Hello there!
I, uh, kinda hit a writers' block with A Life That Could Have Been, so this is what you'll be getting for a while. But you can always PM or message me on Tumblr with prompts for ficlets of said fanfiction.
So, anyway enjoy this and please don't hate me, I'll try to find something for A Life That Could Have Been soon, it's just that my computer is brand-spankn'-new and has yet to be installed with Microsoft Office. *facepalm*

I do not own George.R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, if I did, Winds of Winter would be out by now.

I'm coming home
I'm coming home
Tell the world I'm coming home
Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday
I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes
I'm coming home, I'm coming home
Tell the world I'm coming'~ Coming Home, Pt. II. The Buried Sessions of Skylar Grey.

Chapter 1: Overlooked.

Beth the serving girl was a timid thing, so timid in fact that sometimes Arya forgot to be herself. Beth was a lowborn girl born to a whore in a tavern of Bravos, a comely enough lass with dark hair and even darker eyes. Arya did not know what she looked like anymore, she had not seen her real face in nigh on six years, and could only conjure something akin to Jon's face as her own when she tried.

Jon Snow, once a girl's bastard half-brother. Now she wasn't quite sure what the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was to her anymore.

"More drink, m'lord?" Beth asked, flicking her muddy-brown eyes up from the ground and towards the mummers dragon.

Aegon Targaryen's violet eyes met hers a moment before nodding silently. "Yes." Beth bowed her head so as to not meet his eyes again as she poured the sweet summer wine into the prince's empty cup. She felt the ghosting touch of his eyes as she stepped back and away from the table, away from him. He was too comely, to much of everything, and though he did not know whom it was she was truly - Arya Stark knew who the mummers dragon was.

She could not afford for him to become important to her, or vice versa. Everyone knew how that turned out for both their houses the last time around.

The Red God had asked for the gift to be bestowed upon him, but that was months ago now, she supposed- she had always been hazy when it came to time-and Beth found that she could not do it. She'd had the perfect aim, perfect posture as she had been poised to end him, and then he'd smiled. It hadn't been directed at her, but it had dazed her no less, still made her heart ache for that which was lost to her.

He looked so much like Jon Snow when he smiled.

And just as quickly, Arya Stark came back, but she couldn't kill the man who looked so much like her brother. So she hadn't.

Instead she'd become a servant, and stayed close and far enough away to observe him, all while being overlooked and underestimated.

The Imp held up a stunted hand. "Mine as well, girl." He called from his raised seat. Beth shuffled over and poured his wine before standing back by the wall. The dwarf's mismatched eyes did not leave her though, as she had wanted them to.

The niggling little voice that sounded so much like her mother warned her, Whether they be small or tall or comely or ugly, Laninsters are dangerous. Never trust a lion.

Arya had an inkling that mayhaps Tyrion Lannister was starting to piece together who she was-and if that was the case, he was keeping his information to himself.

Clever little Imp. She thought to herself, a small barely there smirk working its way to her chapped lips. If the little Lannister did know that Arya hid her true face, no doubt he'd try to blackmail her into something. It was what Lannisters did.

Dorne was far too warm for her liking, and if she could've, Arya would not be wearing the damned dresses. But Beth was not Arya of House Stark who could better than her brothers, who hated sewing because she was shit at it. And Beth was not a princess of the North-no, just a bastard girl who would have been a whore if she had not offered her face to the Many-Faced God.

"Beth, was it?" the little lion asked, swirling his wine around, but not a drop spilled.

Arya came back into Beth's skin and hid, the Imp could not know she was here. Who knew what they'd do to her if they did? But Arya Stark-a direwolf-would not be cowed by a little lion man. But for now she would be Beth the bastard of Bravos, and she would simper and bow like how her lowborn status demanded. "Yes, m'lord." Arya replied with just the right amount of hesitance and carefulness in her tone.

The Imp narrowed his mismatched eyes at her form as he studied her. Beth had to pause to keep up her façade and not scowl at the Lannister. "And where did you say you were from?" he questioned casually, though even Beth the serving girl could tell that there was a reason behind it for him to do so.
Aegon gave Tyrion a queer look, but did not say anything. Arya did not need him to do so to know that he was wondering what the little Lannister was up to.

Beth blinked and smiled hesitantly. "Bravos, m'lord." She answered, the lilt to her words coming thicker as she told of her birth city. "My mother was a alehouse worker there."

Tyrion nodded, his brows coming together and leaning his head against the palm of his hand. "You're a whore then, too I suppose?"
Arya did not know if it was his tone or if it was the words he used, but her back stiffened and her face flushed red at the insult. She took in a slow breath then released it. "No, m'lord. My maidenhead is still intact."

Tyrion frowned somewhat and rubbed his chin, thinking. For all the secrets Tyrion Lannister kept, he was still as easy to read as all the other men. "How… honourable." The word seemed wrong as it came from his mouth, as if he were surprised Beth was still a maiden.

Beth supposed that it was to be expected, considering her 'mother's' line of work, but she could not help the words that spilled from her mouth nonetheless. "And, I wonder… what would an Imp-a Lannister Imp no less- know of honour, that I do not?"

Tyrion sat up straighter in his seat. "And what would a bastard brothel girl know of honour, I wonder?"
Arya scowled through Beth's face. "Much more than that of a Lannister, no doubt."

Tyrion let out a surprised laugh. "Clever girl, well said." He muttered.

But Jon Connington did not like her words. Not at all. "He's a Lord, bastard. You'd do well to address him as such."

