Chapter 1: Little Arya
Thought I'd do something seeing as there's all these scenarios featuring all these pairings and friends but no Jon/Arya or Jon & Arya.
Jon/Sansa and Arya/Gendry seems to be dominating, despite others saying Jon/Dany has loads of fics (not really, Jon/Sansa has waaaay more) and naturally, not much Jon/Arya or Jon & Arya.
So, I'm being a bit ambitious but eh, might be a fun exercise.
I'll update this as I get ideas and some pieces may even get continuations, throughout time.
Who knows, it may inspire me or others to make a longer fic from these, develop these initial ideas or even inspire others to.
They will all have something in common:
Jon/Arya romantic relationship
Jon/Arya platonic relationship
More of a mix of both.
If other pairings appear for these two it will most likely be Jon/Arya/Other(s).
I'll see as I go along but this is my initial plan so I'm writing it here in the first chapter.
Who knows, maybe past relationships or implied relationships will get a mention but for now I doubt that since, well, there's enough of those no?
I'll try to do a hundred chapters, hence the tittle but let's see if I really can.
I hope so and I'll do my best to write a hundred drabbles and oneshots and the like.
Ratings may change.
And I'll include a small summary about the piece in either the beginning or end of the piece.
And with that:
Arya has just arrived in Braavos when she spots someone familiar.
The _____little Arya came from me remembering the Sin City movies and the phrase "Deadly little Miko"
I associated it with Arya, then Braavos as a playground and after expanding the idea got this.
Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Fire and Ice and it's related source materials.
This is fanfiction.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Gangly little Arya
He first met her in Braavos, wandering around the marketplace without knowing even a speck of Braavosi, let alone any other bastard Valyrian dialect.
Short, boyish, all limbs and elbows with short hair reaching her neck and haunted grey eyes. Stained clothes and skin and hair. Smelling of salt like only a sailor would.
There was also the little tidbit that she was accompanied by two massive wolves.
The pure white one suddenly stopped and turned directly to him.
And then so did she.
Confused little Arya
Her eyes had lit up in recognition before dimming even more.
She ran to him, spoke to him, asked him who he was, why he looked like her Lord Father.
Emotions swirling in her eyes and the grey wolf’s fur spiking up.
Her dead Lord Father, whom she had seen as his head roll ed down the steps of the Sept of Baelor.
So after leading them to a more secluded street and she ordering her wolves to stand guard he introduced himself.
He told her he was Daemon Targaryen, exiled Targaryen prince along with his kin.
And her cousin, given he was half Stark himself.
Closed off little Arya
He offered her food and a place to stay.
She was blood and he had heard what had happened to her family in Westeros.
Her eyes were mistrusting and her posture gave away she didn’t believe he had her best interest at heart.
Looking ready to bolt at a moments notice.
He couldn’t blame her, not if any of the stories told about what happened to the other side of his family were completely true.
It changed when the white wolf came and sniffed him.
She stared as he raised his hand without fear to it, as he smiled when the wolf licked his fingers and buried its head into his hand.
She accepted then, reluctance still in her voice.
Though before anything she wanted Bread and Salt along with a promise to the Gods.
Curious little Arya
It took some time but she started talking to him.
Two weeks after he brought her in to his home in Braavos, two weeks since he gave her a place to stay and food without fail.
Then the questions started.
Simple ones at first:
How old was he?
Six and ten.
How did he have this as his home?
He bought it.
How come they had never heard of him?
It wouldn’t be a secret if it was widely known, no?
The Baratheon usurper made it clear what he would do with the remaining Targaryens, to all who would listen. Never mind a Targaryen born from the woman he declared to love.
Simple little questions that became more complex as the days went by:
How did he know she was a Stark and his kin?
They look similar do they not? And the wolves were a dead give away, specially since it was rumored that the Stark children had Direwolves.
Kinda hard to miss that.
Her lips twitched and he considered it a victory after grimaces, blank looks, silence and all around distrust.
What was he doing here?
Negotiating with the Braavosi.
To see if they’re willing to help them get home, for a price of course.
What were those bells hanging on that long cloth he had tied to his belt?
He explained to her that the Dothraki wore bells to commemorate a victory.
She interrupted his explanation; asking if he rode with the Horse Lords then.
He snorted at that. Gods no, they brought them to heel.
He told her of Khal Drogo the so called Khal of Khals. How he wanted the last two Targaryen Princesses as his wives to commemorate his rising empire. How they had refused.
He hadn’t taken kindly to that, said – bragged rather – there was no stopping him, how he threatened the city magisters they were in and how they almost caved, the sniveling cravens.
So they had gotten their army, the one they had acquired bit by bit when they traversed Essos as sellswords with the exiled knights protecting them along the years.
He told her of how he rode with his elder sister and smashed the so called ‘Great Khalasar’ and had gotten the chance to personally slay the ‘Khal of Khals’ Drogo.
How they had then presented their braids and bells to them.
He raised the cloth and made the bells chime for emphasis.
Horse Lords are fierce, he explained as her eyes light up in curiosity, but they’re no more than mere savages.
So why was he here alone?
His sister and aunt were finishing up dealing the Ghiscari slavers and those sniveling cravens that tried to present them to the Dothraki to be mounted up as broodmares, regardless of their feelings on the matter.
He shook the bells again.
He can’t have all the fun now can he?
Skilled little Arya
She took to watching him with curious eyes as he trained everyday with his spear and swords, eyes alight in hidden curiosity and buried wonder, surfacing each day.
One day he asked her if she wanted to learn.
She nodded with some reluctance, so he decided to start out small; he pulled out one of his daggers and showed her some techniques before handing it to her.
She tried to copy them and with some corrections here and there she was doing so adequately, rather swiftly.
When he said as such to her she boasted, the first he had heard such a tone from her, that she had often practiced sword fighting with her brothers (the younger ones mostly) and was a better shot than them with the bow and arrow.
Her eyes started to dim then, the smile she had gained started to drop from her face.
So he grappled her face first into the ground with a simple maneuver; kicking her legs out from under her and giving her slightest push.
She spit the sand out of her mouth and turned grey eyes that were suddenly like steel onto him. The first she had flashed him such a gaze.
With a smile he cheerfully explained that he wasn’t her younger brother and that he had more training and actual experience than them so she was going to have to try vastly harder to rise up from that low bar.
Her eyes grew fiercer and a he knew he had lit a fire within her.
She trained everyday with him after that, getting better and better slowly and carefully. Steel shining in her hands and eyes with all that he showed her; longswords, shortswords, spears, javelins, tridents and bows and arrows.
So after a month he gave her a pair of daggers and a Braavosi styled sword for her very own use.
That was also the first time she had hugged him and genuinely smiled at him.
Agile little Arya
She dodged and weaved yet he always made her trip in the end.
With patience he lectured her about the importance of keeping the terrain around her in her mind.
So to practice he had taken her to the busiest market in Braavos at the busiest hour and told her to cross it as quickly as she could without getting in anyone’s way.
She had tried and failed.
With a huff she remarked that it didn’t make sense, that it was easier before and that everyone always called her ‘Arya Underfoot’ because she was always skulking beneath people.
So he gave her some tips, showed her an example by doing it himself and even faster than she was picking up moves with a dagger she managed it.
She dodged and weaved between people and stalls, easily and gracefully.
He gave her a little bronze bell as a reward.
That was the second time she hugged him and the first she wound her arms around his neck.
Swift little Arya
Her bells chimed and danced in the wind as she ran, easily keeping pace with him as he ran on the deserted streets of Braavos.
Through the ports, through drowned town, through the empty marketplaces and the not so empty ones.
They ran and lunged, dodging in between buildings and sometimes even jumping over the more narrower canals, rolling to a stop before climbing to their feet to sprint once more.
They scaled buildings until they were on the rooftops and then jumped from one closely built structure to another.
Again and again, round and round they went, feet moving swiftly and taking brief rests when they could until they made it to his house’s courtyard.
Her eyes shined brighter than they ever had before, life fully visible in them for the first time since he had met her.
Her breath came out in shallow but controlled pants, cheeks red as with an exhausted blush, sweat making her skin shine and her shoulder length hair stick to her body.
He gave her a little steel bell, congratulating her all the while with a smirk on his face.
Friendly little Arya
For all that she looked like she would run through anyone that so much as brushed against her funny his cousin was quite the outgoing person.
Sailors, merchants, tavern wenches, dock whores, courtesans.
Children, teens, elderly, adults.
Smallfolk, Freedmen, Nobles.
She talked with all of them and seemed to charm most of them and befriend a large part of them.
Pretty little Arya
He decided they should go out and have some fun for a change.
She answered that they already did that with a roll of her eyes.
He bonked her on the head with the sheathed sword in his hands as he dodged another lunge from her.
Told her he didn’t mean to train. No physical exertion. To just have some fun outside.
She wrinkled her nose but eventually she agreed all by herself, stating it might be fun and she was getting rather curious of the festivals here.
So he lead her to some of her rather expensive courtesan friends and told them he would need their help in getting Arya ready for the festival that night.
He easily ignored the look of exaggerated betrayal and despair she shot him as her giggling friends intertwined their arms with hers and lead her away down the canal in their barge.
When he returned just as night was starting to approach, decked out in his own ensemble, he knew that he had made the right decision as he stared at her.
The dress was the color of the sea, her hair largely loose to trail down her back except for some strands carefully arranged on the top of her head and held in place with netting that shimmered with a light silver color, almost white, making her eyes shine further. It hugged her slim figure that was filling out from her earlier starvation. Her friends had braided colored beads to the ends of her hair, crystals that shimmered as the light hit them.
Bluntly, she asked him why he had such a stupid look on his face.
Smiling he easily responded that it was because of her, that she looked even prettier than usual and it made him stop to stare.
She looked at him like he was simple, a disbelieving look on her face as her friends tittered behind her.
It was his turn to look at her like she had said something stupid, telling her that she was pretty as he presented his hand for her to take, starting a new round from her friends as they encouraged her to take his hand.
She still looked like she didn’t believe him, but she did take his hand after a promise to spend some time with her friends at the festival before they became occupied.
Happy little Arya
Despite her insistence that she didn’t dance, know any dance from Essos, was awkward and the like he still convinced her into the center of the square were all the people danced around each other.
They took some space for themselves and with patience he started to show her how to dance.
Slowly she started to recognize the pattern, the rhythm, the steps.
And then she danced with him.
Not expertly, it still showed that she was new to all this; the movements and the beat but she danced like a girl her age learning the steps would.
Stepping closer and then farther away, briefly pressing together before moving away and doing it all over again.
And when they twirled she laughed, the first laugh he had ever heard her utter.
Her friends came by to ask for a dance and so she went with them, twirling around with the courtesans, then some of their guards, her merchant friends and sailor friends.
When she came back he had found a table along with some food and drink. He pushed the various drinks toward her, told her to try a bit and choose her favorite, same with the food.
He joined her in eating and drinking once she had chosen her favorites and he had finished ordering those that she chose, trading stories and gossip as they ate.
Stubborn little Arya
He choose that time, the lull in the party to rest for a bit, to tell her about the letter he received.
It was time to go back towards the other side of the continent, his business was done here for now.
He could practically see the thoughts that he was abandoning her flow into her mind, so he grabbed her hand to make sure she stayed until he finished explaining himself. Even if she did put her hands on one of the dagger’s he gifted her like she was about to run it through his hand.
She could stay here, a place where she made many friends and knew the streets.
She could see about returning to Westeros alone, to right the wrongs, to take back her family’s land.
She could even come with him, though it wouldn’t be easy, this he made sure she understood.
She could even do something else he hadn’t thought about.
He made it clear that he would help her however he could.
He shifted his hand so that he was grabbing her like when he asked her to dance instead of the steely pressure to prevent her running away in imagined slight.
After minutes of just staring at each other, she asked him to dance.
The music had picked up during their staring contest, colorful and lively once again.
He was amused; hadn’t she danced enough?
Not with you she answered, chin jutting forward.
He accepted with a laugh and together they danced again, longer than before and with mostly each other.
When the music slowed for couples he thought to made his way back, he knew she didn’t enjoy these types of songs, these dances that had people get close together to relax before the next lively dance.
Her hands didn’t let him though, neither did her eyes. Looking up at him as she tugged him back, making it obvious she wanted to stay even as he raised his eyebrow in confusion.
She brought him to her, arms wrapping around his back and fingers brushing his shoulders, her head laying on his chest sideways and her eyes still looking up at him from beneath her lashes, molten silver instead of steel.
So he danced with her, slow and airy, hands on her back and hip.
She whispered when they had their paces matched, to take her with him. She didn’t want to be alone again, without another wolf, another member of the pack.
She didn’t want to be a lone wolf anymore.
His hand moved from her back to the nape of her neck, finger brushing her hair as he smoothed soft circles into her skin.
He accepted her request.
Deadly little Arya
They traveled by land and sea.
Obviously along the way some people, factions, groups and what not would get the bright idea that they would be easy pickings.
Naturally he stuck them with the pointy ends of his blades.
And introduced them to the sharp edges.
So did the rest of his caravan.
And then there was Arya.
Swift little Arya, agile little Arya, fierce little Arya.
Deadly little Arya.
Baiting her opponents with her small size that just screamed easy pickings.
A calculated move here, a planned trip there and they all fell at her blade.
If not there was her huge direwolf, that was rather fond of crushing throats in its jaws.
Well, not like the white one that he had taking to calling Ghost was different, though he did attack more varied body parts.
Nymeria just seemed to like blood in its mouth.
He can’t wait to tell Rhaenys that name, she’ll absolutely love it.
Then they’ll both laugh about it.
He sighed as he cleaned the blood from his shortsword, he really did miss his favorite girls in the world.
Oh well, not long now.
Surprised little Arya
She was gawking at the pyramid. They all did for the first time.
When he pointed as much out to her he received a punch to his side with a huff and an order to shut up.
The uttered stupid was a charming afterthought.
He stared at her and she returned it fiercely but one of them needed to break and it wasn’t he that punched a man kitted in armor and that had been trained since he could hold a weapon in his hands ‘for the future’.
So he took his victory with all the grace a Targaryen prince possessed.
...And added a bit of fond teasing into his tone, as she shook her hand with a small grimace, with the most annoying smirk to those younger than him, for good measure.
He had, naturally, copied it from his darling elder sister, the absolute princess of such things.
He was also glad he and Daenerys practiced such things on each other when they were younger.
Just in case, they had said.
Speaking of, there they were, coming towards him despite protocol, and being the big bad dragon royals that they were.
And Arya was staring again as they approached, so he flicked her nose to get her gobsmacked attention off from his kin.
The smirk and parting line that she had been in contact too much with Baratheon half wits during her time in Kings Landing or Westeros in general was entirely for his own benefit though.
The swiftly retorted answer that the so called half wits were the reason they were hiding in this land far from home, fighting savages and the vermin that were slavers along with the other rift raft that were the egotistical sellsword captains, instead of fighting a true army filled with heroes and sitting on their dragon throne made him proud.
Straight for the jugular.
She really did have a bright future.
Beautiful little Arya
She often remarked that they were rather fetching in their own ways, an observation most of the time, a compliment when she thought it appropriate.
Arya didn’t give out compliments freely. Cutting remarks and a bit of dark humor? Sure.
Compliments? Those were harder to get from her tongue.
He still told her that she was pretty and becoming more so everyday.
Silly little girl still didn’t believe him.
Didn’t even believe his sister and aunt when they said it.
And she dared imply he was the stupid one?
Never mind when Rhae and Dany added their own opinions to the matter, agreeing with his cousin and throwing in their own thoughts of him to mix with hers.
He was outnumbered three to one by these women, it just wasn’t a fair fight.
Giggly (even Arya!), grinning, beautiful, elegant, deadly with words and swords.
They were lucky he favored them so.
Hence he decided to get that stupid idea out of Arya’s head.
So he recruited Rhaenys and Daenerys to help.
They did need to make a victory feast anyway.
And just because, they added Missa into the mix.
He’ll treasure the image of the two young girls giving them deadpan stares for the rest of his life and beyond as they explained that they would be their dress up dolls, in High Formal Speechcraft of course.
He gave his opinions and insight as they talked about dresses, makeup, trinkets, colors, metals and the like.
They also took turns at preventing Arya from slipping away. Missa being the good girl that she was had already accepted her fate from them and started to throw her own opinions on the matter.
When it was time to dress they kicked him out and set to donning.
He was rather proud of the creative ways he heard Arya cursing at them through the door. He really had taken his time to bring life back to the younger girl and break away that shell of misery, loneliness and despair.
He was even more amused, and proud but he was always proud of them, when Dany and Rhae quickly shut her up with their own carefully crafted curses and their sharp tongues.
Those two had Valyrian Steel for tongues.
The giggling that burst forth after a few seconds also warmed his heart.
He even thought the Unsullied guarding the door cracked honest grins at it. Well as much as they could or would.
When they emerged they were visions of beauties.
He said as such to them, meaning every word of it.
As a reward he received pecks from all of them.
That was the first time he saw her blush.
It melted his heart every time from then on.
Bold little Arya
The feast was underway and he had posted more Unsullied so that the drunk nobles and those sellswords with their inflated egos wouldn’t get any ideas with the visions that were the girls.
Ghiscari that still thought too highly of themselves and sellswords that hadn’t even proven themselves and just created their companies.
Still, he followed Arya as she tugged him away from the feast. Seems she had something important to tell him about.
Probably of their impending return to Westeros.
Instead they found themselves in her chambers.
Slowly she tugged him down by the collar of his clothes, hands wavering a bit as their faces came closer together.
Their noses bumped and she stopped, only to ask him to kiss her.
Why? Why him? Was she sure?
She answered swiftly and without hesitation.
He countered that she should have someone better, someone more suited to her than him.
She tilted her head just the slightest bit to brush her lips to his, light as a feather, hot as dragonfire and as sure of herself as a wolf making its way down a path. Whispering that there was only him all the while.
So he kissed her, as much as she liked.
As much as he liked.
She asked him to take off her dress, fingers on his lips like she was preemptively stopping his protests.
He didn’t protest though, just kissed her fingers and gave her everything she wanted.
She was on her back, pale skin bare to him in its entirety, brown hair trailing down her back and front, and pink complementing her skin lovingly; the barely hidden pink of her nipples, the pink flush present on her body, or her pink lips that were pulled into a smile and that contrasted with her red cheeks.
A sliver chain around her hips filled with little trinkets, charms, beads and cloth. A present from his kin he knew.
Eyes enhanced further by the line of black kohl that stretched, from temple to temple, across her eyes and nose like a mask.
And grey eyes staring at him; eyes like steel, eyes like silver, eyes like the image of the moon reflecting upon water.
The contrast with the makeup made the silver become more beautiful, just like she did everyday, inside and out.
He asked her one more time if she was sure, needed to hear that final confirmation.
She was. She spoke clearly, telling him that she wanted him to have her maidenhead.
He froze, for a second, then nodded and kissed her again.
Daemon had seen women – and girls – taken as cities were conquered and armies fell upon them. Crying, despairing, blood dripping down their thighs whether from having their maidenheads taken or by the uncaring grasp of their captors. Sometimes he had even seen men and boys treated the same.
He had beaten the habit out of their forces, beaten the torching of cities out of them, forced the savagery out of mercenaries and destroyed it in the Dothraki savages no matter how much they raged and protested, he felled them all.
Because no matter how hard he tried all he could see in his mind, as clear as a grand painting or mural, was Daenerys and Rhaenys in those positions. How they could have been sold to the Dothraki or the Ghiscari, how they could have been treated, how they would have been treated.
He talked, he argued, he shouted, ordered, dealt with, convinced.
He spilled whatever blood was necessary.
For them he would create an ocean.
So he would be gentle with her, he would give her everything he knew and more on her first time. If she wanted they would up the ante.
Later – much later – they lay there, sated, she with her eyes slightly glassy, head on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around her tightly, his hand drawing random patterns on her skin, her maiden’s blood drying on her thighs, one of her legs hooked with his and he with his back and sides burning slightly from where she sank her nails into, bite marks on his lip, shoulder, chest and arms and enjoying the small kisses she was leaving as her eyes focused on him from between strands of brown hair.
Her eyes shined and she, almost completely innocently, asked him if they could go again. Her eyes twinkled mischievously and when he told her of changing the pace a bit they gained an interested gleam along with what he would say was determination mixed with expectation.
He devoured her that night just as she did to him.
His name a prayer on her lips just as hers was on his.
Wouldn’t be the last time either.
His little Arya
He looked at her as she watched the waves flow by with Daenerys at her side, Rhaenys by his.
Arya stood with light armor protecting her and the sword and daggers he had gifted her so long ago. Daenerys with her flowing dress with some armor protecting the most important places of her body.
Both girls loved the sea, the smell of it, the motion of the waves, fishing in it, swimming in it, so both older dragons would let the younger wolf and dragon enjoy it.
Who knew when they would have the chance later since they were almost to the shores of Westeros.
Rhaenys grabbed his hand and leaned into his shoulder while she whispered that they were almost home.
He lay his head on top of hers, squeezed her hand back but said nothing.
His mind occupied by battle plans, logistics, excitement, worry and Arya.
Little Arya as beautiful as she was deadly, as fierce as she was kind, as friendly with others just as she kept only those close to her in her heart and no one else, as compassionate as she could be unforgiving.
Could end those against her, be covered in blood and still look beautiful while so making him wonder if she got tips from Dany and Rhae on that.
Could slice the throats of two men open in the blink of an eye while her wolf tore open the third’s, bringing death to those who she wished as easily as she made friends with those she desired to.
Yet all he could think about as she turned to him with those grey eyes was her.
Deadly little Arya, bringing death to others as easily as she brought him to life with three little words uttered from her pink lips, each and every time.
The words she uttered that night at the pyramid again and again, the same ones he answered with, the same ones she told him when they set off and again when they announced that Westeros was within sight.
“I love you.”
- Jon is named Daemon
- You get Rhaenys instead of Aegon since from what I've seen that's rarer
- Yes, they like each other instead of Rhaenys taking the role of Catelyn and hating Jon
- Why? Because variety is the spice of life and it's different than reading: Rhaenys hates Jon, Aegon does not/maybe does all the time
- Viserys is dead here but in this AU he wasn't mad and is remembered fondly by the remaining dragons
- Speaking of, yes there are dragons here
Arya would have probably taken everything harder without Jon in her mind, reassuring herself that he would want her no matter what.
So needing Jon to draw her out of it does make some sense, right?
Also do you guys and gals want to see all the pairings tagged as they come up or something more general like: Jon/Arya/Various
I'm guessing some people prefer the wall of tags to see what's in these types of stories and others not?
And I'll update when I can, no fixed schedule.
Chapter 2: Sparring
Jon and Arya spar.
And then spar some more, even if not the way they intended.
*Sees all the Jon/Sansa and Arya/Gendry being published recently*
*Hunter Del Sur raises a brow*
I accept that challenge.
Joking (mostly) aside I still accept the challenge though.
I'll leave a more detailed explanation at the bottom.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
She dodged the punch aiming to strike her in her left side by swerving to the right, retaliating with her own punch aimed at the head of her opponent. He dodged it by stepping back making use of the handicap her shorter reach provided and then using his own longer one as an advantage by uncoiling his arm from its resting position to try and strike at the side of her head. Still, it was easy enough to dodge aga-
Pain blossomed over her stomach, her breath left her so quickly it burned and she folded over minutely from the force of the punch, a bit of spittle leaving her mouth. All in the span of a single second.
He really was swifter then he let on.
Twin voices from her friends watching from the sides rose up in alarm, she ignored them for the moment, focusing instead on controlling the pain she was feeling to something more manageable and backing away from her opponent by quickly pushing on his frame to give her the momentum to roll herself backwards. She sprung up ready to-
She felt something brushing her neck, looking down with just her eyes she noticed that it had been his knuckles. His fingers were half curled, an obvious gesture that he could have punched her hard enough to break the bones of her neck or grab her by it. Her grey eyes followed the arm the loosely held fist was attached to until they focused on the long face staring down at her; brown hair framing his face somewhat wildly along with dark grey eyes looking into her own lighter pair.
She let out a puff of air at the simple statement from her bro... cousin...her cousin, moving some loosely floating strands from her face.
She really should get used to that, its been many moons since the truth was first told, weird as it still felt even now.
“If I was allowed to use my complete move set I would be saying that. Then again you would need that handicap.”
“But you weren’t allowed to and you lost. Besides didn’t you tell me they trained you to fight with literally crippling handicaps like numbing a limb or taking away your eyesight?”
Jon straightened his posture, face stoic but for a quirking of his lips as he held his hand out to her. Without hesitation she grabbed it and let him help her up from her crouched position, while also using him as support as she got her balance back on the sand pit.
“You have good pain resistance but I fear that’s more a last ditch effort to finish someone off no matter what then something to use as an advantage, we’ll have to break you out of that suicidal thought if so.”
Jon spoke as he proceeded to wipe the sand from her clothes, brushing it away from her shoulders before removing it from her cheeks and hair, deciding to help him she loosened her hair and gave it a little shake before letting him take care of the rest. Her ears picked up footsteps crunching on sand from behind her and she didn’t need to turn to know that it was her friends. Her cousin for his part didn’t even raise his eyes, keeping them focused on her while she stayed still as he ran his hands though her hair to shake the remaining grains loose.
“That won’t happen,” The Stark princess spoke factually as she began to return the favor; brushing her hands along his shoulder and arms, causing grains of sand to fly to the ground while he moved to retie her hair into a braid. “I have no intention of dying.”
“That makes two of us.”
Arya stilled, even more than before. Such a simple statement, but so loaded with meaning.
Was he trying to be funny in his dry way like when they were young? Did that mean he had no intention of literally dying again, like when his black brothers stabbed him? Or did he mean that he also wouldn’t want her to die? Both? The image that came unbidden into her mind made a heavy feeling rise up within her just like it always did.
Jon – her Jon – laying in the snow, slowly painting his surroundings red as-
He ran the back of his fingers across her forehead, catching her attention and causing her eyes to focus on him again.
“Stop thinking about unnecessary things.” Saying so he returned to finishing her braid.
Taking a quiet breath she nodded and then continued staying as still as she could while she brushed his tunic clean with her hands.
He was here with her now, that was all that mattered.
“You okay Arry?” The footsteps finally came to a stop as her friends reached their position. She turned her head, looking at them from the corner of her eyes before giving them a small nod, Jon not even looking up up from where he was finishing her braid. Though he did give her the option of turning her back to him, even if he didn’t need it to complete his work, so she could face her friends.
Shooting him a grateful smile she turned around to meet the two different shades of blue eyes that belonged to Ned and Gendry.
“You sure?” Gendry as usual was stubborn like a bull.
She rolled her eyes at them. “Yes, I’m fine.”
They nodded slowly, her reassurance having done nothing to quiet their worries. It didn’t escape her notice that both of her friends hadn’t said anything towards Jon, instead watching him with wavering eyes. There were rumors about him, about how he came back, how he came back wrong and that he could potentially hurt others so easily with his new wild nature that rose up every now and then, even those close to him.
She almost scoffed aloud at that thought; Jon would never hurt her just as she was incapable of hurting him.
But despite her reassurances her friends and those that had reservations towards her cousin preferred to keep him in their sights, more so when she was with him. Like right now, as they sparred in whatever way they wanted.
Couldn’t let a Northern Princess come to harm, now could they?
Arya hated that they treated him like that, talked about him like that, more so when his Targaryen blood came to light, using it as justification to the madness that could be beneath the man. She wanted to go with her first instinctive reaction and poke them full of holes but she couldn’t do that before common sense took hold of her again; unless she wanted to wrack up entire mountain’s worth of bodies, bodies they needed for the coming Great War, she had to swallow her feelings.
The snow princess felt a tug at her braid and knew that he was almost done, merely testing its strength. Sure enough he uttered a clear “Done” in his deep raspy voice after another tug before stepping up to stand at her side while facing her.
“You should be more careful, you could have hurt her.” Gendry spoke up, ignoring the way Ned batted at his elbow subtly and the way her own eyes narrowed at him.
Jon for his part simply snorted, not even turning to look at him as he placed his hands on her cheek, telling her to face towards him, “I sincerely doubt that.” He ran his hands over her hair and face once she did as he finished cleaning her up.
“You hit her-”
“Haven’t been in much spars have you?” Her cousin interrupted dryly, frowning a bit as he tucked a few strands behind her ear and cleaning the remaining sand from her face.
Gendry continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted but that didn’t mean she didn’t noticed the way his hands clenched. “-Hard enough to fold her over a bit.”
“Gendry.” Her tone had a note of warning in it and she made sure to catch his eyes as she looked at him from the corner of her eye.
“Better she get a bruise with me here than a sword through her body elsewhere. Besides I never hit her with enough force to do too much damage to her.” His tone was utterly dismissive and with a final brush of the back of his hand along her forehead Jon moved his hand to the bottom of her chin. “There, now you don’t look like you’ve been walking through a sandstorm. Next time how about we spar after the meeting, little wolf.”
“I would love to, if they didn’t seem to suck out the life from me every time.” The grey eyed girl answered easily to her grey eyed counterpart, an entirely unapologetic smile on her face.
His lips quirked and soon enough he was giving her a smirk, just as she was hoping he would react. His hand pushed her chin upwards and he leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. “Don’t be late, Dany may be warming up to you but that doesn’t mean those other lords are. Don’t give them excuses to badmouth you.”
“They don’t need excuses.” She pointed out wryly.
“No, but it certainly helps them.” He gave her one last smirk, “I’ll see you later.”
And with that he turned around not even acknowledging the two men before him or the others that stared at him as he moved along the courtyard into the castle proper Knowing him to change from his sparring clothes into something more proper for the meeting.
Gendry seemed about to speak again but his Dayne companion stopped him more forcefully this time, the two trading a brief glance before Gendry backed off and let Ned take the forefront.
She turned towards them and made no attempt to hide the disappointment on her face.
“I have a meeting to attend.” She started walking away before adding as an afterthought, “I’ll talk to you two later.”
A knock resounded throughout her chambers causing her to put her towel down and pick up a dagger instead. “Coming!”
She grabbed her fur cloak to drape around herself and cover her more than the simple white shift that reached a bit beyond her mid thigh did. Well that and helping her conceal the dagger in her hand apart from containing much more, if the need arose.
She opened the door slightly to peek through and then a bit more when she noticed it was Jon.
The older boy sighed as soon as he saw her, “You’d think you would have learned to dry your hair by now.”
“Well I was about to,” Arya began, equal parts defiance and amusement present in her tone, “But then someone knocked on my door.”
She opened her door fully and stepped a bit to the side, clearly giving him the option of entering her chambers if he so wished.
