Daenerys held Arya's hand all the way to Sansa's chambers, only releasing it once they reached the heavy oak door. The nervousness that had been growing in Arya's belly had reached its peak and she felt as if she was going to be sick. What would Sansa think of her? Would she welcome her with open arms or would she be disappointed, just as she had been when they were children?

"You must be nervous. How long has it been since you last saw her?" Daenerys asked as if she was reading Arya's mind.

"Almost eight years. The last time I saw her was the day my father was beheaded. She didn't see me, though, but I saw her. She was crying and one of Joffrey's Seven was holding her back. I never got to say goodbye to either one of them."

Arya didn't know why she was telling her this, the queen of the Seven Kingdoms of all people. She knuckled away the tears that threatened to spill down her face angrily.

"I never knew your father, but he stayed Robert's hand when he would have otherwise sent hired knives to kill me and my unborn son. Your father saved my life, in a way, and I have grown very close to your sister since she came to court. I owe your family a great deal, the least I could have done was bring two sisters back together again." Daenerys eyes were soft and filled with a kind of compassion that Arya didn't know a stranger could possess.

"Will you go in with me? I... I don't think I can do this one my own."

"Of course."

Daenerys pushed open the thick door and stepped in ahead of Arya. Within, the room was warm, a fire having been lit in the large fireplace in the corner. A huge four poster bed took up most of one side of the room and was laden with feather pillows and blankets, under which a young woman with coppery hair had been sleeping until the door had awakened her. Her pale skin was flushed and a strand of her fine hair was stuck to her forehead with perspiration, but her deep blue eyes were the same as they had always been. She and Arya stared at each other for a moment, too stunned to speak.

"Arya?" The young woman said at last.

"Yes. It's me."

Suddenly Arya was crying and somehow she crossed the room to wrap her arms around the sister she hadn't seen since she was nine. Sansa, too, was crying as she held her little sister and it was some time before either one of them could say anything.

"You look ill, Sansa. Are you alright?" Arya asked, she pulled a chair up next to the bed and Daenerys handed her a glass of wine from the flagon on the counter.

"Yes, I'm alright, but childbirth is quite taxing." Sansa replied with a small chuckle.

Arya nearly spat out her wine and half of it went up her nose.

"Ch-childbirth," Arya stammered as she held her nose to stop the burning. "But, when did you...who did you…?"

"It's rather a long story," Sansa said as she caught Daenerys eye and gave a little half smile. "Lord Petyr arranged a marriage between myself and the heir to the Eerie when he became regent. I wed Harrold Hardyng and when Lord Robert died of a spring fever, Harry became heir to the Eerie. Petyr stepped down as regent and when the last of the snow melts, Harry and I will return with our son."

"But how did you even get to the Eerie? And what does Baelish have to do with anything?"

"Petyr spirited me out of King's Landing on the night of Joffrey's wedding after he was poisoned. I could stay in the capitol because I would be executed for murder, not that I had anything to do with what happened, but it would have been a perfect opportunity for Cersei to behead both Tyrion and I at the same time. I assume you know of my marriage to our Lord of Lannister?"

"That much I know, at least," Arya said, taking a sip of her wine. "But where's this babe you bore? You said he was a boy, right? What's his name?"

"He's with his wet nurse, so that I may have a little rest. It took nearly a day to birth him. I can send for him now, if you'd like to meet your nephew."

Sansa rang the little bell on the table beside her bed and after a few minutes an older woman with the largest breasts Arya had ever seen entered through a discrete door near the back of the room carrying a small bundle swaddled in the colors of House Arryn: pale blue and cream. To Arya's surprise, the woman handed her the bundle before turning back the way she had come.

Babies had always made Arya uneasy. They were too fragile and any wrong move could make them cry, but the one in her arms was fast asleep and barely stirred when he was handed to her.

"He's so tiny." Arya whispered, afraid that speaking too loudly would wake him.

"Don't be scared of breaking him. He's much stronger than you would think. When Harry held him for the first time, he said that he was scared that even breathing on him too hard would hurt him." Sansa looked at her son in her sister's arms with an expression that bordered on reverence.

Arya looked up from the tiny face of her nephew and caught Daenerys looking at them both with eyes filled with an emotion that Arya didn't quite understand.

"Your Grace," She said hesitantly. "Is something amiss?"

The emotion that had clouded Daenerys' eyes a moment ago was gone in an instant and her smile returned.

"Nothing at all, my lady. Now, Sansa, what do mean to call this precious babe of yours? Has your lord husband suggested anything?"

Sansa met Arya's eyes before speaking.

"I was thinking that we could name him Eddard."

Arya felt tears stinging her eyes again as she looked back down at her infant nephew.

"Eddard would be perfect."