Chapter Text
Daenerys had a busy month planned in an attempt to keep her mind occupied as Arya rode north for meetings with the houses least trusting of her. The exhaustion from meetings and court proceedings made it easier for her to sleep at night, but waking in the mornings to a cold bed was still something she felt unused to.
The Queen felt tired of the pitying looks from her closest friend Missandei, but knew they were of concern rather than judgement. In all honesty, Deanerys felt silly.
She was the mother of dragons, she could climb atop Drogon, Rhaegal or Viserion and be with her for the length of a day, but she couldn't. Dany was queen first, love cursed fool second.
Still, it didn't stop the temptations urging her to seek out her children and sit with them, watching them play in the sky and fields, screeching happily to her when she laughed at their antics, for all their size and ferocity being no more than her children at heart.
"Will you tell her when she returns how often you stared north and argued with the compulsion to follow?"
The queen smiled to herself.
"Perhaps, maybe that could be the day you stop trying to foolishly sneak up on dragons."
Tyrion smiled and shuffled closer to her, gesturing up at the three dragons in the sky.
"I don't know, I think I'm growing on them."
Almost like it was rehearsed, Drogon froze in the air and stared at the man, a low rumble echoing across the sky. Tyrion swallows and inches closer to her, much to her amusement.
"Perhaps you should stay unawares, my friend. What is it you want?"
"Can't I visit my queen in a friendly capacity."
She turns to the side, pulling her gaze from the sky again.
"Of course, but it's always unlikely."
His heavy sigh is her answer before he even speaks.
"Your Grace, I am afraid the halls are filling up again. People are waiting to have an audience, and I dare say, to ask for your hand."
Daenerys closes her eyes as a wave of exhaustion sweeps up her back to her head.
"By the gods…" she mumbles before looking up to Tyrion's pitying expression, "why must they persist?"
He shrugged his shoulders as they began walking to the horses.
"You know how it is, my queen. Every House feels their son or grandson is the perfect way into having an heir to the throne. Or, possibly, word has spread about the absence of a certain Stark."
Daenerys felt a smile tug at her lips at the mention of Arya, quickly followed by a tugging at her gut. There hadn't been a raven for days now, detailed parchments with brief moments of actual information about her mission, the rest of the letter train of thought she loved to hear ramble away.
"Well, time to politely ask them to leave."
The ride back to the city was short, with her children flying overhead. She knew she could ride them back, but why would she want to reach those people faster? No, horseback would do.
Unfortunately Tyrion was quite right, there were some who had arrived to discuss land permits, and issues they required the crown's assistance with and some formal announcements of Houses joining together. After that, the proposals began.
Dany busied her mind with grey eyes and a wicked smile as she kindly rejects each person, from Houses near and far, all looking even more frustrated with each denial, until one, that is.
Admittedly he was handsome, brown hair and beard neatly combed to show his station, blue eyes and pale skin contrasting the black and green attire of his House, but it was the arrogance which firmly turned her against this man, and anything he chose to say.
"Your Grace, I must ask a question considered personal, if that is to be accepted?"
She raised an eyebrow, Tyrion sighing by her side.
"It seems you've already begun, Lord Lynderly."
He takes that as an opening and steps forward, hesitating as the guards at her side meet his step with one of their own. He hesitated but his smile never faltered.
"I simply wish to ask if it's worth any of our time being her, asking for a hand which seems to be restricted. Honestly, making fools of ourselves, is this just for your amusement or do you intend on taking a husband?"
She felt that spark in her chest, the dragon fire of rage bubbling in a way she knew she had to contain before suffering occurred. Daenerys swallowed before she spoke, smile colder than the North where her love traveled.
"You think asking for the honour of my hand it's embarrassing, Lord Lynderly? I say having a man such as yourself try to steal away at my throne is embarrassing enough. Do you have a question to ask, or simply more accusations?"
He paled a little at the heat from her words, mouth working to try and think up a response, sweating in his breeches at the glare of a dragon locked onto him.
"My queen!"
Dany stares behind the pitiful lord as Grey Worm barges in, not even stopping to acknowledge the silence. He's panicked by something, or confused, both outcomes she wasn't fond of.
"What is wrong?"
He managed to stand tall, eyes flickering to Missandei.
"There is a wolf approaching the castle, huge, like a horse, we can't stop it. So far it has not hurt anyone but it is causing panic, it could be a threat."
