains to prevent anyone from seeing them. Luckily, even if the place was deserted, there was a lot of food there most of the time. When night would come for them to rest, he always made sure to look out for his mother even if she didn’t necessarily need any protection. It was a force of habit that he always did ever since he was taught to do so. When darkness came, he’d curl up into a ball and keep her warm by placing her in the middle as they slept the night away. It continued like that for a few more days.

Drogon still liked to think his mother was still there, fallen into a deep sleep. He still didn’t want to accept that Daenerys was dead. She looked the same, she was just as beautiful as ever. Yet, it wasn’t just like how it was before. She wasn’t there to speak, to walk, to command, to rule. She didn’t have the fire in her eyes anymore, for they were already closed off. All his life, Drogon only did one thing, and that was to keep her safe. Even until now, he still did his best to make sure no harm would come their way.

He didn’t know where to go right after he left Westeros. He just kept flying. It was a good thing he knew the lands pretty well thanks to the freedom granted to him. He always had a chance to circle the places with his brothers while they either hunted for food, played or raced. It gave them a chance to be familiar with the different places. But now they were at Essos, another area he was also familiar with. This was where he grew up and where his mother stayed until she came of age to take her throne once more. Drogon was now hovering above what seemed like Volantis. He didn’t really know why he was there, but he felt like he needed to be. Though, it was the place where Daenerys’s ancestors used to inhabit, where their dragons were trained, back when it was founded by the Valyrian Freehold. But Drogon didn’t know that, of course. It might have just been caused by some kind of special connection to their origins.

If it weren’t obvious yet, dragons don’t particularly like humans—unless they are their owners, so it was smart of Drogon to land someplace empty where the nearest civilization could be reached for another hundred miles. It was nightfall; the sun was already hiding in its little corner. Without the light coming from the moon and stars, it was truly dark outside. It was the perfect spot to stay for now, Drogon could go out and start searching again tomorrow. Here they were, right outside the walls of Volantis, staying in a nearby forest. It was somewhat tropical but also slightly similar to the forests back in Westeros. He’d prepare to wrap himself around her once again until a figure appeared from the shadows. Drogon sensed this, and began to let out a low growl. He planted both his feet and wings to the ground, keeping his mother’s body close to him. Daenerys was in between one of his wings and his body, tucked properly so that it would be hard to access her without having to slay the dragon. When the figure didn’t bother to stop walking towards them, Drogon screeched as loud as he could to threaten this person who was very insistent on approaching the two. His neck was extended upwards into the sky as his mouth was open wide, his teeth almost shining in the dark. The black-scaled dragon finished screaming and looked back at the figure, stomping his feet once more. The screech somewhat worked as the person stopped in their tracks, but still, they slowly continued walking forth. That was it. Drogon didn’t want to keep this up anymore. Without hesitation, he leaned his head backwards before spewing fire towards the figure. It was enough to light up the entire area and everything around them could be seen, but the figure was now out of sight. After Drogon blew his flames, the shadowy figure appeared once more, but this time, they were ducking with hands extended as if they prepared themselves to be burnt by the dragon fire. To both their surprises, the figure was not. Their cloak was on fire though, so they took it off and threw it on the ground. This was enough to show the figure’s face. It was a woman. A Red Priestess.

She couldn’t just be another Targaryen, a dragon who was also resistant to fire. But the reason behind it was simply because the Fire God, the Lord of Light, did not permit it. She still had a purpose to fulfill, and so the fire didn’t scorch her to death. It was only for this once, though.

Her pale green eyes were wide in shock and disbelief as they stared at the fire on the burning cloak, reading the visions her Lord was showing her. A grin slowly formed on her alluring face. She’d then pray in a native tongue, praising and thanking her God before she turned around to face the dragon and the Queen that was hidden behind it. Drogon stood there confused, but also in awe. This woman was not a Targaryen, but she remained unscathed. Were his abilities just not working anymore? He almost feared this woman because he’s never seen a person survive his dragon fire. All the more did he fear her when she began walking towards him slowly with one hand out. Drogon snapped and growled once again, backing out as she kept walking forward. “Do not hurt me, I am here to help.” The Red Priestess spoke cautiously in Valyrian, hoping that the black-scaled creature would understand her. Drogon didn’t exactly comprehend every single word, but he knew she meant no harm. But the fact that she didn’t get burnt threw him off. “Let me see her.” She added, looking down at the silver hair that glistened. The dragon growled again, but it was weaker this time. He stopped backing away and exposed Daenerys halfway as he lifted his wings up a bit. The Priestess then started to walk to her direction, still keeping an arm out. This woman’s faith was so strong that she didn’t fear anything.

Upon further observation, Drogon decided that maybe the woman wasn’t a threat at all, so he moved out of the way and left his mother exposed as he stayed behind her. The Priestess now quickened her pace as she squatted beside Daenerys’s side and examined her. She lifted her head up on her lap as she wiped the stained, dried out blood from her face. An unreadable expression appeared on her own face before she lifted her eyes to look into the woods and back at the dragon. The Priestess slowly placed Daenerys back on the ground as she walked into the forest, focused on gathering what was needed to build a pyre.

After thirty minutes or so, she was finished. A rectangular-shaped stack of twigs, branches and sticks binded by fibers was positioned in front of the Targaryen’s lifeless body. Under the pyre was an empty space, to which she placed what looked like three valuable stones on. She had it with her the entire time. The woman now lifted her up on the pyre and positioned her in a proper manner. She placed her arms and legs parallel to the ground before closing her eyes. The Priestess now muttered something under her breath as Drogon watched intently, making sure to keep an eye out on what would happen to his mother. The woman now placed her own hands on the edge of the pyre and began to chant these words, “Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon.”

She paused, still keeping her eyes closed as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon.”

Light began to shine underneath the pyre, but it was still weak. It wasn’t enough. “Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson.”

The woman exclaimed the last line in her prayer and backed away, at the same time, Drogon screeched and suddenly had an urge to blow fire onto the wood which his mother was on top of. He didn’t understand this phenomenon with immense power nor did he choose to fight it, so with all his might, he released his bright flames onto the pyre, successfully lighting it up. The woman watched as it burned and continued to mutter her prayer as her voice slowly got louder and louder until they turned into yells. She repeated the same phrases and stopped for the fifth time. The two live beings waited and watched as it kept on burning until suddenly the fire roared and increased in size. It stayed like that for a couple of seconds before it began to shrink into its initial state. The Priestess had a confident look on her face, but not a smile. She was serious. Drogon, on the other hand, looked curious and determined. They watched as the flames slowly died down and stayed there until it was completely put off.

It was almost in the middle of the night when there was no sign of fire anymore. Daenerys’s clothes had been burnt in the flames, but she was not. Her rosy skin was now tainted with ash, coal and soot. The woman then rushed towards where her burnt cloak was and took what remained of it before going back to the Targaryen’s body. She then dressed her in it. Drogon and the Priestess now stood beside her, waiting to see if she would wake up or not. Daenerys just laid there, as still as a statue. It was as if nothing happened to her. The black dragon then used his nose to nudge his mother, hoping she’d wake up. But after a few nudges, he’d growl at the Priestess again. The woman jolted up as her eyes met the dragon’s. She was worried. Worried that it didn’t work and that her visions were wrong. But she shouldn’t just give up now and lose her faith. So she determinedly waited and stood still.

The green-eyed woman was getting anxious, so she was about to turn around when Drogon screeched and flapped his wings again. She looked at the dragon then down to the other woman who was still lying down. The Priestess approached her now, hoping that the dragon’s actions were some kind of sign. She remained in her spot and waited for God knows how long. The Red Priestess now shut her eyes again and muttered another prayer under her breath but it was cut short when suddenly, she heard a sharp breath coming from the woman underneath. Violet eyes opened wide as they stared into the night sky.

She was alive.

——

Chapter Text

The Stark girl was just about to leave the room after cleaning up when someone knocked on the door. She froze in her tracks, staring towards the direction where the sound came from. In a swift but silent movement, she hid the body under the covers, making it look like someone was asleep. She then walked up to the door and slipped a mask on, one that she was making the entire time.

She unlocked the door and swung it open to see her loyal knight, Ser Rodner. “Yes?” She spoke, but it wasn’t really her voice anymore. Arya had grown taller and had a much larger build. She wore the brazen face of Gyles Farwynd. “My Lord,” Rodner slightly bowed his head in respect and in shame. “I’m sorry to disturb ‘ya, but I was wonderin’ where the Lady—where Arya Stark is?” The knight furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips that they looked like they didn’t exist because of how thick his beard was. Arya noted the break he made when he addressed her, and for that, she wanted to laugh and give him a pat on the back. But she had to remain in character. “The woman you brought with you? I think I might’ve seen her outside by the docks. Looks like she was so keen on leaving.” Gyles answered as he flashed his cocky grin towards the knight. It must have been a really great impression because of the reaction that came from Rodner: the one he had the entire time on that table back at the feast. It was a disgusted and irked look. “Are ‘ya sure that’s her? Because I looked for her there before I came here.” Rodner raised a brow as he tried to peek over Gyles’s shoulder. The Lord chuckled. “Look, old man, if you think that’s her on that bed behind me, you’re wrong, okay? This woman on the bed’s a whore, a cranky one, I tell you. So let’s not wake her. The girl you’re looking for could’ve left the docks to stay here in the castle.” Arya knew it was hard to trust what she was saying right now, knowing how perverted Gyles was. He could have easily taken advantage of the situation. But Rodner knew better. He knew Arya wouldn’t stay with a man like him. So he simply nodded, a worried look still on his wrinkled face. “Alright. Thank you for your time.” With that, Rodner bowed his head curtly and left the hallway on the way back to where the feast was. “Good luck looking for her!” Gyles yelled for extra measure before chuckling to himself as he shut the door.

He stood with his back to the door and stayed there for a couple more seconds before peeling the mask off his face. She was back again. She was Arya. She was still grinning, but now they were her own lips. The girl was amused with the knight’s worry as she discarded her mask in one of the pouches on her trousers. Now, her problem was where to discard the real Gyles’s body. It would be hard to just bring a random body outside and onto the shore, so she searched the room for a window. Most of them were too small to fit a body in, but they all lead to an empty area of the island. It looked like nobody was down there. She could dump Gyles and come down for him later. The only window that was large enough to fit a man was right above what looked like a lit window. It was too much of a risk, but it was way better than having to throw different parts of Gyles one by one through the other windows.

She wrapped the sheets tightly onto him before dragging him down on the floor and onto the largest window she propped open. Arya struggled a bit, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t do. She first lifted his legs up onto the windowsill and followed by carrying his shoulders for him to slide down. As he fell, Arya looked down right when he landed on sandy grass. The sound wasn’t too loud, but whoever walked by or looked out the window could see him. Arya then nodded to herself before cleaning up furthermore and rushing outside to the discarded Lord Farwynd.

It was a good thing the grey-eyed girl had a great sense of direction. She knew exactly where to go upon studying the tall castle’s passageways. Arya walked along with the people, successfully blending in when she saw Rodner pass by. He was either too old to notice her, or she was just too good at walking in the shadows. As she arrived outside, she went straight to where she dropped Gyles. The lit window was there, and so she had to duck underneath it so that no one would see her. She heard chatters here and there and heard someone’s voice getting louder. It was as if it was heading her way. Arya had to hurry, so she jogged to the body and dragged him by the legs towards the shore. Her feet were already submerged in the cold waters when she saw someone from afar.

She paused and waited if the person would do anything. She then squinted her eyes to examine the figure. It was a woman. She looked puzzled, so she started walking forward. “The boats are the other way. If you sail there, you’re heading nowhere.” The woman informed her. Arya was confused at first but then realized it did look like she was pulling a boat to the water. “Is that so? Thank you.” The Wolf girl said as she let go of Gyles’s legs and walked in front so that the woman wouldn’t see behind her. “No problem at all. Do you need help?” The woman added as she began to walk down towards the shore. “How kind of you, my lady, but no. I think I can do just fine.” Arya tried her best to speak as normal as she could until the woman came to view. She recognized her. In fact, they recognized each other. The platinum blonde hair; she was the woman back at the feast who kept staring their way. If it hadn't been for the kerchief she wore on her head, the Stark girl would have recognized her already.

“You're Lady Stark. Leaving so soon?” She asked now that they were a few meters apart. Arya’s mind was racing. What if she sees what was truly behind her? She didn’t want to kill an innocent life. She had to be quick to think of a reason. Plus, it was even in broad daylight. It would only be a matter of time until the blonde-haired woman saw what she was hiding. Arya had no other choice.

“What’s your name?” She asked, grey eyes piercing directly into the other’s. “Elyse, m’lady.” The servant woman replied in an accent that definitely wasn’t from here. It sounded almost familiar. Like she was from King’s Landing. “Listen,” Arya started as she walked forward, causing the servant to back away. In a stern voice, she continued, “You have to promise me that you will not run, scream or make any noise for that matter. You’re just going to make things worse for yourself. What I have here is not a boat, nor is it close to a boat.” As expected, Elyse looked at Arya in confusion and fear before her eyes traveled to the body behind her. Realization hit. The servant’s hands flew to her face to cup her mouth as she stared at the body and back at the young assassin. “Don’t do anything else but follow what I tell you to do.” Arya ordered as she grabbed one of the woman’s wrists. “Remember when I said that this is nothing close to a boat? Our goal is to make it sink, not to make it float. You’re going to help me.”

Elyse was still in shock, but she followed the girl’s orders and nodded vigorously, wiping the tears that slowly started to well in her eyes. She wasn’t trembling in fear, though. She was just shocked. “W-who is this?” Elyse asked, just barely above a whisper as she watched Arya scan the place to check if they had an audience. “Gyles Farwynd.” The Stark replies nonchalantly before beginning to drag his body into the water once more. The blonde woman, who was formerly shocked, now had a neutral expression on her face. Arya noticed this. “Well, don’t you look surprised.” She commented sarcastically. She had to admit, it wasn’t the reaction she was expecting from the servant, but it was better than her screams of horror. Elyse stood there, as still as a tree. She kept her eyes on the body as a contemptuous look began to appear on her beautiful face. “There’s a pile of rocks not too far from here. I’ll go grab a few. That should be enough to sink him.” The servant girl spoke as she began to walk towards the east where there was indeed a large heap of stones. Arya didn’t even need to ask any questions; she already knew that Gyles also did her wrong, she and many other women.

She waited as Elyse began to walk back with an armful of rocks. She looked happier than she should be. Arya took a few steps forward to meet her slightly halfway and took most of the stones from her. It didn’t look right for a woman like her to be carrying such a huge amount. The two walked back to their initial spot as Arya set down their weights on the sand. She took her dagger and cut a slit big enough in the sheet for the stones to enter. They now took turns filling up the bag with the heavy rocks, and once they finished, the two women dragged his body deeper into the water. It was silent the entire time as they were both so focused on disposing of him. They weren’t strong enough to throw it, so they had to think smart. The water was now on the waist level. It was still too shallow and someone could discover the rotting body soon enough, so Arya decided to fully submerge herself if she must. Luckily for them, the land below drastically sunk beneath. It should be low enough now. Arya then took a deep breath and went underwater, checking to see if Gyles could be seen or if he would float. The body landed on the floor, which was almost two meters deep. That should be good enough. She now swam upwards and reached the surface, breathing in air once again. Elyse could be seen standing on the shore, slightly panting.

Arya took off one layer of her top and squeezed the water out of it before taking her boots off and emptying its contents. She didn’t mind having wet clothes and getting dirty, but she could get sick. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the servant girl staring at her. “Thank you.” Arya muttered under her breath, but she was sure the other woman heard. It looked like Elyse was in a trance until the Stark girl spoke. She then nodded as a reply before grabbing some of Arya’s discarded clothes on the sand. “What are you doing?” The grey-eyed girl asked stoically and furrowed her eyebrows. Elyse didn’t look so pleased. “Taking your clothes, m’lady. I’ll wash them, dry them, and bring them to you in the morning.” The blonde woman informed her candidly. “You don’t have to do that.” Arya declined. Elyse shook her head. “It’s my job. I was ordered by the Lord to accommodate and serve you.” She admitted and stared deeply into mysterious grey eyes. The wolf girl remained unfazed for a whole five seconds before sighing. “Go on then.”

She now began to walk back into the castle, carrying only her boots. Elyse insisted on carrying the rest. She passed by some of her familiar men and greeted them with a nod and a weak smile while ignoring their questions about why she was soaked. She wanted to get dressed immediately, so she went straight to the ship to grab a new outfit. The servant girl still followed behind. Arya ignored her, however. She hoped she would leave her alone for now. Although, it was nice for someone to be able to clean her things. Kind of like a squire of some sorts. Walking up the plank into the entrance, Arya moved at a hasty speed and made her way up the quarters. “You command this ship?” She heard the blonde ask behind her. Arya didn’t answer and continued to walk the halls until she reached her room. Elyse frowned at this, but Arya didn’t see. Instead, the grey-eyed girl squatted on the floor, pulling out a suitcase underneath her bed and unlatched it open. Her dark brown hair turned black because it was damp and the loose strands hung in front of her eyes. She pushed these away. The blonde woman, on the other hand, leaned on the doorframe and watched as Arya rummaged through her clothes.

“It’s a nice ship. I’ve only ever been in one though. After that, nothing.” Elyse spoke mindlessly as her eyes traveled around the room and back to the hallway. Arya remained silent until she shut the case and kicked it under her bed once more before she stood up and walked out the doorway past the servant girl. Why did everyone have to be so talkative around her?

Elyse now rushed to keep up with the young assassin until they reached the docks. The Northerner abruptly stopped in her tracks and looked at the other woman. “Aren’t you supposed to lead me to my room?” Arya raised a brow, her tone of voice almost sarcastic. “Yes, m’lady. Follow me.” The blonde woman curtsied before walking ahead. It almost unnerved Arya seeing how much Elyse looked like a certain Targaryen Queen.

