Chapter Text
As much as she dislikes being far away from Daenerys, sometimes her name was needed to make sure discussions went well in the North. Stark held much more weight than Targaryen, despite how different Daenerys was compared to her ancestors.
The Mormonts were much easier to discuss with than she'd expected, the young but wise Lyanna Mormont respecting her station, which Arya returned greatly. She didn't acknowledge the fact Jorah refused to join them, staying on the mainland, but in all honesty she didn't much care.
"Have you taken the time to return to your House?" The younger Lady asked, joining them on the walk back to their smaller boats which would escort them to the mainland.
"I know when I am not welcome, Lady Mormont. I am sure my sister would be happier to think of me in the south than almost home."
Lyanna shook her head with a sigh much older than her years.
"You Stark's do confuse me. Take my advice, return to her before you lose too much time."
Arya contemplated her words as she rode the boat back, the waves easing her mind as the thoughts raced through her brain.
"Was your meeting fruitful?"
The old knight looked unsure, so she chose to lay off him somewhat.
"Your cousin is very wise, much beyond her years. She requested more support from surrounding houses, possibly some persuasion to wandering people looking for a new home too. I'm sure the Queen would be more than happy to oblige."
He turned his gaze to her, glaring as per usual.
"You shouldn't make promises on Daenerys' behalf."
Arya sighs before looking at him, raising an eyebrow in slight disbelief at his continued denial of just how well she knows the Queen.
"I know she will agree with me, Knight. Let's return to camp, I'm sure the men and horses would prefer a rest before our journey tomorrow."
He huffs before marching to his horse. She watches him leave, the dothraki to her side cursing in their heavy tongue.
"He is disrespectful," he grunts, "you should kill him."
She smiles, joining her hands behind her back as the Knight trots ahead.
"I am not sure the Queen would be too pleased with me for that, Losho. I'd rather keep him alive than her angry with me." She replies with very broken but most likely understandable, if Losho's laugh was anything to go by. She makes her way to the grey horse, letting herself breathe before nudging him forwards.
"Jikagon."
The horse grunts, falling into a small trot at her command. The group reach the camp in no time, and she leaves the horse with a on hand stable boy, who took him away to be fed and watered. Arya nodded her greeting to the night guards before ducking into the tent, a small basen of slightly steaming water waiting for her. Finally able to relax, Arya removed her clothing. She takes off the cloak, running her fingers through the wolf adoring the collar, ending at the silver three headed dragon pendant, smiling fondly before folding it and placing it aside. She then removed her armour, breeches and shirt, the leather and furs lighter, but certainly uncomfortable after a day's ride followed by a lengthy negotiation.
Arya takes a short time to wash herself, removing the sweat and smell of horse from her scarred body. Sometimes she wondered why Dany ever found her attractive, considering how her skin was more scared than most people would expect, but apparently it was one of the things to catch the young queen's attention when they first met.
Shaking her thoughts from her mind, Arya dried and dressed in her sleeping clothes, wrapping up warm against the bitter cold of a northern night, laying on her bedroll, intending on sleeping the moment her head hit the ground.
She would've liked that, to be well rested, but something felt… well, off. Arya woke mere hours after her attempt at a restful sleep, unease resting on her stomach. She throws her cloak over her shoulders before stepping outside, the guard silent at his post, but still in place.
"Has there been any disturbances?" She asked, and he shook his head in response. The Stark looks at the sky, the thick clouds covering the moon's light.
"Do you know what I find fascinating?" She asks the dothraki. He doesn't respond, so she keeps talking.
"How different the moon looks across the world. It is huge over the sea, much more visible. Here? It's smaller, but somehow much brighter."
The Stark moves aside, her foot disturbing the snow.
"Dothraki are transfixed by it, so you're doing a poor job."
The man doesn't reply bar an uncertain grunt, and she knows her intuition was right. She unsheathed the small blade she kept to her wrist, stabbing his knee before deflecting his returning blow, making him stumble past, giving the perfect opportunity to slice along his side.
"What the fuck, wolf girl?!"
She raises a bloody hand to the three screaming dothraki, keeping a foot at the back of their fallen brother's head.
"Stark, what are you doing?"
She uses her foot to turn the body over, reaching below his jaw, feeling the tingle she knew so well. With a flourish the assassin pulled, revealing the face of a pale man. The dothraki yelled their confusion, and she held the face of the man he stole.
"An assassin killed your brother. Keep him alive, we must know who made it happen."