“How rude of them.” He took her offer, brushing past her as he easily strode into her room, “You can let go of that dagger now, by the way.”
The young girl let out a chuckle as she leaned out to view the corridor to her rooms. Seeing no one she leaned back inside , closing and barring the door behind her. As she walk ed through the room to find Jon she took not e that he had tended to the fire in her solar before apparently mov ing to her bedroom.
Sure enough when she saw him again he was finishing tugging his remaining boot off his foot before sitting on her bed, her towel in his hand.
“Well?” He raised both the towel and his brow, his tone inquiring and posture looking far more relaxed than the one he sported during the day, and that was saying something, given that he had a posture as rigid as dragonstones these days.
“It’s not even as cold as the North so I don’t see your hurry.”
“For now,” Jon corrected her as he patted the space in front of him.
'Winter is Coming.’ Their house words echoed in her mind and if there was ever a time that was true it was now. She sheathed the dagger in her hands when she reached her bed, placing it next to where Jon had laid his own dirk nearby. The grey eyed girl also shed her fur cloak before sitting herself in between Jon’s legs.
S ilently he started to pat her mid length hair down in sections before running the towel through her hair. He had to lean slightly forward to do so and during one of those times his shirt opened enough to let her see the scar near his heart. Her throat tightened involuntarily, even against the training she received in the House of Black and White, as she saw that mark and her mind imagined the many more dotting his skin underneath his shirt that she couldn’t see .
“I’m sorry.” Arya spoke up suddenly, she never could take those thoughts about him. Not after seeing the things she did, not after seeing the massacre at the Twins and then knowing about her Lady Mother being revived and eventually transforming into that thing she eventually became.
“What for?” His voice was light, free of worries and he shifted the towel enough that it wasn’t obscuring her face at every pass he made with it, letting him look into her eyes.
“The way they behaved. My friends, Gendry and Ned, did.”
“They’re not the first nor will they be the last to think and say such things.” Jon finally put the towel down and stretched over to grab the comb at her bedside table, the one next to both her dagger and his dirk. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does.” She insisted hotly, her grey eyes turning to steel as she looked at him with burning eyes. He met her gaze calmly, the dark clouds of his eyes helping her cool down somewhat, along with the sensation of him running the comb through her hair. Her hand rose up and snaked its way inside his shirt, directly to that scar near his heart that she had seen.
Jon finally stopped his motions, the first time he had done so ever since he had decided to help her with her hair.
“It’s not fair.” Arya was sure Jon had noticed she wasn’t solely talking about the way he was treated. Her voice broke minutely and her eyes burned yet she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t let those tears run down her cheeks, but just because she wouldn’t let them fall didn’t mean they didn’t pool in her eyes and burn along with her throat.
“Its not.” He agreed easily with a nod and that made it all the worse. Her insides churned with anger at it all before abruptly cooling as he cupped her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away the unshed tears from her eyes, his other hand putting the comb down on the bed. “But its not going away anytime soon.”
“It is however enough that you and some others believe in me and care about me, no matter what.” Her cousin leaned down until their foreheads and noses bumped together, his hands moving down to cup the nape of her neck, his fingers rubbing small circles on her skin and causing a gentle heat to rise within her.
“Well, look at the positive side of that encounter, at least they don’t seem like they will turn on you.”
The heat died down quickly.
“That’s not funny.” She flatly stated.
“It wasn’t supposed to be. More of an observation really.” His voice responded, equally flat.
“...I hate them, you know.”
“They’re dead.” Jon pointed it out simply, picking out her meaning immediately.
She nodded but it wasn’t enough for her, “I still hate them.” His head tilted a bit to the side causing some strands of hair to brush against his eyes.
“Come here.” He opened his arms for her and she went into them without a single doubt. She straddled him, her thighs on either side of his hips as she half sat on his lower abdomen. One of her arms encircled his neck and she buried her fingers into his hair while the fingers on her other free hand fluttered about his shoulders, neck and face.
He was still the same Jon, her Jon, yet also so different. The same colored eyes, the same colored hair but everything else changed in some way; his shoulder were broader as was his chest, he was more muscled yet still lean of form, he was taller and he had lost the childish fat on his face. Jon had more scars; on his body, face, legs and hand. His hair was wild about his face and his eyes swam with emotion constantly now and, most importantly, he was no longer her brother but her cousin.
“When I came back...” Jon started before trailing off. Her hand traced his jaw and she leaned closer to give him a kiss near his chin, on the edge of his jaw, her hand immediately caressing the corner of his mouth thereafter. His eyes followed her fingers before meeting her silently encouraging gaze. He took a deep breath and the motion caused her fingers to brush against his lips before she moved them back to were they where before.
“...I didn’t know what to feel. My emotions were a mess, the sensations my body experienced, and are currently experiencing, were too. Even now I still don’t know what to feel... I feel my old self; my old personality, my memories, my feelings...yet with all that there’s still something new, something wild, something savage. I can feel it lurking beneath and sometimes feel it leaking through my expression or eyes, no matter how small it is as I feel it. As I lay awake at night without being able to sleep, sometimes days at a time, I wonder how much it had changed me and how much those words may prove true.”
“All except one thing,” He moved his head minutely to the side so that her still tracing fingers on the corner of his mouth were now on his lips. He kissed each of her fingers individually never parting his gaze from hers as he did. When he reached the final one his larger hand cupped her smaller one then, coaxing it open so he could lay a kiss upon her palm before laying it on his free shoulder. Arya immediately snaked it around him just like her other arm, hugging him closer and bringing their faces even nearer. “There was one thing that remained the same, one part of my heart that remained the same before and after.” Jon’s hands cradled her waist and they lightly massaged up and down her sides while he talked. She knew what he was talking about, could see it in his expression as he looked at her.
Her and her lips.
He took a calming breath before continuing, “Yet even that started to change eventually... For the better I would think.”
Her arms tightened around his neck and she moved so that her body was flush against his. Her tongue came out to wet her lips before she spoke, “I would agree with that thought.”
She brought their faces even closer together and her lips lightly brushed against his with each whispered word, drawing out the anticipation, “Definitely, for the better.”
This wouldn’t be the first time she would kiss Jon, it wouldn’t even be the third time, yet like all those times (except the excited confusion from their first kiss) since their second kiss she couldn’t wait for their lips to meet firmly before they let their feelings loose with-
A knock echoed all around her chambers.
A second knock came then.
Right now!? Someone just had to knock right now?!?!
Jon’s eyes turned towards the door leading into her bedroom from the solar, a wild storm dancing in his eyes.
She couldn’t blame him, she imagined her eyes had the same wildly furious look in them as she also gazed in the same direction, almost as if they could see whoever was knocking and kill them solely with their gazes.
“Arya? Its Edric and Gendry, we wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“I’m going to murder them.” Pronounced Jon, a final sentence to those found guilty.
“Not if I beat you to it,” She grumbled before letting herself place a brief kiss to his forehead, “And remember I’m the assassin here.”
“I wasn’t thinking about being subtle about it.” He pulled her down, giving her a brief, sweet, if somewhat frustrated, peck on her lips. “Go.”
“Hold Up!” She shouted and the knocking ceased. Quickly, Arya blindly grabbed a pair of tights and tunic before hurrying to the privy to change. After coming back out she moved to give Jon her own brief peck before uttering against his mouth, “Stay here, I want to continue.”
“As always we have the same thoughts.” He smirked at her and she resisted the urge to push him down for it, along with finally getting her proper kiss. Still, she had noticed recently that Jon had been more vocal with his thoughts, particularly those that bit into in the skin of others.
She grabbed her cloak and dagger just as she always did and headed towards the solar, making sure to let the door to her bedroom shut partially. If they really were here to apologize she wanted Jon to hear it at least, if not then she wanted to make sure he heard as she really let them in on her thoughts. Win-Win basically.
Arya schooled her features into what she wanted to make abundantly clear; her face took on a neutral image while only letting a bit of irritation through. Satisfied with her expression she opened the door. “Yes?”
“Arry.” They echoed their greeting and then stood there looking at her up and down with what she could make out was confusion mixed with various other emotions. They had changed into more comfortable clothes instead of the tabards and armor from earlier that day; simple breeches and shirts, much like the one Jon had come in.
“May we enter?” Ned spoke up and it was obvious that they had discussed beforehand to see who would do most of the talking, at least initially. Ned being the shining example of a knight and bearing the title ‘Sword of the Morning’ along with said sword, did make sense to play ambassador compared to Gendry’s stubborn thoughts and blunt responses to whatever was on his mind.
They seemed to pause at that and as always Ned had a better knack for hiding his thoughts then Gendry even if he seemed to have improved some. Her eyes still easily picked up the little details though so neither were that good at it.
The Dayne nodded, slowly, making it obvious that he was recollecting his thoughts while Gendry’s lips twitched as he suppressed his voice.
The Northern princess decided to help them along, “You said you were going to apologize.”
She made no effort into posing it as a question.
Edric turned towards Gendry and nodded towards her. Taking a deep breath the taller of the two boys turned his blue eyes on her as he squared his shoulders. She raised a brow at him even as a part of her mind was amused at the fact that he looked like he was getting ready for a duel instead of apologizing to a girl a number of years younger than him and that reached his chest with the top of her head, at most.
She could almost hear Jon’s voice dryly remarking that there was no difference with her.
“I wanted to apologize –”
“– to you.”
She cocked her hip at that, “Care to repeat that Bull?”
“Arya...Gendry...” The Sword of the Morning called out, trying to pacify their tempers before they escalated but Arya wouldn’t have any of it. She raised a single finger while never taking her eyes away from Gendry’s and she saw the moment he decided to continue forward with those thoughts of his and new they would be quarreling soon.
“Arya, there’s a reason we’re worried-”
“A stupid reason!” These idiots!
“You haven’t seen him as he fights! There’s something savage beneath him! He executes the scores of men he was assigned to judge himself, without blinking no matter the number!”
“That’s First Men culture! Its First Men law! If they’re guilty you swing the sword yourself! The way our- my father and his uncle taught us! And you’ve obviously never seen me when I cross a name off my list or when I kill someone myself! Oh wait, you have! I’ve smiled plenty of times even with blood covering my form!”
“It’s not the same Arya!”
Her teeth were bared and she was within striking distance of this stubborn fool before her. She looked at his blue eyes swimming with emotion with her own furious gaze. Deciding to rein herself in a bit she turned to Ned as he tried to stand stoically by the sides. “Well, what about you? Anything to add about my cousin?”
She focused on him, watching from the corner of her eye as Gendry rolled his shoulders as a way to calm himself, waiting for him to start another idiotic argument or putting an end to this one.
“There have been some unsettling rumors...”
Option number one it is, then.
“...and there has been some strangeness to his behavior-”
She couldn’t take anymore of this.
“He died! Jon died and came back! You should know what that does to someone! The Both of You Should!”
“That’s what we’re worried about Arry!” Ned raised his voice, not much and definitely not as much as Gendry had but it was still a shout, “He might not be the same as when you knew him! Whether it was due to his experiences throughout the years or dying or even both he might have changed from when you were but a girl! He could be different! He is different from what everyone says!”
“What do they know? I was the one that knew him him best! I am the one that knows him best! We were and still are the ones that know each other best! Yes, he has changed but he is still Jon beneath it all! And even with everything that’s happened and everything he’s done, including ‘For the Good of the Realm’, it seems ‘everyone’ still think they have a right to judge him! Even if its blatantly wrong! Again!”
“Gods dammit Aryy! Will you just-”
“You know...” Jon’s voice drawled out from behind her and even through the haze of anger she was feeling she saw the two complete idiots before her tense. Focus, she reminded herself of her training and took the appropriate measures along with a deep shuddering breath as Jon continued speaking, “...that’s a supremely piss poor job of getting her to calm down. Don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re just making her angrier by the second.”
He casually pointed at the door leading to her bedroom behind him while continuing with his sarcastic drawl and looking at them with stoic eyes, “I can practically see and hear the violent thoughts, apart from the actual shouting I mean, from in there.”
“What are you doing here?” Gendry growled out, his angry expression focusing itself on Jon as his hand twitched and he took a step into her room. Ned, despite being much less vocal and angry, mirrored his friend in taking a step into her room.
As he stood behind her, halfway to where they were, Jon, with the combination of the most serious expression and deadpan voice she had ever seen or heard said, “I’m here to kill Arya and eat her liver before I sacrifice her unwilling soul to my master; The Great Other.”
Silence reigned upon the room and she turned to face Jon; hand on her cocked hip and eyebrow raised along with one corner of her mouth, conveying perfectly to him what she felt through their silent conversation, “How long have you been waiting to use that one?”
The tiny quirking of his lips along with the almost imperceptible lifting of his arm in a shrug was answer enough, “A bit.”
Jon frowned, and not the subtle expression he’s been using recently or the one he used before he went to The Wall. He frowned obviously enough for anyone to see as he started to subtly move his hands behind his back.
She turned with a frown back towards her friends and immediately felt the rage come back stronger than ever.
“He was joking you Imbeciles!” Her shout, stronger than ever since they started arguing, stopped them as they almost reached their respective daggers.
Sheepish expressions bloomed on their faces but only a bit. They still retained their serious facades and their dammed hands still didn’t leave their daggers.
“Why does Dany get to make similar jokes about fire and her father and Tyrion about gold and crossbows and only get laughs after the silence but when I do it I get people prepared to pull out daggers? Oh that’s right...”
“Arya,” began Ned as he straightened himself out, eyes shifting between Jon and her, his hand moving away from his dagger at her venomous look along with gesturing Gendry to do the same, “What is he doing here this late at night?”
“He,” Jon answered for her as he left his earlier sarcastic remark unfinished, having done its job sufficiently at digging into their skin to begin with a new one, “Was talking to his cousin, successfully. Like you two briefly tried to before that quickly developed into shouting.”
“Great job by the way.” He added as an afterthought and Arya had to shoot him a look to remind him that this was her quarrel and not to rile them up. That was her job right now.
He shot her an unimpressed look.
“Regardless,” The Dayne knight began, “it’s still not proper.”
“As opposed to two men visiting her at night? Or rather two men shouting at a young girl late at night? Though to be more accurate it would be a man and boy.” Her cousin countered quickly his unimpressed look growing stronger and shifting towards them instead.
“We’re not the ones that became the Lord Commander of a den of thieves and rapists, among many other things to his name.” Gendry let his own opinion known, she was almost impressed by the time he had kept his mouth shut. She was decidedly less impressed by the way his hands turned to fists and the look he shot Jon.
H is words just made her want to kick him in his face.
“Uppity aren’t you? If it weren’t for the Nights Watch you would be nothing but an ice statue right now just like all those that didn’t believe us. I guess its further proof you really do have Baratheon blood in you? Or is that attitude from the little word of ‘ser’ that come before your name that you Southrons love?”
“No,” she spat out quickly as Jon finished his retort and Gendry opened his mouth, moving in between her idiotic friends and her cousin keeping them both in her sights, “You just became a member of outlaws that still used titles like knights to hide what they were really doing and I’ll remind you, that you were supposed to join the Nights Watch.”
She saw him stiffen and could feel nothing but satisfaction at it.
“Arya-” Ned began before Gendry’s voice interrupted his own
“No matter how you feel don’t you think that there might be an actual reason that he was betrayed?”
S ilence reigned once again, this time from the Stark side of the room.
“...He does have a point Arya,” Ned, sweet naive Ned, sweet soon to be dead Ned continued, “Their have been grievances told from up North and along with everything else…even men of the Nights Watch reputation decided...” He trailed off.
And the rage building in her snapped along with whatever little restraint kept her from acting until now and the same appeared to have happened to Jon.
“The reason,” began Jon, grey eyes turning wild like an incoming storm as he bared his teeth the slightest bit while spitting the rest of his words out as he advanced, “Was that I decided to help a girl, dear to my heart, that I was told was captured by a total monster because regardless of anything else I wouldn’t leave her alone in that situation. Because when I say that she’s dear to my heart I mean it. Unlike some people, I’m told, who turn away at a fancy title.”
She ignored Gendry and the way Ned was restraining him, she would deal with them both later.
Swiftly moving towards her cousin , she placed her hands on his biceps to stop his forward stride , “Jon look at me.”
H e didn’t listen.
“Look at me Jon.”
He did and she silently met his furious gaze with her own equally furious one. Stormy grey met steely ones, her hands soothingly rubbing up and down his arms until they moved down completely until she held his hands tightly and together they started to right themselves.
Finally after who knew how long he gave her a nod. Slowly she started separating their hands before turning back to the other men in her room.
“Leave.” She stated flatly in a quiet voice, almost a whisper really.
They hesitated, that was a mistake. They also looked between her and Jon multiple times that was another mistake.
And she used those mistakes to fuel her already boiling temper from all their mistakes beforehand.
Stalking up to Gendry before he knew she was even in front of him, Arya grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to pull him down and plant a solid punch to his face. She took advantage of the shock it caused to Edric to give him his own well deserved punch.
Her hand was somewhat sore but at least this way she let some of her anger out and made them stumble out of her room, regardless that it was only a few steps they took inside.
“You have no right to speak to him like that. To speak about him like that. To speak to either of us like that, let alone in my presence.” The Northern princess began, collecting all the dignity she could as a daughter of a Lord Paramount along with her own well earned pride and the rage boiling over in her heart to fuel her words, then she made sure to mix it with her training to make sure she didn’t shout even once, “And furthermore; If I want to talk to Jon, I will. If I want to talk to him late at night, I will. If I want to talk to him in my chambers, I will. If I want to sleep besides him, I will and I’ll let him. If I want him to fuck me so hard and long that the only thing I will remember will be my name and his, I’ll let him!”
She grasped the door ignoring the looks on their faces, “And when I tell you to leave my chambers , you will!”
Arya slammed the door and barred it in their faces in one smooth motion, quickly, angrily stalking her way back-
Without even pausing she grasped two long and thin Rondel daggers made of Valyrian Steel from the inside of her cloak , twisting her body to chuck it at the door and spinning back towards her original destination in one s ingle action .
She angrily brushed past Jon as he looked at the handles of the precisely thrown daggers with an impressed look; the Valyrian steel having easily passed through the wood and stopped the knocking and words before they started as she entered her bedroom.
Naturally Jon wasn’t long in following her in and as he shut the door she let herself bleed out the rest of her rage, “Those Old Gods damned Southron idiots...”
She raged at the memory of their words and raged some more in Braavosi at it all. She even had intentions of continuing-
But it seemed Jon had other ideas.
Arya turned towards her cousin, switching to Common as she wondered why he would-
In one simple elegant movement, Jon tied a piece of cloth to her wrist, followed by moving as far as the cloth allowed itself to be pulled taut, before tying it on his own wrist. Looking up she noticed that he didn’t have a shirt anymore.
Guess that explained the cloth on her wrist.
He looked at her, challenging smirk firmly in place and eyes still holding a bit of angry wildness in them, “This is a better way to deal with the remaining anger, don’t you think?”
“I just had a bath,” she responded with empty words as she mirrored him by raising her arms and getting her stance in a ready position for their spar, her own smirk growing on her face.
“Take another one tomorrow then. Why I could even take one with you going by those words you said earlier.”
“Shut up and fight stupid.”
Her breath started to slow down into a more normal pace as she lay on Jon’s bare chest. Her bare stomach was glued to his own, his hand having pushed her shirt up up to her shoulders leaving only her breasts covered, and he traced patterns on her naked back, helping her relax as the sweat dried on their bodies together. Her own hands were tracing the scars on his body by feeling alone as she left her head buried into the side of his neck.
“You should talk to them later.”
She nodded, “I’ll give them a week at minimum .”
“No Jon,” the grey eyed girl placed her hands on his shoulder to push herself up slightly, letting her look into his eyes. “If they want to behave like that fine but they’ll swallow their words in my presence, at the very least. I won’t accept them saying those things about you, I won’t accept anyone saying those things, those lies. They crossed a line and I won’t forgive them right away.”
Jon held her gaze easily while his hand never stopped running along her body. “Fine, but we’re not entirely innocent.”
“They can deal with a few mean words.” She shrugged.
“Fine, we’ll apologize. Somewhat.”
“I’ll accept that for now.”
“No remark about the we?”
“No,” he shrugged easily, “I’ll give them a somewhat sincere apology filled with sarcasm and dryness.”
She opened her mouth to protest at that but he spoke again before she could, “They’re your friends, not mine and I don’t care very much about them beyond their ability to help. Plus they like you, not me.” He smiled at her then, “If it really bothers you, you have at least a week to change my mind, no?”
“You’re not funny.” The Stark princess deadpanned.
“You certainly did think so earlier.” His smile was easy and free, just like those he would give her when they bathed in the pools in the Godswood when young.
“It was rather creative.” She admitted with her own smile as she purposely blew a puff of air directly into his face.
“You’re certainly feeling better now.”
“Not really...” She began, waiting for his inevitable response before she continued, meanwhile running a finger over the scars on his eyes. Her gaze looking distractedly around his form, never focusing much in any one part.
“Oh? The spar seemed to have helped immensely, regardless of the damage done; to us and the room.” His hand was still caressing her; moving from drawing shapeless patterns to tracing the ridges of her spine, one by one, slowly and methodically, pleasurably.
She decided to follow his actions; running her fingers over the scars of his face more slowly as she talked, “It did, don’t get me wrong. It helped immensely just like you said. Its just...” Her fingers traced downwards to his lips.
Arya leaned down towards him until their foreheads and noses touched, h er hair casting a dark curtain around their faces as the ends of it mixed with his own dark hair spread out on the bed, her eyes focusing on his own as a mischievous expression bloomed on her face while she breathed her words onto his lips.
“I never got my kiss.”
He smirked at her at that. His hand stopping its tracing on her back before trailing over to the dip in her waist, easily holding it in one hand while his free hand rose up from his side to snake its way downwards, from the nape of her neck all along her back until she felt the tips of his fingers work their way under the edge of her tights, to rest just between where her lower back ended and the swell of her cheeks started , causing a pulse of heat to r u n through her body.
If anyone dared to interrupt her now she would kill them.
“My mistake, as an apology I’ll now give you more than one.”
- I've noticed that on some fics I've read Jon is usually the one to get jealous and start the quarrels and I understand it. Just not it happening every single time. He breathes imagined scenarios and exhales jealousy, apparently.
- I've also noticed fics where they all understand each other and if anything its Jon not understanding this new Arya returned from Braavos, even if apparently everyone else does.
- So you get this; Jon having dealt with the more supernatural threats and events gets suspicion thrown at him, along with him being revived, betrayed and the numerous whispers about him. Add his changed/warped personality from when he was revived, his bastard status and known Targaryen blood (and another bastard status, to some) and you get (mostly) everyone mistrusting him.
- Except Arya. Instead of Jon raging at Arya for the smallest things its Arya raging at everyone else for being complete idiots and sticking by Jon's side. Like they always used to when they were young. Its also people not understanding Arya, instead of reading her mood and thoughts perfectly. That's Jon's job.
- TL;dr: They have each others back.
- I left it ambiguous with Edric and Gendry; you can think of them as worried friends, worried friends that don't know that they're starting to feel something more or guys letting their jealousy impair their judgment. Or a combination. Or even something else. Like I said ambiguous.
- They haven't been psychically intimate(I.E.: they haven't had sex), yet, here. Just kisses and touching. Also been a while since their more romantic relationship started and been a bit more since the whole "You're actually cousins" deal.
- They're also gearing up for the Ice Zombie Apocalypse
- If you noticed the casual way Jon refers to Daenerys here; yes they're friends here. Close platonic friends.
- As I wrote this I began to realize how horrible it would be to be tagged team by Jon and Arya in an argument. No really, think about it; They have each others back (Unless one commits an error, then they'll have no problem calling the other out), they can finish each others sentences and by that logic they can probably think up of the same arguments and further reinforce the other.
- I also thought about it but these two would probably be so mushy with each other, even if they can slice people six different times before they notice and the fact that Arya is a tomboy (though that is sometimes handled to an extreme in fics). They probably have that easy presence with each other, the easy touches and glances, the easy intimacy.
Reading Neferiti's fic (Series of Fics) certainly drove that home even more.
Chapter 3: Betting Pool
Arya and Daenerys have an enlightening talk.
Welp, between protests and rain I was stuck in my home so I decided to give this whole drabble, ficlet, short fic thing a try.
...I really should look up the various definition. I think I understood the drabble concept, though.
Still Jon/Arya guys, though more strongly implied here than outright shown
Also a Hundred Roads Lead to You; now with more Dragon and Wolf Friendship!
And less walls!
Some things to keep in mind:
- Setting is Canon-ish
- There was no Aegon or Faegon, just a straight up Blackfyre doing their thing
- They got dealt with, permanently, once and for all
- Arya is investigating various things, Dany wandered in and stayed because she wanted to
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“I would like to share with you a rather interesting piece of information that has come to my attention, princess Arya.”
The younger girl looked up from where she was scouring a few books, saying nothing as she focused her grey eyes on her own violet ones.
“You’ll like it.”
The Stark princess nodded then, slowly. She leaned back in her chair, relaxing just the slightest bit yet she didn’t put her pen down, choosing instead to play with it using just one hand.
“Apparently there’s a betting pool with the Noble Lords and Ladies and a similar one among the smallfolk. Quite peculiar that the two had the same idea.”
Arya snorted then, straightening the pen she was using to check the ledgers and other relevant books for information for her cause before spinning it around her fingers.
“What are they betting? Which disgraced lord shall die first? Who will be the first to be offered as food for your dragons? Which region you’ll fully unleash your wrath upon first?”
“Quite grim aren’t you?” She reached toward the jug at the table between them to pour them more of this so called ‘Arbor Gold’ in their cups. Finished, she pushed the girl’s own cup toward her a bit more.
“Not much the Highborn and smallfolk have in common to talk about. Now all these recent events revolving around you,” she picked up her cup and gestured towards her with it before taking a sip, “that’s on everyone’s mind.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” the Targaryen princess acknowledged with her own nod and sip of her wine, “and I do admit that this matter does revolve around me, in some way.”
Arya gestured towards her again at her confirmation, relaxing a bit more into her chair as she once more brought the cup to her lips.
“There’s a betting pool going around for who my dear nephew’s Targaryen blood will awaken and sing for; his newly reunited aunt or either of those he grew up thinking as his sisters. Like a true Targaryen either way.”
Daenerys pronounced her words with as much serenity and airiness as she was able to, just like when she was trying to trick a lord for her own purposes and making them think she was nothing but a naive girl. To her slight disappointment and simultaneous respect the younger girl did not behave like she hoped she would. That is to say; spitting out the drink she currently had in her mouth, if only a little, while sitting up straighter and letting out a charming cry of confusion.
Instead she paused slowly in her drinking and carefully, elegantly even, set down the cup as she straightened herself up before looking directly at her and speaking with the flattest tone she had ever heard (even more than her Unsullied, which made it all the more impressive), “...What.”
That didn’t mean Daenerys didn’t notice the slight tensing of her body, the way her hands twitched when she first heard the news, the slight spasm in her pale throat and the brief look that passed over her eyes.
The fact that she was able to even notice these things spoke volumes and so it wasn’t hard for the Mother of Dragons let out a lovely smile.
“I found it amusing that both the High and Low born are wondering who he will decide to wed out of the three of us.”
“That’s preposterous.” Arya’s flat tone remained, if anything it somehow got even flatter.
“And yet it is true. I can understand their thoughts, given that for all intents and purposes the closest Jon has ever acted sweet to a woman would be to us three,” she took another sip of her wine to wet her lips and throat while looking at the girl across from her over the rim of her cup. Unfortunately she didn’t seem to be letting any more little slip ups through, oh well. “I’m his aunt by blood and you two were the girls he was raised alongside as his sisters. Granted half sisters but sisters all the same.”
“So they’re betting on who he will continue the Targaryen tradition with.”
It wasn’t posed as a question but she still answered the Stark princess as if it were. “Yes,” she let her amusement show then, “From what I’ve found out the one who most seem to be betting on would be Sansa, followed by myself and then you.”
Her tone made her smile all the more and she considered it an accomplishment that her words had once again pierced through the younger girl’s exterior, so she continued.
“They often remark how closely Jon and your sister resemble your Lordly father and Lady mother respectively and everything that implies, see it as some kind of sign, how fated it looks like. They also wonder about other things but that one was the one that stuck out the most to me.”
Arya’s jaw flexed, minutely, but flexed all the same.
“Then there’s me,” she continued with a nod, “We both have the strongest claim to the throne now that the Blackfyre pretender has been dealt with. Our union would join two vast regions; I have the armies and dragons, he has the armies of the North along with experience against the greater foe we will all be fighting against soon.”
“And then there’s me.” The girl took her cup once again and began to drink as she settled herself back in her relaxed position. Even though it wouldn’t seem like it at first glance she was definitely taking gulps instead of sips and Daenerys was sure there was a petulant angle to her seemingly relaxed position.
“Then there’s you,” She acknowledged with a nod and her own sip of wine, “I must say I can’t blame the lowborn for that thought; they don’t have the insight or even the ability to see us all the time. The Highborn should know better though, for all that they try to notice everything for their little game they don’t seem to notice the obvious signs between you two.”
“I have no idea what you mean, your grace.” Her words were perfectly timed and had the right amount of inflection to them. Her expression also expressed confusion in every detail.
Daenerys idly wondered if she could ever convince the girl in front of her to star in a murmer’s play for her.
“Come now princess, no need to play like that. The glances, the touches, the occasional brushes that happen between you two...and that’s just the more subtle actions. Then there’s the more overt actions like the hugs, easy pecks between you two, the lingering touches...”
“We’ve always been close, it stands to matter that we would be affectionate with each other even if some of those actions could be misconstrued. Is that not what the others think? Otherwise I would be higher among the bets.” She ended it with a dismissive tone and started to go over the books before her once again.
Even if this girl was lying right to her face and with supernatural ease, Daenerys liked her. Truly she did.
“Even the kisses you two give each other occasionally?” The Targaryen princess asked as casually as she could.
To her credit Arya didn’t tense or even have another of those subtle tells of her, she just calmly raised her eyes.
“You’ve said it before yourself; we do give each other the occasional brief pecks.”
“Even on the lips?”
She didn’t even flinch, “Even on the lips, occasionally.”
“My,” she began and the girl’s eyes subtly focused a bit more on her, “I wonder if my dear nephew would give me one of those occasional kisses. They do seem so sweet, even if he does push me against the wall and snake his hand along my body to do so.”
They stared at each other then, gazes locked as Stark grey stared resolutely at Targaryen violet, looking to see who would move their gaze away first.