Once they entered the castle, she tried her best not to attract any attention to her. Being soaked and barefoot certainly didn’t help. But she was good at avoiding people, and so they were able to reach her room without any confrontation. The room looked similar to Gyles’s; it had the same miry cobblestone walls with a concrete floor, a fireplace in one corner and a bathtub that was already filled with hot water in another. The windows were all shut except for one while all the torches were lit to warm up and brighten the room. The bed was in the center of it all with two nightstands beside it. It wasn’t too bad. As she heard the servant shut the door behind, Arya placed her clean, dry clothes on the edge of the bed and began to take her clothes off one by one and dropped them on the floor. She took the tie off of her hair and let it fall gracefully down her neck. Arya then walked towards the tub, dipping her toes before submerging her legs, then her entire body. She sighed and closed her eyes, further relaxing into the tub. She didn’t plan on staying long, she just wanted to clean herself. Arya was at peace until she heard ruffling in the room. Grey eyes opened as they averted to the area where she heard the sound come from. Elyse was still there. Arya thought that the servant had left. That means she saw everything. The Stark girl couldn’t really do much at this point except to speak to her.

“Are you just going to stand there?” She asked and raised one of her brows, her eyes fixated on the blonde woman who looked like a deer in headlights. Elyse shook her head and bowed her head in an attempt to avoid meeting eyes with the dark-haired girl. “No, m’lady. I’ll see to it that your clothes will be washed and dried.” And with that, the servant left the room along with the wet pile of clothes that belonged to the young assassin.

Arya shook her head and leaned it on the edge of the tub, sighing as she savoured every moment of what could be her last chance for a relaxing evening. The entire boat ride that went on for merely a week was already beginning to bore her. After all, she was used to moving a lot and doing a lot of new things, not staying in one place only while seeing the same people all the time. The only thing that kept her going was the rush of adrenaline she’d feel whenever she thought of discovering a new location that would soon be added to the maps. She was going to make history. The thought made her smile in satisfaction as she submerged herself in the water, sinking her head as her hairs got wet. Arya stayed in that position for as long as she could before bringing herself up to the surface. She then looked to the rack of products beside the bathtub and was just about to grab a vial until someone opened the door. This startled her, but she didn’t make it obvious. “I’m sorry, m’lady, did I alarm you?” Elyse asked as she shut the door and locked it behind her while holding a towel. “You should knock next time. Has nobody ever taught you that?”

It was the Targaryen Queen’s lookalike’s turn to ignore her question this time and instead set the towel above the rack before pulling a stool to sit behind Arya. “What are you doing?” The young assassin turned around and furrowed her eyebrows as she glared at Elyse.

“Giving you a bath.”

“Did I order you to do that?”

“No,”

“So, then, why would you?”

“Because I insist.” Elyse answered and almost snapped, causing Arya to be surprised by her sudden outburst. She examined the woman’s features before she turned around and crossed her arms. “And your hair’s all tangled up. You wouldn’t be able to get your fingers through it yourself.” The blonde woman added as she began to scrub Arya’s shoulder. The touch was unique to the grey-eyed girl, and it made her wince, but she also felt calm by the sensation.

It was silent for the entire time, Arya’s discomfort slowly disappeared. She just kept telling herself that it was something she should appreciate after all those years she went through without this kind of luxury. Elyse now rinsed her hair off as it was back to its smooth nature, free of salt and sand. She was already finished with her bath and was about to stand up until the servant spoke. “Thank you.” The young assassin frowned. “Shouldn't I be the one thanking you?” Elyse shook her head and grinned. “You’re the one who killed that bastard once and for all. He deserved that.” When Arya realized what she meant, she nodded once. Her grey eyes were unmoving as they stared into the calm waters that reflected their faces. But then Elyse lifted her chin up to look at her. She couldn’t quite read the servant’s expression, yet it didn’t matter because she moved in and kissed Arya’s lips, to which the Stark girl reciprocated passionately.

——

Chapter Text

A hooded figure walked the busy streets of Volantis early in the morning, always making sure her face was fully covered. Her steps were careful, but swift. It reminded her of the days when she also had to do the same alongside her brother. She wanted to leave as soon as possible and return immediately to the secluded area of the notorious temple, where somebody else was waiting for her. She wove her way in between various types of people: busy merchants, villagers, free men and women and more commonly, slaves. Slaves who still wore chains. Slaves being dragged around by the neck, wrists or ankles. It pained her to see them like this once again. Volantis wasn’t this way the last time she was here with her brother. That was what she remembered, at least. Perhaps she was just shielded from all the sinister things that happened around them. Still, the system she established a few years ago in the farther east should have still been implemented all throughout. For this, she blamed the person that she entrusted Meereen with.

The silver-haired lady bumped into a few people here and there, trying her best not to cause any commotion nor attract any attention. She was doing pretty good so far. It was particularly easy to blend in thanks to the cloak she always wore wherever she went. It was the same cloak she had when she came back—from the dead. Even if it was incomplete, holed, burnt and stained, it was still a perfect disguise. She was unsuspecting. And so, she was able to reach the temple and entered through a less-traveled route, one that the Priestess taught her.

Daenerys walked through a very dark hallway without anything to light her path. She memorized the direction, though, so she was able to arrive safely into a room with a small shrine. The room was filled with torches and cressets, all lit up despite it being the middle of the day. It was somewhat like a prayer room for the God they worshipped: the Lord of Light. It was a very private room, reserved only for the high priests and priestesses. It was a decent place to stay for now. Her hands reached for the corners of her hood as they pulled it down, revealing her entwined hair. It wasn’t as elaborate as it once was when she had Missandei braiding it for her everyday. Right now, she sometimes has to do it on her own. Not like it mattered anyway, she always had to wear a hood to prevent her true identity from being exposed. Daenerys was still as beautiful as ever, only less sophisticated. She didn’t have everything a Queen would right now, but since the beginning of time until now, she was determined to get it all back.

She approached the center of the room where a stone block stood, emblazoning a carved figure of a burning heart. Just below it was a Sword, a sword so perfect that not a scratch nor a mark could be seen on it. It looked like it was freshly forged by the greatest blacksmith that ever lived. It was mounted up on the wall, right underneath the flaming heart. No one dared to touch the Sword ever since its arrival, not even the high priests. Rumor has it that they burned their hands in the process of doing so. If one were to steal the Sword, they could never be successful. Little did Daenerys know, she was the only one who could yield it with her own bare hands.

Everything was completely different for her. She was always used to having company she could trust, having a home, having everything given to her in a blink of an eye. She didn’t have to worry about getting in danger because she had a whole army out there who would kill anyone that wanted to harm their Queen. Now, she had nothing. She had to hide and learn to protect herself when she wanted to be seen and known and to rule. But she needed to make do with what she had. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys sighed and thought back to when she first woke up a few days after her death. It felt as if she were in a dream, in a deep sleep. It was dark and quiet and peaceful—until she started having these dreams. Ones that contained all the highlights of her life mixed with hallucinations. It was like they were there to enrage her, to wake her up from her slumber. She simply had to avenge herself. What they did to her was wrong.

When she woke up, she was confused, tired and scared. She didn’t know where she was or why she was alive again, but then she saw her son, Drogon, staring back at her happily. Maybe she still did have a purpose. Maybe her time wasn’t finished yet. She thought they were alone until a woman spoke to her. Daenerys was hesitant and thought she was a threat, but she had no other choice but to trust her; there was no one else around. A dragon also couldn’t resurrect a person, so if it wasn’t for this Red Priestess, she wouldn’t have been back to walk the face of the earth. She learned that the woman was Kinvara and recognized her from the news that Tyrion told her about a certain woman entering the Pyramid of Meereen that the Targaryen was Azor Ahai. From then on, she was always kept a secret in the temple with only Kinvara knowing about her true identity.

As for Drogon, he obviously couldn’t hide in such a populated place such as Volantis, so Kinvara had Daenerys order him to stay in Valyria. No one could find him there, for they wouldn’t sail that way in the first place. Up to this day, Valyria was still burning and smoking from its doom that no one could simply survive in it. Drogon was a dragon, so he could inhabit that place for now. He’d occasionally come and visit in the more deserted areas arranged by his mother and would leave soon after. She hated that he had to be far away from her, but he looked like he was thriving, and that was enough for the silver-haired woman.

She had her own plans: she wanted to go back to Meereen and gather more of her people, she wanted to find where the remaining Dothraki were, as well as her Unsullied. She knew they were all still loyal to her as she rewarded them greatly for fighting for their Queen. Therefore, they would still join her side and uphold her cause. Daenerys also knew that the houses and armies in the west wouldn’t want to support her considering the stunt she pulled in King’s Landing. Looking back at it now, she felt confused. Guilty, almost. She didn’t understand the outburst she had during the heat of the moment, it all just happened.

Footsteps accompanied by the sound of a large door being shut cut her off from her thoughts as she turned around towards the direction where it came from. As expected, it was Kinvara. “Your Grace,” She bowed gracefully and smiled. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.” The Priestess then walked forward to a spot beside her, just an arm’s length away. Daenerys nodded as acknowledgement, but her expression was tense. She was still getting around the woman’s presence and company despite it being almost a month with her. After all, she was the only ally she had for now. “You summoned me here, why is that?” The Targaryen questioned as she turned her body halfway to face the other woman. Kinvara nodded, but it almost looked like a bow. Her green eyes traveled from Daenerys and to the Sword that was mounted between them. “There are more matters we should discuss,” She started. “Let us begin with the Sword. The Sword that came with you when you were resurrected in the Lord’s name.” Daenerys averted her gaze from the Priestess and to the weapon as well. “Lightbringer, the Sword that Azor Ahai would yield to rid deliver the world from darkness.” She then turns around to face the silver-haired woman. “You are the one who was sent to save the people, the Princess That Was Promised.” Kinvara informed her with a spark in her eyes, clearly looking forward to Daenerys fulfilling the prophecy. She was sure this time. But on the other hand, the Dragon was unsure and skeptical. She didn’t really trust these women and their prophecies, but their God did bring people back to life. Daenerys also wanted to believe she was chosen for this, and so she did. Why else would she come back from the dead if not to get her revenge and claim what is rightfully hers?

“How sure are you of this?” The Dragon tilted her head to face the Priestess as she raised a brow. “Did you see it in the fires just like everything else?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I have not seen it only once, nor twice, but several times. It is destiny written out for us to fulfill.” Kinvara responded in her thick accent, a smile gracing her lips once more. Daenerys paused and looked back at the Sword, not saying a word. After a few seconds, she’d reach out to grab its handle before the Red Priestess stopped her. “Your Grace, you cannot wield that yet. Someone has to teach you before anything else.” As if she could get any more displeased, this little gesture made things worse. “Why can’t I ask anyone? There are plenty of noble and skillful sellswords here, so why won’t you allow me?” Kinvara lowered her head, but kept her eyes on the Targaryen woman. “Those noble and skillful sellswords will take every chance to sell you to anyone. There are hundreds of people who were hired to track you and your dragon down, Your Grace. It is not safe.” Daenerys had a sulky and disappointed expression on her face as she eyed the other woman, and then the Sword. She was right. She was frankly the most wanted woman in the world right now, dead or alive.

The Targaryen woman reluctantly nodded, the same look still plastered on her face. “Then who will teach me? When will I be taught?” She asked with furrowed brows as the Priestess turned around and walked towards one of the many cressets as her eyes reflected the flames that were dancing. “I am not entirely sure yet, Your Grace. The fires tell me a proficient warrior will teach you once they arrive here in Essos. Their journey won’t take too long now, though it does not tell me who exactly they are.” Turning her head towards her Queen, Kinvara informed her in all honesty. Daenerys, on the other hand, wasn’t entirely satisfied with her response, but she was well-aware of the vagueness of prophets like her. “Come, Your Grace, let us discuss this someplace else.” And with that, the two women exited the shrine and entered into a smaller room with a vast table.

On the table was a large and detailed map of Westeros, one Daenerys bought from a merchant a few days ago. She took her maroon cloak off and slung it on one of the many chairs in the room. Kinvara followed suit. “I have been walking the streets earlier, trying to get whatever information I could about the kingdoms in Westeros,” The silver-haired woman spoke as her eyes were glued to the map. “I have learned nothing new. For now, I depend on everything else you told me: they have chosen a cripple for a King, the Iron Islands and the North are now independent kingdoms, and all the Starks still live as well as Tyrion Lannister.” She pointed her hands to the said areas, still remembering exactly where they were without even having to read their labels. The Priestess nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I’m afraid that’s all there is to tell you at this moment.” She looked remorseful, almost.

Daenerys quietly sighed through her nose, she was disappointed. She needed to know more and yet she could do nothing about it. She didn’t want to risk her life by going out and announcing her identity, she needed to do what she first did before everything else; she had to gather her armies.

“Any news from the Dothraki and the Unsullied?” Daenerys inquired. “The remainder of the Dothraki are said to be terrorizing smaller villages. And as for the Unsullied, they were last seen sailing away but we do not know where. It seems only a handful of people know.” Kinvara answered.

Everything really wasn’t enough, and all she could do was to stay in one spot and wait until things slowly died down. She already had a list of plans to do and worked them out with the only companion she had, to which she got the approval for. Her first step was to return to where she first had her own throne. “When can we leave for Meereen?”

“It is not certain yet, Your Grace. But how do you insist we get there?” It was her turn to ask the questions now. “If we go by dragon, you will tell me it is too much of a risk. You will tell me that it will alert attention when I still have to be kept as a secret. If we go by horseback, how long will it take us?”

“About three weeks.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

Kinvara stopped to think of all their choices and factors in deciding. “It is safer through horseback, Your Grace. Though I worry about your dragon, will it know where to go?” Daenerys, once again, was offended by her statement. She made it sound like her dragon was a huge dilemma and that he wasn’t smart enough to follow them. “You’ve seen him these past couple of weeks, he knows where to go, where to hide, where to meet me. Do you think he would be a problem? In fact, if only Meereen weren’t so populated, we could fly straight there.” The silver-haired woman almost snapped, her voice was raised as it echoed through the tiny room. The Red Priestess only bowed down, somewhat a sign of her apologizing. Of course, Kinvara wouldn’t know that. She has never spent more than an hour with a dragon. She has never seen their wonders, and for that, Daenerys felt bad for snapping. It had been a bad habit of hers lately, and she didn’t have anyone to tolerate her temper and stop her from making impulsive decisions.

The Targaryen Queen looked remorseful, and the Priestess saw this, so there was a mutual understanding between them. “We leave as soon as it is safe. When my name is not always mentioned by the people.” She paused as violet eyes stared at the map, specifically King’s Landing. “When do you advise that we go?”

“About a month from now.”

“A month?” Daenerys asked. “Why should it take that long?” She added as she looked straight at Kinvara. “Your Grace, you need time to recover. For now, you are still weak. You need to rest.” As the woman spoke those words, Daenerys felt a slight tinge of pain in her left chest, the spot where Jon Snow stabbed her. She raised her hand and rested it above her heart, still shocked that it was still beating. She wondered if there was a hole in it, just like the scar on her skin where the blade penetrated through. A frown appeared on her face as she remembered her final moments before death. But that frown was soon to be replaced by a scowl. She wanted her revenge. She needed it.

She took her hand off her chest and rested it on the edge of the table. Daenerys’s head hung low as she thought before taking a deep breath in. Her eyes traveled from the map then to Kinvara.

“Then we leave in a month.”

——

The sound of water splashing and grass rustling filled the air. Her vision was quite blurry though, all she could see was the silhouettes of trees, shrubs and a river. The refreshing taste of freshwater lingered on her mouth, as well as the flavor of raw salmon. Was this another one of those dreams?

She lifted her head and looked around, several wolves surrounded her. They were all running, following her lead. She was the largest among the pack, and it was clear that they were all under her. They feared her and respected her. The direwolf then paused and stood tall and planted both her front paws on the ground before looking up into the dawn sky and releasing an ear-piercing howl. The rest of the pack followed. All of the wolves' howls echoed. She felt powerful, she felt the loud voice coming straight out of her chest. She even felt tired, and after a few more seconds of howling, she woke up.

Arya sat up on her bed again, panting and sweating. She looked around the room once more as if she had a nightmare. No, this wasn’t a nightmare. In fact, it didn’t even feel like a dream. It felt real, like it truly happened to her. She was confused, but in the back of her head, she had an idea on what it could mean. It had been years since she had these types of visions again. It started when she was back in Braavos, when she was deprived of her eyesight. Now, it came back.

After the girl composed herself, she laid back down with her lips still parted. To her surprise as she reached her pillow, a warm body was beside her. Right. She almost forgot the night before. The events before felt more like a dream than the visions she just had. The Stark slept with someone. A woman. It was something she had never done before. She had only really been with Gendry and no one else, that was also a memorable experience, but both events were completely different from each other and at the same time similar. It was hard to explain, it was confusing.

In all honesty, she did slightly prefer this more than what she had with Gendry; it wasn’t exactly something she enjoyed. But even if she liked this more than the first time, it didn’t feel quite right. When she was younger, the Septas and Maesters used to tell them that people should do these things with whom they loved and not just with any person. Of course, no one ever really followed those teachings nowadays.

Her grey-eyes landed on a pile of platinum-blonde hair and she felt nervous. She didn’t want to have any confrontation with the woman beside her and instead she wanted to leave the room immediately. And so she slowly removed her arm and the blanket that covered them both before standing up as quietly as possible. She retrieved her clothes that were scattered on the floor and got dressed. After doing so, she took a scroll of parchment and sat on a desk in one corner of the room. A quill and ink was provided beforehand. She took the feather and dipped it in the glass container before she began to write.

Sansa,

We have arrived safely in the castle of the Lonely Light as requested. The Farwynds say they are doing well and appreciate your help and concerns, but they claim that they do not need it. As I am writing this letter, it’s the very same day we sail west from here. Don’t expect any more ravens to come from me. I don’t know what’s beyond there, so the ravens obviously don’t either. I hope you’re doing alright. I know you are. This was everything you hoped for and more. I’m sure you’re doing your best and the North will do well with you as their Queen. Please send my regards to Jon and Bran. Tell them not to worry about me, you shouldn’t either.

I love and miss you all and I promise, I will be back soon. I won’t get lost. I never will.

Your loving sister,

Arya.