Jorah watched with untrusting eyes as they took the bleeding man, dragging him cursing and flailing back to the main tent. She sidled up beside him, wiping the blood from her dagger on her sleeve.
"What happened?" He asked, she gestured after the would-be assassin.
"Who knows, but I can certainly guess. Find out what he wanted."
She changed quickly, mentally pushing down on her unease to do what would be needed. She attached her sword and her dagger to her sides, leaving once more. The dothraki had tied the man's arms and legs to four horses, riders waiting for the command to tear him apart. Jorah stormed over, as he so often did, rage barely contained behind grit teeth.
"By the old and new gods, do you condone this madness?!"
Taking a steadying breath, the young Stark met his glare with one equal. Of course he didn't understand, he wasn't the target, and he hadn't lost a brother.
"To protect Daenerys? Not even the old gods could stop me, slaver."
He froze and she took the opportunity to slip past him, standing besides Losho. The assassin was bloody, but conscious.
"Who sent you?"
He moaned and clenched his first.
"What does it matter? You'll kill me anyway."
There's a rumble of thunder ahead.
"Yes, I will. But I can do it quickly," she removes the dagger from her side, the gleam of its sharp edge glistening in the moonlight, "or I can make it slow."
Like they were aware, the horses all leaned forward an inch, making the man yell as they stretched his height and threatened to tear his limbs with so much as a step.
"Choice is yours."
She knew what he was, a faceless man who only had ties to the many faced god, but like most, he had a weakness, one she was trained to recognise.
Fear.
"How long have you trained with them? The House of Black and White."
He doesn't reply, of course not. She holds the knife against her finger, gently turning it in her hand.
"I'd say a year, maybe two. They had me for longer, much… much longer."
A reaction, a twitch of the face, a tell, something they beat out of you by your third year. She starts walking closer.
"You're a distraction, something to slow me down, nothing more, nothing less. You're meaningless, you lack dignity and talent. Nothing more than a shiny object to avert my attention. So, I ask you, what are you trying to distract me from?"
He looks desperate, sweat frothing his brow as she thinks. Growing somewhat impatient with his silence, she calls for a flaming torch to be brought to her side.
"What- what are you doing?"
She flips it in her hand.
"It seems you do not believe me capable of upholding my threats. You can lose a limb and still live, you know? If you're quick to act, that is."
He had a moment to realise her intention, eyes widening a second before she spoke.
"Wait!"
"Zhowo."
The rider screeched and kneed his horse, making it gallop with utter glee as the man lost an arm. The shock covered pain for a moment before Arya held the fire to his wound, ceasing the bleeding with a horrid fleshy smell as the man screamed and the dothraki laughed.
Someone grabbed her arm, she turned, dagger to Jorah's throat.
"What are you doing?!" He yelled, she narrowed her gaze. "You've gone completely mad!"
The man's wails turned into words not even Jorah's horrid whining could block.
"The queen! They're going after the bitch queen!"
They both snapped back to him, the dothraki silenced at his words even their broken English could decipher.
"Explain or you'll lose another limb, boy."
He sobbed as he answered.
"Y-you finished too early! Had to stop you before the assassin can-"
Arya unsheathed Black Sister, a gift from her beloved, and pierced his remaining shoulder, twisting as he yelled.
"When?" She snarled, he choked on his words.
"T-two days."
Arya looked up, a sight of rage stood over his dismembered body as she met the stare of the Knight she disposed. He finally understood and nodded in silent agreement.
"Well, we haven't got long then."
She pulls the blade from his skin, stepping away towards her tent with a shout over her shoulder.
"Go."
The three horses ran and split the man once again, a screaming body trampled by the first horse moments after. She walked with Jorah at her heels, the man muttering in her ear.
"We have to stop this."
Is this man always so dense?
"Obviously, but reaching King's Landing even at full speed without sleep is four days' ride with a group this big."
He curses as they duck into her tent, pacing as she gathers supplies.
"What can we do?!"
"Is it not obvious?" Evidently not if his silence spoke any kind of volume, so she continued "We go ahead, us and a small group. You will take my horse, he's faster, and keep me steady."
He frowned at her.
"Why must I keep you steady?"
She stood and faced him, a bag of fine powder in some leather resting on her palm with a leaf on top, pulling the strings together to seal it.
"Because I'm going to skip ahead, and you'll need to get my body there. Now, either you can question me, or you can help me save Dany."
He snatched the offered bag.
"What are we waiting for?"
For once, she found herself agreeing with him.