And then Arya let out an amused snort, her body relaxing completely as she set her pen down for the first time since she had picked it up all those hours ago, trading it for her wine cup as she once again leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on the table, after she moved the books before her to the side.
She never broke eye contact though, charmingly stubborn girl, this one.
“You saw that then, did you.”
Dany let out her own smile as she picked up her own cup and gave an affirmative hum.
The grey eyed girl let out a chuckle then as she finished her wine and set the empty cup down before leaning back once again.
“That’s not all there is to it though.”
“Oh? There’s even more?” The younger girl’s tone was inquiring but her body just screamed amusement as she crossed her arms under her bust.
“Indeed,” Daenerys finished her wine and then traced the rim of her cup with her finger as she let her tone take on a casually amused quality to it, “There are some who have proposed in their bet that Jon would be reviving one particular ancient Targaryen custom along with following the song of his blood.”
“Yes,” She nodded affirmatively as she continued to play with her cup, making sure to not look up into the girl’s eyes before her as she did so, “Some are wondering, and betting even, that he’ll either take me as one wife along with one of his Stark cousins or that he’ll take those who were raised as his sisters as his wives.”
She looked up then, in time to see that the youngest of the Stark sister expression was back to a neutral expression, save for the gentle tugging of her lips upwards.
The silver haired girl continued, “It does make sense; with either you or your sister he would solidify his influence in the North along with the Vale and Riverlands and then with me he would gain the rest of Westeros, their armies, my armies and dragons.”
Briefly she stopped to finally set her cup down then before continuing, “With you two he would, in a way, prove he was a Targaryen like Aegon the first, unequivocally gain the Riverlands and Vale, maybe even satisfy the ache in his heart along with opening some other opportunities with such a bold move.”
The Dragon princess made sure her gaze locked with the Wolf princess’ one, beginning a new contest once she did.
“Your thoughts, princess?”
The younger girl stared at the older one once again, this time letting nothing show on her face as the minutes passed by and Daenerys imagined her thoughts churned in her mind.
Finally Arya raised an elegantly curved brow, amusement plainly obvious on her blooming expression along with her smile.
“And which one, or ones, did you start and bet on your grace?”
Daenerys Targaryen smiled in absolute mirth then.
She really did like this girl.
- I tagged it as Arya and Daenerys frienship, seemed fitting.
- Though I have mentioned Jon and Dany being friends before I haven't tagged them since they haven't taken a forefront role. As in when I write them interacting as such I'll do so.
- I wouldn't mind a Jon/Sansa/Arya fic or short piece, could be interesting. *Writes down for later*
- How'd I do? Its kinda fun trying to build a scene with just a limited amount of words, even if it seemed strange at first.
- Still this one was kind short so expect another short chapter like this soon
- I might have gone a bit meta but there was this wall in my way and I didn't like it, so I smashed it and took the remaining intact bricks to construct something out of them
- I may have also gained a glimpse at the multiverse featuring Jon and Arya
- Yes, that is my way of telling you that I've been thinking of doing some crossovers, like say...X-Com
- You are now imagining Jon and Arya beating hordes of aliens with their shiny deadly weapons, sweet futuristic armor, fuck you mind powers and their loyal genetically engineered super wolves by their sides
- You're very welcome
- Don't expect that anytime soon though, still in the planning stages
Chapter 4: Little Red
Executive Jon Targaryen returns to his home after a looong day at work to a nice surprise.
*Someone Knocks on Hunter's door*
*Hunter goes to answer it*
Random preacher: Greetings friend! Have you heard of the majesty that is the Jon/Sansa ship-
*Hunter's super skillful interrupt*
H: Does it have Arya in it?
RP: Err, you mean like Jon/Arya/Sansa or something?
RP: Well, no-
H: Not interested!
*Closes door in face*
*RP Yells through door*
RP: Whuh? Wait! We have other ships with Arya's name on them!
H: Does it have Jon in them?
RP: Well no-
H: Still not interested! A good day to you, Sir!
...You know I pretty much always write these but I have no issues reading Jon/Sansa or Arya/Gendry if they catch my interest or its present in some work I'm enjoying, mostly the latter I admit.
I do however like commenting on the state of things in this manner.
Anyways, I did say I would give you guys and gals another one soon due to the low word count of the previous one to balance it out.
Also I messed up; drabbles are supposed to be 100 words.
Need to work on that.
Some things to keep in mind:
- Still Jon/Arya
- Modern AU
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He sighed as he finally passed through the entrance to his home.
This day has been way too long.
Closing the door to his villa he stepped into the corridor that would take him to his destination, his steps leading him into the kitchen where he grabbed some nice cold juice for his parched throat.
Seemed like everyone decided to call him today for a variety of reasons and then every single employee had trouble ready and lined up for him to deal with.
The troubles of being an actually good Executive.
As the lovely revitalizing elixir did its magic on his throat he slightly loosened his tie with his free hand.
Finished he set the glass down followed by tugging his suit jacket off, leaving him in his cool grey colored waistcoat. He rolled up his sleeves then; up to just below his elbows so he could wash his used glass without messing up his attire.
Satisfied he put his glass into the drying rack before pocketing his cufflinks and swinging his suit jacket over one shoulder after folding it appropriately.
I need a nap.
Just the thought of his nice, big, comfortable bed made his body long all the more for it.
He would gladly sleep until-
Jon Targaryen froze, his mind going blank just as he opened his bedroom door.
For a very simple reason.
“Hello there Mister Wolf. Had a nice day?”
His saliva started to accumulate in his mouth and his breath picked up just the slightest bit before he could remember, slowly, how to respond to the question asked of him, “...Not really…It was pretty awful.”
“How sad! Maybe I can help brighten your day?”
In one single second his fatigue flew away, his lethargy was banished for its nuisance, his brain went into peak efficiency and his body recuperated itself in a miraculous manner.
For his room had been lit up with scented candles of his favorite aromas causing them to mix beautifully into a pleasing fragrance. The soothing effect was then being further enhanced with his sight thanks to the soft, cool, glow from the light the candles let out around his room.
That however was secondary to the actually most important thing present in his room right now, sitting on his four poster bed with her legs crossed elegantly one over another was:
She tilted her head gently to the side with a smile and he was even more gone than before, his blood rushing with the force of a supersonic jet engine through him.
For Arya Stark being simply seated on his bed would have been too easy, far too easy.
Instead Arya, his Arya, his lovely Arya…was wearing...
Her smiled widened.
He took a step into his room, closed the door behind him and locked it.
Then without taking his eyes from hers even once, he pulled out his phone, went into his home app and pressed the handy dandy virtual button that locked all doors and windows before setting his phone on silent, then depositing it and his suit jacket on the nearest surface to him.
A blush rose up to her cheeks at that.
He drunk in her image; patiently, lovingly, expectantly.
From bottom to top.
His eyes roved over her, taking in her little black dress shoes without heels over her cute little feet, up her gorgeous legs clad in white stockings that stopped over her knees with cute red little decorative bows. The white fabric melded beautifully to the bare, pale, creamy skin of her lower thighs that was above it, until just above mid thigh were the rest of the tantalizing flesh was covered up by the edge of the red and black skirt she wore.
Up his gaze went, over her bare toned stomach and sides, taking in the healthy curvy flesh of hers until it was once again covered up just above the dips of her waist with a soft looking white shirt that was opened slightly to show her firm, round slender breasts. Helping emphasize the lines of her figure was a loosely threaded corset made from cloth that accentuated everything about her upper body beautifully including her increasingly palmable looking globes of flesh.
As he reached the lovely curve of her neck he unconsciously licked his lips as he noticed she still wore the silk choker he had gifted her so long ago with a silver Direwolf pendant being held with one chain of iron and another of bronze to its sides.
His gaze steadily moved upwards until he finally reached her face; her pinks lips were softly parted and her cheeks were red under the slight spattering of glitters that decorated them like freckles.
He locked gazes with her shadowed eyes beneath the hood covering her hair and the rest of her face. He noticed that they were decorated with a bit of makeup, accentuating her her smoky grey eyes and curving softly at the edges of them.
She stood up then and her propped up hood cast breathtaking shadows thanks to the help from the candles as she walked towards him, with her arms bent to her back in a typical coy girl pose, her red cloak trailing behind her with every step.
“My,” she spoke up again for the first time since he had started–
Eating her, devouring her, drinking her, ravaging her, tracing her, appreciating her in a blatantly carnal fashion...
– taking...her in.
Arya stood in front of him then, arms still held behind her as she coyly tilted her head at him, smile firmly on her face and light playing with the glitter on her red cheeks as she continued with her words, “What big eyes you have Mister Wolf. Is something the matter?”
I take that back, this day can continue being as long as it can.
Silently he raised his hands to her face and he let himself lovingly trail the back of his fingers along the skin of her cheeks and neck as he removed her hood, letting him see her short brown hair that brushed her shoulders and covered what he knew was one ear bearing various piercings. Distantly he noticed that her cloak was clasped with another red ribbon and looking down at her he noticed a big black and red ribbon present on her back.
“Nothing is wrong.” he spoke up as he cradled her face in between his hands and she reached her own hands up to begin loosening his blue-grey tie.
Their faces slowly, teasingly, nearing each other bit by bit.
“It’s just that I’ve found an exquisite meal before my eyes.”
- Short, sweet and to the point.
- It's pretty blatant who she's dressed up as. I hope anyways, if not I need to get better.
- Jon's thoughts when he spotted Arya: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZ1UdYOrR3E
- This literally came to me from out of nowhere but I thought it was fun so I wrote it down
- After the initial idea I then remembered the Tex Avery cartoon that I watched when I was a kid. Searched the video of 'Red Hot Riding Hood' and everything
- I think I might make more of these; them just dressing up for one another. Maybe even make it a series in this fic.
Chapter 5: Reflections
I did it.
A drabble with 100 words, exactly.
Kinda challenging I'll admit and it seems kinda bare for my tastes. I get why when people say drabble now they mean like 300 - 1000 words.
Still it was a fun exercise. Hope you'll enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
She was alone.
Looking down she noticed something wet.
Somehow she knew, even with the darkness blinding her that it was colored red.
She looked around, side to side, then upwards, but saw nothing.
Saw No One.
Something brushed her fingertips and when she looked down it was the viscous liquid.
Slowly, steadily, it kept rising.
She didn’t notice or care.
Even when it reached her eyes.
Suddenly, someone was standing on a frozen platform.
He had familiar dark hair and smoky eyes.
His hand was held out towards her.
She grasped it, without hesitation.
He easily pulled her out.
- I wonder if I should expand this in the future? Like an actually a more descriptive piece.
- Speaking of Author's notes I edited out a bit from last chapters; I noticed I wrote Jon/Gendry when I meant to write Arya/Gendry in the explanation.
Chapter 6: Of Fire and Blood Series
"The dragon has three heads."
They snorted at that.
"You must be blind because there are six dragons."
So, remember when I said this was gonna be Arya/Jon?
That still holds out even now, so don't get confused.
More at the end
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He lowered himself into the water with a blissful sigh, relief spread through him as the heat did its magic on his sore muscles and aching body. Training was particularly brutal today, granted it was by his own desire but that still didn’t mean that he didn’t feel pain. The granite that made the spacious circular tub was cool underneath his triceps and he found the sensation of the boiling water with cool stone rather pleasant as he propped himself up on the edge of the tub.
With another sigh as he felt the relaxing sensation work its way up into his mind he tilted his head backwards and relaxed his lower body, until his head lay on the granite as he sank further into the tub.
It was the little things in life combined with the important ones that made it truly great.
“How’s the water?”
A clear feminine voice rang through the air and he couldn’t honestly say he was surprised by its presence.
“Fit for a Targaryen” He drawled and he didn’t even bother opening his eyes at the voice, keeping his relaxed countenance.
Not even when he heard the rustle of cloth hitting the ground.
“Perfect.” She chuckled as she sank into the water, letting out her own happy sigh as she strode towards him.
Her fingers were cool as she brushed his shoulders yet her lips were a pleasing mix of contradicting hot and cold as she pecked the side of his neck. Her arms wrapped around him while she pressed close to him, her soft breasts molding into his toned chest and her toned stomach coming into contact with his own. His arms automatically wrapped around her, just as easily as they always have and her lips pressed another brief wonderful kiss where his jaw and neck connected.
His eyes were still closed but that didn’t matter, he could picture her with ease no matter what, so it didn’t take much imagination to know she was now grinning up at him with a mischievous expression. Slowly, he rose his head from where it lay and then further down until, sure enough, his forehead met her own, and in response she playfully let out puffs of air into his face.
“Having fun Visa?”
“I always have fun with you Jae.”
Her tone was playful yet there was a seriousness underneath it all and he couldn’t help but smile against her as he lay a kiss to the crown of her head.
“Not really, I just wanted to spend some time with you. You’ve been ignoring me lately, ignoring all of us.”
“I have not, I’ve been busy carrying out father’s orders and preparing for the conquest, and couldn’t you have waited until after I exited the bath?”
Her hands moved up from his shoulders to frame his face and if he thought he was relaxed before then surely he was now realizing the error of that thought.
“I could have”, her tone was completely unapologetic, “But I thought this would extend our time together, plus I was just aching for a nice relaxing bath and what do you know, here was one ready.”
“...Are Dany and Rhae going to appear too?”
“Probably.” She admitted and he thought he could detect a pout in her tone as she continued, “We worry for you, for all of you.”
“All of you will be coming along, anyways.”
“Only Rhae will be in the thick of things, as it were, and even then not as much as you three. Especially you Jae.”
He finally opened his eyes then, to immediately find violet eyes flecked with grey staring at him worriedly.
“I’ll be fine Visa, we all will be.”
“All of you better be. Particularly you Jaeherys, you can’t leave me alone. I won’t allow it.”
He cracked a gin for her and then leaned down to press his lips against hers.
She gave him a little moan that rumbled through his body while she tightened her arms on him. Her posture shifted from half floating and half sitting in the water to straddling him with each of her lovely toned thighs on either side of his hips. He rose up a bit so that he was sitting straight at the edge of the tub, one hand on her back to keep her upright and against him, as well as being from his own selfish desire to feel her smooth skin against the palm of his hand, while he buried his other hand into her long locks of hair.
Gods did he love this woman.
They separated breathlessly after a few minutes, the heat of the bath and heat of their emotions getting to them in the moment. Their breath came out of their lips to mix with each other, cool air ghosting over flushed skin along with smiles on their faces.
She made no gesture to move away from him and instead she pulled his head down by the back of his neck to nuzzle her nose against his and plant a short, sweet, peck to his lips before relaxing into him once again.
“Jae promise me you won’t leave me, promise me.”
Her eyes were serious and shining with worry along with her fingers digging into his neck and her thighs tightening on his hips.
“Do this for me Jaeherys, please.” She whispered against his lips and his heart beat for her at that moment.
Her tone was as close to pleading as she could get it, so he ran his hand through her hair, just like she enjoyed ever since they were children, to help her relax.
“I, Jaeherys Targaryen, Prince of Ny Sar of the Dragon Empire, of the Ten Thousand Throne, do promise Princess Visenya Targaryen that I will return to her from the coming conquest of the rest of the territories in Essos and beyond, as well as wherever else we’ll be deployed.”
Her violet eyes shined and she immediately pulled him down to kiss him as long as before but vastly slower. His lips molded with hers and he noticed she tasted of honey before she brushed her lips all along his face, never quite kissing him but pleasing all the same, while he took the opportunity to kiss his way down her neck, all the way to her collarbone where he left a small bite.
“Jae.” She breathed out and it did nothing to calm the fire in his veins.
She planted her lips all over his face in feather light kisses then, over his hair, over his forehead, down his nose and then over his cheeks until she finally pressed her lips to his. “Thank you.”
He smiled against her lips and pressed another long, sweet, blissful kiss to her lips.
He always did have trouble saying no to her but he didn’t mind making this promise to her because he was already planning to give it his all in returning back, safe and sound.
Back to see his older brother play at being a Westerosi knight, back to see his aunt talk loops all over nobles, back to practicing his spear skills with his elder sister as they danced along the water ways of Braavos and Ny Sar, back to hear Viserys compose another epic tale on parchment and songs.
Back to see her and Dany’s silver hair glowing in the moon. To see her and Rhae’s devil may care grins. To hear their cheers as he and Egg participated in competitions and to all of them to relax huddled together by a roaring flame as Viss weaved a tale deep into the night. Back to see all of them ride besides him along the vast and varied plains of their territory, to sail the numerous waterways, rivers and open seas and to fly in the vast skies of their land.
Back to this girl who thought she was unattractive when little, who came to him in tears over the words people said about her appearance and attitude, calling her the first and only plainest looking Targaryen in history, before she became much more beautiful just like he always knew she would be. With her long Targaryen silver hair that curled at the ends and fell in waves all along her back, with a heart shaped face and those eyes that looked like ashes dancing in the wake of a thunderstorm; with their violet color flecked with grey.
Back to hold her lithe body in his arms. Back to teach her martial skills, back to see her shoot arrows better then a Dothraki.
Because he would accept nothing less.
She was more beautiful than Daena the Defiant and Shiera Seastar combined and as willful as the former with an even more charming smile.
Hailed as one of the three great beauties along with his aunt Daenerys and his eldest sister Rhaenys, all three being sung of far and wide for their appearance and individual manners mixed with their fearlessness when they rode their dragons.
“You two are just precious.”
They turned around and lo and behold there they were; Rhaenys and Daenerys both, not a piece cloth on their body and lowering themselves into the still boiling water before making their way towards them. Visenya’s arms tightening around him with a pout.
“Mandia, ñāmar. Couldn’t you have given me a bit more time?”
“If we would have, then we would probably be waiting for you two finish another type of goodbye.”
“Mandia.” Visenya let out a groan as she buried her face into his neck before reluctantly parting away from him with a final kiss to his lips.
She gave each of the other women their own kiss in greeting before settling into Rhaeny’s other side, as his older sister settled herself on his right side after pecking him on the lips in greeting. Daenerys doing much the same before she took her place on his left side.
“Couldn’t all of you have waited until I have left the bath before coming to say goodbye?”
“You have the ‘Three Great Targaryen Beauties’ taking a bath with you of their own will, you have no room to complain little brother.”
His eldest sister easily brushed aside his complaints. A smile present in her face highlighting her Rhoynish features while she gave him another kiss before playfully flicking him on his nose.
He rolled his eyes while he let them tug his arms around their forms.
“You’re leaving tomorrow at first light on dragon back nephew, so we thought it would be wise to say goodbye now.”
“You’re all going to be there.” He deadpanned.
“Not for another three moons.” Sweet little Daenerys spoke up and he really should think about discouraging her to spend so much time with his little sister, she was starting to get her smiling habits.
Then again he could also blame his eldest sister for that, Gods even he smiled like that.
“Not sure what you’re complaining about,” his sister continued her attack, as swift as when she pierced foes with her spear, while Dany and Visa just smiled encouragingly in the background, “Like I said you have us three bathing with you, plus we all did this when Egg and Viss left a few moons back.”
She moved until she was sitting in front of him and then undid the ties in her dark hair, letting it flow down her back and pool in the water in front of him.
“Now be a dear and help us wash our hair, hmm?”
Saying so Dany did the same while Visenya already had her hair loose.
She did however have various oils, combs and other products near her at the edge of the tub.
“Don’t worry Jae, we’ll help you wash yours, short as it is on the sides.” Daenerys seemingly had mercy on him as she shot him a somewhat apologetic smile along with giving him a kiss to his nose yet she turned her back all the same, getting into position to help both Rhae and Visa.
Visenya tugged his bound hair on the back of his head while putting a comb in his hand with a smirk on her face.
He noticed there were now hair ornaments on his other side.
Both male and female ones.
He sighed in resignation.
Targaryens answered to neither Men nor Gods but they still had a sway over each other.
- Targaryen Empire in Essos
- They have no problems with magic
- Ny Sar is the equivalent of Summerhall (Yes all of it). It's been reconstructed
- All of this generations dragons are close, as I've implied
- Particularly Jaeherys and Visenya (Jon and Arya). They're closer then anyone else.
- I have a sort of relationship chart in mind, I can share it with you later or you can guess if you prefer
- They're fireproof
- Jae and Visa are the children of Rhaegar & Lyanna
- Westeros ain't united
- Yes, I added Valyrian Words
- Further questions?
-- O --
- So here you go the first series to be featured here
- I've never really seen Arya taking the role of a Targaryen so I thought, why not?
- Yes they're siblings, no I don't care: I mean they're Targs and well this isn't exactly a series that shies away from that
- Speaking of, I have a question for you guys: Doesn't it seem kinda weird that apparently people are okay with writing (and reading) gruesome deaths and dismemberment and rape, drama, angst (all of which can and have been exaggerated)... yet some kissing cousins or whatever grosses people out waaaaaay more? That's kinda... contradicting? From my POV
- Also a common reason I find for not shipping Arya with Jon is because she's too young...and then gets shipped with Aegon, Gendry, Jaqen, Sandor...
They're as old as or even older then Jon. I mean what? I'm kinda confused. Cousins? Sansa gets a pass for that.
I mean I also ship him with Dany and they're aunt and nephew, plus Targs sooo...
- Then again cousins aren't really considered incest (as for aunt & nephew I'm pretty sure the Starks have done something like this before, though its probably way less common then cousins, so not too sure about this but its probably still accepted?) in Westeros, despite people making a big deal of it. 'Specially those new to the series.
- Be honest; you all laughed at one time at those reactions.
- Well I ship a lot of people together, Arya & Jon are just at the top. Always.
- Except Arya, I have trouble imagining her being with anyone that's not Jon. For some reason.
- Before anyone starts: no I'm not bashing (ffs, not everything is an attack) I'm asking if I've just been looking at the wrong places or not, if someone else has noticed something similar, as well as your opinions and thoughts.
-- O --
- Speaking of those: How have I been doing so far? Good? Bad? Interesting? Have you been enjoying it so far?
- Structure? Grammar?
- Like the ideas I've come up with so far?
- I'm trying not to let any biases come into my writing
- I place a high importance in body language. How have I been doing so far? And do you guys and gals like it?
Chapter 7: Onwards (Jon/Arya/Dany)
When you have no choice but to go forward again and again the road can be lonely.
What about when you have companions?
A Hundred Roads Lead To You: now with OT3s!
- The matter with OT3 is, well this fic is called A Hundred Roads Lead To You, so lots of scenarios.
Including one where things diverge and the wolves let someone in.
Yes let someone in, you can't separate Jon and Arya here.
- On the bright side (for the third party, that is) you get two sexy beasts for the price of one.
Well... if you can, I mean.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The Dragon in Flight
She ran through the streets as fast as she was able to in this small, untrained body of hers, careful to keep her pace quick yet not enough that it would seem suspicious of her. She was trying to seem more like a servant that was hurrying for a particularly important task than looking like a wanted fugitive, after all, it would not do to be caught by a guard just because she seemed like a thief. The fact that the draogonseed was strong here also made it convenient for her; where in other places she would immediately be spotted or stand out against its inhabitants, here she just blended into the crowd of other silver haired and purple eyed people.
Still she couldn’t afford to get careless right now, not after coming this far on her own, so she made sure to keep the words the little wolf had told her so long ago echoing in her mind; all the tips and tricks to blend in. She tightened her veil around her face, making sure to seem like she was just casually adjusting a loose garment that kept her too silver hair partially covered and disguised along with the simple blue-grey top and soft sea-green leggings she wore as she scurried down the streets of Lys.
As convenient as this place was for making it easier to blend in she was tired of men and women thinking her a whore or slave of the pillow houses and soliciting her. Their grasping hands certainly didn’t help with her opinion about them. She made a mental note to make sure to propose a change for the next rendezvous city. Well if there was a next time, obviously. Given their track record though she was sure the answer was a resounding yes.
Finally she arrived at a crowded market and the silver haired girl made sure to blend in with the other browsing patrons, seemingly inspecting the crafts on display while in reality she was looking from the corner of her eyes to the ones that she was sure were hired and/or sent to return her, just so she could be sold like chattel like she was so long ago, for the ambitions of lesser persons with delusions of grandeur.
One...three...seven...Went all out did they. I’m flattered, truly.
As she finished counting her pursuers, she handed the necessary amount of coin to the perfume seller after bartering for a bit. Pocketing her purchase carefully in her bag she made her way further into the market with the sellswords in tow.
...They’re trying to lure me...
The young girl realized after the third turn she had made, they moved with too much purpose not to be. She bit the inside of her mouth, she wasn’t as familiar with this city as she was with others, only having been here extensively a total of three times long ago in her lifetimes and even that wasn’t a guarantee that the city wasn’t subject to change. Not letting her growing worry show she made her way around the streets and stalls airily, like she was a simple girl looking for something in particular among the wares on display; idly brushing her fingers through rolls of cloth and lace, caressing clay pots and bronze statuettes.
All the while the men got closer and her lanes of escape got narrower.
Suddenly, when she was growing most anxious, she spotted two dogs tussling among themselves, in one of the entrances of the streets leading out of the market square. Beneath her veil she gained a joyous smile and hope filled her body once again. Because though these seemed like simple fully grown dogs they were anything but. The violet eyed girl had been around them enough times that she would recognize them anywhere, even if they were the smallest she had ever seen them as.
The grey and white furred dog suddenly sprang apart as part of their mummer’s play and looked at her with their respective gold and red eyes.
She readied herself, adjusting any loose bits of her outfit and the bag around her form in a casual gesture that made her seem like she was merely cleaning herself up a bit and waited patiently as she walked towards them…
As she prepared her breathing for what was to come…
And when a merchant passed behind her with a train full of stock, effectively putting themselves in between her and the majority of her followers she sprinted right towards the pups without hesitation. Said pups also started running further into the street they had been playing by, yet they didn’t run at their full speed, didn’t run like they were getting away from an angry pursuer.
She was able to keep them within her sights at all times even if sometimes it was just their tails. Right, straight, left, curve into an alleyway and right again followed by a straight road for some seconds. On and on she went, never stopping no matter how much her lungs burned and the muscles in her legs ached and protested at their mistreatment along with the straps of her bags digging into her. She pushed through it all as she followed the pups.
Suddenly they disappeared around the corner, the first time they had actively sped themselves up since this little chase began and so she herself pushed her body some more. When she rounded the corner the violet eyed girl spotted the tail of the grey one disappearing around the corner on the far end of the road while the white one casually lounged on the entrance to one of the little streets present in the avenue, one that looked just like the numerous others present along it and all would probably lead to even more web of paths.
The young girl didn’t stop this mummer’s chase though, this was the first wide open street that was actually alone, the others always having some manner of people that would no doubt point out a running girl to anyone that asked. So she continued running, letting her steps echo through the air to those on the more busy street she had come from as she got closer and closer to the white pup.
Said pup also being the reason she didn’t unsheathe the long lyseni styled dirk hidden in her sleeve when she was hauled up around her waist as she passed said street.
Deftly she turned in the arms wrapped around her in mid air and let herself meld into the slender frame she was then held against, her legs hanging in the air as she wound her arms around his neck as they – rather he – went further into the side street, then finally into a little alcove, effectively hiding them from the main road as he leaned back into the opening, a short low whistle the only sound he made to signal the pup to once again run.
She buried her face into his chest as she let herself relax her aching muscles. She panted softly, making sure to not be too loud by controlling her breathing, no matter how hard it was to do so. Her breath fogging up the scaled armor he wore above his light blue and black tunic. As she was starting to finally get her breathing under control and the burning sensations in her body wound down to a light ache, hurried footsteps resounded in the silence, making her tense up once more. She wasn’t the only one to do so, and she felt one of his arms stray down her body to her lower back so his hands would be closer to his hips, just where she imagined he had whatever dirk or dagger sheathed.
Curses in bastard Vayrian dialects reached them through the air followed by the order to search upward through the various lanes. The footsteps briefly echoing somewhat close to their position before one let out a cry that he had found the veil she wore further near the exit of the main avenue and to the side. Sure enough she then noticed that her hair spilled over her shoulders in its braid. She really should have realized it earlier when she was seeing her breath fog up his armor.
Thankfully the footsteps hurriedly retreated into the distance further and further away but she didn’t let herself fully relax until he finally gave his confirmation.
Finally she let herself sag into his form, a boneless heap in his arms as she let out a deep sigh.
“...You never do grow, do you?
Slowly, she untangled one of her arms from around his neck, making sure the skin of her arm leisurely brushed against his neck the entire time. She lifted her head from where it was still buried into his chest so she could stare directly into his eyes as she tweaked his ear for that little comment.
He chuckled, even as she twisted his ear even more. The vibrations from his chest rumbled against hers and his grey eyes shined in amusement as he tightened his hold on her.
She let go of his ear then to slide her hand over his neck until she was cupping his cheek and pulling him down to give him a long soft kiss to his lips.
“I always do.” She uttered against his lips when they broke apart, giving him a brief peck before he set her down, her feet finally touching the ground ever since he picked her up.
Daenerys Targaryen smiled brilliantly as she put her hands on her hips while she looked up into Jon’s four and ten year old features with her own three and ten ones.
“Lets catch up, shall we?”
– O –
“Aegon?” Daenerys inquired while she quickly pulled her leggings down her legs, deftly folding the garment before stuffing them in the larger bag Jon had brought with him.
“Fake.” He responded from where he was leaning against the alley wall opposite of her, hand on his dagger and gaze sweeping anywhere someone could appear.
“Blackfyre fake or truly fake?” The young Targaryen princess pulled out some cream colored breeches he had packed, and smiled gratefully at him when she noticed he had gotten her some made in the style she preferred.
Her smile turned more mischievous when she noticed he was looking at her legs. She made sure to pull them up her legs all the way up to her hips, slowly, and blew him a kiss when she started to lace the front of them up.
He did deserve a reward for traversing half a world to get to her in time after all.
“...Truly fake.” He said with a cough after her little show and try as she might to do the same when she changed her top for a light blue colored one he was more resolute in keeping a lookout this time.
“That explains the Dornish armor you’re wearing then, right? And mind helping me with these ties on my back?”
Jon stepped up to her and she saw him nod before she turned her head forward once again, “Rhae’s alive. We’ve already made contact with her and got along surprisingly well and fast.”
It was said casually enough but she knew him too much after living together for years and years and his hand had just twitched ever so slightly where they were tying up her dress. “...She tried to seduce you the first time she met you, without having any idea about who you were, didn’t she?”
Jon stayed stubbornly silent, not even dignifying her with a response and that caused her to break out into giggles more then his denial would have.
“Well at least that proves she’s a true Targaryen and we know it really is her-”
She gave an absolutely girlish yelp as she felt him pinch one the cheeks of her arse, complete with a little jump that made him chuckle in his slightly cracking voice.