Her unruly handwriting signifies that the letter was indeed written by the youngest Stark daughter. Sansa would definitely recognize it. The seal on the letter wasn’t as good as it should be, but no one could blame her. Arya was never taught how to do it, she just learned by watching. The letter made her feel more lighthearted as she remembered her fond memories with her family. A genuine smile appeared on her lips. She then packed all the things she brought inside the room, luckily, there were only a few.

Just as she was about to open the door, a voice spoke right behind her. “Going already?” Elyse asked. Arya felt a weird sensation in her stomach. It was almost like she was going to get sick. Maybe she just felt guilty.

She turned around and a tight smile appeared on her face. “Yes.” She spoke quietly and nodded as she twisted the knob to the door. “Goodbye.” Arya said. And with that, she closed the door quietly, leaving the other woman inside all alone. She wasn’t good at handling these things. Hells, it was only her second time. At least they didn’t have any strings attached. It wasn’t like it was something she completely hated. In fact, she loved it. There was just that deep feeling in her gut that it wasn’t right with her. She barely knew the woman. She needed to feel more connected.

What a way to start the morning. She already felt nauseated. She blamed her lack of sleep and her awkward encounter just a few minutes ago. But Arya was good at adapting, so she focused on shaking those feelings off. The Stark girl went straight to the docks and in front of her ship, and as expected, her men were already preparing to sail. She was proud. To her right, she saw the three remaining Farwynd men speaking to Ser Rodner and some of the Northerners. She saw the worried look on their faces when one of their family members was gone. A smirk spread across her face. “Arya. I wish you safe travels on your journey.” Gylbert spoke as he saw the Wolf girl walk in their direction. She paused right in between them and the ramp that led to her ship. “Thank you, Lord Farwynd. For accommodating all of us as well.” She decided to keep it short and weakly smiled. Arya then nodded and turned around, leaving the rest of them to speak. She handed the scroll with the Stark direwolf seal to one of her men as he sent it out with a raven carrying it. Who knows how long it would take before it reaches Winterfell? The thought made her sigh. But now, she began to set foot on the galley, truly looking forward to their next destination. She didn’t know where, but she only knew which direction they always had to go. As all her men entered the ship, they began to set sail as they left the harbor. Arya was excited once again and was surprisingly glad to see Rodner already standing by her side, the same smile on his face. She has now grown accustomed to having him around. After all, it was good to have someone she can trust on an uncertain journey like this one.

——

Chapter Text

The entire journey was just the same—day and night, sailing. Eating, drinking, then sleeping. It was the complete opposite of eventful. Every person on the ship was slowly getting tired of the trip, feeling seasick and homesick. Arya couldn’t blame them, but they should have expected it already. They had it coming when they willingly volunteered to accompany her. She wanted to do it alone, but because of the admiration she gained for herself, they wanted to follow her.

Food was starting to become a problem. They were running low on it. They haven’t seen any islands nearby yet despite it already being half a month of sailing. They’ve only brought food that would last them two months or so. If they counted the ones that would get spoiled, a year at best. Clearly, they haven’t thought this through. It was no one’s fault. No one knew how long it would take, so their only choice was to survive off of seafood if they were lucky enough to catch anything. It was also a good thing that they haven’t encountered any of the deep sea creatures from the stories they heard.

Sailing was peaceful so far, but peace made things boring. There came times when it would storm, but fortunately for them, they weren’t that strong and severe. It was something they could handle. A few damaged sails here and there were easily repaired. But because of their lack of supplies and resources, they had to take a detour. According to the knowledge of some of the sailors, there was a group of islands just down south: the Targaryen islands named after the powerful triumvirate that conquered Westeros centuries ago. Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya. And so, the galley sailed southwards.

They arrived after a few weeks, docking the large ship by the shore of one of the tiny islands. As it was rumored, the place was filled with rich resources, enough to last them another month or so. Hopefully it will be enough. From then on, they would continue on their journey, sailing towards the direction where the sun would always set.

Every single day, Arya would walk up the highest deck on her usual spot and watch the giant orb of orange sink into the dark blue sea. It would take hours for it to be fully hidden under the horizon, so it painted a beautiful scene that was left to be admired. She never got tired of watching the event unfold before her. It was almost significant, somewhat like a credence that there was always going to be something new everyday. And with every second that passed, she was getting closer to what she dreamt of. Staying on that terrace while watching the view gave her a whole lot of time to think aside from it being a great way to have some space from the many noisy people below deck.

Arya thought of the fact that they sailed from islands named after the family she adored. That was until the last Targaryen Queen ruined their reputation. But she knew they had tendencies to get mad, it might have been inevitable either way. She didn’t admire them for their propensity to lose their minds, but rather for being powerful. They had their wits, their fierceness and most importantly their dragons. All the stories she read as a child still excites her to this day. And what a great disappointment it was that she was never able to ride a dragon despite already having an opportunity to do so before. She had to admit, she was jealous of her brother actually being able to ride on one. He did have Targaryen blood in him after all.

She couldn’t help it, but her mind always traveled back to her. Daenerys. The one who was nicknamed the Mad Queen, just like her father. But Arya had to disagree, the only mad Queen she knew was Cersei. Daenerys, on the other hand, couldn’t do anything about it. It was always bound to happen. She almost didn’t have a choice. Cersei Lannister always had a choice, and always chose the worst ones yet.

Being a person who has lived her life solely focused on revenge, she almost understood the Targaryen Queen’s point of view. Having her right to be on the throne being stripped from her, seeing her family betrayed, living as castaways and always having to hide, that would of course lead to other things. Things such as threatening to burn cities down because of how betrayed she felt, killing all those people just to get to where she was now. And when she finally had everything she wanted, her armies were lost, her friends were killed. Being atop a dragon over the city that her ancestors built with all the power in her hands, madness would definitely take over her. It’s not that Arya was justifying her actions for burning all the innocents, but rather her reasons behind it. It was in her blood, and it was something she was bound to do because of all she went through sooner or later. If Arya had experienced all of that as well, she might have gone mad too.

Still, she was disappointed.

She knew Daenerys could do better. Why did she know? It was all because of the first and last encounter they had months ago.

——

It was the day after the Long Night. The day that all the living mourned the dead. Hundreds of pyres were made to burn all the bodies that were scattered all over Winterfell. And after that ceremony had finished, the living celebrated their victory against the dead.

They were all in the Great Hall having a grand dinner that was well-deserved. All the food and drink they had left were served to all the people who fought valiantly in the war. Everyone was minding their business, ravenously eating whatever’s on their plates and guzzling whatever’s in their cups. It was almost as if nothing happened.

After everyone almost finished eating, it was time for the drinking, cheering and honoring. It all started when Daenerys entitled Storm’s End to Gendry Baratheon. From then on, they would all be calling more names and drinking to them. Of course, they honored the Dragon Queen. She expected it. If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t have been able to win this battle. But she wasn’t exactly the person who killed the Night King, so after she was cheered on, she mentioned that one person who was always in the back of her mind ever since she heard about her. “To Arya Stark, the Hero of Winterfell!”

Various yells, claps and applauses came from the entire room, even louder than the previous ones. Everyone was happy as they held their cups, glasses, mugs and goblets to drink to the woman who saved the world. The Queen smiled at this, yet she noticed something missing. Or rather, someone.

The Wolf girl was nowhere to be seen. Out of all people, she should be the one who was celebrating the most. She basically saved everyone by sticking a dagger through the White Walker’s heart. But she wasn’t there. It was odd, Daenerys mused. Maybe she just didn’t like all the attention. If only she had heard a Targaryen praising her name.

Undoubtedly, they would also laud for Jon Snow, the King in the North. The man who united all the Northern houses with the Wildlings and the man who was able to convince the people of the threat Beyond the Wall. In fact, it seemed like he got more praise than Daenerys did. And of course, she was jealous.

She should have been worshipped at this point. She, her large armies and her dragons deserved all the glory. But no. She didn’t get enough of it. They all turned their attention to Jon. And for that, she was bothered. Annoyed. Angry, even. She was so used to having people kiss her feet and the floor she walked that this simple moment made her feel like she was a nobody. Like she wasn’t the Queen.

They just didn’t stop. She couldn’t help it anymore.

Daenerys then stood up from her seat, almost at the same time Varys did as he noticed the change in her mood. She didn’t even notice him anymore. She only had one thing in mind, and that was to leave the place as soon as possible. Though the underlying question was, where could she go?

Winterfell was still a foreign place to her as the castle was large. She didn’t exactly know which door led to which room, and it was technically still wrecked all over the place after the war, so staying in the castle wasn’t an option. The crypts were also a huge mess and she isn’t allowed there even if she had a free pass that one time. Daenerys was almost out of options. But she heard of a place and saw the path heading that way as well. She just hasn’t been there yet. It was the only choice left, so the silver-haired Queen went in that direction, away from all the noise.

——

Bullseye. Straight into the target did the arrowhead go.

Arya was outside, avoiding the chaos that just began. She had been shooting arrows to try and clear her mind, but it just wasn’t enough. Even if all of them were perfectly shot, her thoughts just wouldn’t stop running around in her head, especially after Gendry proclaimed his love to her.

Yes, the Stark girl also loved him back. He was a great man, she knew him for the longest time. They’ve gone through a lot together. He was sweet, kind, handsome and strong. Hells, he survived the battle. But his offer of her being a lady beside him just didn’t sit right with her. It was never her destiny to become a lady who would marry some rich lord or prince. She didn’t want that. It just wasn’t her. Sure, she could continue the thing they had going with the Baratheon boy, but becoming his wife and settling down forever was never an option for her.

She pitied him, especially because she overthought the way she declined his offer. Arya wasn’t good at confrontation with people she cared about. It was hard not to hurt their feelings, but it seemed like she handled this one well. Gendry didn’t storm off or get mad at her, so that must be a good thing. He would understand. He grew up with her.

It was beginning to be a lot more crowded, so she ditched the bow and went to her favorite spot. As expected, it was quieter. No one seemed to be there at the moment, but that was until she walked closer.

Standing by the Weirwood Tree was a small figure who had the familiar silver-colored hair. Arya stopped in her tracks, but slowly moved closer to have a better angle on the woman. Her steps were light and quiet, something she has mastered to do. Luckily, the snow was powdery.

The grey-eyed girl paused and stood still, observing as Daenerys lifted her delicate hand to touch the wood where the face was carved. Her fingers traced the blood red tears that came from its eyes, a curious expression plastered on her face. Arya was almost amused at this. It was like watching a child interact with something new that they discovered. She lightly smiled.

Daenerys then let out a loud sigh, loud enough for Arya to hear. She almost sounded tired? Defeated? Her smile was then replaced by a frown, but she didn’t show it when the Targaryen Queen suddenly turned around. She, too, paused. A shocked expression graced her face.

“Arya Stark.”

“Your Grace.”

The two women acknowledged each other. Daenerys’s greeting sounded surprised, while Arya’s was sarcastic. They stood in their places, watching each other and waiting to see who would move first, until Arya gave in and approached the silver-haired woman. She emerged from the shadows, slowly walking forward until she stopped just around two meters away from her.

“I did not see you at the feast. Why is that?” Daenerys spoke after a few moments of silence, tilting her head to the right in the direction where Arya stood. She didn’t look at her, though. Her eyes were focused on the ground. “Feasts are not for me, Your Grace.” She replied, the last two words emphasized as if she were trying to make a point. Daenerys raised an eyebrow at this. “Too many people.” Arya added. She wasn’t looking at the Queen either. Instead, she stared at the face on the Weirwood Tree as if they were having a rather heated staring contest. “Those people are the same people you saved. They wanted to thank you, yet you were not present.” This time, violet eyes lifted up to look at grey ones that were still unmoving. She studied the younger girl’s features subconsciously as she waited for a response. She looked so much like Jon. Arya then smirked then chuckled lightly. The reaction was unexpected, so Daenerys furrowed her eyebrows. “Is there anything amusing about that?” The silver-haired woman asked, still keeping her eyes on her.

“No there isn’t, Your Grace.”

“Then what’s so funny about what I said?”

This time, Arya broke her gaze from the tree and averted her attention to the Dragon Queen. Steely-grey eyes stared back at shiny violet ones. She was very intimidating even if she was of smaller stature. “You want them to thank you. Not me.” The Stark girl had an unreadable expression on her face: it was blank. Daenerys couldn’t quite figure out what her intentions were, so she simply stood her ground.

Arya was right, though. She did want them to thank her more than anybody else. But how did she know that? She wasn’t there when Daenerys stormed out of the Great Hall, was she? “That’s not true. You were the one who ended the war by killing the Night King, so you deserve all the thanks.” She was telling the truth as well. Arya contributed a lot to the war and if it weren’t for her, many lives would have been lost. Daenerys was okay with her getting all the praise because she truly deserved it. The Stark girl grinned, but it wasn’t a wide one. She almost looked like she was taunting her. No one has ever done that to the Queen. And for that, she was offended.

“Is everything so funny to you or are you just trying to mock me?” The silver-haired woman raised her voice, turning her body to the side as she spoke to the younger girl, a stern look on her face. Why was she being so rude? She certainly had the nerve. “I have done nothing but honor you. I have spoken good things about you and yet all you do is sneer at me.” She fought the urge to take a step forward since the space between them would be too scarce. Daenerys had a fire in her eyes once more, she was appalled by this behavior. So much for being a Stark. “I am not mocking you, Your Grace. Not at all.” Arya replied with a dismissive expression on her face. Her lips were pursed as one corner lifted up while she knitted her brows. She rested both hands behind her back and held them together as she slightly turned her body to the direction where the older woman stood. Grey eyes stared back at violet ones once more. “You’re not at the feast either.” She started as she walked closer to the Queen, clearly noticing how she stiffened. “They must be praising Jon more than you. And that’s alright, he deserves it anyway.” Seeing how Daenerys was about to open her mouth to object or complain, the Stark girl beat her to it. “But they didn’t praise you enough, did they? That’s why you’re out here. You couldn’t bear to think that they would love and favor him more than their Queen.” Arya was just too good at reading people, a skill she learned from all those years of training. The Targaryen woman was shocked, to say the least. She got every detail right.

Daenerys looked deeper into Arya’s eyes, her eyebrows furrowing even further. The same grin was on the girl’s face, but Daenerys didn’t understand what the deal was with her. It seems as if she understood her more than anyone else. But admitting that she was right would slightly ruin her image—she would seem too entitled, proud and spoiled. So Daenerys stayed silent. She broke their gaze and looked down at the powdery white snow, her breathing unsteady. “Looks like I struck a chord there.” Arya would then speak nonchalantly, averting her gaze back to the tree again.

“If it weren’t for my armies and dragons, we could have lost.” Yes, she did strike a chord. And because of that, Daenerys snapped, but she did feel embarrassed about that right after. “I know. You don’t have to tell me.” Arya spoke in a calmer manner, raising a brow as she turned to look back at the silver-haired woman. “You tell them.” She nodded her head towards the direction where the feast was being held. This time, Daenerys looked into her eyes before shaking her head and chuckling quietly. She faced Arya with a smile. “Thank you.” With this, the young assassin reciprocates the gesture warmly before looking away once more.

A couple moments of comfortable silence fell between them, both lost in their thoughts. They didn’t mind the presence of one another, it just felt natural. But it slowly became awkward when none of them would say a word to each other. Why could it be? Maybe it was because they shared mutual respect and admiration for each other that they wanted to know more about them. Daenerys didn’t know where to start. She wanted to know how a young woman like her became such a skilled fighter, how she was able to survive on her own. She wanted to know about the journey she went through before becoming who she was today. It was something the two could somewhat relate to. Arya, on the other hand, knew where she wanted to begin.

“Where do you leave the dragons during times like these?”

Both heads turned around as they faced each other, one looked curious and the other looked pleased. Daenerys’s features softened as she began to speak, informing Arya about every detail about her dragons and their behavior, to which the grey-eyed girl listened intently, fully interested and engrossed.

Arya completely didn’t mind hearing the Queen speak so passionately about something. It was a sight to see. Especially with the topic being something they were both so interested about. She could listen to her babbling on about what the dragons can do and what they eat for hours and hours. It was nice to see another side of the Queen. She could tell it was rare. Under all that domineeringness and hard exterior, there was this devoted and fervent woman. Other than that, it was surreal that she was actually speaking to a Targaryen, one that owns dragons. Of course she would be fawning over her.

When Daenerys answered all of the young woman’s questions, it was her turn to ask. She started off by asking how she got separated from her family. She based most of it off of Jon’s stories about her, how they had only reunited recently and were separated for years. Daenerys didn’t get the answers she wanted, though. In fact, she didn’t really get any answers. Arya was somewhat closed off. It was obvious she didn’t really like talking about these things to people she just met. Yet since Daenerys was very persuasive, she did get some answers from the Wolf girl. They were just vague, but they were enough.

The night went on like that, the two women getting to know each other as they stood by the Weirwood Tree. They weren't getting tired of just standing there. They didn’t even think about it. They just kept talking about things that interested the both of them and everything just came off naturally and smoothly. It was like the two of them just clicked like two puzzle pieces. They both found each other easy to talk to. But as it was getting later, Daenerys was getting a bit more tired. Standing in the snow wasn’t exactly a conversation fit for a Queen. So she and Arya began to walk back into the castle until they have both parted ways.

Daenerys headed over to Jon’s room and saw him there. They spoke, but there clearly was tension so thick that they could cut it with a sword. He, too, noticed how she left when they all turned their attention to him. But they were somewhat able to brush it off as the two shared a kiss. Daenerys didn’t know why she felt the need to kiss him now, especially right after she just spent hours with his younger sister who closely resembled him. It just felt right. She was deep into the kiss when Jon pulled away. Her heart shattered. Then again, the problem still stands: he was also a Targaryen and he had a more valid claim to the throne. That’s why he stopped the kiss. But Jon always assured her that he didn’t want it and that he remained loyal to her. Still, it messed with her mind.

——

The day after, the Queen and all the leaders, lords, ladies and generals were standing around a table. It had a map and wooden pieces that had symbols of their armies on it. Everyone discussed their immediate siege on King’s Landing with all their remaining troops. Daenerys was very eager to do it as soon as possible and had her mind set on it. It was very clear. She was back to being bossy and relentless again, a completely different version of the woman Arya met the night before.