Beth's mask of cowardice slipped away, and Arya's fire took it's place. "That does not mean-"

He raised his hand, and no doubt meant to hit her, but Aegon's long body was there between them in a flash, his equally long fingers wrapped about Connington's wrist to stop him. "Enough," the prince's voice was low, a warning as much as a threat, and Arya felt a surge of unbidden warmth for him.

Beth couldn't quite see Jon's face over the expanse of Aegon's wide shoulders, but figured it wasn't a pleasant reaction he had to Aegon's intervention. Connington jerked his arm away as if burned, and Beth tapped her fingers along the jug in her hands. "So you are fucking her." Jon accused.

Beth fought the very Arya urge to roll her eyes to the roof, but managed to bite her tongue before causing more of a scene. She saw Aegon's frame give a sigh. "No, father." He moved to sit back down at the head of the table. "I'm to marry Princess Arianne, or did you happen to forget that?"
Jon smirked, and Arya decided she very much disliked the man. "That does not mean you do not whore, Aegon Targaryen."
Beth's mouth set into a thin line and she was tempted to simply run the man through with his own sword-she was certain the satisfaction would be worth them knowing who she truly was. But then Aegon stiffened in his hunched over posture, as if Beth being called a whore irritated him. "There are some women I want only for companionship." He bit out.

Jon Connington quirked his brow. "And what companionship do you have for her, Your Grace? Her cunt?"

Beth tried to calm herself-failed-and cleared her throat. She would not stand there while the tarnished knight smeared the name she'd claimed. "May I be excused, Your Grace?" she bit out hastily, the Bravosi tilt to her voice tweaking her words in unexpected places. Aegon's beautiful eyes widened, but he nodded quickly-his silver-blonde hair moving into his violet orbs as he did. "Forgive Lord Connington, Beth of Bravos. If you would, he has had too much wine and it loosens the tongue."

Beth offered the soon-to-be-king an apologetic smile. "I spoke out of turn, Your Grace, when I should've kept my mouth shut. You needn't apologise. I'll be excusing myself." Beth bowed low once, straightened, and was out of the tent flap silent as a shadow.

-x-

"How dare he?" Arya raged to herself in the darkness of the stables. This night had been a clear example as to why she did not want to return to Westoros at all, but, she also supposed that it was only a small price to pay for finding her siblings.

Being called a whore she could deal with, but if any of them touched her...

Her men would be in Westoros soon, all seven thousand of them. So would the little queen, with all her Dothraki, Unsullied and her horse-sized dragons. Beth need only keep her face for a little while longer, then she could do as she pleased.

Arya swung the sword-sized stick she'd found at the rails. "Dead, dead, dead." The branch snapped and Arya cursed softly.

"Might I ask who or what is dead, Beth?" Aegon Targaryen's voice asked from behind her.

Beth turned quick as a snake, the stick forgotten in the dirt by her feet. "N-nothing, Your Grace."

Aegon smiled and leant against the side of the stable. "Now that, I doubt."

Arya scowled at the prince's prodding. Couldn't he just leave her be? No, of course not, he was Aegon Targaryen-the brat prince. "Do you, Your Grace?" Beth asked in a tone that wasn't hers, but Arya's. And Arya hated how bloody breathy it came out.

Aegon did not move from his spot, only crossed his arms over his chest as he cocked his silver head at her. The moon was full that night, and while the darkness of the stables hid Beth's face from the mummers dragon's purple, searching eyes, Arya could quite easily see his form in the moonlight. It bounced off his silver-blonde hair turning the strands white and made the blood-red of his clothes appear as violet as his eyes. It was only when she reached the smirk on his face with eyes that weren't hers that Arya remembered just whom it was she was looking at.

The small smirk turned to a full-blown grin. "See something you like, my lady?"
Beth's mask turned to a scowl. "I'm not a lady," she responded almost instantly. "And, as a matter o' fact, I don't." She scrunched up her skirts as she went to walk past him and back to the servant's tents, but like the little shit she knew he was, Aegon moved to block her.

Arya's first instinct was to go for the pressure points the waif had taught her to attack, to kill him-he was too close. Beth's was to scream for help, any sort and run.

Then Arya blinked and came back herself, this was Aegon Targaryen, and she knew him better than most would give credit for. He did whore, true-but he would never force himself upon a woman, Arya knew. So she licked her lips and took in a deep breath of the humid air. "Your Grace?"

Aegon's calloused hand came up to cup her face and barely touched her before Arya jerked savagely away. Aegon gave her a queer look at that. "You're a beautiful girl, did you know that?"

Beth swallowed and shook her head quickly, stalling as she tried to come up with some excuse to leave. This was why she made an active effort to not be alone with him, with any man really. The face she wore was pretty, and men liked fucking pretty girls. If only she could have worn her true face-no one would want to get her alone then, not Arya Horse-face, who wasn't nearly as comely as Beth of Bravos.
Beth's lips thinned. "All the men that have said that haven't gotten me out of my gown, Your Grace. I don't think you'll manage any better."

Surprise bloomed on his face. "I-it… I did not mean-" he failed about for words, and Beth bit her lip to keep the smile from her face.

"It's quite alright, Your Grace. But if you'd let me past..."
Aegon deftly stepped to the side, a confused look replacing the surprise, as if not quite sure what he was doing in her path to begin with. But before Beth got more than a metre or so away, he asked in a hushed voice. "Who are you really?"
Arya sucked in a breath and froze. "No one of importance, Aegon Targaryen." Beth told him, because it was true, and disappeared into the night without another word.

D.P~ Review, pretty, pretty please?