Dany swatted him on his arm as she passed by him to place the clothes she had been wearing when on the run into the bag. She then pulled out a long strip of cloth to weave into her hair, designed to draw attention to it more than her particular brand of Targaryen silver hair.
He nodded, “I’m fireproof. So is Rhae. You?”
“Likewise,” she similarly nodded in kind before continuing, “Viserys is mad this time. Illyrio definitely has a hand in things and I was to be married to Drogo.”
The silver haired girl finished putting everything in order and fastening her bags before she deposited them into his waiting hands and intertwining one hand through his arm.
“Allies?” She questioned simply as they began to casually stroll out into the busy streets once again.
“Dorne, Rhae, Starks, possibly the Spider.”
She hummed in acknowledgment, “Where’s Arya?”
“Waiting in our safe house along with our Dornish escort.”
“...do they still expect me to marry Quentyn?”
“Probably.” She pinched his arm at that which caused him to tighten his arm around her hand and shoot her a brief look.
“Don’t look at me like that, its not like I agree with their little pact. We’ll figure something out with Rhaenys when we return. If nothing else they’ll listen to her.”
“Of course we will, I’ll not have others deciding my fate for me.”
She weaved her way through the sudden influx of people while making sure to keep close to him and took that chance to brush her lips against his arm. “Besides, I already have two people I will always choose to share my fate with.”
Jon said nothing but the warm look in his eyes as he gazed at her for a second was enough for her and the warm silence between them as they made their way to their destination certainly helped soothe her heart even further.
– O –
“...You’ve certainly...gotten along rather quickly, princess.”
The Red Viper’s tone was free of any worries, just like it always was, yet it didn’t fool the trio of the suspicion slithering underneath it.
“What can I say prince Oberyn, Blood recognizes Blood.”
He nodded slowly, no doubt thinking about matters between Jon and Rhaenys to help her little claim. Speaking of she would need to get the full story of that from Arya.
Now she only had to get through this dinner with Oberyn spouting praise upon praise about his nephews, Quentyn, Dorne and Rhaenys. She bore it all with a smile befitting her role as a princess with Jon helping her mood by taking her hand in his and routinely stroking her fingers at regular intervals underneath the table. Also helping her was the sight of Arya, even if she was a girl of nine instead of the teen she was used to seeing.
Daenerys had to admit she was rather precious like this.
Then again she was blatantly biased when it came to these two, rightfully so since they had spent multiple lifetimes together but it was nice seeing the wolf maiden smaller then her, even if she knew with time they would be roughly the same height and neither of them would ever be particularly tall.
So on and on the dinner went and she made sure to give the right responses when it was appropriate. Smile, blush and laugh when it was needed, all while wondering when this would finally end. She would like at least a full day to reacquaint herself with her wolves after many moons of being alone with her mad brother and the ambitious cheese monger and all the other people who would have loved to buy her and use her, whether for their gains or body. Most likely both.
“I’m sorry princess, forgive my rudeness. It would stand to reason the you would be tired after your escape, if you would like I’ll have one of my men show you to your quarters.”
She smiled then, making sure to look tired and pleading. “I thank you prince Oberyn, I am indeed rather tired,” the silver haired girl shifted her gaze uncertainly for extra effect before raising her hand hesitantly to Jon’s arm for all to see, “But...I would like to get to know...my nephew some more. Perhaps...he can escort me to my rooms later?”
Dany saw his hesitance, and wondered which thoughts exactly caused it but she would not be denied after months of solitude and knowing what could potentially happen to her if either of their previously thought up and agreed on plans failed, “His cousin could also join us if it eases your mind?”
Her tone was light, sweet and full of worry she had crossed a line.
Naturally, he cracked, “Of course princess, you would naturally be curious about your other family members that you did not know about. You’ll most likely be the same when you meet my sweet niece.”
And so after some more courtesies and empty words from her part she found her arm intertwined tightly with Jon’s as they moved towards his rooms with Arya hanging on to his other one, all the while she smiled up at him with her violet eyes and looking like she was naturally curious of the nephew that rescued her from her pursuers, as they talked about nothing while they made their way down the halls, for all to see until they were safely in his rooms.
Their wolves were already present and at their command they sniffed the room before settling themselves peacefully in the middle of it. Still just to be safe they waited a few extra moments to really start talking.
“Oh my prince,” Arya started as she easily propped herself down on the edge of Jon’s bed, her tone entirely mocking with a smile on her face, her naturally childish girlish tone adding to the effect, “Will you please allow me to spend some time with this heroic nephew I never knew I had until a few moons ago, when I then braved going out by myself into the world to escape my mad brother’s clutches,” the younger girl placed the back of her hand to her forehead melodramatically, “Who then bravely helped save me from the big bad men that would marry me to a complete savage?” She fluttered her lashes with her hands held under her chin then, “I would ever be so grateful. Why, he won’t do anything with his young little cousin there.”
Daenerys walked towards the grey eyed girl until she was in front of her and then easily leaned down to give her a kiss to her lips.
“I’ve missed you too, sweetling.”
She murmured against her lips and the girl gave her another peck before leaning back and flashing her a genuine roguish smile, “ ‘Course you have, we’re the best things to have happened to you.”
She chuckled. “Very true.”
The silver haired girl then handed the vial she had kept on her person to Arya, who took it with a raised eyebrow.
“Your favorite,” Dany answered easily while she leaned back to better see her next smile, “Found it while I was browsing and looking for an escape.”
The young girl popped off the lid to take a whiff and sure enough smile she did, “It really is my favorite.” She turned towards Jon then, waving the vial for emphasis as she spoke to him, “See this Jon? Dany still gets me gifts, even while on the run.”
“I am not buying you that complete armor set and armament until you turn four and ten, Arya.”
The Stark daughter exaggeratedly rolled her eyes at that, playing up the act, “See this Daenerys? Men say all these pretty things yet they then twist their words. Truly they’re all the same.”
She gained a pout, her arms crossing sullenly and Daenerys couldn’t help the pearls of laughter escaping her as she reconciled the words being spoken by her female lover when she looked like nothing but a girl of nine, instead of the woman she was used to holding.
“Together forever he said,” she gestured towards the unamused Jon, “Have all these years together meant nothing to you?”
Jon threw a pillow at her head and then another one that landed on her forehead when she manged to dodge the first one.
“Sooo,” Dany began impishly when her laughter died down, as she sat down next to Arya and began taking off her boots, “You’re pretty cute as a girl of nine.”
“Hardly,” said girl snorted and easily kicked off her boots before flopping back on the bed, “I’m plain at best.”
“I disagree. Even if so its only for now,” she neatly gathered her boots and arranged them to the side of her bed along with tidying up Arya’s thrown ones, “You’ll become a real beauty with time, just as you’ve always become. Besides with the number of times men have tried to become your suitors, more than once I might add, it should certainly say something.”
“I care not,” Aya waved dismissively one hand in the air from her laid down position, disinterest plainly obvious for any to see, “They can think they have fallen in love with me as many times as they want. Think they can dominate me or ‘cool my fiery temper’, ‘shackle the wolf’ or ‘wear me out’ as much as they’re little imaginations will allow them too. I already have two loves and that’s not changing any time soon, no matter how much the viper prince keeps remarking how much I’ll love it in Dorne or how good Trystane is.”
“Trying to also tie you to their land, are they?”
“You have no idea,” Spoke up Jon as he finished undressing himself until he was barefoot and only wearing his airy looking black and blue tunic and loose pants. He quickly made his way next to Arya where he laid down, the grey eyed girl easily rolling towards his form to lay her head on his arm, “They’ve been trying to snag her ever since the second week we were in Dorne and she charmed all of them on horse back.”
“The Dornish are truly easy.” She spoke up, not even bothering to move her face from where it was buried.
“Well, their plans will certainly not go as planned.” Daenerys commented as she also laid down on Jon’s free arm, her face staring directly at the girl’s one visible eye, colored grey like smoke trapped under glass, staring at her while her hand clutched at Jon’s collar possessively.
“Indeed they won’t. Had fun as a fugitive?”
“It was certainly easier this time around,” the violet eyed girl confirmed with a nod, “Had trouble with Lord Stark?”
“Not really, the speech we thought up long ago still works even now, with a few modifications of course. However, it was kinda hard to convince him and mother to let me go with Jon this time.”
“I’m glad they relented.” Her hand stroked the girl’s small fingers before going further down and stroking her Jon’s chest, “It was certainly an experience seeing you two so young. This is the first time we’ve went so far back.”
“Just like when we started.” Spoke Jon as he wound his arm around them both, his fingers dancing along their backs as he turned his gaze down towards them both.
“It is extremely helpful that we have more time but...” Jon let out a groan as he lay his head back, interrupting his cousin in her explanation.
“Not this again love.”
“Shut up Jon. Its a valid complaint.”
“What is?” The Targaryen princess inquired as she rose a bit from her lounging position, violet eyes staring at them both as she laid a hand on Jon’s chest.
“Look, she’ll agree with me,” saying so the youngest among them copied her actions and Jon used his free hand to throw one arm over his eyes with a suffering expression, “Dany, so it’s great that we came back way younger than usual, right?”
“Yes, we certainly have more time to execute our plans and to implement more variations. At least seven to ten years.”
“Right, but there are also the downsides of it.”
“Yes,” the wolf princess nodded resolutely, her expression seeming like she would be imparting some great words of wisdom soon. Jon just buried his arm into his face harder, “Specifically for me because I’ll have to wait years until Jon will take me to bed again.”
Arya’s face was truly serious in the silence that followed, while Jon just let out a long suffering sigh as he blindly gestured his free hand towards Arya. Dany for her part just let the words sink in.
And then she started giggling madly.
“Dany! Shut up!” Arya swatted at her yet that did nothing but increase her humor at it all. “Oh sure its easy for you to giggle like that. You don’t even have to wait that long to do so, or even wait if you so wish.”
“I’ve had this argument for months, with her.” Said boy sighed out, his arm moving down enough that she could see the exasperation in his grey eyes. “Months.”
“It doesn’t make my words any less true.”
“Arya, we’ll still end up sleeping together, regardless of everything else.”
“Well of course we will,” the young girl flopped fully onto his front, causing him to exhale from the force of it. Arya just propped her chin on her hands over his chest and kicked her legs in the air as she looked up at her lover with a mischievous smile on her face. “Its not like I’m interested in sleeping with any other man and I’m definitely not giving my maidenhead to any other.”
Daenerys couldn’t help herself, she just had to speak up at that, “Not even me?”
“Maybe you.” She answered easily not taking her eyes away from Jon for one moment, “Speaking of, you shouldn’t really complain; you’re not the one that has to go through having their maidenhead torn every time we go back and share a...well I was gonna say bed but surface works better.”
She gained a contemplative expression then, “Though even that isn’t exactly true.”
“You shouldn’t be. Like I said it’s not like anyone else but you, and maybe Dany, gets that right.”
The Targaryen princess just smiled while her nephew rolled his eyes theatrically. She really had missed them too much.
“Letting the off topic comments for the moment,” she began while she lay down on Jon’s arm again, her face now much closer to Arya’s then before, “How are we doing so far?”
“We’ve managed to get the supplier of dragon eggs that Illyrio used so we’ve got that covered. Did Jon tell you of our allies?”
“Well good. Dorne is trying to convince me to marry their prince, the idiots. The Lannisters and Baratheons are still in the dark, we’ve managed to broker some dealings with various sellsword companies though we won’t be able to return to Tyrosh for a while.”
She shot a look towards Jon and he looked entirely unapologetic.
“He was right there, if anything it was a sign from the Gods.”
Dany sighed, “You killed Daario again didn’t you?”
Both of her Starks responded and for all that Arya was seemingly scolding him she had no trace of disapproval or remorse whatsoever in her expression.
“You really do keep a grudge.”
“Margaery and Arianne.” They echoed easily and she blushed a fiery red.
“That’s entirely different.”
“No it isn’t.” While she sometimes found it amusing when they spoke together like that, right now, it was just annoying her.
“I’m killing Drogo too.” Her nephew had no doubt present in his voice.
“And if he doesn’t get the chance, I will.” Neither did Arya.
She rolled her eyes at them, though there was a fond smile on her face that she tried to hide.
Naturally they saw it, and even if they didn’t, they knew her enough that they would already know of it.
“We figured you would like that.”
She needed to get this conversation away from her and she knew just how, “Arya, will you mind telling me about Dorne and Rhae?”
Jon was back to groaning again while Arya gained an amused smirk with a flash of possessiveness in her eyes.
“This is my curse,” He began melodramatically, “it’s not coming back after every failure. Its dealing with you two when you’re in this mood for ages upon ages.”
They grinned at him and they both pinched his ribs on either of his exposed sides before it was their turn to speak together.
- I enjoy reading time travel fics if only to see what will and could change and how the author handles it.
- To go back again and again, and do the same things over and over or change things yet see they still end up the same or not the change you wanted or expected... Years upon years will wear on anyone that doesn't develop a resilient mind.
- If you have company? Well it'll probably lessen the sting 'specially if they're really dear to your heart.
- So you get this, in the backstory of this I mean; Jon, Arya and Dany going back together.
- Took a while to figure things out with Daenerys (that is to say, realize she's also a traveler) but eventually she joined the wolves in their plans.
- I realize the first time Dany probably would be thrilled to see Drogo again and all starry eyed but...well a couple of lifetimes of trying to be...well, Daenerys Targaryen, with Drogo at her side certainly ripped that fantasy away.
- The last time (of those chances with Drogo) she brought Jon and Arya together in that scenario with Drogo.
It didn't go well. At all.
And drove the final nail in the coffin for her feelings with the Horse Lord.
The dragon now snacks on horses and Jon and Arya certainly don't take well to that memory.
- Daario pissed them both royally off one time too many during their repeats and well... in this trip he was just there, coincidentally, in front of them.
How can that not be a sign from the Gods to shank him?
- They lived repeated lifetimes one too many together, so naturally they developed feelings with each other along the way.
- Kinda a given since a lot of those plans sometimes lead them to travel together for years and years, plenty of opportunities to get close.
- Jon and Arya came first, Dany came later.
- They're beyond married at this point.
- Arya is seriously mourning her young age even though timetable wise its a boon, like I implied this is the first time they came back to their book canon ages, other times they were older.
- Well technically they came back to be a bit more younger, just met up when they reached they're book ages.
- I wouldn't mind seeing a time travel fic featuring more then one participants, 'specially one featuring Dany. It seems those I've read just leave her to birth the dragons, with all the events leading up to that it implies.
- I think Sapphire_blue's fic implies it, though it certainly does have the Stark siblings (the surviving ones that is) return.
- Speaking of time travel fics I'm enjoying "To Go Forwards" at the moment. Hope it continues.
Chapter 8: Past Times
Lazy moments with great company lead to reminiscing and relaxation
*Hunter Del Sur is calmly standing with a set of tools in the Shipyard*
*Hunter grabs some material before placing it to the side of the ship and working on upgrading it, paying no attention the other other larger ships currently sailing around and occasionally firing at each other and also occasionally waving at other friendly ships he likes.*
"You're a good ship, no matter what anyone else says and I'll help build you up when I can."
*Hunter turns to other multiple ships baring the OT3 designation of Jon/Arya/*
"I'll work on you too soon."
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Must you do that?” Jon grumbled at the entirely too amused Arya.
“Yes.” She answered easily, so completely sure of herself and her words that he made sure to huff directly into her face for it, his breath moving the loose strands around her smiling face as she let out a giggle filled with amusement yet even then she kept tugging at his hair, combing her slim fingers through it as she brushed them this way and that.
And that was fine, his actions were more of a show, since it had been so long since he was able to see Arya smile so freely, to laugh so openly and he wouldn’t trade that for the world.
They were in his allocated chambers in this castle in the Southron realms, the fire roaring in its place at the hearth casting everything in a soothing mixture of glowing light and dancing shadows late at night. Jon wearing just his breeches and his partially opened shirt that had four of its buttons undone while his boots lay further away, his legs stretched comfortably and his feet bare to the air as he sat on some furs he had brought from the North and then ordered put in his rooms.
Arya meanwhile had decided to spend sometime with him, as she always did ever since they were reunited not so long ago, and so had barged into his rooms, stripped off her heavier garments until she wore nothing but her tights along with a somewhat loose shirt that was partially unlaced at the topmost part and then promptly sat herself on his lap.
So here they were now with their bodies pressed together as much as possible; she seated sideways on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, her head leaning onto his shoulder with her grey eyes glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, smile firmly in place as one hand threaded itself intermittently among his hair while her other arm was wrapped around his body with her fingers digging into the back of his shirt.
Jon for his part had one of his hands resting leisurely along her legs while his other arm wrapped around her slim form across her lower back to rest just at her hip, providing her another means of support while he basked in the heat of the flames along with her smile and touch, something that he had feared he would never get to experience again.
“I really don’t get why you enjoy this so much,” he began distractedly, sleepiness present in the undertones of his voice. He hadn’t been able to get much sleep lately what with all his responsibilities as one of the de facto people most knowledgeable with the coming war yet Arya was able to calm his nerves, worries and just generally sooth his mind now just as she had always been able to, her ministrations helping her even further but he wouldn’t fall asleep, not yet, “You used to do the same when we were children and I am no closer to understanding the reason now than way back then.”
“It’s fun. Nothing complicated about that.” She shrugged, a bit of sleep mixed with her words while she scooted just the tiniest bit closer to him, her face nuzzling into his neck partially while his hand snaked itself under the edge of her shirt to rub soothingly at the dip in her bare waist with his thumb. She sighed briefly before planting a small peck on his shoulder in gratitude.
“And relaxing,” her accompanying nod shifted more of her loose strands into her eyes so he lifted his hand to brush them away from her face before returning it to sprawling it along her legs, letting him see her smiling face once again that had shifted from a more active impish expression to a lazily content smile, “You’ve always had this effect on me.”
“I feel the same.”
“I can tell. You haven’t been sleeping much have you?”
“No, too much to do. Too much to worry about.” He sighed and even though it was such a simple gestures it felt like it carried half the Kingdoms troubles. “Its also become difficult since a while ago.”
Her hand in his hair stilled and her other fingers tightened once more from where they were on his back, her nails digging at his skin through the cloth and he could feel her gaze burn a trail at the scars along his body that she had visible from her position while he gazed distractedly at the fire, seeing the flames lick and dance into the air as high as they could.
“I also did the same to you,” Jon began in an effort to distract her from the whirling thoughts he could practically feel forming in her mind, “and I don’t mean when I messed up your hair. I’m talking about when I also combed your hair with my fingers, usually when we were both bathing in a spring and you held onto my neck. When you sneaked into my rooms to sleep with me and when we would listen to the wind in the Godswood.”
“I remember those times,” Arya’s tone seemed normal enough but he could sense the brittleness laying underneath, “along with many other times when you combed my hair.”
“Many, many more.” He agreed with a distracted nod, his gaze turned to look at her then and their eyes met. Big grey eyes looked at him with the color of light steel while his own eyes of darker grey that looked like storm clouds easily met her gaze.
He cracked an easy smile at her then.
“Come on.” He tugged her to him then, making his intentions obvious.
In response she easily snaked both her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder while she let him carry her towards the bed in silent permission. Gently he set her down onto the featherbed, her arms stretching to its limits so they could both move but not letting him out if her hands, before scooting himself into it and Arya wrapped her arms around him tightly once again.
Her head buried itself into his neck while she once again started to run her hands through his hair. He returned the favor by drifting his hand from the top of her head down through her long brown strands and further down her back until they stopped at her lower back in a lazy motion.
They continued like this for some time; slowly, easily, comfortingly. While bit by bit their motions slowed down as sleep began to claim the both of them. Just when he was the edge of drifting off into a deeper sleep he felt her move languidly against him, her lips brushing a trail from where they were at the juncture of his neck all the way to his ear, sleep heavy in her words and actions, “Jon?”
“I also just like the way your hair feels in my hands. Plus it just curls and bounces when I run my hands through it.”
He gave a low deep chuckle at that and he felt Arya shiver slightly, probably because his mouth was close to one of her ears.
“I like the way yours feels too.” And with that he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple causing Arya to smile sleepily against his skin before they both settled down once more into their sleeping positions and drifted of to a nice well deserved deep sleep.
'Suuuup. Finally found time so I bring you this.
Nothing complicated just these two relaxing in each others presence in a way they can't with other people.
No thoughts this time, I'll save those for another chapter.
Man ever since the finally of GoT season 7 people sure have been sniping at each other with their ships.
Makes for some nice entertainment
I've also been thinking about putting a designation in the title that shows if its platonic or romantic in nature like [R] or [D]. Not too sure though. Some thoughts? I mean there are people who just want to read a sibling relationship between these two but most of my stuff is mixed...
Well, I'll still think about it for a while.
Chapter 9: This is new
Well this was fun to write.
Also, lots of Jon/Arya stories lately. I mean, wow, been a while so I just searched the tag and bam! Lots of new stories. Well I know what I'll be checking out during my free time.
But seriously did I miss a Great Council or something? Did I miss a Jon/Arya week? Must I commit honorable J/A Sudoku to atone? (Write more Jon/Arya)
Also; 5167 hits and 166 kudos. Thanks a bunch guys and gals for the love and interest you've shown! Hope you continue to enjoy!
Something to keep in mind: The characters views in this piece is subjective of said character due to a variety of reasons.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
It was beyond stupid, she knew, feeling like this.
And yet she couldn’t help it.
Maybe it hit her harder because she never really felt something like this when it came to him? Never felt any sort of competition?
It was stupid...feeling so...jealous.
But she couldn’t help it.
Jon had always been hers.
Her best friend, her favorite boy, her favorite brother and later her cousin (and still favorite) but hers all the same.
It seemed that there were so many others, including other girls and women, seeking his attention, his friendship, or even his hand in marriage and though she knew logically she would still rank up first or pretty high in his thoughts just like he was in hers it still rankled her how sometimes she just wanted to spend some time with him but there was always a lord, a knight, a commander or a pretty maiden taking him away from her.
It was...so stupid and she wasn’t just referring to feeling like this.
She wondered if he felt something similar when she spent more time with her friends, both new and old, than together with him. If it also rankled him when the Brotherhood took her time away from him, when her position as a Princess of Winterfell interfered with their time.
She made a mental note to ask him later.
She could justify it in her thoughts when situations cropped up; the positions they now held, their responsibilities and duties in these trying times were important but her heart still dropped a bit when their time would get cut short due to an unforeseen event and annoyance flare in her being when things and people got in their way.
And her heart also burned-just a bit -when some women now approached Jon with half lidded gazes or interest in their eyes, even if she could logically know why.
Her cousin, and he was her cousin now after that undeniable reveal some years prior, was a tall handsome man with many accomplishments behind him; both in acts and battles along with a kind disposition and a wildness that was hidden beneath the surface. His position as a Prince as given to him by his aunt certainly helped some more.
And so they came; to titter at him, to blush around him, to talk, to make political or trade deals and to try to make other types of deals.
As always those kinds of thoughts made her bare her teeth the slightest bit, an action she quickly got control over as she smoothed her features to a more neutral expression once again.
She was amused when she first saw a similar disposition in his expression – a narrowing of his eyes and a thoughtful frown in his case – when this lord or this knight tried to get her attention, tried to get her to gift them her hand or even just trying to lead her into their bed. His reactions to the last one also tended to vary but none of them were what you would call ‘acceptance’ or ‘patient’.
That amusement quickly died when it was her turn to be in a similar situation. Jon made no secret or effort to curtail his own amusement when she first started expressing her...light disapproval... of his would be suitors. He especially made it a point to remind her with echoes of her words fired back at her when she was witness to women trying to get him into their bed.
She made sure to considerably tone down her teasing/snarky remarks after that, when she first felt her heart burn, her skin bristle as she applied the necessary restraint as she felt the need to pull him towards her arms and…
Most of the time, she needed to take a calming breath after that.
Ladies of noble families to all manner of Smallfolk women to Wildling women all sought him but there were four that looked for him the most and he payed attention to more than the others; Val the so called Wildling Princess, Daenerys Targaryen the last Targaryen Princess, Missandei of Naath and Shireen Baratheon one of the last members of said family.
Missandei and Shireen annoyed her in a different way than the other two; most times when they looked for him it was to talk, to ask him questions, to spend some time in his company in a perfectly civil platonic way when they didn’t let their girlish desires take over and let their eyes and hands wonder.
Jon indulged them just as if they were his little sisters; with small smiles and kind words. With an attitude that was similar to how he treated her in the past when both of them were young and the two girls fawned over him similarly.
It was still annoying.
Val was a different kind of annoying; with her sweet looks and thinly veiled words that held promises of flesh and gasps in between furs and moans against bare skin. With her lingering hands, her breathy words that brushed his ear or cheek when she stood too close to Jon, with her small roguish smiles and lidded blue eyes giving him pointed looks as her hair shined like gold in all manner of light.
But Daenerys Targaryen was something different all together.
She wanted it all.
A friend, brother, lover, husband.
And Jon could be all of those in one.
She could get it, truly she could. After thinking she was the last of the dragons for so long Jon’s existence must have seemed like a gift from the Gods to her, a small mercy in her hard life, even if it was still somewhat unclear whether he was a trueborn Targaryen or not.
At least he had more legitimacy then the one calling himself Aegon Targaryen in one of his little territories.
She couldn’t fault the woman for wanting to be friends with Jon, her nephew by blood, for wanting to have her own pack.
That would have been too easy.
It bears repeating; Daenerys Targaryen wanted it all.
She wanted a friend in Jon, a great friend, and though she felt a twinge of annoyance at that in the same way she felt for Shireen and Missandei it was the fact that she wanted Jon to also be a brother to her that really started to get on her nerves when she first noticed it.
A Targaryen Brother with all that entailed.
She wanted him in her arms, by her side, in her bed, in her thoughts and that irritated her more than with Val’s breathy little looks, teases and promises.
The Wildling Princess was beautiful but Daenerys was ever more so, surprising as that would be to some. With Valyrian blood flowing strongly in her veins she was the perfect image of a beauty of Old Valyria and their Dragonlords.
Petite and shapely with what could be said were tomboyish traits that she knew Jon would certainly find appealing (in contrast to others) with a fiery presence and spirit. Silver locks flowing down her back, a beautifully shaped face with deep purple eyes that peeked up at him in interest from beneath silver lashes as she leaned her shoulder against his with her small hand atop his own.
Her lingering hand on his forearm as she talked with him as they walked, the easy way she touched him, the smiles she gave him and the lidded looks she cast his way, her voice sweetening and softening for him or taking on a stern, resolute tone when necessary.
It irritated her that she thought she could have what was not hers.
Still they were allies in the coming long war, in this long winter season, so she couldn’t let her...slight feelings of discontent impact their relationship. As Jon was keen to remind her; she was a Princess of Winterfell and even before that she had been a Lord Paramount’s daughter.
So she focused her feelings into more productive things.
As such Arya did indeed make sure to take everything into account (as well as his advice) when she planned her actions and words before sharing them alongside her feelings and thoughts with her favorite boy, as she sat upon his lap with not a thread on their bodies to separate them as one of his hands trailed along her arched back that made their chests brush together and let her feel his hard muscles against her own toned body, while the other tightly gripped one of the cheeks of her bum as their hips rolled in tandem.
In return for his understanding she raked her fingers down his forearms where Val and Daenerys often let their hands linger. She licked a trail from the corner of his mouth along his jaw to his ear making sure to pass over where his aunt had gifted him a lingering peck, let her hands roam where they all looked at him and grasped his hand tightly, lovingly intertwining their fingers together in defiance of where they had all grasped or touched his hand at one point while letting her other free hand tangle in his hair near the nape of his neck, trailing circles and caresses as she brought their heads closer, faces slicked with sweat and noses rubbing against each other as they shared even their very breath.
She mouthed words of love against his lips in between heated kisses. Breathed them onto him; telling him she was his, just his, always his, and licking into his mouth when he responded likewise against her lips. She let her mouth linger against his ear when she finished giving him small bites up his neck, let him hear her whimpers and moans and sighs and supplications that she let out just for him while their pace never slowed and he bit and licked and mouthed wherever he could reach with his lips in their position while she enjoyed the rumbles that came from deep within his chest to mix with his own moans at her movements.
She made sure to lazily wrap her arms around his neck near the joints of her elbows, while letting her fingers brush his shoulder blades with their tips, as she- reluctantly -separated so she could face him fully and tell him how much she wanted him and returned his kisses just as fiercely when he responded in kind
Then their kisses grew even more passionate while she grinned wide and uncaring against his lips, their breaths hotter than ever before, the looks they exchanged seeming to emulate dragonfire in its intensity as she whispered how she wanted his pups, how she would give him pups, their pups. So many of them that they would fill the halls of castles with laughter and joy and be able to start their own little pack of hell raisers with only themselves for company and when her wolf gripped her at the dips of her waist with digging fingers that would leave his loving marks she reciprocated by gripping his shoulders tightly, her nails leaving crescent moons upon his skin while she stared into his eyes with her own heavy gaze and whispered those little words mixed with her love again and again as she raked her fingers along his body once again as if to truly make sure to pull away the lingering stares and touches upon him for a final time.
And in the sweet, sweet afterglow while exchanging slow kisses and licks as they basked in each other, among that pleasurable lull Arya could admit she might have felt some slight jealousy, one she could argue was warranted since it was so new of a sensation when it came to him, but possessiveness?
She would scoff at that.
Possessiveness implied she demanded his love, his touch, his affection, his attention, like some merchant demanded payment for their wares.
She couldn’t demand something that was already hers after all, no more than he could demand something that was already his. Needn’t demand something that they easily gave each other freely of their own wills for each other only, regardless of what other parties thought. After all if certain people were to think otherwise...
Now that would truly be stupid.
...That was a thing.
I had no idea it would turn out like that. I actually had something different in mind.
And before anyone starts I'll save you guys the complete rant but; No, I never had a problem with characters feeling jealous. This applies in general.
I have problems with other things.
As always feel free to ask questions and/or let me know your thoughts.
Lately I've also been wanting to do a slow burn.
How have I been doing in keeping them Jon and Arya in character so far? I mean the core traits, since a lot of these vary significantly in settings and situations so some degree of variance would be present.
Chapter 10: What is Sanity?
Or; Hunter Del Sur thinks this setting is sometimes too dark and full of terrors so let's insert some absurdity into it, because why not?
So, I tried my hand at comedy/parody/absurdity/whatever
Don't know if you'll enjoy it but I hope to at least get a single chuckle out of you guys and gals, at the very least.