The lords, ladies and common folk freeze at the foregin tongue, the Unsullied not moving an inch. Daenerys settled the panic in her chest with a slight nod.
"A wolf is nothing more to dragons but food. We should not be concerned."
He hesitated, not willing to disagree with his queen but seeing no other way.
"This is the one leading the wolf army in the forest, by size alone, it's obvious to see."
A thought whispered in her mind, a memory of Arya lying at her side, arms around her waist as Dany played with their joined fingers, running her hands along the scars matting her body. She'd asked about her childhood, the happier memories, finding herself pleasantly surprised when she had more than expected. The ex assassin told of playing with siblings, running in the woods with animals and wolves, climbing trees, and-
She'd found herself interrupting her love, turning over in the bed and meeting bemused grey eyes.
"Did you say wolves?"
Those haunted eyes softened in a way she knew was saved exclusively for her.
"Yes, my brother found a dead dire wolf with five pups. One for each Stark child, even Jon. We named them, trained them."
Those eyes drifted away from her face, lost in a memory.
"What did you name yours?" Daenerys had asked, excited to learn more about her childhood, and what exactly a Direwolf was. She got a gentle smile in return, those eyes returning to her.
"Nymeria."
The city had been put under quarantine until the wolf had been scared off, civilians in their homes with guards waiting for any trouble. It wasn't easy, with any troublemakers being brought to the cells for the night. The lords and ladies had been homed in the spare chambers for the night, alongside many apologies for the inconvenience from Tyrion.
Daenerys knew this would mean hosting a meal, something she really wasn't looking forward to. Normally she had the company of Arya by her side to keep her entertained, as well as to scare off insistent conversationalists.
Gods, this will be a draining evening.
She had Missandei over her shoulder, and Tyrion at her side, but the chair beside her was noticeably empty, to her and her forced guests. It was only a matter of time for a brave soul to attempt to approach, so she placed her greatest unimpressed expression.
It didn't work, of course. Lord Lynderly was guided by his mother after several others had failed, seating himself after she'd taken too long to respond.
Well, some humour could come from this, I suppose?
The silence was thick until he mustered the courage to speak past greetings, clearing his throat and holding his wine a little too tight. She kept her gaze across the crowd, watching the doors in a vain hope that Arya would burst through and save her from the awkwardness.
"So, is it not a shame to see this seat left unoccupied?"
She can barely contain her eye rolling, and is impressed with herself when she can.
"It's normally not."
Daenerys raised an eyebrow at Tyrion's comment, sipping his wine and waiting for her to ask him to remain quiet, which she did not, much to his excitement. Permission granted, he'd hold nothing back.
"Oh?" The Lord asked, "Is there a king you haven't told about?"
Tyrion smiled knowingly.
"Far more than a king, Lord Lynderly. Greater than most, though I'd never say it to their face."
The Lord settled his drink to the table, clearing his throat.
"I see, if I have outstayed my welcome in another man's eyes, please inform me, and I shall not bother you my Queen."
He angered her in that moment, as though an imaginary king would mean more to upset than herself. The dragon blood roared in her head as he spoke, deafening her with rage.
"Oh, you'd rather not offend the never present man than your own Queen?"
The quiet mumble to the hall stumbled to a stop at her sharp question, some trying to figure out what she had said while others readied themselves for a Targaryrn explosion. It was in this silence they heard it, the slight rustle of leather she knew so well, from the months Arya had first joined from the House of Black and White, before she had convinced her to upgrade to better armour.
A Faceless Man.
The training Arya had put her through for this very moment sparked through her muscles, her back moving, head twisting as a small arrow embedded itself through the wood of her dining throne, shaving past her ear, where her head had been moments before. She looked up, heart in her chest at the man standing in the trajectory of the weapon, hand held up, metal shining from his wrist.
Assassin.
Tyrion pointed him out, following his gaze.
"Assassin!" He yelled, the lords and ladies panicking and rushing to their feet, causing her to instantly lose sight of him in the flurry. The guards struggled to get closer, yelling to get through to no avail. Daenerys stood from the seat as Lord Lynderly got in front of her, falling to an arrow in his neck moments later, choking but not dying.
She caught the eyes again, pale blue against stolen skin, the one aspect unable to be hidden by the killers from the house.
She thought of grey as he stepped closer, unable to think of a way out of this, how foolish she had been to assume herself safe. The Faceless Man was close, gaining, and she was lost as to what she could possibly do. She wouldn't beg, she couldn't fight.