She was there at the table also, listening to all the people plan their attack. Her only concern was that she should get her hands on Cersei before anyone else. But when Sansa tried to reason with the Queen that the warriors needed to rest, Arya immediately sided with her, and her concern was the North as well. She was right. They can’t just fight another war without having a proper rest. But Daenerys was just too impatient. She wanted to rush things.

Arya was almost confused. She wasn’t like that when they first spoke. She was kinder. She now wondered what could have caused this sudden outburst. Everything seemed fine last night. But now, she suddenly distrusts the Targaryen. Her rudeness towards her brother and sister just didn’t do it for her. Maybe she was wrong about her after all.

And so after the meeting, the two Stark sisters and Bran met with Jon and warned him about their skepticism with his Queen. She hated to say it to him, but it had to be done. The stunt she pulled a couple of minutes ago was what decided it once and for all. Daenerys was a threat, even if she wanted to think of her otherwise.

She hoped she wasn’t, though.

——

Chapter Text

Thinking back to that moment that they met, Arya sighed as she reminisced all that happened. The sun was already hidden beneath the horizon, enough thinking for the day. It continued like that as time passed by. Days and weeks moved quickly. Arya always found herself standing on the same spot on the deck, thinking of the same things and watching the same event unfold. It was a routine that somewhat kept her sane. But what puzzled her was why she always thought back to a certain silver-haired woman.

She was already dead anyway. There's no chance that she would be able to ride a dragon. That’s the only reason she kept thinking about her, right? Nothing else.

Arya now walked back to her chambers and sat at the edge of her bed, wiping her face then running her hands through her now disheveled hair. It was getting boring. They’ve been on the ship for two months already. She couldn’t complain even if the rest of her crew did. But still, she tried to remain patient. Surely there was something beyond the Sunset Sea. All the time they spent sailing might not be wasted on nothing. So Arya chose to skip the time by trying to sleep. Everyone was back in their quarters, with only a select few managing the ship above. The Stark girl trusted them, so she laid down on the bed and shut her eyes. It began to rain. The water hitting the wood made a rather soothing sound to her, and that was enough to make her doze off for more than an hour.

Until there was some banging on her door.

The girl abruptly woke up with an exasperated look on her face. “Seven Hells.” She groaned and rubbed her face while pushing away her stray hairs. The knocking continued, followed by a muffled yell. It sounded like an alarmed Ser Rodner, and Rodner was always a calm man. She then began to put her boots on. “Can’t you wait?” Arya yelled back as she wiggled her feet into her shoes comfortably before finally getting up and opening the door. She looked up to the bald man who was drenched. Water leaked from his clothes to the floor. “I’m afraid we have a massive storm. ‘Ya have to get up there. The men don’t know what to do.” Rodner informed her, clearly having a worried expression on her face. Arya was caught off guard as she furrowed her eyebrows before nodding and heading up the stairs to the higher deck. The only night she was able to have a quiet sleep was when a storm happened.

She almost slipped on the way up as all the members of her crew were above deck, some holding the sails down while others watched the storm stirring even more from afar. About three people were at the wheel, unsure of which direction to spin it. Arya then looked up at the sky, seeing the thick, dark clouds that huddled around them with no sign of the clear sky anywhere. Heavy rain poured down on them as the waves pushed the galley in unpredictable directions. There were even strong and sharp lightning strikes that were awfully close to them. Her heart began to beat at a faster pace. It was happening: a large storm. It was soon to come upon them, especially if they were close to land already. That made Arya excited, but first she had to deal with keeping the ship afloat.

“What are you doing?! Turn the wheel, would’ya?” Arya yelled as she arrived at the stern deck, instructing the cowardly men who were in shock. The head helmsman had only just arrived when the Stark girl took control over the wheel. She pointed the ship towards the waves, knowing that if the waters were to hit its sides, it would turn over. It was a smart move from her, even the most skilled steerer on the ship approved. “Hold down the sails!” One man yelled. The winds weren’t cooperating with them at all, so they hoped for the best. Arya only expected the worst, but it was her way of setting her mind on not letting it get to that extent.

Water began entering the upper decks as the waves kept splishing and splashing from all directions, all the people on the ship found it hard to keep their balance. They were just being thrown all over the place. Some of the men even began dragging then throwing heavy empty crates down into the sea, hoping that the eliminated weight would help them. Others secured the more important crates that carried the rest of their food, but they were getting unsuccessful. Arya then kept maneuvering the wheel, a worried but determined look was on her face. Everyone was drenched and cold, fearing that their lives would end, but Arya wasn’t scared. She was done being scared. Fear only made her distracted, so she focused on trying to get everyone, including herself out alive. Their lives would be in her hands, it was her journey they accompanied her to. Other than that, she was manning the wheel.

Gripping the wooden handles tightly, Arya fought against the waves, dexterously steering the galley. Weeks prior to this trip, she had learned how to operate a ship from a man who hailed from the continent of Essos. She had met him when she visited the ports of Oldtown, hoping to be able to learn how to commandeer a ship. Of course, if she was going to sail the widest sea known to man, she had to learn.

Arya steered towards the area where the winds were weaker and the waves were shallower. It was enough to keep the ship somewhat calmer than a few seconds ago, but it wasn’t finished yet. Her men were doing all that they could, and that was to stay alive. She looked to the distance; the clouds were getting darker and thicker, the waves grew taller, the lightning strikes were occurring more often. The storm was getting stronger. This newfound stability wouldn’t last long, but Arya was still set on surviving. She didn’t want to end up like all those people before her, those who sailed the Sunset Sea to never come back again. She wanted to make history and live to tell the tale. It was her childhood dream.

Nymeria, the galley, was being thrown left and right with much stronger force. It was hard to stand still that even Arya kept slipping because of how wet the floor was. Everything got worse by the second. The sails started flying away as the masts broke, causing them to fall on top of the ship. A large gap on the floor cracked open because of this, and some of the passengers got thrown out of the ship now. Arya still held tight to the wheel, but her feet slid, so the control over the ship went away. Rodner immediately took over as he was by her side the entire time. He had some knowledge on how to sail. “Are ‘ya alright?” He asks the girl, offering one hand for her to grab as she stands back up. The Stark woman nodded as she checked on the rest of her crew right after the mast fell. There were a few of them stuck beneath it. There was nothing else she could do, going down there was suicide. She hoped the waters that began to fill the ship would be able to wash them off. Aside from the broken deck, it seems as if they started to hit rocks because of the sharp turns the ship started to have. More people were thrown off of the galley, and Arya almost did as well. She held onto the terrace before pulling herself back up. “Arya, we’re not going to make it!” Rodner yelled as he did what he could to maneuver the ship, but it was useless. Lightning strikes got even stronger and brighter, one even hit the top masts as they got burnt into a crisp. Just as she was about to object to tell Rodner that they could make it out alive, she saw the brightest light ever. It was another lightning strike, but it was very surreal because of how long it shone. An outline of what looked like an island could be seen in the distance despite the fog and clouds that covered it. She was hopeful, until a huge shadow emerged at the same time lightning struck once again. It came in the shape of what seemed like the fabled sea creature: a Kraken. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, so she looked at Rodner with her mouth agape. He, too, stared at the giant shadow with awe, until the creature’s tentacle whipped the ship upside down.

Everyone and everything fell into the angry sea. It was very dark, not even the moon gave them the light they needed now. All Arya could see were the sinking debris and items they brought with them. They were mostly worthless, so she didn’t give a second thought to them. She only cared about getting back up to the surface and saving as many people as she could. But it was hard. Every move of her limbs going up just made her feel like she sunk even more. The riptide beneath her certainly didn’t help as she was being thrown all over the place. Arya had no control over her body. She was slowly starting to lose breath. She couldn’t see, move, or breathe. She could only hear the waters and the rain falling on them. The pressure building up in her ears made her feel like her head was about to explode. No matter how stubborn Arya was, she was basically helpless. But as soon as everything around her began to calm down, she was somewhat able to swim upwards—until she was pushed towards a giant rock on the sea bed. Because of how sharp and pointed it was, a part of it managed to slice into Arya’s side. It almost impaled her. The girl yelled, but it was muffled as she was still underwater. Blood began to rush out of the new wound as she kept trying to go up.

She pushed and pushed no matter how painful it was, but she slowly lost air and blood, until her body couldn’t handle it anymore. Arya was drowning.

——

A month had already passed. It was time.

With barely anything to bring with her, Daenerys packed all the items she accumulated for months in hiding. She only had a few sets of clothes, grooming items, a map and most importantly, the Sword. Daenerys was able to purchase a scabbard that fit perfectly around her body as she stored the sword behind her back. She had to admit, it was quite heavy, but she can manage. It wasn’t something she couldn't do. If she was destined to wield it, then this should be easy for her.

Still, the hood remained covering her hair as a soft chiffon mask hid her face. They were going to be traveling for quite some time out in the open, so she still had to lay it low. The silver-haired woman’s only companion was the Priestess, and she doesn’t fully trust her yet.

Because of Kinvara’s many connections, they were able to ride on a rather exclusive boat. It was more private with the lack of people on it. But before they could sail, they of course had to travel to North Valyria by horse. There, she met with Drogon. He was coincidentally circling the ruins of Old Valyria, until he sensed that his mother was there. The black and red dragon darted towards the ground and checked on Daenerys as she did the same to him. He still looked well, and it even looks like he grew larger. The Targaryen was ecstatic to see this, but unfortunately, she had to leave him again for a few more months at most. Meereen was all the more populated and she was even more well known there. It would be too much of a risk. Since Drogon looked healthier due to his exposure to the vast sky and his ancestral lands, Daenerys didn’t feel as hesitant as she used to to leave him there.

After their journey, the ship that Kinvara asked for was already waiting for them by the shores. There, they sailed through the bay which should have already been retitled in her name. But to her disappointment, it was still called Slaver’s Bay. She shouldn’t have left in the first place.

Valyrian wasn’t even easier to understand in Volantis as it had the closest dialect of her mother tongue. Other cities in Essos had different terms she was foreign with, but now that she was back near her hometown, everything was much more clearer. Every morning she roamed the streets, she would hear the same things. People speaking about trades, their lives and the Fire God. But sometimes she heard people mention the Dragon Queen and her army. How she had lost on the other side of the world and that they brought her army to waste. That made her vexed, but it was no use getting mad now. Aside from that, they only ever spoke about rumors, though. So it still wasn’t enough.

Sailing to Meereen didn’t take them long as they arrived just a day after. The Great Pyramid of Meereen stood tall, with the Targaryen sigil still hung above. It was worn out, but she was pleased to see this as a grin spread across her lips. She felt proud. But soon, her happiness had to be cut short when she heard of some secret slave trade going on not too far away from them. It seems as if it still hasn’t been abolished. She heavily sighed at this before continuing on her journey. Kinvara walked closely behind her Queen, watching her every move. She was there to protect her, but the Sword most especially. All she cared about was the prophecy, not who it was who would fulfill it.

Right before they neared the heart of the city, she already saw a couple of slaves being mistreated. Her eyes widened as she stared at the poor, skinny man being kicked by his masters at his legs, then later in his gut when he fell on the dusty ground. Daenerys wanted to do something to stop it, but she kept it in her mind that it would attract some attention to her. Her lesson was learned that one time she was recognized by some merchant back in the streets of Volantis. They had no choice but to kill him since a group of assassins began to look for her after they gained knowledge of a rumor that the Dragon Queen lived. So, in the end, Daenerys had no other choice but to try and ignore the man in chains as she walked on.

Immediately, Daenerys reached the steps of the Pyramid, but she was unable to climb it when two men with large spears and turbans stopped her from doing so. She abruptly stopped as well, forgetting that these people wouldn’t recognize her. But she still tried to take a step forward, until one of them pointed the weapon at her. “Leave now, woman. Do you even have any business here?” One man asked her in a very strict Valyrian accent. Sharp violet eyes moved to look at him, the soldier clearly seeing how serious she was. She wanted to take her mask and hood off, but Kinvara stopped her from doing so, which was why she instead chose to stand tall and speak. “I am looking for Daario Naharis.” The other man scoffs. “And what does he have to do with you?” She stood still and calmly replied, “Tell him that his Queen is here to see him.” Now, both men looked at each other with uncertainty before eyeing Daenerys, still keeping one spear pointed at her. “He has no Queen.” It was as if she had already expected this answer when the silver-haired woman then reaches into her small leather satchel and brings out something she picked along the way here: a wildflower. Everyone around her looked confused, except for the dark-haired woman. “Here, bring this to him. Tell him who I am and you shall let me in.” Daenerys spoke ever so authoritatively once more. Again, both men looked unsure of this, but the shorter of the two then slowly walked away before jogging up the steps to the throne perched on top of the highest floor.

Kinvara placed a hand on Daenerys’s shoulder. “A wise act, Your Grace.” The Red Priestess smiled as she retrieved her hand. Daenerys furrowed her eyebrows, wondering if she knew of the little interaction she had with Daario a few years back when he offered her the same flower. Instead of saying anything, she simply nodded before turning her attention back into the Pyramid. It only took a couple of minutes under the sun when a man yelled down to the guard who was preventing Daenerys from entering the Pyramid. The soldier now moved his spear away and let the women pass. They now climbed the stairs.

Halfway through the hallway, she already saw the familiar man standing up expectantly, watching as they slowly reached the throne room closer. He held the wilted flower in one hand, in the other was the signature arakh he wielded. Daario looked the exact same, only older and scruffier. It even seems as if one eye of his got blind. She assumed he wouldn’t recognize her right away, so she kept walking until she reached the center of the room. She was still covered in her garments and didn’t plan on taking any of it off because of the many people inside.

“You come here claiming that you are my Queen?” Daario spoke, the voice echoing through the limestone room. He still looked cautious and watched the smaller woman in disbelief, trying to figure out if it was really her.

“Yes.” That was enough for him to recognize the voice. Eyes widened as his mouth dropped before he took five steps forward down the stairs. He examined the woman before falling down on his knees. Daario dropped his weapon but still held tightly onto the wildflower. “Daenerys? You’re here. You’re back. I—“ He was at loss for words. He looked deep into her violet eyes, further confirming that it really was her. The Second Sons around them looked surprised, but they all followed Daario’s lead anyway. He was about to stand up to hug or kiss her or whatever, but she spoke first. “Daario. I would like to speak in a more private room, if that could be possible. Or if you could send these men away. We will discuss everything.” Daenerys immediately ordered, her voice remained calm but domineering, almost. He knitted his eyebrows and nodded, raising his hand as he commanded them out the throne room. All the men left immediately, leaving only the Queen, the Commander/Sellsword and the Priestess inside.

She looked around the now empty throne room taking her hood and mask off. Daenerys remembered all the times she spent here. It only brought her bad memories, back when she was starting to learn how to rule a city. She tried not to think about it, but as much as she didn’t want to, they just kept running all over her mind. All the horrors and failures she had ever experienced. She now faced the man, who had just composed himself. “Daenerys! Y-you’re here! I thought you died. I immediately wanted to sail west when I heard the news but all the ports were shut after all the wars that have been happening there.” Daario blabbed on and on as he reached out both his now free hands to touch her shoulders. She had a solemn look on her face, not even meeting his eyes towards the end. The man noticed this. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” He questioned, immediately bringing his hands away from her. He then looked behind her, clearly seeing the large Sword and the Red Priestess. “Who is with you? What is all this?” Daario asked again, noting how different she looks. “Were all the rumors fake then? That you were killed because you were betrayed by the man who—“

“You did not keep your promise to me.”

“What?” Daario looked quizzical as his Queen mentioned those words to him. She looked dead serious, though. “I promised to keep the peace here in Meereen in your name and I never broke it.” Daenerys almost scoffs. “Right below these steps are many people who are wearing chains once again. Your men clearly haven’t been doing their job right, and so aren’t you.” The silver-haired Queen spoke rather menacingly, keeping her piercing violet eyes in his direction. Daario didn’t even dare to move from his spot, he was still in shock. It was almost as if everything about her was completely different: the way she dressed, the company she kept with her and the lack of affection she had for him. He understood the last reason, though. Daenerys always chose duty over love.

The man shifted in his stance, holding onto his belt. Daario didn’t know how to respond to what she said, she was right. Still, he kept that worried look on his face. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could say for now. This time, the silver-haired woman really scoffed and shook her head. “I did all that I could, but hundreds, maybe even thousands of masters all against one company of sellswords. That’s nearly impossible without having to result in slaughter.” Daario reasoned as he attempted to take a step closer to his Queen. Daenerys simply stood still and watched him, a slight glower on her face. Kinvara also stayed where she was, always behind Daenerys. But this time, she decided to speak up. “These slaves aren’t your concern, Your Grace. Your true purpose is in Westeros.” The Red Priestess spoke in her thick accent as she lowered her head in respect. The Targaryen didn’t turn around to look at her, though, she just tilted her head to the side to listen. “She’s right, Daenerys. That’s why you had to leave.” She remained in the same position, contemplating whether or not to believe what they said. These slaves deserved to be treated like people and she did what she had to to liberate them, but now, everything returned to its previous state. Perhaps, it’s just the way things are on this side of the world. But all the work she did just for it just for it to happen again was all thrown away. This exacerbated her.

“All the things I did for these people were just laid to waste. Should this not be my concern?” The Queen disputed the only two allies she had in an attempt to prove her point. “Not anymore, Your Grace. That was back then, but now it is different.” Kinvara replied and took a few steps forward as she stood beside Daenerys. Daario held onto his knife that was on his scabbard, slightly threatened by the foreign lady. The silver-haired woman raised a brow in question upon hearing the woman’s statement. Kinvara knew she wanted an explanation. “Had it not been for your large following here in Essos, you would not have the army needed to conquer Westeros. Now, you still have the forces, though they are scattered. You have to gather them.” She walked around the Queen to reach the middle of Daario and Daenerys. “If this man pledges his own army to you, then the better.”