And don't take anything too seriously, 'kay?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Myrcella was talking to him but he couldn’t really hear her. Not with all the noise around him; the shuffling of feet as people moved, the mixing of of voices at they talked, shouted and whispered, clothes rustling, groups of friends being merry and just all around background noise from the festival grounds. Finally it seems she noticed he was just staring at her very pretty red lips moving without being able to really listen to her since she just huffed at him before grabbing his arm and dragging him to a more quiet place.
“You heard nothing of what I just said, huh Trystane?”
“In my defense it was really, really loud.”
“I’m sure the whole ‘fixating on my mouth’ was also because of the noise then?”
“I was trying to lip read.”
“I’m sure,” she rolled her emerald eyes at him but he noticed the faint blush she had on her cheeks. He kept quiet about it though since he guessed she would just blame the heat as the cause, “I said; It’s going to take a long while to find Arya in this mess of people.”
“It is.” He grimaced slightly before looking from their spot on the railings of the topmost platform down to the grounds below, followed by looking at the wide avenue where they had just come from. “She hasn’t answered your calls?”
“Nope. I think she can’t hear them or maybe her battery died.”
“At this rate we’ll be late to the main show and what both of you really came to this music festival for.”
Her glare was answer enough but all he did was grin like his uncle Oberyn had told him to do in such situations even if her gaze did make him want to duck his head. He didn’t get the reaction his uncle told him he would though, so he was left staring at her as she bit her lip and looked from her phone then to him and back again multiple times.
“Hey Trystane,” the Lannister beauty began, apparently having found an answer to her internal musings, “I know of a way to-”
“Great!” Internally he winced after it sank in that he cut her off before she finished in his eagerness but he really wanted to enjoy the show with her – though more accurately he wanted to see her enjoy the show since this wasn’t really his scene – and it had taken him a bit of courage to ask her out to this event, despite his Dornish and Martell roots, and then he had to share her time with her best friend who apparently got her tickets before he did, which he thought a small price to pay. Now though he was starting to regret that last line of thought.
Still; in for a penny in for a dragon so he pushed on through as confidently as he could, “If you’re sure then do so.”
“Are you sure?” She stared up at him through golden lashes, her hair in a long ponytail that just brushed the small of her back shined in the artificial lights and he really doubted he could deny her anything right then and there. “I’ll need your help...” She trailed off uncertainly, shifting from one foot to another in her slip on shoes and those jean shorts and crimson spaghetti top that she wore so well and all he could wonder was if he could gain a kiss (even though this was the first date and the first meaningful interaction between them) before, during or after this festival if he followed the advice that had been given to him.
“No problem, Myrcella. I’ll help in anyway I can.”
Perhaps if the boy hadn’t been so love struck he would have noticed various things; such as the hesitancy his date displayed at using such a plan even though she was the one that proposed it, the way her body language now shifted in nervousness when before she walked confidently and he hadn’t mistaken such actions as his doing, as well as noticing her mind was now far away as she stared at her phone.
But alas the poor love struck fool did not.
“If you’re sure...” She trailed off silently, seemingly searching his expression for any sign of doubt one last time. In return he gave her as confident a smile as he could and he cheered inside his mind when she nodded before unlocking her phone and quickly typing something quick in it.
“Here,” the petite blonde thrust the phone’s screen in front of his eyes without preamble, “Read this.”
He blinked at the screen in confusion, not even reading the words she had written as he then leaned a bit to the side to blink at her.
“It’ll work.” Myrcella simply stated with unwavering confidence.
He shrugged before letting his gaze focus on the words.
Maybe she was trying to break the ice in her own way?
“Jon Targaryen is a useless, wretched, basta-”
“Hey there~” The tone was sweet, sincere and one he recognized as belonging to Myrcella’s best friend (since, as far as anyone knew, forever); Arya Stark. All around athlete with a particular inclination towards fencing, as well as being filed under ‘Girl Who Won’t Date Absolutely Anyone’ due to rejecting offers from men and women alike, including people such as both the Storm brothers on multiple occasions and his fellow Dornishman Edric and some of his cousins of age with him as well. It was rumored it was because she had Myrcella, or from how some other rumors went, it was because she already had someone(s?) outside of the academy. The exact age and sex of this supposed lover(s?) also varied wildly.
Trystane didn’t know why he was having something akin to a flashback as if he was some movie protagonist that was on the brink of death, more so when instead of his life it was about academy rumors, cliques and general life. He also didn’t know why he felt as if he should stay very still, subtly begin to tense his muscles for an attempt at escape, and he was also really trying to block out a place deep in his heart that said the absolute truth, that was currently whispering as if it was frightened, that he was absolutely irrevocably fucked.
He just knew that the voice came from behind him, where there was no way to access it whatsoever since it was just the railings preventing anyone from falling a considerable height down.
Slowly he turned around, making his movements as small as possible but with an instinctive urgency, until he came face to face with a similarly petite girl as his date that was Myrcella’s best friend; sitting with one leg crossed over another on the railing, one hand holding up her chin while she bounced her leg in a lazy rhythm, a pearly white smile that perfectly displayed her longer than average canines and looking at him with benevolent grey eyes shadowed under a black fitted cap. Said eyes were framed by loose flowing brown hair the color of rich, healthy, earth that trailed along her back in a length similar to Myrcella’s.
“You were saying some mighty interesting things just now,” her eyelashes fluttered charmingly and though he was sure the Storm brothers would kill to see such a sight, Trystane just couldn’t get the distracting feeling of his spine tensing until it was completely straight out of his mind right now to truly acknowledge such things, “Might you be so kind to repeat them for little old me?”
Her tone was still the sweetest he had ever heard it uttered from her mouth as she lazily drawled the words, her Northern accent spicing up its charm the same way Myrcella’s Westernland accent spiced her words up. He idly noted he should feel shocked at such a tone being directed at him for whatever reason but all he felt shock at was how his throat involuntarily tightened up in fear.
Arya tilted her head to the side minutely, baring her throat while still holding that same serene smile and causing some of her hair to shift slightly on one side, letting him see the various piercings she had on one ear.
Distractedly he noticed Myrcella quickly pressing one button on her smartphone followed by another before she brought it up to her ear as she used speed-dial. He would have wondered more about that if he wasn’t overcome by the overpowering urge to step back from the lazily sitting girl (how did she get there?) on the railing.
At least that was his plan until his back hit something solid after his first step.
He carefully looked over his shoulder while making sure to keep one eye trained on Arya while the other found out about what exactly he had hit-
Is that a shovel?
His brain froze, though he might have thought that Myrcella said something resembling ‘Code 4’, as he wondered when, how and why a shovel suddenly appeared behind him.
“Oh, that little thing?” Said Arya far too close to him. His head snapped back (when had it moved?) to see the youngest Stark daughter, smile still firmly in place as she looked up at him - though he rather felt like the opposite was true right now - with her arms coyishly crossed behind her back as she leaned forward slightly, gaze determinedly on him. “I thought you would like some help since it seems you were so determined to dig your own grav-”
Suddenly a phone was thrust to rest lightly against her ear like one would when answering a call, in what seemed like a well practiced motion if he was being honest, interrupting her words mid sentence.
He carefully moved his eyes, the only thing he could move really, upwards along the pale flesh of the arm holding said phone to see it was Myrcella’s doing.
Her mouthed words of ‘Stay Calm’ had the opposite effect though.
Suddenly the crushing pressure he had felt in air – that he just noticed was an actual thing and not his imagination – left his shoulders. His breath came out in an explosive exhale, sound returned to him as if he was underwater before and had just now had broken the surface, and he finally realized he could move normally.
He quickly took advantage of this as he scampered back until he had the Mercifully Beautiful Goddess known as Myrcella Lannister in between her apex predator of a best friend.
Said Goddess merely raised an eyebrow in amusement while Arya ignored him entirely as she was too busy nodding along to what the person on the other side of the phone call was saying to her.
Distantly he noticed they had somehow acquired a rather considerable empty space around them from other groups of people.
“What was-” He gasped but apparently he still hadn’t recovered enough to make full sentences yet.
“Arya is protective of her boy.”
“Wait...does this mean the rumors are true?”
“That’s what you’re most curious about? Really?”
“Well, no...” If anyone asked him, he would tell them that stupid response would have been deliberate instead of his brain hiccuping due to the sheer hours that had passed-wait. No. He quickly checked his watch, it hadn’t even been a minute?!
“Yeah, she has that effect on people sometimes.”
His blonde Goddess’ kind and sincere words hurt this time. Strangely he kind of liked it when coming from her.
Before he could try to rescue the situation with a witty comment like Uncle Oberyn always told him to do in such a situation Myrcella accepted her phone with a nod from Arya before bringing the speaker to her ear with an enthusiastic: “Hey Jon!”
Trystane shook his head out of the remaining lingering sensation of what had totally not been crushing fear.
It was just that he may be coming with some type of cold.
Yeah. That was it.
“So,” the Northern accented voice spoke up again and though there was no traces present of her deathly sweet tone from before he still tensed up, “You’re the one who got the courage to ask her in the middle of the hall for a date when everyone was also present...”
She trailed off and he thought it best that he keep quiet.
Arya snorted in amusement at that, “Well, at least you’re harmless.”
He blinked at that and would have objected at the way she said it as well as her words if she wasn’t suddenly right in front of his face. Again.
“But real talk here,” her accompanying smile made him realize why she and her older sister were referred to as ‘Northern Princesses’, “Don’t ever talk bad about my boy, ‘kay?”
“...Is that...what the shovel is for?” He was sure his uncle could have said it better and more confidently then him but at this moment Trystane was just glad he was able to say anything resembling witty at all right now.
Grey eyes blinked at him in amusement, “What shovel?”
“What do you mean ‘what shovel?’”, he quickly grasped his returning confidence to swing his arm out with a bit of flair to the side right where-
-There was an empty spot.
“Something wrong, loverboy?” The Stark daughter drawled from where she was now leaning against his Godde – No, wait - he meant Myrcella, with one arm slung across her lower back as she continued talking with the stranger.
He turned left, then right. Up, down, peered over the railing, focused his gaze at the patches of grass some distance away…
Who exactly was this crazy bit-
A phone was suddenly thrust into his face, letting him see the contact saved (and favored) in bold white letters identified as “Jon Targaryen” with the nickname at the bottom in smaller but still bold text as “Arya’s Husband”.
“Jon wants to talk to you.” The Lannister beauty simply said when he blinked (he really should stop doing that, he wasn’t a reptile after all) at her.
Hesitantly, and with an unconscious looks towards Arya that he absolutely wouldn’t acknowledge he actually did (nor that he accepted her nod of approval), he took the phone from her hands (and he didn’t give in to the temptation to brush fingers with his date. Arya’s glare had nothing to do with it, shut up) and brought it up to his ear.
“Boi, you best be careful with those words towards my waifu.” The rough yet smooth and definitely older voice with a strange mix of accents interrupted him without hesitation.
“Speak?” He sounded supremely amused as he said that simple word.
Trystane meanwhile felt dread rise all over again at those implications. His next words just hastened the process at which it reached his brain and helped fan it.
He stood numbly and didn’t even hesitate or question why when the guy on the other end of the phone told him to put him on speaker.
He did with a burst of panic all while thinking: Oh Gods not again-
...To find nothing there.
Before he could redden in embarrassment at falling for such a simple ploy his attention was grabbed when Arya let out an absolutely joyous cry.
“Jon!” He turned in time to see Arya freaking Stark running like some movie damsel towards some tall, dark haired, dark eyed older guy wearing a combination of red, white and black before she actually jumped into his arms, even going so far as to wrap her legs around him, as he spun her around a bit to bleed off the momentum.
“You made it!” She giggled against his forehead before unashamedly kissing him fully on the mouth as her hands framed his face.
“So...” Myrcella spoke up from some ways near him as he struggled with his world view being shattered once more as he turned towards her, “As you’ve no doubt inferred that’s Jon, Arya’s beau.”
“And you must be Trystane.” The same voice from the phone spoke up and he turned, again to see that both of them were done with their little reunion and instead were heading towards him. He also noticed Arya’s arm was around him and her hand was casually tucked under his shirt and slightly beneath the waist of his pants while he just had his arm around her with one of his thumbs tucked through the loops of her shorts.
He was kinda impressed how they walked so easily like that.
“Hey ‘Cella.” He greeted her casually and judging by everything that had happened recently it was safe to say they all knew each other very well. “As beautiful as ever.”
Myrcella giggled and easily gave him a warm hug followed by a peck on his cheek despite Arya never letting go for a second. “Hey yourself Jon. Glad you could make it, Arya here wouldn't shut up about it ever since we had an extra ticket.”
“So...” Jon began, ignoring the way Arya playfully swatted Myrcella, “You’re the one who’s trying to become ‘Cella’s beau.”
In Trystane’s defense, he would argue that he was just about to make a very compelling argument to impress these two friends of her and take back his past ten minutes of fumbling around with a proper, confident, Dornish response…
Unfortunately those two beat him to the punch.
“So listen up Trystane!” Arya began as she thrust her finger from her free hand near his face.
So this is the rumored best friends talk that Arianne was telling me about.
Yet it was Jon that continued, “Myrcella here is a very good friend of ours.”
The killing intent that had been leveled against him before was also tripled but that was a vague acknowledgment at best from the young Martell as he now faced two apex predators.
“So if you do absolutely anything to hurt her or even cause her to shed a single tear-” Arya easily picked off from where he broke off pulling Myrcella into her free arm in a hug.
“Trust us. You’ll regret it, m’kay?” They finished in eerie synchronization with matching wolfish grins while said girl they were talking about protecting faced the side with red cheeks.
Confidently - definitely confidently - he nodded back and the way he lingered behind as they easily spun around while still intertwined between them had nothing to do with his brain rebooting itself.
Taking a deep breath he focused on the back of Myrcella’s crimson top, idly noticing she was now between Arya and Jon with each of her arms looped through both of theirs as they walked, as he gave himself a quick mental pep talk. He had been warned that sometimes his potential interest would have some difficult obstacles to overcome in the form of other people, and he had gotten multiple advice as how to deal with said obstacles.
With thoughts like those perking himself up and running constantly through his brain Trystane let his eyes start to wander a bit further South then his date’s back-
Only to stop when he saw two different sized hands resting on her lower back.
Myrcella continued walking and looking around the festival grounds as if it wasn’t a strange sensation while instead he met the two pairs of grey eyes that were staring at him intently.
Keeping their heads turned towards him without looking ahead of them even once as they continued to walk confidently forward while avoiding various people with an easy grace, Jon and Arya raised their free hands up to their faces to point at their eyes with two fingers, followed by pointing said fingers towards his eyes and finally making an upwards motion.
They then felt the need to add a gouging motion, for good measure.
His gaze automatically snapped back directly forward, only just barely seeing as their arms spread to engulf his date between them and to rest on each others waist.
...What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“What the?” A blonde and redhead unknowingly echoed each other despite a vast distance separating them.
The reason being that they had found rather identical, huge gift basket in front of the door of their respective house when they had opened it. If that wasn’t weird enough it was an expensive gift basket filled with; beautifully fresh fruit, expensive and quality ale, wine and chocolate, as well as shiny trinkets and what looked like a rather nicely crafted outdoors knife.
When they got over their confusion enough at the sight of said basket each woman noticed a white envelope with a grey bow decorating it that was attached to the sides of their respective baskets.
Opening up said envelope they found a white letter bordered with grey and with elegantly handwritten words in what they could tell were in various languages.
Skimming until they found one they could understand they began to read to see if it would shed some light on the origins of the basket.
Thanks to your (initial) tutelage I had a great first time so I got you some gifts!
Hope you enjoy!
P.S: You can’t have repeat performances. That ship has long sailed and is not coming back.
P.S.S: Seriously, don’t try anything. It’ll be useless.
P.S.S.S: He’s mine now. My Wolf.
When they finished reading the short letter all Val/Ygritte could do was blink.
Home Alone: Jon’s side
I’m kinda in the mood for Chinese Food.
Daeron Targaryen distractedly thought as he took a break from reading the scattered books along his table on one side and online articles on his laptop on the other side that he was using to help for his Master’s Thesis.
He stretched his arms in the air, letting out a sigh as he felt his spine pop and his elbows straighten.
Suddenly, his phone started ringing making him jump at the unexpected noise after several hours of silence in his empty home. He debated ignoring it but that was until he saw who the caller was and he proceeded to pick it up without further hesitation.
“Hey Arya. What’s up?”
“Hey Daeron, just checking to see if you’re still alive or if your head imploded from stress and information overload.”
He let out a warm chuckle at that, “Don’t worry love, I’m fine. I was just about to get some food since it’s time for a break.”
“So – Wait, hold up,” he figured she placed her hand on the mouthpiece of the phone but even though it was slightly muffled Daeron was still able to make out the shouted cry of ‘Sansa I’m on the phone! Bother me later!’, “Yeah, sorry about that babe. My sister was pestering me right now.”
“She’s home with you for once?”
“Yeah and as always she’s being super annoying. Anyways don’t try to distract me; how long did you go for this time?”
He paused as he glanced at the clock. “About seven hours straight.”
He never could lie to her. Then again neither she could to him.
“Old Gods and New... Seriously Daeron? Your determination never ceases to amaze me. Well that and worry me too.”
“I told you I’m fine.” He had to roll his eyes at that even though she couldn’t see it, it’s not like he was going past his limits, “I just really need to finish this thing.”
“I seriously don’t know how you do it.” Her voice was filled with amusement and it helped distract him from his hunger.
“Do what? Concentrate?”
“Yeah. Especially with all those family member in your house. I mean it’s big but even so the voices still carry and they’re always close by. Not to mention you’re siblings always seemed to be close doing their own, distracting, thing.”
“There's no one here though.” Daeron commented as he perused an old menu from his favorite place.
“Everyone left for a trip.” He paused in his perusal of the menu, “Wait, did I forget to tell you? Sorry Arya, I've been really distracted recently-”
Someone knocked on his door.
There was a knock again. At his bedroom door, which was in the second story of his house, when he was supposed to be alone for at least three days.
“Hold on Love, looks like someone forgot something.”
Daeron opened the door to tease what was probably his eldest sister forgetting to tell him something, again, or his older brother leaving something in his room, again-
To find Arya Stark, still active phone in one hand and Chinese takeout in the other, wearing some very flattering pants and a grey tank top with her hair done up in two charmingly messy twin buns, smirking up at him from the other side of his room’s door despite that she lived on the other side of the city.
Dramatically, she pressed the end call button.
Home Alone: Arya’s side
Silence met her greeting and Arya paused three steps into the manor before frowning in confusion.
Instead of going straight up the steps up into her room as was usual when she just returned form college she instead made her way into the kitchen where notes were traditionally written and posted to inform anyone of any last minute occurrences, especially when say; someone’s battery died and their idiot friends ‘misplaced’ (read: lost) your charger.
True to form there were lots of little pieces of paper varying in color, size, material, and format upon The Wall, as it was referred to. Almost like they were missives crying for help.
...Mom and Dad needed to go to the Vale due to issues with aunt Lysa...Robb needed to bail Theon out of trouble, again...Sansa needed to help Jeyne out...Rickon was taken with her parents and Bran went off to his little ‘training camp’…
All in all she would be alone for 2-3 days before anyone showed.
She would have smiled at that if not for one minor detail…
Daeron is currently in the next city over for the next few days. Just when this happens.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Story of her life, right there.
She sighed and in the empty Winterfell Manor it seemed to echo more than it normally would.
Might as well share the misery and tease him. Then consolation pizza.
Putting thought to action she grabbed the home phone and dialed Daeron’s number from memory without even looking at the number pad as she rummaged around for old pizza menus from the various places they had ordered from before.
His voice was charmingly confused and it made her smile unconsciously.
Leave it to Daeron to make her feel like such a movie-like teenage girl.
“Hey Love, it’s me.”
“Arya? Hey!” She could practically see his smile form on his face and it made her own grow, “Something wrong with your phone?”
“Battery’s dead, stupid friends lost my charger when I lent it to them. Gonna use my spare one in a minute.”
“You left your spare at my place.”
She paused at that to recollect her memories for a moment before letting out a curse when she recalled he was right.
He let out a chuckle at that.
“Quiet you. I guess I’ll just borrow Sansa’s for a while.”
“She won’t like that, I take it.”
“Eh, she’s not here to bitch about it and won’t be for a while.”
“Oh? She -wait, sorry Arya give me a moment.”
“Sure, no problem Love.” Saying so she focused a bit more on the various menus before her, narrowing them down to her favorite choices before she actually picked which kind of pizzas to order, while Daeron had his muffled conversation on the other end.
“Yeah, sorry about that. You just caught me at the end of the meeting so there’s a bunch of people wanting a private chat or something else. So you were saying that Sansa left for a while?”
“Yeeeeep.” She made sure to drag out the word teasingly before emphasizing the last letter with a pop, this would be fun, “Actually they all are. I’m here alone for the next oh… three to two days?”
His silence made her chuckle out loud and she made sure to make it throaty just to get to him even more.
“Wait...” He said and the sound of his voice at that moment made her smile for its tone and upset that he wasn’t here with her so she could feel it rumble against her ear, “So you’re telling me...”
“That I’m home alone for the next two days, minimum, and you’re off in another city during that time frame putting that degree to good use all while taking care of Ghost and Nymeria? Yeeeees Dear.”
His answering growl made her blood thrum momentarily and she decided that one of the pizzas was going to be a Dornish specialty because she needed something spicy right now, just because.
“...Give me three minutes.”
She blinked at his sudden monotone then and raised an eyebrow even though he couldn't see it, “Ok…?”
The sound from his end was muffled once again and Arya decided to put away the menus she wouldn’t be using.
Then the doorbell rang.
She blinked in confusion before grabbing a cordless and ending the call on the other phone.
“Hold up Love, someone’s at the door.” She warned him as a precaution just in case he was still listening.
Then her mouth dropped open when she saw Daeron casually leaning against the door with a very familiar bag in one hand.
“I know.” He cheekily responded before he straightened up and Gods did he look good in a suit.
“How are you…?” She trailed off and really what could she say to this? Unconsciously they both ended the call.
“I postponed it for say...two to three, though possibly more, days. No big deal.” He shrugged as if he wasn’t just in another city kilometers away from her home. Before she could get in another word in he put his hand inside the bag, her bag or rather their bag, before pulling out a whip and gag with one hand.
He raised an eyebrow meaningfully.
She gulped and moved her tongue inside her suddenly dry mouth.
“I was just about to order pizza.” She settled for instead.
He smirked at her and she wanted his dark hair in her hands right now.
“I’ve got it handled. One Northern and Dornish specialty each, one Tyrell’s Delight and one Braavosi Sea right?”
Mutely, she nodded.
His smile shifted then, only just keeping itself this side of wild and her own howling blood rose in response.
“So...” He trailed off casually, leadingly, meaningfully, sly stupid sexy boy of hers that he was before shaking his occupied hand pointedly, “You or me?”
Bonus: Wolve’s Tale
The cashier at Hightower’s High Pizzeria stared with no small amount of fear and confusion as the two massive Direwolves stared at him across the counter straight in the eye with their eerily colored and almost glowing pairs of red and gold eyes.
The grey furred one suddenly let out a growl, causing him to jump back in the air and had him clutch a pizza tray in front of his chest for some semblance of protection against those massive fangs. Silently the white furred one nipped at the other’s neck causing the grey one to cease its growling to instead stare at its counterpart for a few seconds before letting out a huff and turning its head away.
The red eyed Direwolf stood straight again, ignoring its partner’s impatience and petulant behavior before raising one massive paw and letting it come down onto the counter.
The employee closed his eyes as he flinched, he was sure that the beast would now vault over the counter and rip his skin open, so he would rather not have that sight be his last memory.
...Except nothing happened...
So cautiously, curiously, he opened his eyes again to see if they had left just as silently as they had arrived.
He was proven incorrect immediately as he took in the sight in front of him once he opened his eyes fully. The Direwolves were still there, staring at him from behind the counter. The only change was that one massive white paw was right on top of the menu.
He was more confused then he had ever been in his life before, and he would use said justification for when he was henceforth asked why he had taken his eyes away from the two massive predators before him to look at his colleagues all peeking out from behind shelves and wearing makeshift armor.
He received various shrugs and blinks at that when they all realized he wasn’t being mauled to death and they would then have to decide whether to help him or flee.
Turning back to the still patiently straight back white wolf and the similarly posed but more impatient looking grey wolf he slowly worked the words from his mouth.
“Do you...wish...to order?”
He received a stoic nod from the white one and a huff (he could have also sworn it rolled its eyes) and a nod by the grey one.
He blinked again before turning back to his coworkers in the back to blink twice at them.
A growl rose again causing him to snap his head back towards the wolves. They still hadn’t moved but he noticed the white one did nothing to rein in the grey one this time.
“...What...would you like to order?”
The paw moved to hover over the names precisely, despite its massive size, then moved towards the extra ingredients, then crust variations before finally settling in the size category.
“So,” began the cashier as he decided to accept this absurdity for the time being for the sake of his continued sanity and keeping his skin in one piece by keeping stupidly huge fangs faaaaar away from it, “You would like all of them to be large, one Dornish specialty with the ‘Three Deserts Crust’, one Northern specialty with extra cheese and normal crust, one regular Braavosi Sea and one Tyrell’s Delight with extra everything and ‘Greenhouse Crust’.”
He paused for a moment before following establishment policy and seeking confirmation, “Is that your order?”
Both wolves nodded.
He rattled off the amount for said pizzas and told them it would be thirty minutes, getting another nod from both of them before they calmly walked from behind the counter to one far off corner where they proceeded to lay themselves in.
Mechanically he gave the order slip to the his colleague so she could start the cooking process, which she thankfully did after a second of hesitation.
He didn’t want to know what an unsatisfied unimpressed Direwolf looked and behaved like.
No one else came in for the next thirty minutes, not much of a surprise due to two of the extremely large and rare beasts that were currently in the establishment. Not even a heavily armed and armored pet control squad came in like he was expecting.
When four timers dinged and four different boxes were woodenly given to him he found himself face to face with the wolves again.
Silently he placed it before them and equally silently they nudged the boxes open to take several big whiffs of it and pointedly stare at the food before looking at each other and seeming to nod in satisfaction.
He noticed that while they had been able to open the lid with their snouts they wouldn’t be able to close it properly, so he reached out to once again close the lid and secure it with it’s little cardboard mechanism.
The grey one then placed the correct amount of cash onto the counter before opening its giant, sharp, fang filled snout, and clamping two boxes at a time in one corner in its mouth.
The white one did the same to the remaining two boxes but not before it deposited two individual piles of bills that he took from a little (compared to its size, though it was practically a backpack) bag that was previously hidden underneath its thick fur. Looking back on the situation he would notice that the grey one had also done the same before it gave him the correct amount for the pizzas.
Once the bell let out a jingle as both wolves crossed the door to the outside, he slumped towards the counter as he let out a giant sigh of relief. Something which was echoed by all the workers there.
He blinked for what felt like the fifth hundred time that day as his brain registered the other two piles of currency he still hadn’t picked up.
They left a twenty percent tip for me and the baker.
Extra: Author’s Omake
The camera stops to gaze upon a picturesque clearing, filled with healthy green plants and various beautiful flowers that decorated the surroundings after panning through a vast forest of green in the opening shot. A mid sized lake of crystal blue water complete with a waterfall to one side was behind the lone contemplating figure present.
Hunter Del Sur stood in the stereotypical Shakespearean pose, prop skull included in his raised hand, as he continued with the theatrics by bringing one hand upon his heart dramatically.
“To ship Jon and Arya or not to ship Jon and Arya; that is the true qu-”
He paused before throwing the prop skull away in disgust.
“Wait, no. What kind of stupid question is that? Of course you should. -
(We interrupt this monologue to bring you this special message: Well of course I’m going to give you my completely biased opinion on this, I mean, I made no secret who I like as a pairing (and/or platonic relationship) and what this story’s goal is; Bring more Jon/Arya into the (written fanfic) world.)
-I mean really; have you seen the subtext? And lot’s of other points but since you’re reading this you might have thought something similar and/or have some thoughts about it.”
Hunter calmly walked over to a specifically designed (read: cut) rock to sit himself on while he continued speaking all the while, “Plus, ya know that’s the whole purpose of this story (stories) so you must have had some interest in the pairing right? Or just let your curiosity get hold of you enough to read about it.”
Hunter rolled one of his wrists as he got into a comfortable slouch from his sitting position, “Well that is if you even made it this far, for all I know you just checked the first chapter and then decided to continue or drop.” He shrugged at that, “Or just clicked on a random chapter, and continued for some chapters more before dropping it.”
Suddenly his hand snapped out, little whip sound effect included, as he pointed dramatically towards the reader “Or ya’ll just here for the OT3’s!”
Finished with his little modified Pheonix Wright impression Hunter shrugged once again.
“Speaking of; yes there will be more. Just need to see who to use as a third for a scenario. I mean; I have one planned but that’s a surprise, need to see who to use after. I’m thinking of possible pairings for synergy.”
Suddenly he jumped up from his perch to stand with his arms on his hips,” But! That’s neither here nor there! We were supposed to be pondering deep questions!”
Saying so he once more took a seat on the rock, only this time Hunter assumed the classical thinking man’s pose with one hand on his forehead.
Minutes passed as Hunter painstakingly thought of the secrets of the deep Jon/Arya sea that the J/A ships sailed upon.
“...Wait! I got it!”
He clapped his hands once in triumph before turning back towards the readers, one hand back on his hip in a closed fist while the other cupped his chin to show his seriousness, “Do we all sail on multiple Jon/Arya ships of our own in this vast sea of shipping or are we all on this huge wide singular ship? Do we dock up to each other to become this transformer-esque fleet and freely come and go from one ship to another? Or do we communicate with each other in other ways? Both?”
Hunter nodded at such sagely thoughts before continuing, “And if we’re all in this singular ship did we ever/would we ever decide on decoration? And by that I mean wallpaper, floor tiles, kitchen appliances, furniture and stuff since I imagine that we would pretty much agree that we’ll have Jon/Arya artwork, edits and graphical representations hanging all over said ship along with having a vast library full of Jon/Arya metas and fics in digital and physical form. Also to possibly use said library to debate, think and talk about said ship and anything related to the OTP.”
He raised one hand palm up, before a little holographic ship appeared, “Do we navigate by sail? By steam? By futuristic propulsion systems? And perhaps the most important question of all...”
Hunter paused dramatically.
“...How do multishippers manage in such a scenario?”
Truly this world has many important questions seeking answers.
I wonder how many of you read these notes anyways?
Tenth chapter get! Now all that's needed is a hypothetical 90 more.
I wonder if I can manage it.
Thoughts would be appreciated for this or any chapter really.