It did seem luck was on her side, now and forever after.
The great doors slammed open over the panic, causing all heads to snap to them, a gasp joining more screams at the sight before them.
A great wolf, the size of a horse. It's fur stained with mud and water, the white and grey covering thick muscles and intimidating height. It barreled into the hall, shoving past the Lords, Ladies and guards, nothing stopping it as the wolf ran across the hall. The Wolf Queen, the Alpha of the Great Wolf Pack.
It snarled, black lips pulling over huge teeth, and it lunged. Daenerys held her breath, assuming the fates had finally grown bored of her. How wrong she was.
The Faceless Man was in a state of confusion as the wolf fell upon them, reacting at the last second as teeth ripped into his shoulder. He yelled as the arm was removed, slashing to the wolf and missing as it stepped back with a cunning unseen in an animal before. It snarled and lunged as his pain powered strike wound down, taking the opening and shoving him to the ground, teeth wrapping around his head and shaking with the ferocity of a beast.
He fell limp, bloody and dead. The Wolf stayed still, teeth in his neck for several moments, until his stolen face horrifyingly slipped off. Only then did the wolf release his corpse, one final growl in warning. It turned its great head, blood soaking its maw as it met her eyes, now behind several guards and much farther away.
Daenerys didn't know why, but she recognised those eyes, the fire in them, the determination, the…
Love?
"Stop!"
The guards stood at her command, much to her friends' confusion. She stepped through them towards the beautiful creature, making sure to keep her voice low enough to avoid being accused of the next Mad Targaryrn.
"If you are Arya Stark, blink three times for me."
The wolf didn't break its stare, but took a slow step forward. Its huge grey eyes flickered for a moment, and then blinked. Once, twice, three times.
Daenerys held her hand out, ignoring Tyrion's hissed plea. The wolf stepped forward and rubbed its cheek against her palm, a small rumble coming from its chest.
"Are you close?" She whispered, the wolf nodded it's great head, Daenerys smiled.
"Good, be quick, Ñuha jorrāelagon. I've missed you."
The grey in those eyes shifted for a moment, the dark lightening to a wild golden yellow, the pupils shrinking and pinning her to the spot. She knew whatever power had brought Arya to her side had slipped, the great creature before her the beast it truly was.
It sniffed, echoing in the hall as the guards stood stock still, the guests shook and her friends quietly panicked. Daenerys kept her hand aside the wolf's head, compelled by forces unknown to recall something Arya had said once, whole bonding with her dragons.
Drogon was the least trusting, sitting far away and glaring with heat bubbling in his throat as his mother's mate walked amongst them. Viserion had approached at her beckoning, allowing Arya to run her hand along his hot scales. This lasted until Rhaegal fell jealous, rushing over and butting his way in to get attention for himself.
Arya had laughed at the action, using both hands to pet the snouts of both towering beasts, not a single ounce of fear in her.
"You're very brave, to face down something that could kill you, and to laugh."
Arya had a wolfish grin, not stopping her motions for the dragons.
"I learned that every creature has its vice, your dragons like scratches where they cannot easily reach, I imagine even your biggest would melt if you scratched behind his ears."
Daenerys knew she was right, she'd lulled the beast to sleep many times by doing just that.
"When I was younger, my wolf, she had a vice."
She looked lost again, fondly remembering a friend.
"Just under her ear, and she was cotton in your hands."
The words guided her, hands slipping back with a steady slowness, reaching under her head and scratching gently. It was instantaneous, a small grumble emitting from her chest, one eye shutting as she leant bodily closer to the Queen.
"You're alright," Daenerys whispered, "you're okay. Thank you, for allowing your master to save me."
The wolf warbled and leant closer, resting her head over Daenerys shoulder.
"Tyrion?" She quietly called, hearing an acknowledgement from her advisor, "Have the maids repare my chamber for our friend, she is a blessing from the gods after all. And dispose of the assassin, I'd rather he not stain the remainer of the evening."
Finally she looks over the shaking crowd of viewers with a royal smile.
"Apologies for the interruption of your evening. All are welcome to stay in your assigned rooms until the morrow."
She didn't care about the stares or the whispers as she walked out of the hall with the largest creature the walls had seen since dragons, leading the collosal wolf up the stairs to her chamber, where she found a cozy spot next to the fire to clean the blood off its paws and watch over the queen.
She wouldn't focus on how she felt safest under its wild gaze.
