Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters therein. I'm just playing with them for a little while.


Title: Not Entirely With Modest Means (Or With Any Honourable Intentions At All)

Summary: 'The bastard did not seem to realise that she was planning her escape, and Cat couldn't help that twinge of regret at the thought of head-butting such a pretty face. It was quite short-lived.' Cat meets a not-quite-stranger from her past, finds the new king to be a pompous prick, and thinks on her similar fate to her long-dead aunt.

Genre: adventure/romance

Chapter 3: The Broken Arm


Author's note:

I s'pose I kinda lied about the whole 'next week' shindig, huh? I honestly did try, I promise! Real life isn't very nice at the moment is all.

Well, the chapter is here now. A review would be appreciated, but don't feel obligated. Thank you to all those who reviewed, I will get those cookies to you guys someday, I swear.

And Lola; I am writing one right now just for you! I can't promise when I'll get it up on here though, as I'm leaving for Japan soon and won't have the computer.

But anywho, I digress. Here's the chapter, guys.


When Cat awoke, the sun had not yet risen. Lanna slept on as Cat rose from their shared cot, and a few of the men were waking as she tied her hair back and shoved on her boots.

They would be near Dorne by now, and the dragon that slept within the depths of the haul knew it as well.

Low rumblings vibrated the mahogany beneath her feet as she stepped upon the deck, the breeze sending droplets of water on her face. Viserion was awake and was no doubt irritated.

Three ships held three dragons, and the smallest was within the Defiant. The calmest. Viserion, the white one. But a dragon was still dangerous, and could still burn the ship down as easily as a direwolf could rip a man's arm from its socket.

Cat wiped the moisture away absently, grey eyes focused on the smudge on the horizon. For all the adventures she'd had-if one could perhaps even call them that-she had never set eyes on land belonging to the Martells.

A set of heavy foot falls came from behind and settled beside her. The bastard leant against the railings of the ship, blue eyes following hers. They did not speak for a long while, not until The Broken Arm and the Sea of Dorne became visible, and the Little Queen called for her children to be released.

The sun had risen to sit comfortably on the horizon, shining much too brightly for Cat's liking.

A series of calls came from the other ship, and the captain of the Defiant, the ship Cat herself stood upon, cried back in Braavosi a confirmation.

They were near to a port, and they'd dock soon.

The bastard listened, but it was quite clear to her that he did not understand them nearly as much as he'd have liked.

Cat took pity upon him. "They say that we will be near enough to dock soon," she told him, and pointed with thin fingers to the shadow a whiles away from the fleet. "Over there, see it?"

The bastard nodded, and cast his eyes back to the captain's cabin. Tyrion Lannister emerged swathed in his House colours, eyes weary.

Cat pursed her lips and glanced over to the ship Daenerys Targaryen was upon. "It mightn't have been the wisest thing to do," she commented.

The bastard glanced over at her. "What would've been?"

Cat gestured with her chin to where the black dread flew overhead. "Letting that beast fly loose over Dorne. I do not think even she knows how to control it. Let alone three of them at once."

Men lifting Viserion's cage interrupted anything he might have said, the drag of chains against the wood ringing out and making Cat grind her teeth.

Cat felt unease prick at her gut; she did not trust dragons, both those with two legs and those with four.

The Imp cocked a golden brow, mouth twisting into a sardonic smile. "This could ruin my morning."

As if to cement his statement, Viserion rumbled out a call to his brothers; smoke plumed from his maw and nostrils, threatening fire to those near him.

The Little Queen's presence on the nearby ship calmed the beast some, the screeching subsiding to muffled growls.

One foolish man went in close enough to rid the serpent of its chains before backing up faster than a mouse spotting a cat. The wrym snapped at the air a few feet from where the man had leapt out of the way.

It wasn't terribly large, not nearly as big as its' black brother, but still… The sound of leathery wings stretching out and taloned claws scraping against the ship was a sight to behold. The cry it sung to the morning air was returned by Drogon and Rhaegal both, and the jade beast lifted its wings high above its body.