Daenerys considered the things that were said to her and understood the reason behind these. Still, she wanted to free all the slaves. But that wasn’t her concern now, it was revenge. “The Second Sons are forever loyal to you.” Daario chimed in, his voice sincere. The Queen still wasn’t too pleased with the answers she received from these people, but again, they were right. She quietly sighed and nodded. “So then, we sail to Dragonstone in two days. You gather your army, tell them you now serve a Queen. But no one else should find out that I live. Only the two of you know.” It bothered Daenerys how much she had to keep her identity a secret. She wanted everyone to know that the Targaryen Queen was back from the dead and that she was going to take over the throne that was usurped from her. But it wasn’t advisable by the Priestess, and she had to trust her. She was the one who brought her back.

“Why can’t they know? They would be happy to hear that you’re back, wouldn’t they?” Daario asked, finally getting the courage to walk closer to her again. He towered over her, caressing the side of her cheek. He then lowered his voice. “I’m happy you’re back.” Daenerys looked at his hand, her face remaining a blank expression. The touch reminded her of their intimacy and how much she craved it. But because she was betrayed by someone she used to love, she developed an issue with trusting again. She slowly reached up to pull his hand away gently as she stared into his eyes despite one of them being missing. She decided to bring it up later. “If people know about me, my safety will be compromised.” She then walked away and placed her hood and mask on. “Get Kinvara a room for her to stay in. You come with me. We have to talk.” Daenerys tells the man one last time before she exited the throne room and walked towards a hallway that once led to her chambers. It should still be there.

Daario then followed suit and ordered the first soldier he saw to bring the Red Priestess in her own room along with a servant. This now left the two former lovers alone. As soon as she reached the door, she slowly opened it. Violet eyes scanned the place. It looks just the same as she left it. She remembered. Daario simply watched her as she took her time scrutinizing the room. She then took her cloak and mask off and hung them on a chair. Daenerys walked towards the bed as her fingers traced the soft covers. “I’ve missed you.” The man rested his hands on her waist as he nuzzled his nose on her hair. Daenerys almost freezes. “I can’t believe you’re back. Well, of course you are. You’re back to get what you want. You’re the only person who deserves everything.” He began to kiss his way to her neck. Daenerys didn’t know what she wanted to do right now, her mind was still too preoccupied with many things. But she did miss this kind of affection, and she and Daario already had some history.

He was back with his flattery and sweet talk, something she was always either amused by or annoyed by. There was no in between. Her breath hitched at the back of her throat as she felt the familiar body wrap around her. “Daario…” She spoke above a whisper. “We can’t do this.” Daenerys pulled herself away from him as she looked up with a rueful look on his face. She didn’t really mean to hurt him, but it didn’t feel right to do it now. They had only just met again after so long. “What? Why not?” He asked, but he made sure to keep his space. Daenerys shook her head and sat on the edge of the mattress. “Why not? It’s because I’ve just arrived from traveling. I haven’t had any sleep lately. I’m very tired.” It was obvious she wasn’t lying, the dark circles under her eyes say so.

“Then let’s rest.”

Daario sat at the edge of the bed as well and began to take off his boots, his weapons, then his clothes. Daenerys sat there, too drained to really react or think. She simply slid herself in the sheets and let her hair fall loose. For the first time in a long time, she actually felt safe. Safe enough to sleep. Daario then laid beside her, turning to his side to face the Targaryen woman. “You should sleep. Close your eyes.” He spoke when he noticed that Daenerys was still wide awake, staring into his face. She was looking specifically at his left eye. “What happened here?” Her delicate hands touched the spot where his eye once was. It was now empty, the area surrounding it looked rough and red. “That’s nothing. I got it from a fight.” Daario replied. He then proceeded to tell her about the reason behind his missing eye, and the story made her calm. It comforted her, being enclosed in warmth while she had the sense of safety.

And with that, she was able to fall asleep and got the rest that she deserved.

——

Chapter Text

There was barely anything she could remember.

The vague memory of the waves pushing her roughly then smoothly, the rain pouring down, the sight of broken wood. But the thing that stuck most to her was the pain in her abdomen.

Arya was injured. She was bleeding. Thank the Gods she didn’t drown.

The girl was now being washed ashore to some foreign land. Her vision was a blur, she couldn’t figure out where she was. She was too weak to move or get up on her own as well, but she saw a few figures approaching her. On a habit, her left hand reached down onto her scabbard to grab her sword, but after that, she fainted again.

It might’ve been after a few days when she finally woke up. Arya jolted out of her bed and sat upright, as if she had been in another nightmare. Though throughout the entire time she had been asleep, she had her recurring dreams of being a wolf, a rather big one. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but it made her relieved to think that Nymeria still lives.

Nymeria, right.

Her ship. She wasn’t on it. The familiar motion of the waves moving them around wasn’t happening right now. The ground was still, the walls weren’t moving and the view outside the windows certainly wasn't blue. The smell of salt in the air was still present, but not as strong as it was on the ship.

Arya took her time examining the new place she was in: a rather small and dark room with only one candle to light it. It was hot. The weather was somewhat familiar, though. It was as if she was back in Braavos—it was warm.

As she tried to get up while pushing her blanket away, her side began to hurt. A sharp pain thrusted onto the left side of her abdomen, just a hairline below her ribs. Luckily, it didn’t break anything. It was just deep. But Arya survived this. She was strong.

The girl grunted as she slowly stood up, having to hold on to her injured side in an attempt to lessen the pain. Her eyes spotted the clothes she wore on the ship and realized there was nothing covering her body, only a large bandage that went across her entire stomach. She then walked it off, no one was in the room anyway. Arya then began to dress herself up, glad to see that Needle was still secured onto her scabbard. Something was missing, though. Her Valyrian Steel dagger. The one she used to kill two cunts: Petyr Baelish and the Night King. Eyebrows furrowed, she began dressing up slowly, making sure to be careful when she had to move her dominant arm because of where her wound was. The pain was bearable, but she knew it could break open again if she wasn’t careful enough. Once she had everything on, she buckled her scabbard tightly, her right hand clutching the empty spot where her dagger should be.

Arya had three things on her mind: first is to find out where she is, then to look for her ship, and lastly, to look for her dagger. She then walked up to the door and pushed it open when she was immediately greeted by darkness. All around, it was almost pitch black. Arya thought she walked into a wall, but it was wide open. She felt the air that floated around her as she slowly moved her way out of the room. From afar, she could see some weak source of light. It brought out the outline of the walls and the stone streets that led towards it. That was her only choice, so she began to walk towards that direction. She had her sword on the ready just in case, but her side was too weak for her to be able to actually swing hard. Nonetheless, her grip on the sword tightened with every step she took. This was some unfamiliar territory that she never saw before. But she had a hunch as to where she was. Dark, clouded skies, mysterious and foggy streets, she must be somewhere in the Shadowlands. Yes, it wasn’t uncommon for some places to be dark and foggy, but this was different. It had an eeriness to it. As a child, she would learn about the many places all over the world they walked on. Westeros was already etched in her head; it was easier to memorize the locations because of how small it was. But comparing it to the larger continent Essos, there were even more areas scattered on it. One particular description matched where she was right now, and that was her first assumption. The first thing on her list of three was now accomplished.

Walking closer made the light brighter, and that made Arya feel somewhat relieved. Just as she quickened her pace, she reached a fork along the way. The walls were too high for her to figure out where she had to go, so it was hard to choose. Until a shadow in the darkness appeared. Even if it was too dark, Arya had basically trained herself to sense anything that whizzes by her, so at least she was able to feel someone else’s presence. With the sharp end of the sword pointed in the direction of the shadow, Arya spoke up. “Who are you?” No response. All she received was silence. The Stark girl simply kept her stance that way until she had any type of reaction from the shadow.

“Se Dāria Zaldrīzoti ēza māzigon arlī hen se ñuqir. Azōr Ahaī sīmontan istin tolī.”

Arya furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but also in intrigue. The voice was most certainly that of a woman’s, but the language definitely was not of the Common Tongue. She didn’t exactly understand everything, but she knew what it was. Valyrian. Her suspicion was correct, she must be in the Shadowlands. The woman before her also looked like she was the Red Woman’s twin. Since Arya spent a good amount of time around Braavos, she was somewhat able to pick up on some of the words that were spoken: Dāria means Queen, Zaldrīzoti means dragons and Azōr Ahaī was pretty self-explanatory. This can’t be true. Or maybe her translation was just off. She then slowly began to lower her sword once the shadow didn’t engage in anything. “Come, follow me.” The woman then surprisingly spoke as she began to walk in the rightmost path of the fork. Arya didn’t really have any other choice once again, so she trailed after the mysterious lady.

She was then led to what looked like the center of the city. In the middle was a large campfire that was twice the size of The Mountain. It burnt so bright that Arya was almost in awe, until she saw the parading group of Priestesses in red cloaks. They surrounded the pyre and chanted the same words as they stared deeply into the light. Arya felt threatened by this rather alarming group of fanatics. But that was until the woman she was supposed to be following began to walk further into another pathway that led to the docks. Once she saw the water and the boats, Arya walked faster as she was now right beside the woman. Time to do the second thing on her list: find her ship.

To her disappointment, there wasn’t anything that resembled the galley she rode. Everything was too small, and they were all boats. She frowned, but looked over to the Priestess who seemed to be staring at her. “Where is my ship?” Arya asked, a bark slightly in her voice. “What is this place?” She added as she took a few steps closer to the woman and examined her features. She almost looked joyful. “Your ship did not make it in one piece. But as we speak, it is being rebuilt.” This gave a lot of hope for Arya, but she was immediately concerned for the people that came with her. “You arrived in Asshai.”

This was a whole turning point for her. Asshai? That was the farthest place on the right side of the map. How can this be? They obviously sailed west, not east. Or did the storm simply just mess with their directions that they reached this place? “You’re sure?” Arya skeptically asked as her gaze remained on the woman. She nodded at the Stark girl and walked back to where the crowd was. “Did any of my men survive?” The Priestess paused in her tracks and looked at Arya for a brief moment before changing her path towards the many buildings seated by the edge of shore. They looked like huts. “Only a few of them did. They are all resting here. One old man kept checking on you.” That must have been Rodner. He was alive. Thank goodness. “How many are there?” Arya was so full of questions, and no one can blame her for that. “Seven of them.” She looked glum as she heard this. Only seven out of almost a hundred people survived. It was a tragedy. She felt the need for the blame to be on her. This was her idea, her plan, and these people just came to join her for it.

The Priestess then led her to another end of the shore where the familiar wooden figurehead could be seen perched on top of what remained of the wrecked ship. Several people worked on it, and for that she was thankful. Still, she was confused. How did she reach this part of the world?

From where they stood, she heard the band of Priestesses still chanting from afar. They said the same words the woman beside her first spoke. Something about the Dragon Queen and Azor Ahai. “What are they saying?” Arya then turned back to where the large fire was as she waited for a response. A smirk seemed to appear on the woman’s face.

“The Dragon Queen has come back from the ashes. Azor Ahai rose once again.”

“The Dragon Queen?” Arya questioned with furrowed eyebrows. A scorn was on her face. She spoke with so much disbelief that she was starting to doubt these people’s credibility. Them and their fantasies of a Fire God. “Daenerys is dead. Doesn’t news travel as far out as here?” She basically scoffed at this, but the Priestess looked like she was very sure of her answer. “Yes, it does travel to this corner of the world, and we have just received news that she is alive. The Lord of Light brought her back for a reason.” Nonsense, she thought. “Rubbish.” Was all Arya could mutter before she stormed towards the area where her ship was being built. She didn’t want to hear the rest of her lies. Fortunately, she recognized one man who was cutting through some wooden planks. “ Arya!” The old man greeted as he dropped his saw on the table. “You’re awake.” He mentioned the obvious and lowered his head in respect. “Ser Rodner. It’s good to see you again.” She nodded and tried to force a smile, but it just wouldn’t appear. “It’s been days since we arrived here. They kept tellin’ us we’re in Asshai but we didn’t sail east now did we?” The knight chuckled as he picked his saw up and began to cut through the wood once again. “We’re fixin’ the ship. Good thing there’s still a lot of it left, but a lot was also destroyed.” He continued as the loud noise of the sawing slightly muffled his voice, but Arya got every word. “Where do we sail from here? I mean, what if this is what’s west of Westeros? What if the sea’s just connected us back here? Must sound like a crazy thought to ‘ya but how else did we end up here?” The man was almost talking to himself at this point since he was so engrossed in cutting wood. This made Arya pause and think. Could it be? That the world was just one giant ring that connected? Then why were the maps cut off and shaped like a box? Perhaps it was because no one has found that out yet. But now, Arya has.

She approached Rodner and stood beside him, far enough from the strange Priestess so that she would not hear their conversation. “How long have we been here?”

“Well, this’ll be our fourth day.”

“And do you trust these people? Have they been welcoming to you?”

Rodner’s normally happy expression now contorted into a serious one. His eyes lifted to look at the woman in front of them before he faced the wolf once again. “I don’t trust them. They make m’skin crawl. Not only me, but as well as the others.” His voice was somewhat lower as he mumbled, but she was close enough to understand him. “But they’ve been helpin’ us, tellin’ us what to do after. Some of their advice was odd, sayin’ that we have to go to some city in Essos and fetch some savior of theirs. But other than that, they told us to rebuild the ship, which was the only smart idea they had.” With that, he continued sawing more boards, with only a few of them left. Upon hearing what he said, she raised a brow at the Priestess who still stood there, watching them with mysterious brown eyes that were almost as black as a shadow. “Is it almost finished?” Arya spoke again after a few moments of silence before she turned to face the said ship. “Not in a few more days.” The knight answered, finishing the rest of his wood. As they fell to the floor after being cut, he gathered them all and carried them up, leaving some for Arya to carry as they walked towards the group of men who were hammering the boards onto the ship.

To her surprise, a few of the men building were also from her crew. She greeted them and flashed them a smile as she gave the wood. Rodner did the same, before he followed Arya back to an empty spot by the same shore. The girl had walked there before him, clearly signaling the man to go after her. Arya trusted Rodner, he was the one she trusted the most among all the people around her. Thus, she shared this information with him. “She tells me that the Targaryen Queen is alive.” Her voice was just above a whisper as her grey eyes traveled from Rodner to the Priestess who still waited for her. As expected, the Northern man sneered at this. “See what I was tellin’ ‘ya? A madwoman, that one.” Rodner had his arms crossed as he chuckled to himself, clearly amused by what she said. But Arya was uncertain. She didn’t believe it at all, but if it were true, it was something everyone should be concerned about.

“They said they’ll be servin’ dinner in the large temple, d’ya wanna go there now?” Rodner asked as he dusted his hands while walking beside the young assassin, who was still so caught up in her thoughts. The knight didn’t notice this, though. It was always really hard to read the girl’s face. However, Rodner noticed something else. “I’ll follow you after I deal with something.” Arya replied and was just about to walk to the Priestess that waited for her when suddenly Rodner grabbed her arm. She was surprised by the gesture and almost shoved his hand off until she saw where his eyes were. “Where’s yer dagger?” He then let go when he finally got her attention. She stared menacingly up at the old man, clearly implying that she didn’t like what he did. “It’s missing. Obviously.” Arya remarked. “We have to look for it before we leave.” The girl added before she turned her back on him and began to walk away. Good thing Rodner didn’t say another word.

As she was about to head over to the red lady, it seemed as if a giant cloud of darkness swarmed upon them. She stopped in her tracks and looked up, but all there was was the same smoky sky she saw when she first woke up. This place was definitely strange and eerie, she’d never want to go back. Arya saw the Priestess open her mouth to speak, but as usual, she beat her to it. “You're going to tell me the Night King’s not dead now, are you?” She sarcastically commented, satisfied with the look on the woman’s face. Arya crossed her arms and planted her feet firmly on the ground as she stared at the lady, waiting for an explanation on what she had just informed her. “Believe me, Arya Stark. I do not lie. We have seen it in the fires, we have heard the prophecy, and now, she needs your aid in completing it.”

She scoffs. “Why would she need the aid of a girl whose family betrayed her? What would she even need help for? Taking back the throne would be especially hard because of the way she executed it the first time.” Arya almost raised her voice at the woman who remained calm as if she already knew the turn of events. The Stark girl was still poised, though. “Our visions are never wrong. We saw Daenerys Targaryen in the fires along with you as you planned your siege on King’s Landing.” The Priestess began to walk into one of the many tall, dark structures that stood nearby. Arya followed after her, picking up on the woman’s suggestion to take their conversation inside even if she spoke of falsehood.

They entered an empty room with a large fire in the center just like every other temple these Lord of Light followers have. The Priestess looks into the fire and walks closer to it. “Bran the Broken is not the King that would liberate this world. He is just as corrupt and vile as those who came before him.” Because of this rude statement coming from the woman, Arya was now offended. The way she spoke about her brother like that was just uncalled for. “Bran is a good King, don’t you dare compare him to the likes of the Lannisters. He is my brother, an innocent young man who has never had any evil intentions.” Arya spoke with such force, yet she managed to keep her voice in the same tone. If one were to listen, they would get the point and the sincerity of her message. She remained behind the lady in the red cloak, keeping both her hands behind her back as she clasped them together. Her eyebrows furrowed at the lack of reaction from the Priestess. “This may be hard for you to understand and believe, but it is the truth. The threat up north may have been dealt with, but the real danger may be the one you least expect.” She now turned around to face Arya. The young assassin listened.

“He and the Night King had the same intentions: to erase this world and create a new one in their favor. Bran is not your brother anymore, he is different. And unfortunately for the Walkers, the Three-Eyed Raven won this war.” The Priestess paused. “As for Queen Daenerys, her plans are the opposite. She wants to free these people, rule in prosperity and keep the life and legacy of the world preserved. But because a darkness had dwelled upon her when she finally had the chance to take her throne, it destroyed her image. Daenerys and the God I serve have the same intentions, to rule with fire, blood and light, whilst the Three-Eyed Raven wants to rule with darkness, death and destruction.” Arya still listened to what she had to say, keeping her comments and questions after the long speech the Priestess had prepared. At the same time, she was amused by this and thought of it as an entertaining joke of a story, but she was also interested. The things she said somewhat made sense, but the fact that she accused Bran of being evil did not sit right with her.