So, anyways, I just said; screw it let's inject some wackiness
1- I could totally imagine Arya drop kicking someone(s) (though she didn't get to such a stage here,barely ) for Jon and if the show had Jon choke slamming someone against the wall for Sansa of all people then for Arya? Hoo boy...
Fight On Trystane! You can pass this, unexpected and totally your fault you hormonal boy, test!
(Well honestly you most likely know about her more then me)
What was inspired by this: Arya being BFF with Myrcella, she and Jon giving 'shovel talks' to various people, the 'Arya's Husband' bit and some more. Seriously check out those edits, they're fun!
And yes I asked permission and got it.
2- I have no idea where this came from. I was thinking ASOIAF then Videogames at the same time and well Ygritte and Val are kinda like the tutorial for Jon. Arya appreciated their efforts but the tutorial mission is not repeatable.
3/4 -My spin on "Hey babe, I'm home alone". They would totally do it too. Somehow.
These two (could) have some serious thirst for each other. It is known.
Anyways the three minutes were for; 1 to exit the city he was in and come back to where he and Arya usually are, 1 to drop of the wolves at the Pizzeria with instructions, 1 to go back home, add some cologne, get the bag and make it to the door. Not bad right?
5- Hey when you've got intelligent pets...
6- What? Did you expect I would say anything contrary to the OTP? Really? This is a Jon/Arya story. Plus still trying to let absurdity in this chapter. A breather is nice once in a while.
Chapter 11: Picturesque
What a pretty image you two make...
“You’re staring again, my love.”
“Aye,” his voice was a soft drawl and she could sense the undercurrent of amusement to it, “I know.”
Surely enough when she looked up there was a soft smile on his face. His lips quirking up in that expression he held just for her and she found the image made more soothing by the firelight and shadows waltzing across his form. Arya gave him her own smile in return, a small soothing thing, that had a hint of shyness to go along with her light blush.
He chuckled and her shyness, blush and smile grew the slightest bit so she shifted her head to move her hair onto her face, letting it block some of what he could see from where he was contentedly leaning on the wall of their rooms while she sat near the fire on top of various furs and surrounded by pillows.
She felt her dress near her chest shift but before she could move to accommodate her new position Jon was already in front of her, one hand slipping beneath her curtain of back length hair to move it away from her face and drape it across her other free shoulder.
“Now that’s better.”
“You’re such a charmer.” She made sure that he could see her playful eye roll and gifted him a more charming smile when he trailed his lips from her forehead to the bridge of her nose.
“Only for you.”
She could feel his smile rise against her skin and that in turn caused her to gain her own. Arya pressed it against his neck as she nuzzled him, making sure to leave a trail with her lips from one side of his neck to the other that was only interrupted when she pressed brief, sweet, loving kisses in between her journey.
“Well….I guess it would be plural now.”
“Indeed.” She lifted her free hand to pull him down and against her, Jon easily folding his legs to half lie and half sit in a comfortable position in one smooth motion where he then silently opened his arm closest to her. Wordlessly she shimmied her way over until they were joined together at their sides, careful of the bundle in her arms nursing against her breast, half of her body laying against his; with his shoulder at her back and her head firmly resting against his neck. “It should be, my dear husband.”
The Stark princess turned her head to press her lips against his neck again before facing forward, letting his chin rest against the top of her head. She could feel his smile as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her even closer to him - if that was even possible - and she was sure he could feel her own smile as she relaxed against him, her head half resting against his shoulder and half against his neck where she could breathe him in.
“I love you.”
Their words were as synchronized as their hearts and so were their thoughts as they decided to stay like that for hours upon hours, talking while watching the roaring fire and the frozen landscape visible from the window mix together in their vision, moving only occasionally to better press their lips upon the other or to better give a caress, making sure to be always be mindful of their little pup shifting in their arms.
Nah, I doesn't actually bother me. I quite like that they're like that especially when other people might catch them in those moments (well I say catch but they might just do it unabashedly) and wonder if this is the same person.
Cold with strangers and even those known to them in a way but super warm towards each other.
Seriously, I write them in opposite sides of the room, I blink, and now they're in each others arms and I can't/won't change it because it just makes sense. I've written about this before but man these two would probably be so touchy with each other in their reunion given that they were already quite physically open with one another.
Maybe I should just write some pure, unabashed smut of these two? Here or in a separate story.
In other news this gave me an idea where I show them being their sickeningly sweet touchy selves from the pov of other sources.
Anyways you get two simultaneous chapter releases because:
This one is quite short
I've been inspired
I wanted to and I like your support so consider this a thanks. Also have another reason but that will be explained more in the next chapter's notes.
About the story: nothing complicated, just some fluff.
Chapter 12: A Coat of Gold (Jon/Arya/Myrcella)
Some things to keep in mind:
- Modern AU
- Jon, Arya and Myrcella have been friends since a looooong while
- They're really close
- Jon and Arya are a couple. Everyone knows this.
-They're in Myrcella's flat.
-They're from old, rich, important families hence the usage of princesses. All of them may or may not be actual royalty in this setting backstory.
- Hope you have fun and enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“What does a kiss feel like?”
Both her companions shot her confused looks from where they were lazing against each other on the other side of her couch.
“ ‘Cella...you’ve been kissed before.” Spoke up Jon, his voice only having the slightest amount of confusion present in it.
If you knew him well enough to detect it, that is.
“You’ve also been the one to initiate it.” Arya added her two coppers in, her hands stopping their grazing of her unofficial husband’s (for all that she said otherwise) hair, “...Are you feeling alright?”
She rolled her eyes at that before focusing her gaze on both her most important people in this whole wide world; Arya was behind Jon, her hand still paused in its grazing motion while she looked at her. Jon was resting his head comfortably against her shoulder, lazing in her embrace with one hand intertwined with Arya’s free one that she had wrapped around him. His gaze focusing on her instead of remaining in their content, half opened state as they were before.
Two pairs of grey eyes of differing shades looked at her and she couldn’t help the color that rose from her cheeks at their intensity.
“It’s not that.” Myrcella began as she got up from her own laid down position. Her legs rising up to cover her front, bare feet planting themselves on the couch as she rested her chin on her knees and her arms wrapped themselves around them, the TV and movie they were watching together forgotten for the moment.
“It’s like...” She gestured wordlessly to them, ignoring the feeling of her loose crimson sweater as it slipped from one shoulder, her wrist rotating in small circles while she couldn’t find the right words to describe her meaning in that moment. Their eyebrows rose in unison, waiting patiently for her to find the words she needed.
“There!” She exclaimed causing both of them to blink and further frown in confusion.
“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” She pointed at them with one finger and in her excited gesturing a few strands of gold hair came loose from her bun and into her face causing the emerald eyed girl to unconsciously blow them away and tuck them behind one ear with her free hand when they came back again.
“First,” Arya began slowly and wordlessly Jon moved up to sit properly, the short haired girl mimicking his motions soon after. Well, until they glued themselves together again, as Jon slung his arm across the back of her couch while it was Arya’s turn to lean her head on his shoulder, “Put that finger down already. You’re going to poke someone’s eye out and we’re supposed to be the fencers here.”
She stuck her tongue at her for that, causing the dark haired girl to blow her a kiss and the similarly dark haired boy to chuckle at their antics, but she complied all the same.
Smoothly picking up from they left off it was the sole male in the room to continue the inquiry and Myrcella internally rolled her eyes and chalked one more tally up to her mental scores labeled ‘proof’, ‘signs they’re getting married soon’ as well as a few others.
“What did,” he repeated her motions with his own arm, “All this mean, ‘Cella?”
“It means; you two.”
“Us?” They parroted and she didn’t care if they would tease her about it later, she pointed at them again while she smiled as if she had won something.
“Yes, you two. I mean you get along great, your disagreements are resolved one way or another, you spend loads of time together-”
“We could say the same in regards to all of us.”
She ignored Jon’ interruption for the most part, though she did give a small nod to acknowledge that point before continuing as if she wasn’t interrupted, “-And you finish each others sentences regularly.”
“Sooo...” She mimicked Arya, gaining her a light glare for her sense of humor, “My point is; I know how a kiss feels like or what giving a kiss is like but...well...sometimes I wonder what it’s like for you guys.”
They blinked at that and she saw that her point might be getting through to them so she continued, “You two are basically all but married and I doubt it will be much more before it happens officially,” The golden haired girl continued though she privately filed away the look on their faces to chuckle at later as she continued, “You’re so sweet to one another, you have each others back, you have this...connection between the two of you and so much more. So I can’t help but wonder what you feel when you kiss.”
Her hand came up to brush the strands of her hair from her forehead again and this time she decided to redo her bun.
“I don’t really think I know what a kiss feels like. A real kiss like the both of you share so easily all the time.” Myrcella completed Arya’s thought while she finished up her bun, deciding instead to keep it loose.
Jon and Arya fell silent and now more then ever Myrcella wished she knew what exactly was going on through their minds, especially when they turned to face each other directly and started to have their own little silent private conversation. Finally they nodded to each other and she let her confusion show as they stood up together to walk from their side of the couch to hers, to stand in front of her, side to side.
“Do you trust us?”
“Of course I do Jon. What kind of question is that?”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her intensely the same way Arya had been doing. They glanced at each other, held the gaze for two seconds more and nodded once again, leaving her feeling more confused then ever before.
It grew when each extended one of their arms to her and she let them know how she felt with her own questioning gaze in her emerald eyes.
“Take it.” They said and gave her the same grin, white teeth with sightly longer than normal canines showing through their lips, and at that moment it brought to the forefront of her mind how attractive they both were and how many would be suitors despaired at their lack of chance. “We won’t bite.”
She stared at them and slowly she extended both her arms to lay one of her hands in each of their palms while she braced herself for the inevitable tugging.
It came, only not the way she thought. Instead of playfully tugging her to her feet like they were all fond of doing to each other they raised her up, gently, carefully and she was so taken aback she didn’t realize she was pressing herself against both their fronts until several seconds had passed. She began to move away from them only to feel two sets of hands against each of her hips preventing her from doing so and her gaze snapped to their eyes.
“ ‘Cella,” Began Arya and there was something in her tone that made minute shivers travel across her spine, “You know that you’re the most important person to both of us, besides each other, right?”
“Yes?” Her tone was confused but there was a place in her mind that had an inkling as to what was going to happen, and that little thought she had was making her heart speed up bit by bit.
Jon’s hand raised to hover over her face yet he didn’t follow through with the action. Emerald stared into dark grey before she shifted her gaze onto Arya’s lighter grey eyes. They didn’t hold any jealousy in them, no hesitation or second thoughts, the only thing present in her face was a small smile that she gained when Myrcella looked at her.
“You can say no.” Arya spoke up, her voice soft and relaxed as she stared directly at her given their similar heights, “We won’t mind, we won’t feel offended, we won’t force you to do so.”
The Lannister daughter licked her suddenly dry lips and then tried to fight her increasing blush as both their eyes darted down to her lips. “I know. I know you won’t...but...”
The Stark princess’ arm was slug across her lover’s lower back, hand resting on his hip casually and her temple brushing his shoulder while he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and his other arm still hung in the air before her.
“We told you ‘Cella,” his fingers twitched, probably from the strain of keeping it up for so long to prove a point so she decided to help him a bit by cupping his larger hand in between her own smaller ones and both of them gave her such soft smiles then that it warmed her insides up immediately, “We care about you, A Lot, and we know you do too.”
“So this is okay,” continued Arya and she slowly moved her own free arm forward, until she saw that her golden haired friend did nothing to stop her motions and so finished bringing her hand to rest just above her hip at the dip of her waist, “Just for you.”
Emerald stared at two pairs of grey for what seemed like minutes but if she could concentrate past her pounding heart and rushing blood she could figure out it was a few seconds at most. Finally with a small nod and a brief kiss to Jon’s fingers that were peeking out from between her hands she let him go and tilted her head to the side in silent permission.
“When I look at Arya...” He began, his hand cupping her red face, causing her to let out a soft gasp. His cool hand felt pleasant against her warm cheek.
“...I feel my blood thrumming through my veins and my heart drumming to an unheard song...” Said girl continued, tightening her fingers on her waist and pulling the sole blonde closer to them until she was pressed flushed against them, each half of her body against half of their own.
“...And every time I look at her,” His hand was a slow caress that trailed down towards her neck and the Lannister princess couldn’t help but let out a visible shiver when his fingertips brushed against the nape of her neck, “It’s as if...”
“I’m looking at a gift,” Arya’s hands snaked from her waist to her lower back resting there to trace formless patterns on top of her sweater yet she could feel it as if she was touching her bare skin, “So every time I look at him...”
“...Every time I get closer to her...” Putting words into action his face got closer to her own and in between the fuzziness that started to play across her mind she realized Arya was mimicking his gesture.
“...When I stare at her lips...” His breath brushed along her jaw.
“...When I see the expression in his eyes...” Her lips briefly trailed along her flaming cheek.
“...And I take it all in...” Jon pressed a peck onto her temple and she couldn’t help the small gasp that let loose from her mouth.
“...It just makes me...” Arya nuzzled her other temple with her nose before pressing her own peck onto it.
Together they trailed their lips down until she could feel both their breaths ghosting against her ears, their hands flexing on her nape and back. Her eyes she realized had become half closed at some point and her lips had parted the slightest bit to let out a soft sigh of anticipation. Wordlessly, she tilted her head up, baring her neck to the both of them and though they were hovering near her skin she could still feel their slowly blossoming smiles as if they were pressed against her.
They closed in on her and Myrcella finally realized that the only thing she couldn’t feel was her hands, which were closed into fists and hanging empty upon her sides. So as their lips touched the shell of her ears and made her shiver once more she brought her arms up to wrap around them tightly and let out a pleased sigh as they breathed against her, twin hot breaths ghosting along her skin affecting her more then she ever thought was possible in this already unlikely situation.
And this time when she let out a sigh from her parted lips, when she tightened her hold on their clothes in her white knuckled hands, when she accepted the sensations in her heart and mind to mix with her pounding blood that made her shiver and develop goosebumps all over her body, it was entirely her choice to let it take her over when they breathed in unison those four little words onto her ears in similar rough breathy tones.
“...Want to unwrap it.”
She gulped and she felt one of them move downwards as they briefly separated their lips from her heated skin, so she raised her neck further upward to give them better access, only to come face to face with Jon’s lips as they hovered over her own. The Lannister daughter gave into the urge to lick her dry feeling lips and felt a further thrill shoot up her being when his gaze darted down briefly to follow the motion before returning to her eyes, looking darker then before.
He sounded so pained to say it but she knew that all she needed to do was say no and he would separate himself in an instant, wouldn’t go through with it if she wished it even now. Distantly she noticed that Arya hadn’t returned her lips to her neck and if she concentrated enough she could also feel her hovering against her neck, likewise waiting for her answer.
She looked at him, directly into his stormy eyes, red faced and nearly panting, her hair falling against his knuckles as it once again came free but this time from their ministrations. Resolutely she loosened her fists so she could trail her fingertips up along their bodies until she reached her destination; to cup the back of their necks and bury her fingers in the mess of hair she found there.
She swallowed, both for the need and to give her time to gather the words in her mind.
“Don’t you like your present?”
His smile turned predatory, an edge of wildness seeping through its normally icy calm, and she knew Arya had her own mirror one even though she couldn’t see it and it only served to heighten her anticipation along with their next whispered words.
Lips met her own, lips met her neck and all she could do to ground herself was bury her hands further in their hair and tighten her hold on their necks. The initial kisses were rough, an almost bruising contact but they soon mellowed out into a calm pressure, moving along her lips and neck in delicate motions. Just as if they were opening a present she thought distantly; eager to get her hands on it when first showed followed by delicately being opened and gaining momentum again as the anticipation built itself up.
Her veins were fire, her mind raced like lighting in its intensity and a cold calm settled underneath it all that kept her from loosing herself completely that let her truly enjoy this.
They kissed so good and that was as far as her thoughts went before she focused on his lips, taking in the sensation as they danced with hers, gently prying hers open, unwrapping her in their quest to deepen the kiss. Drawing pleased sounds from deep in her throat, sounds she had rarely made with just a kiss.
Distantly she took note that Arya had moved to lay gentle pecks at the nape of her neck, her hand unconsciously following her to keep the girl in her grasp. Her stray wondering thought of what would this be like if they had just continued to roughly open their gift made it better.
She didn’t know how much time passed after that, all she knew was that eventually her lungs burned but she didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to let go.
But she needed to and Jon knew it too.
They separated and in between her panting breaths she still wished that it wasn’t a requirement and to her heart’s happiness it wasn’t long before her lips were occupied again…yet...it wasn’t the same sensation as before; it was different but still so pleasant. It took her a few heartbeats to realize it was Arya that she was kissing this time with Jon behind her trailing his lips against the back of her neck.
Then the thrill came back, the mix of feelings she was experiencing with these two right now surpassing anything she had ever felt before.
Myrcella sighed into Arya’s mouth and let out a muffled groan against her lips as she felt Jon tighten his fingers around her hips. She took the chance at her briefly returning focus to wrap one arm around the Northern girl’s neck, making full use of their similar heights, while she simultaneously pressed herself back against Jon and pulled him against her, wrapping her small hand as much as she could against Jon’s forearm until both of them were pressed flush against her once more.
The Lannister let out a mix of a sigh, groan and pant as she felt them lay their hands on each of her hips and intertwine them there. She separated briefly to tilt her head back and let out an appreciative groan into the air as Jon trailed kisses along her nape to her bare shoulder, letting out one final sigh before diving back into loosing herself with Arya. She gave the girl a brief teasing lick, meeting her half lidded eyes with her own before licking into her mouth again.
Myrcella let out a disappointed noise when she felt Jon pull away from her, ignoring her attempts to keep him against her, and the noise doubled when she felt Arya do the same.
She should have known that they would be such teases.
She let a pout form on her face and both the pair appreciated how she looked like right now; with red kiss swollen lips, glazed emerald eyes and ruffled golden blonde hair. Though she noticed the way they looked at her as they stood side by side again, the want in their gaze, they merely smiled at her with the barest of teeth showing through their lips.
Her pout increased.
They chuckled and drew her into their arms intermittently gifting her such sweet little pecks, each taking their turn one one after the other, before she finally buried her head where their shoulders touched, stretching her arms as far as she could so she could hug them both. Both of the so called wolves reciprocated her action, surrounding her in their arms and simultaneously placing lingering pecks to the top of her head, causing her to smile against their shoulders.
“So...” Began Jon and naturally Arya continued, “...How does a kiss feel like?”
Myrcella chuckled, deep and long, her voice coming out so different then usual. She hugged them tighter to her and tilted her head from one shoulder to the next to look at them in turns.
She then took a step back to be able see the both of them, her chin tucking itself demurely in an unconscious action towards her chest and looking up at them with wide, innocent looking, shining emerald eyes from beneath her golden lashes.
“I don’t know,” she began, coyly biting her still wet bottom lip for their benefit, “Maybe we should try some more to make sure it wasn’t a fluke?”
Her smile turned impish and she tilted her head to the side causing her long hair to come loose from where it had admirably held for as long as it could to tumble along her front and back.
“You know,”she gave them a slow blink, “Just to be sure?”
I kinda, really enjoyed writing about Jon, Arya and Myrcella together the last time.
...And then I thought about it more, and I liked it more...and then...
I may have written a few ideas down where they're close friends and/or all of them are in a relationship.
I may also have gotten the urge to write more about that possible story of Arya in an academy with Jon as her older beau studying and/or working elsewhere.
I also has nothing to do with wanting to write about Arya in a school uniform, leaning against a wall, smiling while looking up at college student Jon standing in front of her where he may or may not be doing the stereotypical thing in such a situation and have one hand firmly placed up above and to the side of her head and smirking at her.
Jon/Arya sure make things fun.
Speaking of; if you haven't checked it already go and read:
Lipstick-smeared Lapses by Hyoushin.
It had a variation of Arya in a school uniform and since it was posted just when I was deliberating of this possible setting to write. I took it as a sign that I should in the future.
It's also somewhat smutty.
I mean, if I actually had the intention of writing it just for that.
Anyways, I actually don't know how I did with Myrcella's 'voice' (characterization). I looked her up in the wiki and what I knew from her but I'm still not sure if I captured her correctly. Probably gonna study up on her more since I'll be writing her more in the future.
Hope I did good, anyways.
Let me know what you think!
Chapter 13: Persuasion
Glad to see people enjoyed the OT3 last chapter, strange(?) as it was.
Rather, it seems it was unexpectedly popular?
I wonder if you received the notification that there were two chapter updates? Sometimes it has problems, from my experience. Hope you did.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“I’m rather worried that you’re so focused that you didn’t even pay attention to me. What if I had been an assassin with malicious intent?
He glanced up from the letter he was reading to shoot an amused glance at Arya standing in front of him.
“I heard your footsteps in the hallway and smelled the perfume you’ve taking to wearing lately when you came into the room, regardless that I didn’t hear a door opening.”
She seemed controlled enough, stoic, but even though she was a girl of five and ten now (nearly six and ten as she was lately fond of reminding him) that didn’t mean he still couldn’t read her as easily as when they were young so he noticed her flush and the slightest of fidgets she did in her otherwise perfectly straight posture before she more openly bit her bottom lip.
The downside to that was that it went both ways and no matter how much he tried to hide the way he swallowed or the fact that he tried to keep his gaze light she still picked up on it and that emboldened her even more.
“Something wrong,” Her voice was sweet and light but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the edge beneath it that was bidding it time to pierce him, “My dear cousin?”
“I kissed you just last week,” she said as she walked closer to the front of his desk, “When we were out riding in the forest and came to a stop I took your face to cradle in my hands and kissed you fully on the lips.” She stopped to plant her hands on her hips and give him a pointed glance before continuing, “You reciprocated, fully I might add, since we ended up kissing for more than an hour and with me sitting upon your lap during all that time.”
He stared at her and judging by the way her lips twitched upwards he figured his gaze had darkened, a fact that she had always commented on in one way or another.
Slowly Arya plucked the letter from his still hands before neatly folding it and placing it one side of his desk as was proper. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she placed her hands on his desk and gracefully rose into the air in a handstand with a flex of her arms and then came down to land in a sitting position in one smooth motion at the edge of his desk, regardless that she was in a blue and grey dress.
“Just two days prior,” her voice turned soft but not because she was winded or out of breath, he knew what that was like and this was not it, “It was you who kissed me when we were in my chambers sharing a flagon of wine and just talking, you who cupped my cheek with all the love in the world and gently pushed me down onto my bed.”
Her hand rose to cup his cheek and though he moved minutely backwards he couldn’t bring himself to escape entirely. Neither was Arya willing to let him go that easily as she moved to follow him, small of a movement as it was, and stroke his cheek with her thumb, “It was you who held onto my waist and kissed me with all the gentleness of the world while hovering above me, pressing me softly against the bed,” her thumb moved down until it ended up against his lips and he couldn’t help his selfish desire to press a lingering kiss to the pad of her thumb while he never once broke his gaze from her blushing face, “And it was I that held onto your shoulders while you did so. Keeping you flushed with me and helping to prolong it as much as we could.”
Left to right and right to left her thumb moved and it only stopped at one corner of his mouth after he softly pressed his teeth to her finger in a playful bite.
It was her turn to swallow, “What changed Jon? Why have you been ignoring me?”
“You know why.”
“Is it so bad?” She asked, her face twisting in a way that made him want to clear the sadness there, “I won’t mind accepting you. I won’t turn you away. I know you Jon Snow, Jon Stark, Jon Targaryen and I know you won’t hurt me, can’t hurt me just as you’re the one man I can never hurt.”
She rose from her seated position, still cupping his cheek and pressing her thumb to one corner of his mouth and though Jon felt the need to rise and put some distance between them he wouldn’t run like some craven, he would face whatever issues he had head on even if it was dangerously close what they could end up doing.
Plus he knew it wouldn’t do any good, wouldn’t do anything. They were too close; they had the keys to each others hearts and they didn’t need to be near each other to use them.
She shimmied forward until their knees met. They stared at each other for a split second before she raised her knee, the skirt of her dress rising up with the motion to show a hint of pale creamy flesh until she pressed it firmly to one side of his legs then did the same with the other until she was straddling his hips and sitting on his lap.
Grey stared into grey, long brown hair framing her face and shoulders, her pale skin contrasting with the darkness of her hair. He wanted to kiss her neck and leave his marks there just as she had left marks on his, wanted to grasp her waist, wanted to peel off her dress, wanted to feast on her and see her lying in his bed soaked in sweat and smiling a glazed smile just for him while she could barely think.
Because of him.
It was made all the worse when he noticed Arya’s eyes flicker to the door of his bedchamber.
But he didn’t. He wouldn’t loose himself so easily.
Jon settled instead to move his mouth onto her palm, brushing his lips against the skin there before laying a soft kiss upon it, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it.
He felt her fingers twitch against his cheek, felt her hot breath as she let out a controlled sigh, felt her blood rush in her veins against his lips, felt the weight of her stare.
“Arya...” His voice came out as a croak that evened out as he said her name, “You’re near six and ten-”
She cut him off before he could finish, already knowing what he was going to say, “I don’t want them Jon.”
“You get along well with a number of them.”
“As friends.” She moved her hand downwards to cup his neck, “We’re also friends Jon, the best of friends, but also so much more.”
“And that’s the heart of the matter isn’t it?”
She blinked at his words, “You think…?”
“I’ve thought of it and so have you.”
“I have,” she acknowledged with a slow nod but never faltered in her next words, “A long time ago when I was still a girl, when this was still so new, when we were fighting a war and after it seemed I lost you more times than I could count for a variety of reasons.”
She paused and then her hand drifted even lower, under his clothes to rest on the bare skin on top of his heart while her face got closer, “Just as you felt once before. No one else has gotten our attention the way we captured each others. That’s why we still remain unwed despite what we tell each other, despite what we tell the realm and those who would want more from us then mere friendship or those who offer their hands.”
His face was still, he kept his breath and heart controlled, even as she brought hers closer until she was brushing his forehead with her lips.
His voice came out as steady as he could make it, “We’re passionate towards each other most of all Arya, sometimes it could even blind us.”
“But it won’t ever fade,” she parried his words and struck at the core like the water dancer she was, “Not in a year or seventy. It may blind our actions when it comes to one another but never towards each other.”
She pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiled as she felt his heart speed up slightly against her fingertips and then gifted him another kiss, “I’ll accept you Jon, here and now. On your bed,” she murmured before pressing another kiss slightly further to the right of the previous one, “On mine, in this chair, on this desk,” another kiss, “In the forest, in the plains, in the lake,” another one, “In this castle, in Winterfell, in Sunspear, wherever we may be,” she reached his temple and let out a sigh and then another after she ground her hips against his, “In our rooms, in an abandoned room, in the forge or buried in the hay near the stables.”
Down and down she went, trailing kisses along his face until she reached his ear and finally stopped to press her lips there.
“Arya...” He sighed against her, for her…
“Why are you hesitating Jon? You won’t hurt me. I won’t regret this. I’m already going to such lengths for you and will continue doing so, so why are you hesitating?”
She bit his ear playfully, like a wolf might do to its sibling when they played, “You’re not a bad person, you’re not honorless, you’re not a wretched bastard from the stories. You’re Jon, my Jon; the one I looked up to and still do, the one who took care of me and still does, the one who talked to me and loved me above anyone else, who does so even now, the most brave and honorable man I know besides Father, the one who I always thought of when I felt the most despair and thought no one would ever want me.” He felt her tongue brush his skin as she licked her lips, “None but you.”
Arya separated briefly, taking her hand away with her and letting him see her flushed cheeks, her glazed eyes that shined with restrained emotion, wet lips that were in a soft smile before she snaked her hand under his shirt to once again rest above his heart before she pressed herself fully flushed against him, front to front, in one smooth motion. Her lips returning to their previous position against his ear.
“Why are you hesitating Jon?” His heart sped up a bit, he could feel as well as hear the smile on her lips, “Why are you hesitating cousin? Do it.” He could feel her moving, pressed as close as she was, could decipher every action even though he couldn't directly see it; her neck craned up, her smile turned mischievous and her next words were a half sigh into his ear and half into the air, “What’s wrong big brother? Why are you hesitating?”
His heart skipped a beat, then another and then sped up. He could feel Arya’s pleased smile as she buried her face into his shoulder that she had finally cracked him, her laughter only confirmed things.
He surged to his feet, keeping her close to him with a firm grip and causing her to grasp onto him tightly. She let out a gasp at the motion and then another deeper one when he almost slammed her onto the table if not for his arms caging her in his protection.
She still smiled up at him but with a new edge to it, a new emotion lurking underneath as her hands let go of their clinging grip to come up and frame his face.
“Jon,” Arya stared into his eyes, those dark grey eyes engraved in her memory that looked like smoked trapped under clear ice, that were normally cool with patience but now the smoke flowed like a river and there was a fire underneath that was coming to the forefront, that made her own heart speed up to match his, that caused her to smile so as to fan those flames underneath the ice, “Your Targaryen side is showing.”
He brought his face closer to her own and no matter how small the motion, how controlled she tried to be he saw it all; he saw her pink lips part, saw her chest rise and fall, saw her breath hitch, her pink tongue peek itself briefly from between her lips before deciding to not come out and he felt her fingers twitch against his cheek.
“Then what does that make you?”
His fingers clenched briefly against her legs, steaming breath left his lungs to caress her face and his tongue passed over his teeth as he swallowed one final time.
She blinked even as her blood throbbed with the way the words were said.
His face got closer.
“Say it Arya.”
Her mind cleared enough to connect the dots underneath the heavy swirling emotions and her smiled turned girlish as she got closer to her goal.
She tugged him even closer until they were almost brushing their lips to one another and then said the words he wanted to hear, “I love you Jon.”
“I love you.” She pressed a kiss against the tip of his nose
“I love you.” One against his chin.
“I love you.” A lingering one against one corner of his mouth.
“I love you.” And then one against the other corner, lingering even more.
She rested her lips against his and each of her next uttered words brushed their lips delightfully against one another, “I. Love. You. Jon.” She gave him a peck, firmly pressing their lips together before lightening the pressure just as quickly, lightening but never separating, “I love you Jon.” Another peck, “With all my heart.” Another one, “With all my soul.” Another “With my very being.”
She pressed her lips more firmly against his and spoke her next words so softly, so firmly, so lovingly, so that they may sink into his very being, “I love you more then anyone else.”
He nudge her forward and unhesitatingly she gave into the sensation until she was leaning back and pulling him along with her, their lips never moving apart from each others, “I do too my little wolf.”
This time it was her turn to receive his kiss and she did so willingly, “I love you Arya.”