Daenerys didn't leave the castle for the next two days, the assassin's body being examined by the Maesters to confirm his origin, with the wolf following like a shadow, its eyes flickering to grey more often than not. The second day found her spending time reading the history of the Stark family, the magic they held, and the lore of Bran the Great Builder who kept the horrors of the wall locked away, using giants to reach where no man could.
Truly an inspiring family, one she was blessed to know so well, which made her realise how desperately she missed her wolf.
Another day passes and she has to leave her room, guards following with the collosal wolf sticking to her side, sitting at her feet on the throne and grumbling at anyone getting too close. Suddenly the beast's ears twitch and stand to attention, silencing the town mayor before the Queen as she narrows her animalistic gaze.
"Y-your Grace? Is your wolf okay?"
The coins chatter in his hands as Nymeria slowly raises to her feet, staring behind the man and at the doors behind him. Daenerys begins to get nervous as her guards fall in, ready for a second assassination attempt in as many days, the common folk separating and sinking into the walls, desperate to escape any conflict as a low rumble comes from Nymeria's chest.
So on edge the room was, it was quite amusing when the great wolf let out a small bark, more like a blacksmith's dog than a huge creature. Daenerys had a moment to acknowledge the wag of her tail as she leant around her to see the doors slam open, quietly stunted at the sight.
Arya Stark, in her Targaryen ranger attire, leaning against the wall of the large doors, exhausted with her hair sticking to her forehead, cheeks flushed from the shock of a Southern heat.
"My Queen," she calls in Dany's native tongue, one she'd tasked herself with learning, and had mastered a broken form of, "I came as fast as I could."
The High Valyrian exchanged between them on confused but silent ears, and Dany knew two things: she wanted the people gone, and for Arya to be in either the infirmary or her bed.
"You certainly did, your wolf saved my life."
Arya let out a steady sigh and tried to step forward, wincing a little with each step until she was before the Queen, taking a moment to embrace her wolf before kneeling for appearances sake.
"I am glad you are safe, my Queen. I have much to report."
She was giving her an opening, and Daenerys wouldn't hesitate to take that.
"Then we must discuss it. We shall pick up court proceedings tomorrow."
If they are disgruntled, the wolf was enough to keep the complaints at bay, both the canine and the returning Stark. Daenerys calls for Maester Tarly to check up on Arya as they climb the steps to the Queen's chambers, shared by her ranger, a secret kept amongst their close friends. Arya gingerly sat on her bed as Daenerys began unbuckling her leather plated armour.
"What happened?" She asked, Arya shaking her head as though she were dizzy or drunk, trying to clear her clouded thoughts.
"Sorry," she mumbles back, "I never even asked if you were okay, I apologise, Daenerys-"
The Queen stands before her and kneels, hands cupping the exhausted face of the woman she loved and making sure she caught her violet eyes.
"You saved me, both of you did. I've no idea what toll it caused you, and if you're suffering with a delusion that you owe an apology for that then I'll make sure Maester Tarly keeps you in the infirmary for a week."
Arya smiles weakly, raising her own hand and brushing along the shell of Dany's ear, thumb ghosting over her cheek, not daring to touch her skin and dirty it.
"He would try, but we both know I'd be out and by your side within the hour."
Daenerys hated how that wolfish grin made her seriousness melt away, the crown and the kingdom being gone from her mind whenever she saw it, and only then. Sometimes she wondered if the Faceless Men had taught her wolf how to charm a person senseless, but she quickly dashes that thought away.
This was all Arya, it always had been.
"You really are a nuisance, aren't you?"
A tooth pokes out of the scarred grin which cracks into a bright smile, one Daenerys cannot help but to meet with her own.
They're lost in each other's touch and taste, the long distance between them now closed with neither intending to leave. That is until the door knocks, and Daenerys moans in annoyance from Arya's lips. The Stark let out a breathy chuckle, grey eyes alight in amusement as Missandei called through the wood.
"Maester Tarly is ready, your Grace. With a bath prepared for Lord Stark. Tyrion has also requested a full update from the Northern Houses."
They could hear the apology in her voice, so they wouldn't hold their grudge against the messenger.
"I suppose the kingdom calls for us, my queen."
Daenerys rested her forehead against Arya's, the promise between them silent but true.
"Very well," she relents, "but tonight nothing will keep me from you, my wolf."
The smile in return was wicked and true.
"I cannot agree more."
Ñuha jorrāelagon - my