Everyone aboard the ship ducked low to avoid the beat of them. The steady thump thump thump of a dragon's wings started, and Cat felt it drum against her chest as she lay against the deck.

The ship rocked violently to one side, and then to the other before it settled and the dragon was in the air. Cat lifted herself to her feet, the bastard following her lead.

A head of blonde hair peaked up from below deck, a sun-kissed hand coming up to rub at green orbs.
"What on earth…" came Lanna's voice, still thick with sleep. Cat offered the older girl a smile, and pointed to where the trio of wyrms snapped playfully at each other in the sky.

Lanna cast her eyes up, and they widened in surprise. "They are bigger than I'd first thought."

The bastard recognised her quickly enough, a one side of Cat's mouth pulled up in amusement at the expression his features contorted into. Lanna, it seemed, did not.

No, all her wide, toothy smiles were for Cat as she hopped over excitedly. "Did I miss them all?" She asked of the dragons, and when Cat nodded with a half-smile, the Imp's daughter pouted. "I had thought to see at least one take off."

Cat shrugged, head tilting as the movement turned into a stretch. "No doubt Trystane Martell will be fond of them," she told the blonde. "Prince Quentyn was apparently as well."

The blonde's eyes narrowed and her head tilted in a way that said she had heard the rumours, but it was the bastard who chided her.

"That was cruel." He muttered gruffly.

Cat's eyes flashed, but she took it in her stride. "That was the point, Ser Waters."

The bastard met her eyes, steady and quiet. "You were not this cruel when we were younger."

Cat shrugged off the comment and stepped away from them both. "War changes us all, bastard." And then left them in favour of the quietness of the bow.

Cat did not speak to either of them for the rest of their time on the ship.

.

.

Cat had found that in Braavos, though there was an abundance of sea water, there was very little-if any-sand to accompany it. Dorne was known for having giant sand dunes and hot, humid deserts that killed any man who dare cross them without already knowing the way out. And it was everywhere.

Cat decided she hated sand.

The Broken Arm was leagues away from Sunspear, and the Little Queen would have to beg the seven hells for mercy if Trystane Martell did not meet with them as was discussed with the prat Aegon nearly three years earlier after his failed attempt at re-conquering Westeros.

The fool seemed to have forgotten that when one wishes to conquer a land, you'd best have dragons and a fucking large army at that to have anywhere near a chance. Cat swung up into her saddle before offering Lanna her hand.

"Gods above it's hot," the blonde muttered, and took a moment to get comfortable behind her. She had tied her golden locks up tight against her head, but sweat still clung to her tanned skin.

Cat hadn't ridden a horse in years, but she fell back into the rhythm quickly enough. So, of course it took only a few seconds for the prat king to make an appearance and make Cat jerk a little too hard on the reins to stop her mount from colliding with his.

The horse reared back, making Lanna clutch onto Cat's waist tightly and Cat to the saddle with one hand, while loosely the reins the other. For one small moment, Cat allowed herself to scare, but tucked it away and brought the horse back down onto all fours within the next.

Aegon Targaryen sat there, and when he saw that neither of them had come to harm, the shocked expression turned to one of mirth. Cat scowled, already knowing he'd throw her a jab before he opened his mouth.

"Did I spook you, my lady?" He asked, a smile tugging at his mouth.

Jon Connington had stopped ahead of them, awaiting his prince. His dark eyes stayed on her mostly as Aegon Targaryen baited her.

Cat lifted her chin. "Must you always seek me out?" she paused and glanced over her shoulder at Lanna. "Or is it she that you want?" The question had quite a bit to it, and she realised as she said it that it was also an insult to her friend.

The prat knew enough of Lanna to know she was a whore, and he blinked, thrown by Cat's answer.

Cat offered him a polite smile and a nod. "Good day, Your Grace." Tapping her mount in the side, she coaxed him forward and past Aegon Targaryen's stupid expression.

Lanna had gone quiet behind her, though to be true, Cat could not find it in her to give an apology. She was what she was, a lying, thieving, murderer; and in Lanna's case that was a whore of Braavos.