“I love you so much.” Jon kissed her then; slow, soft and hard and then every combination he could think of and he only pulled away when he felt her chest really struggle for breath.
She gave him a small pout which he quickly kissed away until she was giggling against his face and nuzzling her nose to his.
She answered without hesitation, without any doubts and both smiled freely against each other’s lips with their eyes closed in delight.
“Aren’t you going to take me to bed?”
He chuckled, deep and rough and the sound brought shivers along her spine and onto the ends of her limbs.
“Not in the way you think.”
She nipped the side of his jaw for that, “You tease.”
“You like it.”
A pause and then a shy nod further accentuated from the heat he could feel coming from her cheeks.
He could feel her gaze and sure enough when he half opened his eyes he saw her staring at him with lidded eyes and an amused smile.
“You won’t make it.”
“I can be very stubborn, my love.”
Her cheeks reddened further at the name but her expression didn’t change, “You’ll crack, dear husband.”
“I can be very patient when need be,” he gave a small lick to the corner of her mouth then a peck to the now darker shade of pink of her lips, “And look at it this way; we’ll let the anticipation build, almost to the breaking point, we’ll play our little games just like now.”
He pressed his nose against hers, playfully nudging it and reveling when she gave a rather dry swallow at his next words and tone, “Then I’ll have no problem going through your little list and let’s be honest with each other as we always are Arya; we’ll be adding to it.”
“You’re horrible.” Her words were ruined by her tone and smile.
He chuckled again as he picked her up, easily carrying her in his arms like the princess she was and Arya instinctively laid her head against his shoulder.
“Just for you.”
…I have no idea where this came from.
Rather; I wanted to use the “Jon, your Targaryen side is showing.” line in a comedic angle since I figured Jon and Arya seems like they would tease the other, even in this way since they’re already so free and open with each other, but then it transformed into this when I started writing.
I think the various variables and potential twists that could happen is one of the reasons people write fanfic. The character interactions, character/plot exploration, the choices taken or not, etc.
So here is one; Jon seems like he would try to control himself due to his personality and backstory, I think he already has a mean poker face which he only lets down when he’s comfortable around someone (to what degree varies) or someone is so close to him that they pick up his little tells. It could also be that his death and revival would change him but perhaps even then he won’t go full wild or take a 180 in terms of character, he may still try to have restraints on himself.
I tried to hint it like that in this chapter as well as being due to his own (past canon) insecurities and his current insecurities. Both Jon and Arya are a focal point for each other; they could rein each other in or draw the other out, I think.
I also tried to write the dialogue in a way that shows how in tune they are with each other (them picking up the full meaning behind the words even if they’re few, etc).
You still get teasing, you still get fluff, it just became a bit more serious than what was initially intended.
I plan to explore that possibility (Jon restraining himself) in future chapter(s?).
As always I hope you enjoyed my attempts to bring more romance to the Jon/Arya ship as well as my exploration of various variables.
Hopefully one day I’ll get to the point that people will remember this fic even way down the line (in a good way), as well as help inspire people to ship these two (or three), to create some artwork and/or story about them, to want to re-read this fic (perhaps even multiple times), as well as recommend it to others, even if its some specific chapters instead of the whole.
And of course the basic: create an enjoyable/entertaining story that people like.
Well, those are just some of my goals anyways.
Her name was Joanna and she was an ordinary barmaid, just like one would find from the Sunset Kingdoms all the way to Asshai.
She served drinks, she got coin, she swerved from wandering hands and sometimes slapped them away.
Sometimes she also had to slap the owners of said hand or more.
She also learned a jumble of things, every time it was her turn to work, from the drunk patrons with too loose tongues or not low enough voices.
Sometimes it was boring, sometimes interesting and sometimes neither.
Regardless she always pondered it when she walked her way home in the cool nights, passing Bravos looking to duel and courtesan plying their trade whether on the roads or by barges.
This merchant made this trade, this one slept with this one’s wife or daughter, this Bravos won this duel...
Very boring common chatter.
Sometimes there would be news from outside the city and it would likewise vary.
This merchant from so and so wanted to trade this and it would be a good deal, this Targaryen exile was conquering those disgusting slaver cities…
All rather common or going to a wild imaginary tale from one moment to the next.
And sometimes it would be more grounded in reality and easier to believe.
The ‘War of Five Kings’ as those Westerosi savages call it rages on, the poor youngest Stark daughter married to the monster of the north…
All rather common tales.
Strange? Did she suddenly get afflicted with it? Oh well, it was a minor annoyance at best and the cool salty air on her cheeks would help her get rid of it in due time. Though perhaps it would be best to hold her breath for a while to help deal with it, Joanna certainly thought it would be appropriate.
Now what was that other tale she had heard? The one before she suddenly hiccuped?
In the Northernmost kingdom and further up to the edge of the world where they called ‘The Wall’…
Joanna let out her breath, and through her stinging eyes from holding her breath she was relieved to note that her unexpected bout of hiccups was gone.
...The one who leads the men there, the so called Lord Commander…
Her throat felt tight, she really should have let her breath out sooner but she really wanted to be sure that her hiccups would be gone.
...Was stabbed and killed by his own men…
Joanna tripped on smooth road.
That was strange, she was normally more graceful. Nothing like a Water Dancer-
-After all where would she get a sword?
From her favorite brother.
That was silly, Joanna had no brothers only two other sisters.
She was glad she made it to her apartment. She might be coming down with something what with the sudden case of hiccups and her tripping on nothing.
Joanna certainly thought so.
She climbed the steps, with her suddenly and inexplicably trembling fingers and sudden jerky steps.
The black bastard at the wall…
She wondered about him for some strange reason.
...Stabbed by his own men...
How would such a man be?
How would he look like?
She was halfway over to her door when she felt a sudden and inexplicable sorrow for such a man.
It was a strange thing to feel, for someone you didn’t even know how they looked like – Tall and handsome with dark brown hair that curled at the ends, that caught snowflakes in its tips, with grey eyes that shined when he saw her – for someone who could have been a wretc-
Joanna paused as she turned the doorknob, cocking her head to the side. The smell of salty air still firmly in her nose and on her cheeks.
Silently, Joanna turned the doorknob, entered, closed it and locked it.
It was empty like it always was, she found she rather liked it this way.
She wondered how the Lord Commander would have liked Braavos, for some strange reason, as she decided to freshen up.
Would he have liked it?
A boy that smiled rarely, except at her, she always made him smile, just like he did to her.
Would he have enjoyed the Water Dancers and their craft? Probably not, he was Westerosi and they understood-
No. He would have. He would have been eager to learn and he would have excelled, just like he always did in the yard.
- Perhaps he would be taken with the courtesans just like all men were -
Jon would have resisted, too mindful of his place or his perceived lack of, of accidentally having his seed take root in some girl and cursing his offspring with his bastardy.
- Maybe he would have enjoyed being here with her.
Joanna paused, the last of her clothes hanging on her fingers before she also discarded that.
What a strange thought.
She paced to the small looking glass in the washroom before seating herself before it and starting to clean herself.
Would Jon have enjoyed Braavos?
He would have enjoyed the freedom, the sights, the smell, the wind, the duels.
She wondered what he would have liked, as she dipped the rag and brought her trembling fingers along her body.
He would have been the greatest of the Bravos - even though he would have never walked like a puffed up peacock - perhaps even become the First Sword of the Sealord in no time at all.
Jon would have worn black and whenever some fool thought he could beat him Jon would prevail.
He could have been a sellsword, the greatest of them all, winning battles all over the Free Cities from here to Slaver’s Bay.
The rag crumbled in her grasp and her fingernails tore through it.
He would have outsmarted his foes, outmaneuvered them. Would have won their hearts and minds when he would have slain his past demons with his new found freedom.
Perhaps he could have been a different Lord Commander, one to the sellswords, maybe one of his own creation, maybe the Golden Company, maybe the Company of the Rose.
Her Jon was strong, her Jon was smart and graceful with a hidden tongue of Valyrian Steel and a lithe figure.
He could see through every lie the way no other could.
So why didn’t he see through his own men’s betrayal and die?
The wash pan nearly shattered as she threw it with all her might against the wall.
She saw herself in the looking glass, arm outstretched, sun kissed skin flushed red (Strange, the water wasn’t that hot?), her chest rising and falling deeply (Maybe she needed to see a healer?) and a hint of something swimming under her gaze.
Her hands came up to her face and cupped it, her hot breath erratic and broken, ghosting over her fingers.
Wrong, like there was something underneath her skin.
...The Lord Commander…
The tall, handsome, brave, lithe, unstoppable…
She grasped strands of her wet hair in a sudden bout of frustration. Sh- Joanna had been stressed lately.
...Was trying to save his little sister-
Little sister, he always used to muss her hair.
- From the Monster of the North, her husband. She had escaped -
She would have killed him before escaping, like the disgusting Bolton that he was.
- and sent a letter to the wall -
Her nails dug into her cheeks, leaving red trails looking like tear marks but it wasn’t enough, the crawling sensation was still there.
- And then his men killed him. For a supposed betrayal -
Instinctively her hands went up to a specific point on her forehead.
- By Betrayal -
Jon would have slaughtered the oathbreakers in combat. Would have won no matter if it was one or multiple Knights, let alone untrained convicts.
- all for his little sister.
Joanna pulled and suddenly there were grey eyes staring back at her.
Grey like Jon’s, who shined with happiness when they saw her, just like she felt hers do when she saw him.
Grey like their father’s.
Teary Stark grey eyes looked at her from the looking glass.
Looked at Arya Stark through the pooling tears.
“...Jon.” She croaked out. Her voice broken and weak.
Her brother, her Jon, lying in a pool of his own blood on the snowy ground because he was trying to save her.
Except she wasn’t there in the North, with him, she was in Braavos warm and healthy while he died on the cold heartless snow…
The first sob broke through her throat.
...While he died alone and thinking he had failed her.
When she had failed him.
...And then there was no stopping the sobs.
“Jon...Jon...Jon...” She repeated over and over, like a prayer, like a spell but she was no red priestess to be able to bring him back from the dead, more so when on opposite sides of the sea.
Her eyes burned, her heart felt like it was ripped out, crushed and the remains shoved back into her chest.
Her mouth and throat felt as dry as Dorne despite her tears trailing down into her mouth.
Her veins felt like glass had wormed its way inside of them and no matter how much she curled into a ball in the washroom the pain didn’t go away.
No matter how much she cried and wailed and sobbed and broke, the pain didn’t go away.
And after who knows how many minutes, or hours, or days she felt a different sort of sensation within her broken body.
From within the broken and scattered remains of her heart and soul she felt a howling.
Her fingers tightened until her knuckles were white and she drew blood on her palms.
Gently at first but rising in crescendo.
She stood up on trembling weak limbs, with her hands supporting her legs.
And let the howling overcome her.
Dunsen, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei, Black brothers.
Valar morghulis, valar morghulis, valar morghulis.
Jon, her big brother.
Her Jon who forsook the chance to ever have the family he wanted because everyone else didn’t accept him, because he felt he needed to gain Honor when he thought he had none, when in reality he was one of the most honorable men she knew.
They killed him.
They broke their oaths.
They betrayed him.
Black Brothers of the Night’s Watch.
They need to die.
I wonder: Did I manage to make you feel something? Did I tug at your heartstrings? Or did it fall flat?
It is a challenge to somehow transmit your thoughts about the characters and how they're feeling into words, the depth of them and such.
Jon is constantly in Arya’s thoughts (and vice versa) and they really feel strongly for the other, regardless that it could be viewed as platonic or more.
But as seen with Jon that can also have dire consequences.
Arya finding out Jon died?
Arya finding out Jon was killed by his own men? By Oathbreakers?
People will die. No ifs and or buts.
Arya finding out it was ‘her fault’ that Jon died?
That’ll cause her to cry like never before until the rage would settle in and Liam Neeson stares in envy at the coming chase.
The writing is intentionally disjointed in places, switches in italicized are intentional, as well as the first part is her being compartmentalized before the news slowly breaks her mental walls.
Her thoughts of Jon are also highly biased in that she thought the world of him.
The mention of Black Brothers is likewise intentional, in contrast as to the Freys where even she admitted punishing them all would be a folly.
Not to say she didn't love her family, she did, but Jon was her last hope (Jon will want me even if no one else will) and as far as she knew her last surviving family member.
That should say something about her general emotions/rage/sorrow.
When she gets the chance to think about it, she should reach a similar position.
There are jokes where Jon will love Arya even though she’ll be covered in blood and will think her innocent.
I think this goes both ways.
Jon could hang a thousand Bolton men and slay hundreds upon a battlefield but while others might think him dangerous or savage Arya will still think the world of him.
After all this is the girl who thought; “She would not betray Jon, not even to their father.”
And to someone who viewed her father in rather high regard and thought him one of the few who understood her and genuinely cared for her that says a lot.
Someone getting in the way of that?
Well, to me it’s supremely difficult and not as easy as some think.
Through thick and thin…
Kinda like marriage vows, no?
“I must admit,” the unexpected voice made her hand falter mid motion but that was the only surprised action she allowed herself to show, “Whenever I see such a sight I get the tiniest bit jealous.”
Grey eyes tracked the silver haired Targaryen as she calmly walked her way towards the bed they were on, turning away only when she bent down to take off her boots and stockings, leaving her legs completely bare. Her hand once again resumed its previous combing motion, unceasing even when the bed dipped as the older woman laid herself comfortably on her side and began gazing at them after she propped her head on her raised palm.
The Stark princess ignored her, choosing instead to continue gazing at Jon’s sleeping face as she brushed her hand over the hair covering his forehead while his head rested on her lap.
“He seldom sleeps like that.”
Anymore, you unknowingly mean.
“I know.” She said aloud instead.
“Usually he’s always tense, always in a light sleep,” the words were coated with her distinctive foreign flair and spoken ever so softly with a note of soft fondness and sadness present in equal measures, “Always waiting for another dagger.”
– hidden – hand grasped the bed sheets, “I know.”
“The only time I can get him to sleep like that is whenever we both wear ourselves out after some passionate love making.”
Her hand stopped – again – and with a put upon sigh she brushed his hair one last time to the side before turning to meet the silver brow quirked up above the violet gaze boring into her.
“What do you want?” Arya asked flatly. Her patience already running thin when she just wanted some simple peace and quiet with her favorite boy.
Daenerys ignored her glare, choosing instead to respond to her in an equally blunt tone, “Bed him and make the marriage truly official already.”
Her own brow quirked itself pointedly upwards as she gazed at the other girl neutrally; she was determined to not let whatever she was feeling inside truly show.
“And what makes you think-”
This time it was her on the receiving end of a sigh as the silver haired woman in front of her got up to then sit with her legs crossed underneath her on the bed.
“Don’t play games with me Stark. You might fool others with your act but not me.” Another sigh followed by Daenerys slumping forward and laying her head on her upturned palms, somehow making it look elegant despite the action being anything but, “We are both married to him-”
“Really?! By the Seven Heavens! I had no idea!?” She raised her fingers up to her lips in mocking surprise though she still kept her tone low for Jon’s benefit, she wouldn’t let this fulfilling deep rest of his be chased away thanks to her nosy sister-wife, “You see I forgot all about the grand wedding ceremony when he took us as wives and the bedding that followed!”
The Targaryen before her snorted delicately, “What bedding? I certainly got one, you however did not.”
“He spirited both of us away. If you can’t remember then I’m sure you can ask all those Lords that still moan about how they couldn’t strip us.”
Her sister-wife rolled her violet eyes at her before giving her a flat gaze.
“It’s true I don’t have as much history as the both of you but that does not mean I do not know my husband and nephew.” She sighed again and Arya could see her briefly mulling her words over as she softened her face, “He would wait for you to be comfortable, wait for you to be older, more so when he learned how young his mother was with him.”
Her arm stretched the small distance to her husband’s sleeping face, enough so that she could run the back of her curled fingers along his cheek softly.
Arya suppressed the urge to twitch at said action.
“What worries you Arya?”
“Nothing.” Her words were intoned in a perfectly natural way.
Daenerys still gifted her with a flat look once more.
“Look,” the silver haired woman started once more as she scooted closer to her, “I can assure you that if you’re still a maiden-”
This time she did visibly twitch at the potentially implied slight (as well as what she suspected was more than a bit of hypocrisy) and made it even more obvious to the other party by glaring at her.
The violet eyed woman continued as if she was doing no such thing, “-then I can assure you, he’s good, he won’t hurt you. Even if you aren’t you’ll still enjoy it and he won’t care about it.”
The bitch had the gall to give her a pointed look after that.
“I’m still a maiden and I know he wouldn’t even if I wasn’t.”
“Wonderful,” she performed this single little clap that Arya was leaning towards believing that it was intended to be slightly mocking before leaning towards her, “Now lose it with him.”
Her glare turned harder and she very consciously had to restrain her voice into a soft snarl, “You don’t get to dictate what we do, despite us being sister-wives.”
“Is it because you want another lover? Or lovers?”
“There have been rumors about your supposed interest in that blacksmith as well as a few others, including that Dayne Lordling. Does your interest go towards them? Did you and Jon make a deal? Perhaps even with-”
Her next words got cut off with a brief (swiftly silenced) yelp as the younger of the two grabbed her by the nape of her neck to more easily bring their faces closer, their noses almost smashing into each other as the Stark girl all but snarled the words near the other’s lips.
“I am loyal to Jon. I am loyal to my husband. Never doubt it again.”
Grey and Violet glared at each other until with a small nod – but never breaking her solid gaze towards her – the older woman retreated slightly after Arya loosened up her grip, even if she didn’t move rather far.
Arya took it for the challenge that it was.
“My apologies. I never meant to imply anything awful or that you were being unfaithful; just that-”
“I know what you were implying,” she released an annoyed huff of breath at that before releasing a sigh a short while later to help bleed off the tension, “But even if he was the one to propose it I would never do it. I would never do that to Jon.”
“Because you love him.” Daenerys breathed out softly, seemingly being careful around this topic and of her, for the moment.
Softly she nodded her head and once again resumed caressing him along his hair for both their benefits.
“He’s had enough trials and worries. Enough of betrayals and hardships.”
“...I’m sure there are many Lords and Lordlings that will be disappointed in such news.” The other woman japed weakly.
Arya did nothing to hide her snort then and decided to take the peace offering instead of taking the words the wrong way, “They can choke on the rumors and wishes as well as drown themselves in their misguided desires and sadness along with their wine.”
A soft yet unmistakably amused giggle was her answer.
“You’re quite merciless.”
A roll of grey eyes was her answer, “I’ve had to deal with those rumors along with tales of Jon’s previous lovers just as I’m sure he’s had to deal with false stories of me and this lordling, squire or Gendry.”
She snorted again at that.
“I’m surprised we both haven’t ended up skewering someone for those.”
A brief hum of agreement danced in the air before she noticed the small pale hand approaching in the edges of her vision even before she felt it lay against her own hand that was cradling her husband’s cheek.
“Please don’t ruin the calmness that was just starting to settle over us.”
Daenerys continued as if she didn’t hear her, merely squeezing their hands.
“You are five and ten, almost six and ten.”
Her lips twitched downwards.
“Any other man-”
She snorted and then winced at the volume, guiltily looking down she was relieved that Jon just stirred a bit but didn’t wake up. She also felt worry begin to rise within her; ‘Just how tired was he?’
“Trust me Daenerys, I know.”
The bed shifted and she felt the older woman press closer to her, along with one of her arms swinging along her back in a loose one armed hug as well as her separating one of her hands from Jon’s face, despite her retaliatory light glare at her doing so, to grasp it fully in one of hers.
“I was three and ten when I was married to a Dothraki warlord. That didn’t change the wedding night.”
“Believe it or not I was actually shorter and smaller than I am now.”
The Stark girl couldn’t help it, she let out an amused sound at that. Her head bent down and at the edges of her vision through her loose hair she could see the smile the Targaryen woman was giving her.
“I do,” she really did but...”It’s still not that simple.”
“Oh? How so?”
“For one Jon is not some horse savage who prays on young girls,” she couldn’t be sure given that she wasn’t focusing her gaze on her but she thought Daenerys’ face twitched in some manner, “And we used to be siblings. To me he was my older brother. My favorite brother.”
She felt fingers on the side of her chin and after a second of resistance she let the other woman push her face towards her so she could see the questioning gaze she was giving her, “And?”
Arya let out a deep suffering sigh at that, “Figures the Targaryen wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t give me that excuse,” a pretty little scowl adorned her face for the first time since this unwanted conversation started and Arya felt some sense of amusement at it given how much the older woman always tried to behave like the ideal Targaryen Queen, “Besides I’ve seen your family tree; you’re in no position to judge me for marrying my nephew Stark.”
Violet eyes blinked then and it seems she realized the tone she was using because she visibly reigned herself in, “Now what’s the real motive.”
A scowl was her response, “I just told you.”
“No, you told me something fools would eat up.” Daenerys leaned forward and the loose silver hair falling along her face and back tickled against her own cheeks as the older woman brought their faces closer, the arm still around her tightening its hold as an amused smile blossomed on her face.
“Is it because you’re afraid you will enjoy it too much?”
Arya’s face was perfectly blank except the hastily raised brow, the perfect representation of shocked surprise while one was still trying to maintain control, “Wha-! How can you think-”
A joyous giggle left Daenerys’ pink lips, both her hands coming up to shield her mouth with her fingers spread, the action doing absolutely nothing to hide the laughing lips behind them while grey eyes glared at her. Her giggles resuming once again after a brief pause when she saw that Arya had covered their husband’s ears.
“Have you finally started to descend into the madness your family is known for?”
The other woman easily waved away her pointed retort, to her frustration, and her following glare did absolutely nothing to deter her as she once again scooted closer to her, this time pressing their sides fully together while she brought her lips near the younger girl’s ear.
“Love him a bit too much, do you now?”
Daenerys grinned unashamedly when all she received was a hard glare, merely propping her chin on Arya’s shoulder while she began to comb her fingers along her dark hair.
“That’s wonderful you know. Certainly more than was ever hoped for in this arrangement.”
She remained silent.
“You know...Given those glances of his he sometimes directs towards you, with increasingly more frequency I might add, he probably feels the same.”
Still more silence though the older of the two would later swear she saw her sister-wife’s lips twitch at least twice at those words.
“And it also certainly explains those glances you’ve been throwing him in the last year.”
The red cheeks the Targaryen saw bloom on the Stark girl caused her no small amount of glee.
“This certainly eases some things, no?”
The violet eyed woman returned her lips back to their earlier position, this time fulling pressing them to the shell of the other girl’s ear, “I can help, you know? Whether it’s advice or a more practical method.”
“Not what I meant when I said quiet.”
Her sister-wife continued regardless, “We need an heir Arya and despite our best efforts” the older of the two made no indication that she felt her thigh being pinched and likewise weathered the glare thrown at her while she continued speaking, “It seems we still haven’t had much luck for the moment.”
“And we were doing so well.” The Stark princess sighed, long and deep, and for the first time since the start of this unwanted conversation she let her chin drop to her chest instead of trying to be stubborn.
After a brief moment Arya felt the delicate fingers beginning to massage her neck and shoulders and she just let it happen.
“You’re also a Queen now Arya, as well as almost being of age,” her sister-wife reminded her with a soft tone while she just nodded once weakly in acknowledgment, “A woman grown.”
She let out a deep sigh and her hair curtained herself around her face as she leaned down even further, looking as if she was trying to touch her forehead with Jon’s.
“Again, I promise you’ll enjoy it – regardless of your silly hesitation at such a thing – and despite your lacking in the chest area,” calmly, Daenerys leaned herself back as Arya shot up to once again sitting straight and continued on as if she didn’t feel the other’s glare trying to burn her to ashes (or would it be freeze her solid?), “you still have quite some curves in all the other places a woman should. More than enough to enjoy the bedding and those hips of yours should help in the birthing of a child.”
She turned to meet the grey eyes narrowed at her and made quite the show of acting surprised before dropping it all together after a second to instead smile smugly at the Stark girl.
“There you are.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
Daenerys snorted at that, “Our relationship summarized.”
Arya frowned at her, “I don’t actually hate you.”
The look she got in return was telling enough that she didn’t believe her.
“I really don’t. I’m annoyed with you most of the time for a variety of reasons.” One of her shoulders raised in a halfhearted shrug, “And trust me; I’ve known hate.”
Words ceased between them then, the first true bout of silence since Daenerys had entered and started pestering her. She returned to gently running her fingers through his hair and intermittently massaging Jon’s temples as well as running her thumbs along his cheeks as she cradled his head. Her sister-wife meanwhile seemed to be deep in thought, her eyes unfocused as she held the younger girl in a loose one armed hug while she rested her head on her shoulder.
“He really is tired isn’t he?”
She nodded at the soft words and to her credit didn’t react in any of her usually instinctive responses when the hug became tighter.
“We need a vacation, more so the both of you.”
“We’re the regents, we don’t get vacations.”
A faint hum was her answer before she continued, “Then let’s section off a part of the palace at a certain time of the day and live in sin for a week.”
“You don’t give up do you Targaryen?”
Arya felt the peck on her cheek but apart from sliding her gaze to the other woman from the corner of her eyes she did nothing.
“I’m not very good at it, just like the both of you.”
With one last squeeze around her midsection and one last fond caress to along the side of Jon’s face the Valyrian Queen began getting up, sitting herself on the edge of the bed as she put back her stockings and laced up her boots.
“I’ll see about shifting Jon’s schedule, make it easier on him, and us too for that matter. I’m kinda worried since he’s usually sharper then this and while we were speaking in whispers most of the time it’s still rather strange.”
“I would appreciate it.”
She watched the back of the silver head bob in acknowledgment once before she got up after finished lacing up her remaining boot, elegantly rising up and walking towards the door.
Daenerys stopped just as she reached the door and turned back to gaze at her with a questioning look at her words.
“We’ve just finished talking about this?”
“You know that’s not what I’m referring too.”
Daenerys paused before she tilted her head to the side while she regarded her silently for several seconds before delicately shrugging in acceptance.
“Can’t I want a sister?”
“...I’m not a very good one.”
She smiled at her and Arya was at once irritated and happy at how it resembled the one Jon sometimes gave her.
“Jon and I would disagree with that. You’re a different type of sister than what is the norm but not a bad one. Goodnight Arya, I’ll leave our husband in your care for the rest of the night.” Saying so she opened the door and immediately fell into step with one of the Kingsguards standing outside.
In the following silence Arya could only let her thought’s swirl around her head as she bit her lip.
Finally, after several minutes and with a tired sigh she carefully moved out of her half seated position, rearranging the pillows and blankets as she did so, always being mindful of not waking her husband as she maneuvered herself until she laid on her side. Facing him comfortably she hugged him as she closed her eyes to finally try to sleep.
I’ve actually had this idea for a while, and consequently the urge to write this story out fully. This being a story where Arya, Dany and Jon end up married due to circumstances after the War with the White Walkers.
Things are not so easy and the story would focus on the journey as to how they would eventually fit together.
That said; for this one I don’t think it needs to have 50 external enemies as well as drama around every corner and an epic storyline that spans multiple chapters with hundred thousands of words to do so. If I were to write this story it would be (or I would try at least) to have it be in a more personal, intimate scale. External factors would certainly be a thing but not in a tangled web of conspiracies and lies kind of way.
Sometimes even the simplest of things tend to be the hardest, so in this case; understanding and helping the others involved in their marriage as well as their own personal hangups, demons, fears and regrets while easy in theory (Get along, in essence) would already be harder before factoring in other variables such as them being the King and Queens and needing heirs.
Or well, that would be the plan at least. Who knows how it would change once I write it, if any?
As for an explanation of this piece; Jon, Arya and Dany are married, they’re the current rulers of the Seven Kingdoms, they won the war and live together. They’re all happy in their own ways though there’s some friction; Arya and Jon’s growing attraction to each other and their struggles (or lack of) with that, Dany trying to have an heir, Arya and Dany sorta getting along/wanting to get along but not quite, etc. Some misunderstandings and a lack of communication that haven’t let them truly ‘fit’ together.
Sometimes things are not so easy but neither can they be as difficult as they seem.
“Where is Jon?”
The young feminine voice cut through the air clearly causing the group of men to stop what they were doing as they turned to look at the youngest Stark princess – except those who were half naked, those instead proceeded to begin to hastily cover themselves from their stripped state – whether it was cleaning their weapons from the gore of the recent battle or from taking swigs from their skins.
On the outside she made sure to keep her face perfectly neutral with a hint of friendliness showing through, letting nothing of her impatience show and absolutely refusing to acknowledge the deep, deep, buried thought that something horrible had happened. Instead, Arya settled for just rolling her eyes at them all internally.
“My cousin was assigned to lead you,” she began again, changing her wording and seeing if the extra time would let their memories return and they would stop gawking at her, “Where is he?”
Finally some Northern soldiers stepped up from between the mixed coalition against the Others, quickly bowing to her, the rest then following suit before she bid them all to rise.
“Princess,” they intoned in unison and then hesitated.
Dread started to crawl up her throat.
Judging by their startled expressions something had slipped in her mask.
“No, Princess! Nothing like that-”
“We’re sorry if we made you-”
“Our humblest apologies-”
She let the amusement of some near fifty men tripping over their words and each other in their haste to reassure her replace her dread.
For the moment that was.
They continued for a few seconds more before Nymeria let out a deep growl, Arya doing nothing to stop her as the men froze once again. Finally it was a pair of two Northern soldiers that stepped up, Nymeria’s eyes shifting to look at them as she bared her teeth in warning until Arya settled a hand upon her neck, quieting the huge Direwolf.
She raised a brow at them once they had regained their composure. “You two were part of the honor guard.”
They flinched, momentarily ducking their heads before raising them again, though she could still detect a slump in their shoulders.
“Aye Princess, we were.”
She remained silent and when they did not elaborate further her annoyance started to rise again.
“Artos, Rickard...” They visibly flinched when she called their names and so did the others when their turn came, “...I will ask again; Where is Jon?”
“...With the Maester, Princess.”
She nodded, making sure to keep a tighter leash on her emotions this time as she continued her questions. It wouldn’t do to jump to the most horrible conclusions and lash out at the men because of a misunderstanding, even if they were being awfully bullheaded in the first place. Arya was fully aware she was horribly biased with Jon and had a shorter fuse in regards to him.
“Was he injured seriously?”
This time another answered her question while still not being able to quite look her in the eye, “...He’ll need several stitches and some weeks of rest due to a particularly nasty slash...He was escorted to the Maester some moments ago...”
She held up her hand up and they immediately quietened.
“I am sure you did everything you could during the heat of battle and it would have probably been worse had he not had you by his side.” She gave them a small smile to reinforce her words and slowly they seemed to relax.
