The Dragon & The Wolf (Daenarya)

chapter 1

She'd been awake for at least an hour, working hard to keep her eyes closed and her breaths even. It had been well more than a week since she'd gotten a restful night, but she made no attempt to return to bliss of sleep. There would be time for peace and solitude in the coming days, that time wasn't now.

She didn't need to look to know what was waiting for her. She could sense the eyes watching as certainly as she could feel the weight of the other body next to her on the bed. She heard the occasionally whispered word from her left and the heat of a hand caressing her upturned hip in a lazy, rhythmic pattern was impossible to ignore.

"Are you awake?" the voice asked her gently.

"I am," she declared simply. It would be easier to feign sleep, but she didn't. There would be enough cause to lie today, there was no point in beginning before it was absolutely necessary.

"Have you been awake long?" the Queen asked, the slight edge in her voice making it clear she already suspected the truth.

"A while," she answered vaguely. The gently petting of her hip moved to her thigh and stopped when Arya finally opened her eyes. After a few quick blinks the room came into focus. On any other day she might have been pleased to find Daenerys naked, boosted up an elbow, studying her with fevered dedication but not today. Today was their last.

She attempted to roll away, to put a small measure of distance between their bodies, if only so it would be easier to go, but Daenerys refused to release her. As she pressed her lips into the crease of Arya's neck she wondered aloud, "Is it wrong if I don't want this moment to end?"

Was it wrong? Probably. If it was, Arya knew she was the most wretched thing that ever walked. Given half a chance, she'd murder the world for the slightest possibility it might prolong their time together, but the Gods didn't smile down on Starks in such ways. She pulled away from Daenerys's lips and turned her head toward the older woman, intending to reassure her but the sight of tears shining in her beautiful eyes froze her tongue and she had to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat. Taking advantage of the indecision Daenerys claimed her and the two shared a heated kiss.

Arya kissed back, fully aware it would only make things worse. When it was over she slipped away. This time when Daenerys tried to keep her in bed, Arya tugged her way free. Sitting on the side of the bed she covered her face with her hands.

"It doesn't seem fair that we only get so little time," she commented, doing what she could to appear casual. "Half a year isn't very long."

"Life rarely gives us what we think we deserve," Arya said with clarity, aware of this lesson more than almost any other she'd learned in life. If a person was granted what they deserved, surely her path would have been different, wouldn't it? The thought made her tense.

Almost instantly she felt the tender touch of her lover's roaming hands on her scarred shoulders and back, trying to ease her discomfort. Arya didn't want to be cared for, she didn't deserve it. None of this was meant for her. She stood and took a deliberate step out of Daenerys's reach. Perhaps if she didn't know the other woman quite so well, so intimately, she might have missed the subtle way her breath hitched when Arya refused her. That ignorance would have been a blessing.

Even with ample evidence and plenty of practice it still amazed her how drastically things could change in such a short time. The night before felt like a lifetime ago. She'd been in the middle of a loud and raucous drinking game with Mormont soldiers when a deceptively strong hand gripped hers, pulled her away from her drink and into bed, all without a word. She'd gone willingly not nearly drunk enough to justify her actions. Behind the privacy of a closed door it was desperate and wild. Now that hunger was gone, replaced by only sadness and regret. They both knew what was coming. It turned her stomach.