Cat could see an envoy belonging to House Martell waiting along the road, the red and gold suns waving sluggishly in the scarce breeze. Aegon Targaryen trotted ahead of her now, having the mind not to send anymore remarks her way since.

When the company stopped, Cat felt Lanna strain to catch a glimpse of the princess of Dorne. The blonde's fingers tightened about Cat's waist as she fidgeted in the saddle to look. Twisting her neck to give an annoyed glance at the girl, Cat said, "Stop moving. You're spooking the horse."

Lanna paused a second only to narrow her eyes in mock irritation. "Much like you did before, no?" she asked with a smile. When Cat took upon an offended air, the smirk slipped. Lanna furrowed her brows. "I did not mean to offend you, Cat. It was not my intention-"

"It is less than I deserve for speaking of you in such a manner." Cat interrupted mildly, mirth twinkling in her grey orbs. "But you did not offend me, dearest Lanna. Only pricked my pride."

Lanna blinked owlishly. "Before?" A grin. "But you did not insult me, Cat. I am a whore." The smile was then directed at the prat king's back. "And he is awful pretty, ain't he?"

Cat's hackles rose. "You were a whore. Not anymore." To this Lanna simply shrugged.

Cat rolled her eyes heavenward, and let her eyes track the princess of Dorne and Aegon Targaryen as they conversed. The Little Queen and Trystane Martell were also discussing something of import, if the way the Targaryen Queen reacted was anything to go on.

"Cat?" Lanna persisted, green orbs searching her face.

Cat flicked her eyes to the girl, an exasperation colouring her features. "He is nothing less than horrid."

"You like him." Lanna narrowed her eyes, and Cat started at how easily this girl had read her.

Cat bit her lip, fingers clenching around the reins and letting go within the same breath. "He's amusing." She allowed, voice bored. Lanna sighed, and let the subject drop with a pout.

"To Sunspear!" One of the knights called out to the company, and Cat flexed her legs against her mount's sides.

Lanna giggled behind her, excitement thrumming in the sound.

.

.

The halls of Sunspear were grand. Grand and old. Cat could smell it and commented as such to Lanna who rolled her eyes sceptically but nodded all the same. The rough, wide stone walls reminded Cat of Winterfell.

The bastard trailed behind them, as one of the guards Aegon Targaryen had assigned to her person he had no choice. It was quickly becoming a pain. Cat did not know what it was about the bastard that irritated her so. Mayhaps it was the way in which he assumed to know her, as if she had not changed in the slightest the past four years. That was it, she confirmed. He thinks himself my friend still, when he is anything but.

"I shall present myself to Prince Doran at the Tower of the Sun," Aegon told them all. Prince Trystane Martell bowed to them and began towards where the tower lay.

When the prat king bowed to them, she and his aunt, and departed for the company of Prince Doran, Cat resigned to the bastard's with a sigh. Lanna was conversing with a few of the maids Daenerys Targaryen was conversing with her sellsword, silver-blonde head bent towards his blue, speaking rapidly in High Valyrian. Daario Naharis was waved away and the Little Queen's violet eyes focused on Cat.
The Little Queen motioned for Cat to follow her, and Cat let irritation flash over her face a moment.

Lanna rocked on her heels at her side, waiting to be dismissed or asked to come along.
"She can accompany us if you so wish, Lady Arya." Daenerys Targaryen's tone was mild, demanding but not haughty as it had been before.

Cat raised a brow, but glanced to Lanna's face; who nodded happily. Grey eyes flicking back to the Little Queen, Cat said, "I would like that."

They wandered aimlessly through the dusty halls for a small time, until the Little Queen halted and sat upon one of the benches lining the walls.

Cat stopped also, Lanna and the bastard not three feet behind her. The Little Queen cocked her head, deep, violet eyes studying Cat's form before flicking to their surroundings.

Cat did the same. She knew that they were only here to await news from Aegon or Lord Connington, and so did not venture to begin a conversation with the shut off Queen. But it was, in fact, Daenerys Targaryen who began to speak with she.

"You would fight for our cause, correct?"