“Ever since he ascended the throne, his elaborate plan has already begun. It starts with feuds between the great houses of Westeros. From this, it will cause wars.” She stared at the grey-eyed girl before speaking again. “Jon killing Daenerys was necessary. It will spark contempt between your families, but it is up to you to speak for the both of them to serve as the mediator. More and more wars will come as the number of people starts to thin out. And when only a few people are left, that is when the Three-Eyed Raven would begin his final destruction. If you want millions of lives to end as well as you and your loved ones, then disregard every word I have told you. But if you wish to keep the life on this world, go and sail immediately to the Queen.”

It seemed as if the Priestess was finished with her story, and all Arya did was listen. It sounded like one of those made up fairytales she used to listen to before bed when she was a child. It was amusing and almost unbelievable. But Arya has many questions. She didn’t even know where to begin. “And why should I believe you?” She challenged the woman and walked closer to her, feeling the heat of the flames on her face. The Priestess was looking into the fire when she suddenly brought out a piece of parchment and handed it to Arya. “This scroll came from the High Priestess of Volantis,” She spoke as Arya noted the seal of what she assumed was Volantene. “She tells us that she resurrected the Dragon Queen. Why would she send us this and make up such a thing if it weren’t real?” She was right, but she could also be lying. This could be a fake scroll.

As if on cue, the Priestess then brought out something heavier and larger than the piece of paper. It glimmered in the light and Arya immediately recognized this.

Her dagger.

“This blade is very significant to your life. It was almost used to murder your younger brother, then it landed onto your hands to kill the man who was behind it all. After that, it was what you used to end the Long Night.” Arya was surprised, she got every fact right. How could she know all of this?

“But what you don’t know is where this blade came from. It dates back many many years before your father was even born. It was made by a Targaryen King’s blacksmith, to which it was possessed by him until his death. Now it was sold off years after, yet Peter Baelish got his hands on it before Daenerys Targaryen did. This was supposed to be one of the many wedding gifts she was to receive back when she was married to Khal Drogo.” The Priestess now handed the dagger to Arya, to which she slowly took.

Grey eyes examined the steel that was ever so familiar to her, until she heard of its origins. “But you own this now. Thus, this shows your important role in this game we are all playing. Have you any other reason not to side with the Queen?”

Arya still stared at the dagger, holding it flat with both her hands. This was a huge change in her life, and it made her question everything. This Priestess got all the facts correct, so why shouldn’t she believe her, right? Her mind then traveled back to a certain Red Woman she despised. Melisandre. The woman who did harm to her friend, the woman who burned a child alive. But she didn’t remember those events from her, instead she remembered the time she also revived Jon. She trusted his witnesses and the story of her brother, he was the most truthful man she knew. Arya also recalled the time she spoke about the prophecy a young Arya was supposed to fulfill: when she shut brown eyes, blue eyes and green eyes forever. And she did. Maybe these fanatics were credible after all.

But everything just seems to be doing alright so far: Bran was a good King in her eyes, the dead aren’t coming back to life, and everyone in her family got what they wanted. How could things possibly go wrong? Yet if the prophecies were right and she did nothing to contribute to the good of the realm, it would be something she would regret for so long. Arya took her time weighing out her decisions as she stared at the Valyrian Steel dagger, countless thoughts racing in her head.

“I have to tell Jon.”

The Priestess’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “I advise that you do not. You must do all these in secret, for if the forces in the west find out, you will lose this cause.”

“But he's my brother. He's the one who killed your Queen in the first place.” Arya retorted as she thrusted her dagger back into its sheath that fit perfectly. She began to walk out the door from where they came from and back into the darkness outside. The woman followed right after her and almost jogged to catch up to her. “He must not know until you cross the Narrow Sea with the Queen. It is not known if he will side with you or with the Three-Eyed Raven.”

With this, Arya stopped and turned around to face the Priestess, a neutral look on her face. “Then I will make him side with us if it must. But I won’t ask him until we arrive back.” Steely grey eyes stared right into brown ones and that was enough to keep the Asshai witch quiet. She knew there was nothing she could do to change Arya’s decision, and so she let the assassin leave.

The girl then went over to Rodner when the rest of her men went to have supper. Since she trusted the knight, she told him of their plans after they had rebuilt the ship, but she excluded the main reason behind their sudden departure. He can’t know that Daenerys is alive, even if the rumor was already spread all over the place. To them, it was just some false story. But to Arya, she had enough proof to vouch for it.

Her plan was to go ahead and fetch the Queen in whatever city she was in and conspire with her, to try and convince her not to take over the kingdoms anymore. Arya believed that the silver-haired Queen should just stay where she was for the rest of her life. She knew it would be difficult and against what was told of her, but the Stark girl always did what she wanted to do. She didn’t take orders from anyone.

——

Chapter Text

It wasn’t just Arya who heard the prophecies of the Priestesses, Daenerys did too.

After finally settling back down inside the walls of Meereen, the Targaryen Queen had a talk with two of her most trusted supporters. Kinvara informed them both about Daenerys’s true purposes and what the current King of Westeros plans are. As expected, they too, were rather skeptical of the words that the Priestess said. But Daenerys was then quick to believe because she knew that it was what she truly deserved ever since the stormy night she was born.

Kinvara then urged her to begin her practice on how to wield the Sword. She considered that maybe Daario could teach her—he was good with many weapons and techniques. And so she asked him when she got the chance, but he refused. He opted to use the Sword in her place because he believed that a woman like her shouldn’t be wielding swords to protect herself, that instead, she deserved a thousand men dying for her. Daenerys then figured that because of his stubbornness, maybe he wasn’t the right person to teach her. So she kept her priorities on her original plan: to retake the Iron Throne.

The Queen then began to think of her scheme. Because of his skillfulness in combat, she appointed Daario to be her Master of War for the meantime. Grey Worm had the former position, but since she didn’t know where he and the Unsullied were, she ordered Daario to track them down and inform them that the Queen is alive again. After this, he was to gather the Dothraki army once they arrived in Westeros.

Fortunately, as if the odds were in their favor, Daario received word from the Unsullied commander that their forces were residing in the Isle of Naath. This was good news for them all, and Daenerys was pleased. She now told Daario to sail their way to personally speak to Grey Worm about the Queen’s plans. A letter wouldn’t be safe.

At first, Daario disagreed, saying that Daenerys would be vulnerable and exposed without him. He was right, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a large army of sellswords. These men can protect her, as long as they were sworn to secrecy. Daenerys was still somewhat a wanted person with several people tailing her whereabouts. But she trusted these men, and they were loyal to her. And so, Daario brought only a handful of his army and left the rest to keep the peace and guard the Dragon Queen. His journey towards Naath would take him a couple of days. That was alright for her. She could wait. She’s been waiting her entire life, and whenever the time comes for her to act, everything falls easily onto her lap. It was as if fate was on her side.

Daenerys had the same routine ever since she set foot in the familiar sandy city of Meereen. In the morning, she’d clothe herself with the same maroon cloak and roam the streets, gathering as much information as she could while she gets the chance to spend her time outside. Being used to moving and traveling, Daenerys was getting tired of staying holed up inside walls, so the only time she was free was when she placed her hood and mask on. It’ll be soon, she thought. Just a few more days and she could show her face once again.

Every single day, she would come back safe and unscathed, all without a person following her. The silver-haired woman’s efforts in hiding her identity were going along just fine. No one seemed to recognize her or spy on her. She simply fit in with the crowd that no one was out to murder her yet. This made her feel even more confident in herself. Maybe everything was true—she was destined to be alive.

It was surprising how much news and stories she could gather in the streets, even more so whenever it was about the western continent. Daenerys always made sure to keep her routes the same. They all usually lead to the harbor where there were many Westerosi merchants. Usually they would only speak about what they brought to trade, so it was a matter of catching them at the right time. Today just so happened to be a good time.

The silver-haired woman walked by the area where the boats were tied as several people brought down their carts filled with all their goods up to the docks. Groups of people began to swarm the place, eager to check out what was new of these traders. This time, there were two new men who accompanied the regular merchants that traveled this way, but Daenerys had her suspicions about them. They didn’t look like they were there to trade at all, but they rather looked prepared for a fight. These men looked lean and burly unlike the scraggly traders that strain themselves when they have to pull their carts around.

“Take all you can, everyone. This is the last of our goods. It might be the last time we ever return here because we have plenty of our own matters to deal with across the Narrow Sea.” One of the familiar and legitimate merchants spoke in Low Valyrian with a hint of an accent noticeable in his voice. The man looked old, sullen even. His salt and pepper beard covered most of his sunburnt face, but his eyes told a whole other story. Because of his statement and his demeanor, Daenerys was just as curious as the rest of the Meereenese people, maybe even more. Several mutters of questions and complaints came from various people, all of which couldn’t be answered at once, so the merchant let them all speak until they'd settled down. “I’m afraid we can’t harvest any of these things anymore. We’ve lost the right. Other than that, we’ve been called out to…fight. To…war.” He stuttered towards the end, finding the more suitable words to describe their situation. It was a long pause before he spoke, but no one could blame him. He was a foreigner after all.

The merchant’s explanations for their reasons came as a surprise to Daenerys. War? Didn’t they just say that Bran’s reign was the best they’ve had since the Rebellion? After only almost a year, he was already set out for war? But against who? She had so many questions that her interest was now piqued as she moved a little bit closer to hear the men who were sending out crates. But because of the many voices speaking all at the same time, she could barely hear them. All she could make out was that a few of the smaller houses disagreed with their choice of King. That a cripple leading the Six Kingdoms was the worst decision they ever made. Maybe the Priestess was right after all. More wars could lead to more deaths as it turns into an endless, vicious cycle. And it was all up to her to stop it.

As it was slowly starting to get more crowded, she felt two pairs of eyes lingering on her. At first, she tried to brush it off. It was normal to have that feeling especially when she had to hide herself. But it was beginning to be distracting to her, and so she decided to lift her eyes and look in the direction where she felt the stares coming from. Violet eyes locked with dark blue ones that looked glossy and lifeless. Daenerys immediately shifted her gaze as a strong feeling in her gut told her to leave immediately. The stares were coming from the two men who came with the rest of the merchants. They still kept staring at her, and so she filed her way out of the crowd and back to the direction of where the giant Pyramid stood.

Daenerys walked away as fast as she could in a normal-looking speed so as to not attract attention. She was hoping the two men would leave her alone and that she was just imagining things, but unfortunately, they did follow her. She looked back maybe once or twice, just to see if they were still there, and they were. The Targaryen woman began to feel nervous. She had nothing and no one to protect her. She was alone. And so, she had to think smart. In order to keep herself safe, she had to walk in a large and busy crowd. If all goes well, she could lose them there.

The silver-haired Queen wove her way in and out, making sure she doesn’t bump into any people on the way to the Pyramid. She was careful, but suddenly, she was pushed to the side by one of the men. He caught up with her. This caused her to stumble into some long, dark and empty alley, away from the bustling crowd. But in the process, the dark red fabric covering her hair slid off. Silver locks were revealed for a short period of time until she immediately pulled it back on. That was enough confirmation for the people hunting her. Her eyebrows were furrowed worriedly while her eyes widened. She stared at the hired killer who slowly walked towards the vulnerable Queen. No, this can’t be it. She can’t just die again or get kidnapped now. She should’ve been more careful.

While Daenerys tried to stand up, she also kept backing away from the man with every step he took. She looked behind her, seeing that it was only a dead end with a wall waiting for her back to touch it. But it wasn’t just him and the wall that stopped her, his companion was also suddenly stationed behind her. She was cornered.

Though everything seemed very hopeless right now, Daenerys wasn't. She knew that one way or another, she was going to get out of this. If she were truly the chosen one, it wouldn’t just end here. So she stood her ground and turned her head alternately once in a while to check on both men. Daenerys had two assumptions: Kinvara suddenly appears to her aid and casts some spell on the men, or Daario’s Second Sons save her. Either way, she was confident she would make it out alive.

Just as both men were only about a foot away, the one behind her grabbed her body tightly, locking her arms underneath his. Daenerys struggled and yelled as she tried to wiggle her way out of his tight grasp. Her breathing was labored the entire time and she began to kick the man in front of her when she saw him bring out chains. These men were clearly ecstatic to have captured a woman that looked like the Dragon Queen. Oh, how full their pockets would be after she was sold off.

The man in front of her then held her wrists together, trying to put the cuffs around them. But since Daenerys kept on moving and moving, he couldn’t have the right grasp on her. “Let me go!” She yelled. “Stop!” Her mouth was suddenly shut when the man behind her placed a hand on it. Daenerys let out muffled cries of help. This time, she truly felt like this had to happen to her. She didn’t see Kinvara nor a soldier nearby to save her, so she decided to just give in.

The cuffs were already on, but just as they were about to get latched and locked in properly, the man’s mouth was suddenly open as a shiny piece of silver was thrust through it from behind. Blood stained the sword as his teeth and lips were now also covered in red. The blade was retracted as the man’s lifeless body fell to the ground. Daenerys’s eyes widened as she watched the man drown and choke in his own blood. Even the man behind her was shocked and did the same. He then let go of Daenerys and walked backwards, unsheathing his own blade. Both of them tried to look for where the killer came from, but there was no one around. Daenerys then faced the other man just in time to see two blades clashing. One was a big, brawny but slow man with a huge two-handed sword, and one was a smaller but swifter figure with the skinniest sword she ever saw. But the sword looked somewhat familiar to her. The two parties then began to engage in a heated combat, taking turns dodging and attacking.

Daenerys stayed out of their way and moved backwards, keeping her eyes on the also hooded figure who slashed the large man’s legs and arms, causing him to be slower. The figure gracefully evaded his blows like they knew his every move. It was as if they purposefully moved only a hairline away from the sword. The cockiness reminded her of Daario, but this figure was too short to be him.

They kept on playing around, dodging the man’s attacks here and there. It became such a routine that it might have taken them around a few minutes doing the same moves all over again. The figure remained calm but alert, slashing some parts of the man’s body to weaken him. As the large man was slowly starting to tire, he was getting enough of this. He finally found his brain and began to read the smaller figure’s moves to find an opening as he was able to get into an advantage when he hit the figure on their side with the pommel of his sword, a completely unexpected move to come from him. This caused the figure to stumble over to the wall, nursing the wounded area with their other hand. Still, the hooded assassin kept fighting despite the bright shade of red that began to seep through their cloak. The man was already too tired, and that was enough to show an opening for the smaller figure. With a swift motion, the skinny blade sliced twice along his belly and finally through his heart. Heavy breaths came from the hooded figure as they stayed in that position for a few more seconds to compose themself. The large man then slowly sunk on top of the figure, the length of the bloody sword becoming apparent as it pushed through his back. The smaller of the two pushed him away onto the ground right beside the friend he was with. They were both left there to rot.

The Dragon Queen just stood in the same spot with her heart pounding so fast she could feel it in her ears. She was still in a slight shock, frozen, even. She stared at the two dead men, making sure they were truly dead before her eyes lifted to the fellow hooded figure who was leaning on the wall. The bleeding didn’t stop on their waist, and Daenerys immediately pushed both her hands on it in hopes of stopping the flow. They started to look weak and sunk further into the wall as some pained grunts came out of their mouth. “I’ll get you some help. Can you walk?” Daenerys asked and spoke in her mother tongue, assuming that her savior was local. She looked into the figure’s face and pushed their hood off, revealing neatly tied dark hair. It was tied from the half up into a knot that rested on the back of their head. This looked familiar. She has seen several men with this hairstyle back when she was residing in Winterfell, but it wasn’t only men who used to fix their long hairs up this way.

She knew of a particular girl with grey eyes that had the exact same knot. And so she looked into her savior’s eyes and stared at the familiar but mysterious orbs that looked back at Daenerys. Then, it finally hit her.

It was Arya Stark.

——

Chapter Text

The girl’s other plans seemed to be working well so far.

From Asshai, she sailed ahead to Meereen with a smaller ship by the ports that also happened to be traveling to Slaver’s Bay. It reminded her of the time she slipped her way into the ship that was en route to Braavos.

As if it were her normal routine, which really was, Arya effortlessly sneaked past the many people who would immediately recognize her and question her intentions. The only person who knew about her disappearance was Rodner, nobody else. But even the knight himself didn’t know why she had to leave suddenly. It took a whole lot of convincing for him to stay and leave her alone without any questions asked, and because of his loyalty and obedience to the Queen in the North and her sister, he had to respect her decision.

Arya had previously instructed Rodner to take care of other things before she left. She told him to write a letter addressed to Sansa, telling her that they have arrived in the Shadowlands. She made sure that no other information should be disclosed in the letter, like why Arya couldn’t write it herself. All that matters is that her sister knows that they were all safe.

She had also told him to follow suit to Meereen once her ship was fully repaired. If there would be any changes, she’d keep in touch and send a raven to him as well.

Traveling by ship took her almost a week but she was able to arrive safely either way. Every second that passed on the boat gave her time to think of how she should approach things with Daenerys. It was odd, she thought. She now suddenly had to worry about a person who was supposed to be dead, but she had to prove if the fact was true. She had to see it for herself, if the Targaryen were truly alive.

Arya had finally set foot on the docks of Meereen, the city that was famous for its Great Pyramid. She inspected the place; it looked rather similar to Braavos, but it was hotter and even more populated. It was somewhat of a desert. Her initial step was to roam the streets to hear if any word of the Targaryen ever broke out.And so she did, but no one seemed to be mentioning anything about a Queen or a dragon. Walking to the main route that led to the heart of the city, she noticed a certain group of people all huddled by one of the other docks. It looked like they were trading. She didn’t pay much attention to them aside from one hooded figure with a mask on. The color of the cloak caught her eye because it stood out. It was blood red. But before she could observe this person, she realized that her outfit might raise suspicions. It was a leather tunic that had laces and grommets, one of the many outfits she had brought with her that surprisingly survived the shipwreck. Clearly, it was a Westerosi outfit. Everyone else wore other types of cloths and materials on them, so she stealthily snatched a tan-colored cloak and put it on.

