A Dance With Death || Arya Stark & Daenerys Targaryen

Not A Little Girl

SANSA

The cold wind was biting against Sansa's pale cheeks and her eyes couldn't help but water as she stared beyond Winterfell's walls at the deep trench being dug. She glanced down and noticed her sister, dressed in leathers and a big swooping one-sided cloak, talking happily with the Dragon Queen in her snowy white fur coat. Sansa ground her teeth in frustration.

It was strange, as much as she loved her sister, ever since she had returned she couldn't help but feel they were at odds with one another. Yes they now respected and trusted each other but lately she couldn't help but notice Arya had been spending long hours with the Mother of Dragons, more time than she had ever spent with her, but it seemed now more time than with even Jon. It was true Arya idolized the Targaryen warrior princesses when they were little, but still, Sansa was worried. She couldn't bear to lose all of her remaining family to a Targaryen Queen. Having Jon distracted all the time by her had been quite enough for her to deal with, but Arya too? What did Arya have that the Queen was so interested in? She had learned the hard way that Arya wasn't exactly good with people. From what Sansa could tell Arya's traumatic childhood that remained unsaid had meant she trusted only herself, though sometimes it felt like not even that.

     Occasionally she caught snippets of their conversations but seemed all they would ever talk about was Daenerys Targaryen's life story and Arya subtlety changing the subject whenever asked a question about her own. If truth be told, Sansa wasn't too bothered by that. It was the fact that they both smiled so much. Arya hadn't smiled with her since they had been reunited down in the crypts and yet within a matter of days Arya was closer to a stranger than her own family. A stranger who's father had burned both their uncle and grandfather. But most of the time it felt like only Sansa seemed to remember that.

     Her eyes slowly moved upward away from the busy scene below and beyond to the horizon. And as she try did she felt a deep sadness cutting away at her, like when Bran had come home but was not really Bran at at all. Arya was not the little girl who had run from Kings Landing anymore, and Sansa understood deep down that she never would be again.

ARYA

The cold wind wrapped around her as the day grew ever colder, but Arya did not mind, by her side stood Daenerys Targaryen, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. For there was no time to feel the cold slowly eat through her winter clothes when she was listening intently to the stories of the Stormborn Queen.

It had only been a few days since Arya's first encounter with her and yet she felt like she connected far more with her than even her own family.

      Daenerys' voice swirled around Arya like a breeze on a summer's day as slowly her listening turned to watching, and Arya found she was simply staring into Daenerys' dark ebony eyes. Something deep resonated within her though she could not put her finger on what the feeling quite was. Peace? Joy?...

     "Arya?" The voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. Arya's mind snapped back into reality and she realized Daenerys was talking to her. "Have you stopped listening?"

     "No." She lied quickly. There was a pause for a moment. "So what are your thoughts on the defenses?" She said turning to look at the huge trench being dug, trying to change the subject quickly.

Daenerys sighed, "I fear it will not hold back a dead Dragon. My...dead dragon." Her voice broke slightly at the end and the small piece of Arya's heart she had left filled with sorrow. She above many knew what it felt like to lose loved ones before their time. Daenerys turned her head so it was out of Arya's sight and brushed at her cheeks with her snowy white sleeves. Though Arya was not craven. But the more she thought about it the sadder even she became, at least she did not have to face her family who had risen from death only to kill her.

     "I'm sorry." She said quietly, she knew to was not enough, but she didn't know how to console her, it was not part of an assassin's training. Jon would know how, she knew, Jon always knew how. It was just another of her many failings.

     "It's fine." Echoed back Daenerys. "You could do nothing about it." For a while neither of them spoke with the shouts of orders and scrapping of shovels the only break in the silence. Arya watched as the young Queen's locks of silver hair blew gently in the wind across her pale face. It was no wonder Jon had fallen for her. She had always thought love a tiresome subject but now, she understood, though no one would ever know.

    Suddenly, "Khaleesi." Announced a gruff but gentle voice behind them, the two of them turned in unison in to the direction it came from. It was Ser Jorah Mormont, the exile her father had sentenced to death. Arya clenched her jaw but remained silent, she understood how much he was to Daenerys and at the moment she knew they needed allies not enemies. 'We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves', she thought. "I beg pardons Khaleesi but it is the dragons, they are restless, men are fearing they will attack them. I know they are wild beasts but we cannot have any deaths on their part."

     "I know." Daenerys said sternly, "I will go to them." She began to walk away and the knight turned to follow until Daenerys turned to Arya, "I have no need of you Jorah." She said softly, "You may go back to your duties."

     The knight started to protest. "But my duties are with you my Que-"

     "Enough!" Returned Daenerys sharply. "I will keep other company if I wish." He growled under his breath, though Arya heard, but he nodded curtly, bowed, and left.

     Daenerys whipped around to Arya. "Well Arya Stark, do you want to meet a dragon?"