She still made sure to memorize their armor and anything particularly notable about them so she could do her own inquiries later, just to be sure.
“I will just have to visit him when Samwell Tarly is done patching him up.” The Stark princess gave them a formal nod along with a farewell, intending to see to other matters before paying Jon a visit but as she began turning around she noticed the slight shift in some of the men’s expressions.
She stopped before slowly turning back to them, Nymeria mirroring her actions and the soldiers expression cracked a bit once more.
“Is there something I should be informed of?”
Thankfully this time it was only a momentary pause, she was already starting to feel her her patience chaff once again.
“Maester Samwell was otherwise occupied helping the other wounded, princess.” One of the Reach born soldiers said before another from the Stormlands continued, “So another Maester had to take on the task of patching up the prince.”
“I see...and is this Maester known to us?”
“Not that I know, princess. He’s local,” continued the very same soldier, “I believe he wasn’t one that had been previously encountered.”
Arya paused, thoughts swirling in her mind for half a second before she nodded resolutely.
“Where is Jon being treated?”
Thankfully they were less hesitant this time whether due to the look in her eyes or in Nymeria’s or other reasons, she couldn’t say she cared to figure out right now. Quickly she made her way through tents and men in various states of order and chaos, she walked as fast as she could while still remaining seemingly natural, dodging conversations as swiftly as she could and returning greetings with a quick one of her own yet never stopping, even if she came across as rude for the moment.
Finally her objective was in sight and she unhesitatingly walked up to the entrance where two guards were posted at, thankfully they were those that she knew, so she made her intentions obvious by giving them a look.
In return they bowed but otherwise did not make a sound or bother her as she strode into the tent just in time to see the unknown Maester pick up a jar of some sort.
Jon was indeed there; half sitting, half laying with heavy bandages on his chest and staring right at her. He didn’t seem surprised to see her there, with her hastily put upon smile and slightly sweaty skin.
She ignored him for the moment, him and the bloody bandages that caused her own blood to freeze in her veins.
“Maester,” she called out while trying her hardest to keep her hands from impulsively twitching to one of her hidden daggers and throwing it at the unknown man, “I thank you for your service but I’ll take it from here. You may go to help the other injured present in the camp.”
The young Maester blinked, finally taking in her presence inside of the tent, before hastily bowing.
She smiled but before she could repeat her words Jon spoke up for her, “Yeren, you can go. She’s had the necessary training so I’ll be in good hands.”
Though Jon spoke to him he only gave the man a brief glance, choosing instead to have the majority of his attention on her.
The Maester evidently sensed the undertones in the air before with a quick bow and a reassurance to call him or any other Maester if they should need help he left. Shortly thereafter they heard him give a yelp, probably from seeing a Direwolf so up close.
“Nymeria,” the wolf entered easily and she was sure she could spot a hint of amusement in her eyes when she glanced at her, “Guard.”
Saying so the wolf took a comfortable laying position at the entrance while she quickly made her way towards her cousin.
“I would have been fine you know.”
“Is that so?” Her tone was polite enough but Jon knew the undertones of her voice and little tells that her body had well enough to easily figure out that she didn’t believe his words. When she moved to go past him and to the table holding all the balms, potions and such he caught her by the crook of her elbow, too fast for her to react to, and gently tugged her arm so she would face him.
“Yes,” he began, his eyes seeming to flash briefly in the light coming from the candles inside the tent before Ghost strolled out from a shadowed corner, briefly moving towards them to run his massive frame along their bodies followed by giving Nymeria a quick nip in greeting before laying down beside her. Arya’s eyes tracking him all the way before turning back to Jon to spot his slightly smug and wild little grin, “I would have.”
She paused, staring at him before slightly nodding. One of her hands coming up to cup his cheek and trace just under his scarred eye.
“I still want a second opinion.”
Jon turned his head to the side, just enough to brush his lips against her fingertips and briefly trail along her thumb.
“Go ahead.” He nodded towards the table before settling back once more, half laying once again as Arya’s keen eyes noticed the minute flinches he made.
She walked a bit faster then until she reached for the salve jar that the Maester previously had in his hand before she came along. Opening it she took a brief sniff, then partially skin changing into Nymeria just like Jon had done before to Ghost to take a deeper sniff. Satisfied for the moment she separated the connection as she dipped a finger into the jar and then quickly tasted it with a brief flick of her tongue.
She ignored Jon’s snort of amusement as she concentrated on the flavors, or possible lack of flavors, before nodding in satisfaction.
“So will you be using that in your morning bread from now on?”
She shot him a brief glare as she put the lid back on, his grin not losing it’s edge where others would immediately begin to bow for forgiveness. Arya grabbed the jar along with clean bandages, needle and thread prepared beforehand as well as some more necessary medicinal balms and liquids.
She placed some of it within easy reaching distance, freeing one hand which she unhesitatingly used to flick Jon’s still grinning face on the nose, before placing the rest to her satisfaction, all the while ignoring Jon’s mummery of feigned indignation and pain.
Her lips twitched upwards, her muscles relaxed and she – for the briefest moments – forgot she was about to look underneath the bloody bandages into the sliced skin of her favorite boy.
Fingers carded through her hair and this time it was her turn to trail her lips along his hand.
His slightly sweaty and pale hand.
She placed the needle and thread into the boiling pot of water that was prepared beforehand, took a deep, steadying, breath and began unraveling the bloody bandages sticking to his skin with as much care as she could.
Her breath didn’t falter, not even a stutter. Her face remained composed and serious. with her eyes resolutely focused at the coming task yet she still felt the back of Jon’s hand trail her cheek in a calming gesture and she was immediately grateful for it.
“You’ll do fine.”
“Well, you might get crooked stitches.” Saying so she gave him her own crooked grin causing him to laugh briefly before giving her one last pat on the head.
“I trust you.”
Such simple words uttered so easily but what they did were anything but simple to her, causing her to gain a grin she couldn’t smother and a blush upon her cheeks.
He remained silent and having gotten the last word in she was satisfied for the moment as she began to grab the now ready needle and thread.
So this was supposed to be longer but after re-reading it to this point I figured it was a good place to leave it be.
I’ll save the pouring boiling wine into wounds, blood soaked hands, comforting gestures and the like for another chapter. Not a continuation of this, per se, but a look into how they might behave/might go about all the same.
Arya after learning (and sometimes using) all those ways to kill a person she would most likely be more paranoid when it came to Jon.
So it isn’t much of a stretch (or I think so, at least) that she’ll want to personally oversee his treatment when it’s someone unknown; to test the salves and such for poison.
Or that she would immediately want to know about him after a battle.
I would say this is set either in an AU or during the actual conflict with the Others.
His voice came out as a chuckle and was more a statement than a question, amusement plain for all to hear in a warm, gravelly yet clear tone.
Arya stepped away from the shadow of the tree she was hiding behind, making sure to stand up as confidently as she could while she masked her surprise. That only seemed to amuse him further judging from the twitch of one of the corners of his lips, hard as it was to see him properly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly and with a small huff she began to walk towards him.
“You noticed me?”
Her steps appeared light, free of worries or any conflicting thoughts but that was merely a ruse. She had reason to be cautious, not just anyone could spot her in her own domain after all. So she kept her hands near her weapons at all times, merely making it seem like they were just brushing her hands as her arms swung while she walked, as well as being ready to bolt at any moment through the various escape routes she had mapped long before she started walking towards him.
“Kinda hard not to when you’ve been following me for some time.” He was seated before a boulder, one leg under him while the other was propped up to his chin, all while keeping his hands in plain sight instead of beneath his cloak to drape across his raised knee, “And you have been coming by every once in a while.”
She paused for half a second, maybe even less before she continued her otherwise unwavering stride yet the twitch of his lips told her he had noticed.
The seemingly young looking girl paused, a considerable distance left between them as she faced him fully.
“You’re not from here.”
He tilted his head at the statement.
“Oh? Do you know all the people of this land that you can say that so confidently?”
“No, I can’t say I know everyone.” Her deep brown locks floated before her eyes as she shook her head and in between the dancing strands he briefly spied the interwoven ribbon-like decorations in it. “But I do know of every God and Goddess in this land. I know a number of them personally and even more by sight.”
His amusement was back and like before he wasn’t even trying to hide it. It frustrated her that it was the only thing she could tell about him with any amount of surety.
“You think me a God?”
“I don’t think you are a God, I know you are a God.”
His head tilted to the opposite side and by now she was sure he was doing said gestures on purpose.
“Is that so?”
Arya’s eyes narrowed even more as she placed her hands on her hips, fingers spread and brushing her belt where her full quiver hung along with her daggers.
“Perhaps I’m some mortal with unusually good perception or a rather powerful maegi.”
She snorted at that.
“Has that explanation actually ever worked?”
For the first time instead of his lips twitching he gave her a smile, small as it was.
“About two times, though I admit it was in a land far from here with different people and the other time were mortals that sensed something was off but didn’t realize how much.”
She hummed in interest, watching the shadows play along his face that were cast from the hood of his seemingly all encompassing cloak.
“What are you doing here?”
She waited for more but as the seconds passed by his expression still didn’t change and it seemed he had no intention to continue.
His attitude (that she was sure he was doing on purpose) was starting to irritate her if she was being honest.
“Traveling? That’s it?”
“Yes. What else am I supposed to say?”
“From where you came, why are you traveling, why here… you could say a lot more.”
The small smile was back again and this time she thought she could see a hint of silver where his eyes would be, “Am I that interesting a sight, Princess?”
She blinked and subtly shifted her weight to the balls of her feet.
“You know who I am?”
“Rather vaguely I must admit,” he carefully placed his hands on the ground before beginning to rise slowly and it was only because of this that Arya gave him the benefit of doubt instead of bolting into the forest, “But there are tales of you and your siblings, the part Wolf Gods of the Northernmost region of this land.”
The man paused as he finished getting up, dusting his clothes off before continuing, “Judging by your appearance and since I am in this part of the land I’m guessing you’re the forest Goddess and as such a Princess given who your father is.”
This time it was her turn to tilt her head, “You’re not wrong.”
“You’re not exactly right either.”
His smile was still in place as he shrugged, though this time she was sure it was violet that shone from where his eyes would be under all the shadows.
Such a strange man.
The thought was further reinforced when he didn’t inquire for more, or the reasons why she said so, when anyone else would have.
“Such a strange girl you are.”
Arya felt her eyebrow twitch at that.
“...How so?” If he noticed that her reply was slightly frostier than before then he gave no indication.
“You actively approached me when I revealed that I knew you were hiding, you still didn’t flee when I casually remarked that I had noticed you following me before, you kinda want to hit me right now,” she blinked at those points but didn’t say anything as he continued, “and most telling of all; you actually decided to talk to me when I look like this.”
“...I still can’t believe you thought to convince me you were a mortal with an appearance like that.”
He chuckled and this time gave her a rather normal smile, “You’re a rather charming girl, you know that?”
She felt her cheeks flush at his unexpected words and suddenly appearing normal smile, which she quickly doubled down on, “You’re a rather weird man.”
He just chuckled again, “Such sweet words.”
Suddenly though he stood up straighter and his presence changed from easy going to a more confident demeanor, “Still, you have shown rather remarkable patience all things considered as well as curiosity so allow me to reward that,” saying so he bowed, causing the shadows covering his form to move along with him, dramatic flare evident in his movements and it made her wonder if it was for her benefit or his, “You were indeed correct before in that I’m a God, Princess.” He began and didn’t even let the snort she let out pause his words, “I’m a traveling God from the East; from the continent of Essos.”
He bowed again and this time rose with a small smile.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Does this God have a name?”
“Plenty,” he didn’t even hesitate in his response to her, “Though you can call me Jon.”
An alias, no doubt. Still courtesy should be returned with such and though he gave her some information she knew he didn’t give her more than the minimum. She also mimicked his confident demeanor; standing up as tall as she could with her petite frame.
“Strange as you are,” she began and when all she got was one of those amused lip twitches again she continued more confidently, “I can say it is also a pleasure to make your acquaintance...” she hesitated thinking of an appropriate title to say before his name but the nod he gave her made her continue – though still cautiously – again, “...Jon.”
At his accepting nod she followed by giving him a curtsy though she made sure to make it slightly mocking as payback for his having caught her flatfooted so many times before, regardless that they were small occasions.
In response his smile was back and her mind flashed back to when he called her charming.
“My name is Arya Stark.”
His head tilted a bit in confusion and that just fueled her satisfaction as she gave him a confident smirk.
Divine protagonists for a divine pairing, no?
...I’m not sorry for that (Well, maybe a bit).
Anyways it seemed apt to end it here. Thought about doing it a single rather long chapter but just decided to split it up into various sections and have another ‘mini-series’ as it were. Might make a ‘middle’ and an ‘end’ or just another part and that’s it, we’ll see.
Though I do plan to just skip ahead to where they just get along much better and are already friendlier with the other. This is the initial meeting and something to lay down the basics; they’re gods, they’re from different lands/pantheons (?), they kinda know what the other presides over and they find the other interesting.
Can’t say I based this on any particular myths since I wanted to have some leeway about their appearances and what they rule over as well as their pantheon’s situation. Though the initial idea of this (them as Gods) did spawn when I was casually browsing and saw an edit that had – if I’m remembering right – Arya as Artemis and Jon as Erebus.
Her eyes turned to the door of the bathing chamber as it opened. Harsh steam poured out of the adjoining room as Jon came striding out while running a towel through his hair, his upper body bare and his haphazardly tied breeches slung low on his hips. He paused for half a second as he noticed her lounging on his bed with her head laying on top of her crossed arms as she lay prone but like always when it came to her he took it in stride and continued his easy walk forward until he was close enough to fling his towel at her head.
“And what are you doing here?”
She quirked an eyebrow as she removed his towel from her face and tossed it to a nearby chair before beginning to sit up from her face down position, giving him a one armed shrug as she did so.
“I wanted to talk to you for a bit.”
“So you sneaked in here to do so?”
She quirked her lips up at that, “It turned out to be a fun idea.” Her blossoming unapoligetic grin was confirmation enough of that statement even if he hadn’t already believed her words.
“Never mind that,” she patted the spot next to her, “Come here.”
Seeing no reason to refuse Jon took a seat, his arms stretching behind him as he leaned on them for support while quirking his own brow at her in a silent question.
Arya answered by giving him a small pout before wrapping both of her arms against the closest of Jon’s arm to her and pulled, splaying them both down onto the bed with a light giggle sounding in the air.
“What’s this?”, the older of the two began as he shifted to his side to better face her. Arya for her part just slid an arm along his waist while pressing herself closer to him, going as far as to hook one of her legs against his, “In a cuddly mood are you?”
She shrugged in response before snaking her other arm around his neck and bringing both of them closer to the other with a simple tightening of her arms.
“I thought you needed it.”
She hummed in agreement and gave a brief peck to his cheek to further emphasize her point.
“Everyone is tired Arya. Are you going to go around giving hugs to everyone after this?”
She smiled at him and her arms tightened around him more.
Jon was more stubborn than he showed at first, second or third glance. Luckily she knew him and his moods, just as much as he did with her. It didn’t matter that they changed during the years they were separated, it was just a simple matter of reading the newly written words in their pages for them to know the other once again and that thought warmed her heart every time.
“The difference between them and you,” her words were soft and relaxing as she began playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Is that I don’t care for them as much as I do you, as awful as that would sound to some.”
She brought his head down to lay a kiss between his brows before using the pad of her thumb to smooth the skin there.
Jon’s arms tightened their hold against her again for a brief moment before with an accepting sigh he started to relax as she wanted. Satisfied the younger girl did the same, letting out a sigh against his collarbone as she felt his hand lazily massage her back though her shift.
He laid a kiss against her forehead before speaking his next words against her skin, “I know.”
She smiled up at him, stretching her arm to his face again to begin soothing the tension around the corner of his eyes as he likewise soothed the tight muscles all along her back up to her neck.
“I’ll always be there for you.”
And both could only beam at each other when they uttered the same words as they basked in the presence of the other, resting from the turmoil of the realm and the age of conflict they lived in for a moment.
Something short this time and more platonic/sibling like than romance.
I also enjoy them like this, just close friends and/or sibling like with the other. Wonder if I should start marking these chapters in case someone just wants to read them like this?
...I’ve probably also asked this question before.
“You two are so adorable.”
Two pairs of violet eyes turned to her at her statement, one pair a light shade of indigo and the other a dark purple, along with one feminine eyebrow rising in curiosity while the other looked on stoically as always.
She rolled her eyes and followed by making a show of pointing a well manicured finger to the other girl before speaking slowly.
“You,” she shifted her finger slightly to the side to where the only male in the room was located, “and you are adorable together.”
The simultaneous blinks she got that time made her laugh, loud enough that she brought a hand to her mouth so she could stifle her giggles as she turned around and rummaged through the cabinets for a suitably big enough bowl with her other free hand.
“And what brought on this… sudden opinion of yours?”
The only male in the room spoke up, his voice holding a raspy quality that she enjoyed hearing.
Myrcella shot him a smile when he promptly shushed Arya as she deliberately mumbled loud enough about ‘bouts of airheaded-ness’ along with a blonde joke.
“Weeeelll,” she stretched the word out as she extended her arm completely as she tried to reach her chosen bowl, placed almost beyond her range in one of the upper kitchen cabinets, “Just look at you two.”
She could almost see them tilting their heads to the side like confused puppies.
“Myrcella. Stop trying to be coy.”
“I have no idea what you mean, Arya.”
With a small exclamation of victory she finally grabbed the bowl just in time for her to check up on her freshly finished popcorn.
“Anyways, what I meant was; look at how you two are with each other,” she didn’t even need to turn around to know they were gazing at each other inquisitively right now with Daemion most likely giving Arya a one armed shrug at her most likely mouthed words. She continued as if she was telling an interesting story while she sprinkled some salt on the pot before shaking it up and repeating it all over again before she added her extra-special touch, “The normally tough, prickly, super confident, Arya ‘Princess of Tomboys’ Stark cuddling with super serious, super stoic, certified dude that can beat your ass, Daemion ‘Ice Dragon’ Targaryen.”
“...Myrcella,” Arya spoke up cautiously after a deliberately mocking pause, “We always did warn you that being too close to rumors, gossip and the general craziness of the places where you hear those things will rot your brain.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh, making no motion that she even saw or acknowledged the way Myrcella stood after that statement; with her brow raised, her hip cocked and her free hand placed on said hip while she held the now popcorn filled bowl in her other hand as Arya buried her head deeper into Daemion’s side before deliberately peeking only one eye up at him.
“I’m afraid we’ve lost her forever, love.” Arya signed dramatically even as Myrcella started tapping her foot pointedly, “Such a shame. She was much too young.”
Another mocking pause and this one complete with a picture perfect ‘finger on her lip in thought’ pose.
“Pretty cute too. What with that little waist and-”
“Arya I won’t give you any of my specially prepared and seasoned popcorn.”
Arya’s head turned so fast you could almost hear the whip like crack in the air accompanying the motion. Her tone completely serious instead of having it’s earlier teasing quality, “Bitch, I’ll throw you out.”
Myrcella just snorted as she slowly sashayed to the couch where the other two were lounging on, “Actual bitch, I’d like to see you try.”
A long suffering sigh interrupted anymore barbs being thrown and the pinch he gave to Arya’s leg was enough to stop her from rising, though he did get hit on the shoulder for his troubles.
“Enough you two.”
The dark haired indigo eyed girl purposely huffed into his face before she returned to burying herself into his side, grabbing his arm before winding it around herself and settling herself with a pout.
Daemion turned to her then and his raised brow was enough for her to get the message as she started walking normally again.
You started this. Fix it.
Myrcella gave him a small nod before moving to stand in front of Arya. She waited until the slightly older girl turned her pout on her, defiantly still holding onto Daemion’s arm and monopolizing his space and attention. She gave an internal sigh of fondness at being able to see this side of Arya so easily before slowly and deliberately picking up a piece of popcorn and bringing it to the other girl’s pale pink lips.
She stood still as the Stark girl stared straight at her for a few seconds before with a small quirk of her eyebrow and a twitch of her lips she accepted her peace offering, opening her mouth to accept the treat. The blonde girl gained a small smile on her face and kept it even as a blush stained her cheeks as Arya felt the need to lick the taste off her fingers in an… intimate manner… before she loosened her hold on Daemion and scooted over enough to make space for her in between them.
“You always have to have the last word, don’t you? And I thought Lannister’s were proud,” she semi complained as she settled down comfortably, deliberately grabbing more than a single piece to bring it up to Daemion’s mouth.
“I have no idea what you mean.” She felt Arya press into her after she scooted the single giant mug on the small table in front of them closer for easier access before once again grabbing Daemion’s arm to this time swing it around both their shoulders while the sole blonde settled the bowl firmly on her abdomen as she brought her legs up to half curl them underneath her.
A deliberate sigh was heard then and they both turned towards Daemion as he moved the chilled 2 liter soda bottle closer to them so it was also within easy reach when they decided to open it up.
“I have no idea why people fantasize about this so much,” he heaved another dramatic sigh as Myrcella and Arya turned to look at the other, “Or how we ended up like this. You two are so full of trouble in your own ways.”
“Well,” The only blonde of the group started before pointedly wiggling back into the two of them, “You and Arya have been in love since; forever.”
She took a brief moment to enjoy the bashfulness that came over them, so much so that they couldn’t look at the other for a full second despite both their usual demeanor with one another, before continuing, “And then you both seduced little ol’ me.”
“Funny, I remember you being the one to first kiss us in quick succession despite you being the youngest and well, were, the most innocent of us at the time.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” She very pointedly popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth at Daemion’s totally false remark.
“Hmm...” Arya hummed and by the rising tone of it she knew she was going to be ganged up on, “I remember that. It was so cute the way her lips trembled after she kissed us for the first time. Oh and those red cheeks when she pulled back-”
“Plus,” the green eyed girl purposefully interrupted them again, “You love Arya’s ass.”
He unhesitatingly nodded his head. “True,” his head tilted then in mock contemplation yet still with an entirely serious look on his face, “Though we also love yours.”
The poker faced bastard.
“Very much so.”
Arya backed him up immediately and Myrcella knew she had lost the initiative
“When are you two gonna get married already?” She sighed even as she buried her head into the couch cushions and let her loose hair cover her face. She felt their heads turn towards the other but very decidedly chose to not acknowledge it outwardly in some small form of rebellion.
“We were thinking after you got settled into that Essosi University with me and we were far away from anyone in Westeros.”
She felt her heart skip at least five beats at her words.
“Or would you prefer it being before? You do have your birthday before you’re set to leave to Essos.”
And finally reach the legal age of majority for multiple person marriages in some parts of Essos.
He didn’t say aloud but she was sure that her glowing cheeks were visible through the curtain of her hair all the same, no matter how deeply golden it was.
“You two are horrible.”
“Just for you.” They intoned perfectly in synch and with that Myrcella flipped her hair out of her face and onto her back before pointedly grabbing the remote to finally start the movie. Despite her flaming face and very deliberately ignoring the amusement rolling off them in waves she looped her arms through theirs and tightly held them to her chest after briefly readjusting the bowl as the initial trailers started playing.
“So...” Arya spoke up just before the movie started and breaking the brief silence that had over taken them, “If that makes us ‘adorable’ in your words-”
“-Then what does that make you?” Daemion seamlessly continued even as he brought a hand up full of popcorn up into the air, letting Arya take part of it and taking the now full mug they were all going to share in return.
Myrcella gave a soft, brief, musical hum before she tightened her hold on their arms, bringing them even closer as they shifted their arms so they could be even more entangled with the other while comfortable.
“A very happy girl.”
Still no idea where thus OT3 came from. Still can’t say I regret it.
I seem to have gained a soft spot for Myrcella because of this.
- About this:
They’re rather young (20's I'm thinking) but have known each other for a long while (Specially Jon and Arya).
Myrcella is the youngest between them but not by much.
Tried to keep the conversation more ‘natural’ and ‘realistic’ this time. That is to say jumping from point A to point B then skipping C and D and moving straight into E.
Arya’s mother is Ashara in this, since I do love me some Ned/Ashara as well. Hence she has violet Dayne eyes and some Dornish/Dayne features to her face/body though still Stark coloring with her hair and demeanor.
Brandon/Ashara is a myth, btw.
Joking (mostly), but personally I can’t say I put much stock into it or care to do it.
- Some other thoughts/ramblings:
I tend to shift the character’s names (or well, Jon’s to be more accurate but that’s because there are reasons what with Ned not having named him in most of these AU), features (eye colors, primarily), and looks sometimes since I’m of the mind that you can change a certain amount and a character will still be recognizable, IE; themselves.
Jon will still be Jon as long as he acts like himself (though that apparently varies wildly giving what people have told me when I asked their opinions on it, never mind the difference between Book!Jon and Show!Jon) regardless that his name is Jaehaerys, Daemon or hell even Joffrey. Or that he has purple eyes.
Granted these differences can lead to interesting plot points and/or have a reason to them, like say Jon being raised as a Trueborn Targ would have affects in his personality, same as being raised as a bastard Targ. Not to mention the other little variables that can potentially affect his personality/life.
The same naturally applies to Arya; I can have her as a light blonde, freckled, violet eyed Dayne taking more from her appearance from her Dayne side of the family (Though I only gave her violet eyes here) but if she still acts as Arya Stark then well, she is the Arya Stark we all know, right? Again, potential variables can affect the personality/life of the character and give them different views and opinions so they won’t be a 100% copies (Core character traits are what’s most important, I think) but that’s part of the fun, no?
Naturally if a specific appearance is needed for a plot point then that also mitigates stuff, like book canon Arya’s eye color compared to Jeyne Poole. Wouldn’t make sense of having Arya have brown eyes in that canon situation, to give an example.
The show I think strips them of too much though and simplifies things so instead of various conflicting ideals and personalities we get straight up mold that’s easy to understand, sometimes to varying results and degrees.
Seriously, Jon does more than brood and Arya can do more than stab people.
- TL;DR: I think if you don’t change a characters core traits your good regardless if you alter their hair, eyes or some facets of their personality/upbringing/environment to a degree (and even that degree can be debated). It also depends on how you spin things baby!
It’s a load of fun thinking up various scenarios and potential variables.
Hope I explained myself properly.
Chapter 20: Sound of Life
All I need to do is hear this sound...
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Hope you've enjoyed yourselves up till now and that you will continue doing so!
20 chapters gone and now a potential 80 more to go.
Hope I'll be able to do them well.
Any thoughts you want to share?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Why do you always do that?”
“Hmmm?” Arya let out an inquisitive hum, her brown locks shifting as she moved her head while she turned to face him. She propped her chin on his chest and gave him a lazy, happy smile as she peered at him with slightly glassy deep grey eyes as she laid fully on top of him, “And here I thought you liked my kisses.”
He shot her a small open smile at her teasing before lifting one of his hands to brush a strand of her hair sticking to her still sweaty forehead, moving it to just behind her ear.
“I do,” he trailed his hand downward to cup her cheek and brush a thumb against the damp skin there. His smile grew as she buried her face deeper into his palm and began laying brief fluttering pecks all along it, “But I meant more on why you always do it in that particular part of my chest.”
Her eyes opened up a bit from their half closed state as she stilled and with the firelight seeming to dance on her bare sweat soaked skin he couldn’t help but run the pad of his thumb onto her lips, parting them slightly as he traced them gently.
“You did that even before we ended up in this new relationship of ours; always laying your head sideways when you hugged me or laying your hand there when you could.”
She gave him a soft nip after a silent beat followed by laying a single lingering kiss onto the palm of his hand, “Do you remember when I told you all about Beric Dondarrion?”
She breathed the question onto his palm as her hands rose from where they were embracing him around his torso to hold his hand in between hers.
Her fingers were gentle as she caressed his burned hand, softly playing with his fingers by moving them one way or another while laying fluttering pecks in between her movements.
“He was also brought back from the dead by fire.” He curled his hand then, softly grasping one of hers. Her free hand immediately went to the top of his as she grasped it in return and with it she turned her half lidded eyes with a hint of sadness straight onto his again.
“He couldn’t feel much despite his body being warm,” she kissed one of his curled fingers, “Couldn’t remember many things either.” Her words became more breathy, more solemn as she made her way down his curled hand, laying a kiss at each pause, “Couldn’t bleed,” another peck, “Couldn’t feel any pain,” another, “Couldn’t see his wounds heal.”
Her lips made a moist path as she trailed them from the knuckles of his fingers to the back on his hand and when she spoke next she wasn’t able to look him in the eye.
“His heart didn’t beat either. The Red God took all of it away from him.” She breathed the words, with her slightly parted lips pressed lightly onto the back of his hand and in a tone filled with sadness.
His hand tightened around hers then and he rose his free hand up onto her naked back to trace a comforting line from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.
Her eyes met his again and right before his gaze her sadness bled off of her, like water off the feathers of a swan.
“But you Jon,” she moved their still intertwined hands towards her cheek, nuzzling into it while she moved to sit up on his stomach, his arm upon her back sliding down to encircle her waist with the action, “You’ve always been more than you seemed,” she freed her hand from within his grasp only to trail it from his arm, down to his waist and finally move it up again so she could lay her hand right on top of where his beating heart lay. She spread her fingers to their maximum range, covering part of the scars visible on his bare chest with the motion, “Not to mention more defiant than anyone knew otherwise.”
“Almost anyone.” He cracked a grin at her even as he likewise moved to sit up, tightening his hold on her with one arm for leverage while shifting his other to be able to fully cup the nape of her neck with his other hand. He held her firmly as he shifted his head to one side so he could better kiss her while she wound her own arms around his neck and back.
She giggled against his lips after they parted slightly, even as she pressed them against his for another brief kiss while her half lidded eyes shone with a deep warmth, a mix of emotions making them swirl like stormy clouds.
“Defiant until the end and even beyond.”
Short chapter here but I think it was a good place to leave it as. Short, brief yet descriptive (hopefully) of was what I was going for.
I’m not entirely sure that Jon’s resurrection will be cut and dry. Like maybe he’ll indeed have a ‘change’ but perhaps nothing too drastically? Or at least not enough to do a complete 180 on his behavior.
Personally I’m fond of thinking that he’ll fight for control of his potential wild side even if he just wants to punch someone because it seems so much easier to do so, as well as let more of his thoughts/snark show.
Also his coming back might be influenced by factors such as his two magical bloodlines, the location, and the manner in which he comes back. Among other possible variables.
Or even if he is actually coming back? Seems so at least.
Fun things to consider, all in all.
So here we have a Jon who indeed came back from the dead but unlike Beric ‘Fire Wight’ Dondarrion we have a different scenario here, showed by details such as his heart still beating and his wounds actively healing.