She was all set. All she had left to do was to find the Queen. Arya began to walk closer to the Pyramid, thinking of how she should enter the place. From afar, she saw two soldiers guarding the entrance. There was no way she could negotiate with them unless she wore one of their faces. No. It would be too hard. But along the way, she saw that same blood red figure rush past a group of people before stumbling out into another alley. The figure looked helpless. Arya then saw two men who entered the same place. She furrowed her eyebrows.

The young assassin faced a dilemma: should she save that person from those men who obviously looked like they didn’t have good intentions? Or should she head straight to the Pyramid without any initial plan to get in? The first option seemed better since she really didn’t know how to enter the large triangular building, so she decided to push her way into the crowd and out of the alley.

It was good she was there on time. The person in the red cloak seemed to be doing alright so far. None of them noticed her presence yet because she was a master at hiding in the shadows while being as quiet as possible. Her back was against the wall as she crept her way closer. Grey eyes squinted while they stared at the event that happened right before her, but then they widened as she saw a glimpse of the familiar silver hair. Could it be?

When she heard the voice and protests coming from the victim, it was further confirmation. Daenerys. That was truly her. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t made up. Arya’s heart started pounding out of her chest. Was she feeling nervous? Shocked? Afraid? Or was it just the adrenaline speaking?

She snapped out of her thoughts when the men began to cuff her, and so with a swift move, Arya unsheathed Needle and stuck it right up the man’s mouth. A clean cut. This satisfied her. Now all she had to deal with was the incredibly large man. It wouldn’t be as easy as the first one, but it also wouldn’t be too hard.

And so after a few minutes of fighting, she successfully beat the man despite her wound being open again. She was tired, so she leaned on the wall. She almost forgot about the Targaryen being right beside her, but for now, her focus was stopping the bleeding.

Her vision was starting to blur, the blood was just too strong, and she had just finished fighting a giant. She tried to lift her head up to look at the woman who was now by her side, keeping her small hands on Arya’s wound. Even with her clouded eyesight, she could still see the outline of Daenerys’s face. How familiar it felt. How beautiful it was, even.

But no, this woman was a murderer. She killed thousands of innocent lives. She shouldn’t justify her actions just yet.

“Arya?” The woman spoke in shock. “What are you doing here?” Daenerys asked in disbelief, her mouth agape. She placed one of Arya’s arms around her shoulders and helped her back up as they slowly walked out of the alley. “Let’s head inside first. It is not safe here.” The Queen added, her voice now in a more serious tone that sounded just like the way Arya remembered it.

“It’s true. You are alive.” The Stark girl chuckled to herself and hissed right after the pain it caused in her stomach. “Seven fuckin’ hells.” She exclaimed, not because of the pain, but because of the fact that Daenerys was standing right here in flesh and bone. Silence fell upon them as Daenerys furrowed her eyebrows. She didn’t want to talk about it now considering their circumstances. Right as they were back into the crowded streets, Arya somehow gained a little bit of strength and began to walk more sturdily. Good. So that no one would notice how odd they walked.

Their entire journey didn’t last long, but the tension surely was there. On one hand, Arya was sort of in a shock to see her alive after almost a year without hearing anything about her. But the Stark girl thought of it as a good thing, considering what she’s done to the capital moments before her death. On the other side, Daenerys was confused. Yes, she heard about the prophecy, that someone will help her achieve her cause. She just didn’t expect it to be the grey-eyed girl.

Both women were at a loss of words, but Arya’s wound was also kind of a good thing. At least they were preoccupied with something else, something to be dealt with before they actually say anything to each other.

Since Daario’s men were ordered to let Daenerys in at all times, they were able to freely enter into the pyramid. They only had about a few hundred steps before they reached the top. There was no way she was going to let Arya walk all of those while she was bleeding. Luckily, Kinvara was waiting for them in the lowest room in the pyramid. It was as if she knew that the two of them were arriving soon.

Arya winced once she leaned on the doorframe. Her eyes traveled to the Priestess, furrowing her eyebrows. Kinvara was staring at the wounded girl, a satisfied smile was on her face. How could she smile while there was an injured person in the room? “Bring the healer in, she’s losing a lot of blood.” Daenerys commanded the Red Priestess as she continued to help Arya towards a chair. The young assassin looked around: the room was quite large, being that it was situated in the widest part of the pyramid. There was a table with a large map of Westeros along with a few pieces that signified the Targaryen’s remaining troops. Arya lightly shook her head as she sat down, seeing the map even more clear. Daenerys was really planning a siege. She should stop her.

“I can heal her myself.” Kinvara spoke as she now approached Arya who was slumped on the chair. The Stark girl grunted in pain, but she glared up at the Priestess. “I’m not letting you near me.” Arya replied as she backed away further in her chair. She never had a good image of these Red Priestesses. What if they had other agendas of their own? “You can trust her.” Daenerys chimed in from the corner, rinsing her hands of the blood that stained them. She soaked them in the basin, scrubbing away at her fingers.

“And I’m to believe you?” The Stark girl protested as she now stared daggers at the silver-haired woman. “After what you’ve done. After you said that you’d stop when they surrendered,” Arya menacingly spoke, her voice lower than usual. Bitter grey eyes met foreboding violet ones. Daenerys furrowed her eyebrows, she almost looked petrified. She stopped washing her hands and paused in her spot, clearly looking tense. “And they did. They rang the bells but you still burned them all.” Arya said in the same tone but groaned towards the end. Her wound was getting worse, and talking certainly didn’t help.

Daenerys was still frozen in her spot. All the things she said messed with her. She didn’t need a reminder of what she did a few months ago. It was horrific. She didn’t know what overtook her that time. Maybe it was really bound to happen. Daenerys didn’t intend to create this image of herself, and now the girl that used to admire her thinks that she is evil.

“See to it that she gets cleaned up after.” The silver-haired woman spoke in a solemn manner, not looking at either of the women. Though it was clear that her order was directed to Kinvara. The Priestess nodded, which almost looked like a bow. Daenerys then left the room without turning back and walked up the stairs that led to her chambers.

This gesture did not please Arya. She wanted to hear an explanation or even an excuse for why Daenerys did what she did. But since she left it there without acknowledging her actions, Arya quietly scoffed and shook her head. She let this slide for now. For the meantime, she had to deal with the Priestess.

Arya was reluctant to get herself patched up by a woman she didn’t even know. But what other choice did she have but to trust her? If she trusted the ones back in Asshai and their prophecies were indeed true, one Priestess shouldn’t be a problem to her.

——

She poured herself a glass of wine and drank half of it in one sip. Daenerys was distressed, and she needed this right now.

It was obvious that she did regret what she did. She just didn’t want to admit it yet. For the past months she’s been alive once again, Daenerys tried not to think of that day in King’s Landing. Whenever she dwelled on it too much, her chest began to ache, her lips trembled, and her skin became as pale as a ghost. Even if she was the one that caused all this terror, it petrified her.

And now that the Stark girl brought it up again, Daenerys felt sick to her stomach, so she had to leave in order not to show her breakdown to anyone. Fortunately, today wasn’t as bad as the rest. Tears didn’t start welling up her eyes and she didn’t have a hard time breathing. The quietness and privacy of her chambers was there to calm her down. Warm orange lights coming from the fire reminded her of dragons. She smiled as the thought of all three of her children flying in the air came up in her mind. Even if two of them were already gone, and the other one was far away from her, it was still somewhat of a good memory. A bittersweet one. Her dragons were the most precious things to her and they loved their mother as much as she did. She was grateful for them.

Daenerys sighed as she finished her first cup and placed the goblet on her table. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, scrubbing at her fingers that were still stained of Arya’s blood. She was feeling better now. She tried not to focus on what the younger woman said. It was pointless to think of it, it already happened in the past. But it did make her doubt. What if she couldn’t successfully take over the Throne? What if everyone was so against her that they wouldn’t allow it? Yet her bloodstained hands brought her back to when she ate a horse’s heart. People thought she would never be able to do it, but she did. What motivated her to keep going was her determination. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to take on their challenges. So if she was able to do that, then she could do anything she pleased.

“Still red?”

A voice came from behind her, and this startled Daenerys. She whipped her head back and furrowed her eyebrows as she stared at the girl with the familiar voice. “Water won’t do it. You have to use something stronger, like vinegar or citrus.” Arya now entered the room as she moved away from the dark hallway where she came from. Daenerys didn’t know if she should feel threatened or not. She tried to read what was behind those mysterious grey eyes that were expressionless. What an enigma this girl was.

“Why are you here?” The older woman asked as she stood up and faced her. Arya was standing a few feet away from the bed while Daenerys remained where she was. “Here in your room, or here in Meereen?” The young assassin countered with another question. Her face still has this unreadable expression on it. Whether she was feeling happy or angry remained a mystery. Daenerys had a somewhat threatened look on her face but she kept her calm disposition. “Why did you come here, to me?”

This time, Arya paused. Both her eyebrows were slightly raised as she heard this, but she remained the same nonetheless. “I’ve heard rumors,” She started, taking a few steps closer so that no one outside would hear. “That you were alive. It was impossible, I thought. But then here you are.” The grey-eyed girl stared at Daenerys as she paused. “They say that you are the rightful ruler. That you are supposed to overthrow my brother because he’s evil.” This made Arya scoff. It was, honestly, such a pathetic joke of a prophecy to her.

The Targaryen woman slightly frowned at her reaction, because she believed all of it. It just made sense. Why else was she brought back to life? She then walked away from the bed and stood in front of it instead of beside it. “Haven’t you heard? Noble houses have waged bloody war against each other because they didn’t see eye to eye with the choice for the new King.”

Hearing the news made Arya slightly furrow her eyebrows. Of course she hasn’t heard about it. She was on a ship for almost a year for heaven’s sake. But it was sort of worrisome to hear about it since the Priestess back in Asshai had also warned her that this would happen.

“So you’ve heard it then? The Priestess’s vision?” Daenerys asked as the two kept staring at each other, not breaking eye contact for the entire time. “I didn’t hear it from her. I heard it from her other friends, other Red Witches.” The Wolf girl replied. This piqued Daenerys’s curiosity. Where were the rest of these Priestesses? So far, the only one she ever saw was Kinvara.

“Then if both our sources do not contradict each other, the prophecies are true.” Daenerys stated in an assured way. She was confident that this was meant to happen and nothing could change that. It didn’t matter to her if the Stark girl didn’t agree with her. “If you don’t believe in it, then why are you still here?”

Arya stood as still as a tree with both her hands tucked behind her back. Her posture was as direct as ever, it was like she wasn’t just recovering from an injury. This was somewhat intimidating to Daenerys, even if she was a little bit taller than her.

“I’m here because I am supposed to be, aren’t I? Those prophecies say that apparently I’m to help you.” Arya paused to see the Dragon Queen’s reaction. She almost looked...pleased. “So you agree then? You’re going to uphold my cause?” The silver-haired woman swore she almost saw Arya smile. Her eyes changed--it wasn’t as blank as they normally were.

“I’m going to convince you not to go.”

Just as Daenerys finally had hope that she had a Stark on her side, that hope shattered. She’d part her lips in surprise and knit her eyebrows together. Daenerys shook her head and finally broke the long eye contact the two had as she walked towards the balcony outside. Her hands were perched atop the ledge, feeling the rough texture of the limestone. Violet eyes stared down at the dark ground with only a few torches and the stars to light the way. Not even the moon was visible. Daenerys thought the Starks were the most honorable family in Westeros, yet all they ever did to her was betray her or disagree with her. Hells, she was the rightful heir. The throne had always been her family’s, not anybody else’s. But this so-called honorable family always seemed to find ways to stop her.

She sighed. How will she be able to find a mediator between three of the most powerful rulers of Westeros now? Bran was the current King, he would never want to give up that position to her. Sansa never even liked her, so she wasn’t a choice. And Jon...

Her blood boiled at the thought of her former lover. Everything she has ever done for him, and that is how he repays her? By murdering her unexpectedly? Her knuckles had now turned white as she realized her grasp on the ledge was very firm. She let out a deep sigh. It was hard not having anyone she could trust. She didn’t have any other advisors aside from a Priestess she was suspicious of. She wished that Missandei, Ser Jorah or Ser Barristan were here.

“Leave now if that is the only thing you choose to do.” Daenerys spoke when she felt a pair of grey eyes staring behind her back. If Arya wasn’t going to be of any help, then her presence would just be distracting. “I will not give up now. I will not stop until I take what was stolen from me.” Her voice had a fire in it. She was getting exasperated.

Arya stayed where she was, unmoving. She knew that this would be the Dragon Queen’s reaction. “Does it ever cross your mind why it was stolen from you in the first place, or do you need another reminder? You’ve gone mad, Daenerys. And the people of Westeros now--”

“I am not mad!”

That was it. This was the last straw. Daenerys now snapped as she turned around. Her voice slightly echoed. With fury in her eyes, she walked towards the other girl and stopped just an arm’s length away.

“I did not kill those people without any reason. Do you think I don’t regret it? Every single day I think of all those poor, innocent people burned to death and I could barely sleep every night. If only I could go back in time to fix things, to stop what I did, I would. But it has already happened, and now I deserve to live my whole life being haunted by my mistakes. Do you think it’s easy for me?”

Daenerys weeped as she let out all her grudges, her regrets and her pain. A river of tears flowed from her big violet eyes as they stained her cheeks up until her chin. She tried so hard to keep her cries from coming out of her mouth, but she was unsuccessful.

Everything the silver-haired lady said was true. She meant every single word. Her tears were enough proof of her remorse. Even if she could barely see with all the water covering her vision, she stared ever so intensely into Arya’s eyes. This moment will definitely stick with her.

On the other hand, the Stark girl was now silent. She let the older woman take her time letting go of all the things she wanted to. Deep down, Arya felt bad. She always did. She knew how hard it was to have all those responsibilities thrown on your shoulders. But it was still no excuse for what she did. She could have released her anger on something or someone else.

“No, I don’t think it’s easy for you at all.” After a few moments of silence, Arya spoke in a gentle voice, but not one that sounded affectionate. “But if you really want this for yourself, don’t expect the path to be easy. Still, you shouldn’t have done what you did. The people of Westeros now either fear you or hate you. If you decide to return, you’d be dead before you reach the ground. That’s why I’m here to help you. To tell you that it’s not worth fighting for.”

The Targaryen woman was taken aback by the sudden tenderness that Arya showed her. Even if their plans were the total opposite of each other, she had good points. But Daenerys already had her mind set on it. There was nothing that could change her decision. “If I’d die, then what was the point of my resurrection?”

“Maybe you are to rule Essos instead. You still have a large number of people and armies who are forever loyal to you.” Though Arya’s reason was valid, Daenerys still didn’t want to believe that. “Have you seen the people here? The streets? They are all still filled with slaves. There is nothing I can do to abolish it. That is just the way life works here. I am a Targaryen, and my seat is on the throne my ancestors built.”

“You’re not a Targaryen without a dragon.” Arya mentioned as she now went over to the balcony, brushing past Daenerys. “And I didn’t see a dragon when I came here.”

The sudden subject change was so obvious, but neither of the two bothered to mention it. The truth is, Arya was weighing out her options. The prophecies made sense, and she always wanted to fight for a Targaryen. It was an offer she simply could not refuse. But because of the notorious event that happened in King’s Landing a few months prior, Arya wanted to make sure she didn’t pick the wrong choice. Siding with Daenerys would be like betraying her family too, yet it seemed as if Arya was the only Stark who understands Daenerys’s points of view. Maybe she really was supposed to be the mediator between them all.

“If anyone sees a dragon lingering in the air nearby, people would know I’m alive. You saw those two killers. They could easily alert the lords and ladies of Westeros. And I would be unprepared.” Daenerys replied as she walked outside as well. The warm air dried her tears. She was starting to feel better thanks to the sudden mood shift in their conversation.

Arya now slightly turned her head to face Daenerys. “So where is he?”

“Somewhere in Valyria.”

“And where is your army? Do you plan to conquer the Kingdoms by yourself only?”

Daenerys almost rolled her eyes. “My Unsullied will be sailing to Dragonstone before me and hopefully, they will be able to gather the Dothraki.”

The young assassin mused as she heard about the Queen's plans. It was good enough for her. But it wasn’t like she knew anything about strategizing armies. She was a master at strategizing alone, though. Usually when making her decisions, Arya was never troubled. She always knew what she wanted and what was right. But now that she had to choose between the Targaryen Queen and her brother, it was possibly the hardest decision she ever had to make.

After that, it was quiet. It was like history repeated itself. The Dragon and the Wolf standing side by side in silence, admiring the same view. They felt serene with each other’s company as if there was some unspoken mutual understanding between them. Just like that night by the Weirwood Tree.

It was a really good thing that matters were eventually settled. There was little to no tension at all now that they’ve discussed certain things. Daenerys and Arya just stood there, both not knowing what to say, but both preferring to keep it that way. But as time went on, it was beginning to get awkward. So Daenerys decided to speak up.

“Have you made up your mind yet?”

Arya looked like she was distracted for a bit until the Queen spoke. Her eyes now traveled from the view and to the floor until they eventually met Daenerys’s.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Your Grace.”

——

Chapter Text

When Arya had left her chambers just like that, she kept thinking about their interaction for the rest of the night.

Daenerys always had these nightmares and these thoughts that prevented her from falling asleep. She barely got any rest. But now that she had something else in mind, something that distracted her, she didn’t even think about the incident that happened in King’s Landing.

She was still so focused on the long conversation they had. She thought of the things she should’ve said or the things she shouldn’t have said, if they were to have a different result. Daenerys wondered if they could’ve spoken in a more polite way, yet maybe it was impossible. She didn’t exactly have a good reputation anymore.

What if Arya was right? What if she deserved to stay in Essos? After all, her family came from Essos. What if she didn’t break down in front of her, would things have ended differently? Would Arya still be more respectful? Was she being too proud of herself again? Daenerys had so many questions and she didn’t understand why. There was just something about Arya that made her rethink everything. But the fact that things ended in such a vague manner made Daenerys bothersome. She wanted to know if the young assassin was on her side.

But Arya did call her ‘Your Grace’. So was she on her side after all? Was Daenerys now her Queen?

Soon enough, she grew tired. The last thing on her mind was Arya. And this night was one of those extremely rare nights: she was able to sleep well without any hindrances.

Daenerys woke up early the next day, refreshed as ever. The beautiful yellow-orange sun lit up her room as she prepared to walk out of her chambers. The Targaryen Queen got up and already had a bath prepared just for her. Yet this time, she had no one to wash her. She had to do everything by herself, even to braid her hair. Luckily, Missandei had taught her how to do so. Though Daenerys’s weren’t as good as hers.

She even had to prepare her own attire for the day. Right now, she had a thin, white dress made of the finest silk that was cut in the middle to expose her stomach, perfect for the weather in Meereen. It had intricate light blue designs as well. At least, even without people, an army or a kingdom, Daenerys still knew how to dress well.

One last look in the mirror, and she was all set. It was only then when she saw her own reflection that Daenerys realized something. She has never pampered herself up this much, not since she was revived. Why was she suddenly in such a good mood? Maybe it was because she finally slept well again. Or maybe because she finally got herself another ally.

Walking outside her door, Kinvara had already been waiting outside as patiently as ever. “Good morning, Your Grace.” The Priestess looked surprised to see her all dressed up. Daenerys noticed this, so she overtook her before she could say something else. “Good morning, Kinvara.” The Queen said in the most normal and nonchalant way possible. The two women began walking to the room where they would discuss their plans. ”Have you received any word from Daario or Grey Worm yet?”

“Not yet, Your Grace. Though I have some reports on the Iron Islands. Yara Greyjoy and the Ironborn…”

——

The hot weather was very different to her. She had to adjust again. Growing up in the North where the winters were colder, she was used to the freezing temperatures. Not even layers of heavy fur kept her warm enough. But it was just the cold, nothing she couldn’t handle. The change in temperature would be something she could easily adapt to once again, just like those few years in Braavos.

Her fingers traced the wound on her side. A faint gash slightly darkened the area, but overall, the pain and bleeding wasn’t there anymore. It seemed to heal just fine as if nothing happened. Maybe Kinvara wasn’t so evil after all.

Arya wasn’t wearing her gloves now, and she had less layers on. As opposed to the leather tunic topped with fur she wore on her ship, the young Wolf was now clad in an outfit that was commonly sold to the men in Meereen. Even to this day, she still refuses to wear a dress. Arya had on a thick, sandy white tunic made from muslin cloth and a pair of loose, charcoal grey trousers. She still had her original boots on along with her scabbard. This should be sufficient, she thought. Somehow she could try to blend in at least.

Her room wasn’t too big, nor was it too small. It was just right. It reminded her of her own quarters back on the ship as she pondered for a moment. How will she execute her plans once her crew arrives? This was hard, for she was all alone. It was easy to make decisions for herself, but now that many things rely on her choice, she had to think carefully.

As usual, she was up early, way before anyone else. The dawn had just broken and it was quiet in the halls. Arya stepped out of her room and walked out into the main room where the throne was. Her footsteps were as light as a feather, so none of the guards noticed her presence. Grey eyes scanned the area: no sight of the Queen or the Witch. So she returned to the hall and found herself in the middle of a fork. Arya figured that she might as well be familiar with the Pyramid, and so she wandered around with her hands tucked behind her back. All the rooms looked the same, most were unoccupied and the rest had some of the higher-ranked soldiers resting in them. Nothing all too interesting for Arya.

Reaching the end of the corridor, she heard two voices that gradually became louder. It came from one of the other hallways, so she had time to conceal herself. She calmly walked into the last room she hadn't been to. It looked larger than the rest. No wonder why it was at the end, it needed all the space it could get.

Arya stood barely an inch beside the edge of the doorway, trying to eavesdrop. She immediately recognized one of the voices, while the other one wasn’t too familiar to her. It was Daenerys and presumably Kinvara.

“…Then we shall arrange a council with her once Daario is back with the Unsullied.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

That was all Arya reached from the conversation when they suddenly walked in silence. The footsteps got louder as they went closer. She thought that was it, until the Dragon Queen spoke again.

“Has the Stark girl woken up yet?”

“I could go and check on her for you, Your Grace. After all, she is wounded.”

“Go.”

The footsteps paused for a short period of time until one pair gradually became weaker. Kinvara was going in the direction of Arya’s room, but Daenerys kept walking. There was nothing Arya could do now. If she left the room, Daenerys would see her, and she certainly didn’t want to awkwardly walk and meet halfway. So she remained where she was.

Her eyes traveled to the inside of the room. It looked more welcoming than the rest of the ones she saw. The bed was new, there was even a bathtub, and the drapes looked grand and regal. Arya assumed this was the Targaryen’s chambers. But what caught her attention the most was a Sword that was displayed in the farthest part of the room. It looked large and freshly made, like it wasn’t even used at all. Arya thought of it as some kind of heirloom, not a weapon because of its size. It puzzled the young assassin. Why would she carry around a Sword like this?

Arya was tempted to grab it and test the feel of it. The familiar shiny glimmer of the blade made her even more intrigued—she knew it was Valyrian steel. Because of how clean and reflective the Sword was, she even saw her own reflection. But it wasn’t just hers. She also saw Daenerys behind her.

“Arya.” The silver-haired Queen spoke, sounding more disturbed than surprised. “What are you doing here?” She asked as she walked closer at a leisurely speed. She stood not too far from the younger woman. The corners of her lips were slightly tugging up as an attempt to keep things friendly between them, but Daenerys didn’t understand why she couldn’t seem to form a smile.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Arya started and showed a wolfish grin, but her eyes remained emotionless. A slight tilt of her head indicated that she bowed. “I got lost. I was wondering where you would be.” The grey-eyed girl stood there with her hands clasped behind her back.

Daenerys paused for a moment, trying to read the assassin’s expression. As usual, she was unsuccessful. That really bothered her. She wanted to know what her agenda was, why she still stuck with her. “I was out discussing our plans with Kinvara.” Daenerys replied before she walked closer. “We will fly to Dragonstone tomorrow.”

The Targaryen Queen kept her eyes on Arya the entire time. It was as if she couldn’t take them off of her. Why could this be? Was it some sort of habit of hers to stare her rival down, or was she just simply captivated? “Tonight, we should be on our way to the waters of Valyria. My dragon will be waiting for me there.”

As Daenerys spoke her plans, the Stark girl listened with the same expression still on her face. Unlike the older woman beside her, she had her eyes on the Sword instead. It was rare when she’d look at her. Deep down, Arya was still in shock that Daenerys was alive again. This incident is a big factor in making or breaking things within the Six Kingdoms. Her mind was so clouded because of this: she still didn’t know which plan she should follow.

“Isn’t the city still burning?” Arya then spoke and finally looked in the direction where Daenerys stood. Their eyes met.

“It is.”

“So, then, how will it be safe for us to sail that way?”

With eyebrows slightly raised, the silver-haired woman noted an important word in Arya’s statement. Us. She was going with them, right? Why else would she say that? This gave her a sliver of hope.

“Fires don’t hurt me, but the smoke could still choke us. The rest of you will be waiting outside in one of the many deserted fields nearby. It’s not safe enough for everyone to go there. So I would sail alone.”

“Alone? You’ve recently been resurrected and now you want to gamble your life away already?” Arya’s tone of voice wasn’t exactly full of concern. It was leaning more onto dubious.

Daenerys looked surprised. “No one goes to that part of the world because of how dangerous it is. It should be unlikely for someone to capture me there. And I have a dragon, what more do I need?” One corner of her lip lifted into a smirk as she showed Arya how much control she had over a marvelous creature. Violet eyes then traveled to the Sword when the other girl didn’t say a word. All Arya did was raise a brow.

“Does this Sword fascinate you in any way?” The Targaryen spoke up, her eyes not leaving the Sword. “Do you own it, Your Grace?” Arya replied with a question instead. It was now Daenerys’s turn to raise a brow as she now kept her violet eyes on the young woman. “I’m not exactly sure why it is in my possession,” She started. “Kinvara claims that I am to use it, only until I am properly taught how to wield it.” The Targaryen didn’t delve further into detail. She didn’t tell Arya that this was the mythical sword in the stories of those who follow R’hllor.

“And? Has someone trained you yet?” Arya asked, rather impatiently. It was clear she wanted to have an answer. She wondered what the Dragon Queen would look like wielding a sword that large.

“Not yet. There isn’t a man I can trust well enough to teach me. All I have is the Priestess and Daario, and he refuses to let me protect myself.”

Arya let out a weak breath that was intended to be a scoff. “Men don’t always have to be the ones who teach. They’re usually haughty.” Of course, she didn’t mean to say anything ill about men. Her experience with most of them just wasn’t too pleasant. The Stark girl then looked at Daenerys and stepped backwards. Needle was now unsheathed as she held it in her right hand, pointing its tip towards the spot between Daenerys’s throat and chin. It wasn’t touching her skin, but it was a few inches from it. Daenerys furrowed her eyebrows and leaned her head back in confusion. “What are you doing?” She questioned. She felt threatened. “Hold that Sword with both of your hands and disarm me.”

With eyebrows still furrowed, the older woman looked behind her at the blade that was displayed on the wall. Is she really going to do this now? Daenerys considered this moment. It was, after all, a good opportunity to begin her training. She had to learn sooner or later, why not start early?

Daenerys then slowly turned sideways to grab the Sword, its familiar heat coming in contact with her hands. The weight was sustainable, but it was definitely too heavy for her. She’d now look back at the sharp tip of the smaller sword that was still pointed in her direction. And with a gulp, Daenerys swung the large weapon like a bat in hopes of throwing Needle off of Arya’s hand. Unfortunately for her, the Dragon Queen was too slow.

The Sword almost dragged across the floor as Daenerys missed, the weight of it almost bringing her down as well. She grunted before lifting it back up. A more determined expression was plastered on her face.

“Quicker this time.” Arya instructed as she flicked her rapier away, twirling with its handle as she taunted the Queen. She returned to the same position.

The second try was surely better than the first. Daenerys swung Lightbringer even closer to Arya, causing the younger girl to recline. She didn’t disarm her, though, she almost cut the girl’s head off. “Trying to murder me already, Your Grace?” The Stark Girl asked, a wolfish grin spreading across her lips. Mischievous grey eyes stared back at the Queen, whose face became even more serious. Daenerys didn’t reply. Instead, she only shook her head and returned to her original stance. A rush of blood came onto her cheeks.

Arya had to admit, watching the Targaryen fight her like this was amusing. Who would have thought she would be sword fight training the woman she has admired for her entire life? The awkward little steps and swings Daenerys performed were just adorable.

The third try was different now. As the two women returned to their positions, Daenerys had swung quicker than Arya expected. Though Needle didn’t fall off, the side of the Sword clashed with the other. A sharp sound reverberated in the limestone room. It was unlike any other. The clanging noise these two swords happened to produce made Arya even more suspicious of the Sword.
It was already good as new, shiny, and well-made. The material was foreign to her. And somehow the silver-haired woman who came back from the dead was now wielding it. Could it be that fate was talking to her?

Arya, with wide eyes, looked over at her sword, then at Daenerys’s, and finally met the violet eyes who looked just as surprised. “Good. Now do that again, a hundred more times.” The Wolf Girl had a small smile on her face, which caused Daenerys to return the same look.

——

Night had now fallen, and it was time for the three women to sail for Valyria.

Everything was packed in several sacks and small crates. They didn’t bring too much.

A few hours prior to their journey, Arya and Daenerys had been training for almost the whole afternoon. Nothing much has happened, except for the fact that the Queen now had more knowledge and experience with the Sword. It's as if its weight didn’t become a hindrance to her anymore. She was just able to wield it properly now. And of course, the hours of training gave the two women some bonding time.

Kinvara knew a couple of men from her community of the Lord of Light worshippers. They were there to assist the Queen without knowing of her identity. Daenerys had to clad herself in the red cloak she always used to wear. This night would finally be the last.

“All our belongings are now stored safely in the boat, Your Grace.” Kinvara informed her, giving a slight bow as well. The silver-haired Queen then nodded, her hands clasping onto each other. The look on her face was unreadable. Not because it was hard to distinguish any emotions, but because it seemed as if all the emotions were all present at once. She looked determined, excited, angry, scared, nervous. But maybe she was truly feeling all of these at the same time. No one will ever know.

Arya now came with a small satchel on her own. She wouldn’t be bringing anything anyway after the shipwreck. Before she left the Pyramid, she sent a raven specifically to Ser Rodner only. In it were the instructions she had. Arya knew he was already familiar with the plan. She just wanted to be sure.

Now that the three of them were standing by the docks, Daenerys had covered her face with the mask and stepped onto the boat carefully. The Priestess helped her get on as Daenerys now sat comfortably. Kinvara followed and sat beside her Queen, and finally, Arya did too. She slumped beside the Targaryen, who was now in between her two companions.

To keep things discreet, Arya was in charge of sailing so that no one else would see the said dragon who was waiting in the burning island. She didn’t mind, but the action was very tedious and she had been sailing for a year already.

The whole trip was silent. Every person on the boat was on their toes. This was it. The moment before the Queen would gather her people once more. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they had all preferred it to be that way. All three of them were lost in their own thoughts.

Arya was still having a fight with herself in her mind. Should she side with Daenerys or not? The question was still there, but an answer didn’t seem to be on its way.

For what felt like a whole day, the sun was now finding its way up the horizon. Thankfully Arya didn’t sail the whole way, they all took turns. Their boat came across several empty islands, none of which looked like the ancient city. But Daenerys had this feeling in her chest. It felt like she was being gravitated towards the direction they were going. Valyria must be near.

The sun was now at its highest point, and the thick, dark clouds of smoke could already be seen. They were here. The fabled land of the dragon tamers.

It was Arya’s turn when they neared the island, a huge grin on her face. She looked like she was in so much awe compared to the others on the boat. Daenerys looked more curious, and Kinvara was in between.

As smaller structures were now beside them, the smoke caused the two women to cough. Daenerys was somewhat unaffected by it. She stood up and took her hood off, taking in the view. In her eyes, she saw a great empire, a glorious city with marvelous structures. She wanted to be able to fix this place again, but she knew there was no more hope.

Just as they were about to dock on a miniscule island that was safe to step on, a particularly loud screech was heard from afar.

Drogon.

All three of them whipped their heads at the sound, and Daenerys looked even more proud than usual. Arya missed hearing that sound. Her whole body felt energized.

From the distance, a large black figure cut through the thick smoke as it flew downwards, dodging the burning buildings here and there. Daenerys knew he was coming her way, so she began to step off of the boat and onto the land that was still slightly sizzling.

She felt the heat of the ground come in contact with her soles. They didn’t hurt her, but they sure did feel like home. This place has years and years of history written all over it, and Daenerys considered it sacred. She planted her feet on the ground, awaiting Drogon’s arrival with excitement. As the large creature flapped its wings in lesser intervals, he landed right in front of his mother. Daenerys immediately ran up to him, placing both hands on his nose. She rested her forehead onto him, and muttered some words in Valyrian. The dragon’s eyes shut as if he was listening to the information that was given to him. From a small distance, Arya watched this. Oh, how she was mesmerized.

The grey-eyed girl tried to fight a smile that began to form on her lips. It was nice to see this new side that came from the Targaryen. She was motherly and affectionate, something Arya had difficulty imagining. Just as this tender moment was about to end, Arya then heard some groans and screeches nearby. She tilted her head to face the direction where those monstrous sounds came from. Grey eyes widened as she realized that a group of Stone Men came their way. Bodies with rough and gravelly skin flail their arms everywhere, trying to get closer to the one and only boat on the island. Arya did a body count; seven. There were seven Stone Men on the way to either kill them, or turn them into Stone Women. Some were trying desperately to swim in the almost boiling water, some were running towards the dragon and his mother. Arya had to think of something real quick.

“Daenerys, go!”

Arya shouted in the silver-haired woman’s direction, successfully catching her attention. She looked at the Stark girl, then at Kinvara, and finally, the group of scaly people coming her way. She furrowed her eyebrows, but immediately hopped onto Drogon as they flew back up. He kept going until he reached a good height, feasible enough to breathe fire. Daenerys ordered him to do so as the group of Stone Men came closer. That did stop them for a few seconds, but because of their skin, the fire didn’t really penetrate them at all.

Still on the ground was Arya. She unsheathed her trusty rapier and began to slash the nearest one that basically lunged at her. Good thing she was quick, he didn’t touch her. She then gave a few more hits and cuts until the man collapsed. Arya did the same to another one who had his eyes on Kinvara instead. The Priestess backed away on the boat, but gave Arya a thankful nod. The Wolf noticed that she resumed her prayer to the Lord of Light—not like that would really help right now.

Once there were fewer Stone Men, she’d look up at the sky when a shadow came upon her. Drogon was going to land once again. “Ride!” Arya heard the Targaryen yell from above. “Ride with me!” She repeated, reaching out a hand for the younger woman. Arya whipped her head towards the direction where the Stone Men came from, and she saw that there were more coming. She then ran towards the boat and pulled Kinvara by her hands that were outstretched during her prayer. “Take her first.” Arya instructed as she assisted the Witch up the dragon. Daenerys took Kinvara’s hand as she rode behind her. “Your turn. Come, now!” Daenerys yelled as she reached her hand out once more. Determined violet eyes looked down at the young assassin. Arya didn’t even have to think before taking her hand as she climbed up Drogon’s scales. She sat behind Kinvara as they now ascended into the sky.

From the distance, a geyser of lava erupted right where the Stone Men came from, causing them to be thrown into the air as they landed in the water. Kinvara muttered a ‘thank you’ to her Lord for doing so.

Arya was still panting like crazy as she tried to catch her breath, all while appreciating the ride on a dragon. It finally happened. Right after an exhilarating event. It was perfect. A wide grin spread across her face as she looked down at the view and the clouds. She could scream and let go right now.

Of course, Daenerys looked behind her once in a while to check on her passengers. The Witch had her eyes closed, probably still praying. But the Stark was clearly mesmerized. Daenerys willingly let a smile appear on her face as she watched her, even just for a couple of seconds. She let out a deep breath of pride and relief.