Cat frowned, eyes narrowing. "I said as such."

The Little Queen smoothed down her skirts with dainty, but calloused hands. "It is just that the word of a Stark is not quite what it was-"

Cat growled, and the sound was mirrored by one of the serpents outside. Fire swarmed in her belly, the three spires seemed a good enough perch...only Mother would not be pleased if she were to destroy something so simple….She jerked her mind away from Viserion's as if physically burned, stepping back from the Little Queen and blinking owlishly.

Daenerys Targaryen sat up straighter, gaze wary, and Cat sneered at her. "Do not even dare. Was it not a Targaryen to steal my aunt? To begin a war?"

Cat stepped closer, and Daario Naharis moved to intercept. Only the Mother of Dragons threw an arm to stop him, rising to meet Cat's chin and glare.

For one so little, it was amazing how much her presence held weight. "You do not speak to me in such a tone."

Cat snorted, tilting her head and jutting her chin out in childish defiance she hadn't felt since she were eight. "Trust in my word when I say I wish to see you on the Iron Throne in the stead of Tommen Lannister. Or don't, Your Grace, for it is your choice to."

Daenerys Targaryen blinked, and then frowned. "You would swear yourself to me?"

Cat shook her head, and before the Little Queen could voice her indignation said, "But I have sworn myself to your cause, Daenerys Targaryen." Cat lifted a brow. "Or have you forgotten so easily?"

Daenerys Targaryen scowled, violet eyes flashing. Cat did not glance away as would have been proper, but instead held the Little Queen's glare with her own.
The violet orbs took on a look of curiosity. "You and I. We are much alike."

Cat pushed down the urge to snort incredulously. "To be perfectly honest, Your Grace," she said, a bite to her tone that she couldn't hide. "We are nothing alike."

The rebuff was something that the Little Queen obviously wasn't expecting. As she searched for words, a man dressed in the colours of House Martell stepped up to them.

"Your Grace, my Lady," he greeted, and Cat knew him to be Trystane Martell. Daenerys Targaryen quickly composed herself, violet eyes softening on his form, a pleasant smile hiding her irritation.

"Prince Trystane," she greeted, dipping herself into a quick curtsy. Cat eyed the man; he had the similar looks that his uncle had been so renowned for-high, fine cheekbones, and a widows peak parting his dark hair. His dark eyes glanced once towards Cat, but her assessing glare must have dissuaded him from gawking; he jerked his eyes quickly away.

"Queen Daenerys," his tone with her was clipped; as if with thinly veiled anger. "It is a pleasure to finally see you." Cat's ears pricked up at that. Trystane Martell gave the Little Queen a shallow bow and threw his arm in the direction he had just come from. "My father wishes to meet you."

The tension the two created as they stared at one another was tangible, thick and humming with the promise of violence. Daenerys Stormborn was not a timid woman-if her conquering of three Free Cities were proof enough of that-so it surprised her when Cat decided that she'd had enough of their subtle power-plays, and stepped past them both, that the Little Queen begrudgingly glanced away and followed.

.

.

It was Aegon whom greeted her first, a smile and nod in her direction before turning his violet eyes to his aunt.

Prince Doran looked too thin to be in good health, but the old man still managed to hold himself with a regal air. His black locks were streaked with grey and his face marred by the signs of age, but his eyes were still sharp and attentive on the party before him. The smooth silk that clothed his form was soundless as he shifted forward to greet them.

"Ah, I have heard much of you, Your Grace." Prince Doran's voice was as thin as his bones, and Cat watched with idle fascination. "Any of House Targaryen are welcome here, for we are forever loyal to your family."

A girl, not much younger than Cat herself, stood to the left of the throne with Prince Trystane. Clad in rich reds and golds as brilliant as her hair, Cat did not need an introduction to know that she was a Lannister. Myrcella to be exact.

Daenerys had clued on quickly enough as well, silver-blonde brow rising. "Is that why you have a Lannister within your very halls?"

Myrcella glanced worriedly up from her hands, green eyes wide with panic. But it was the boy at her side that spoke out in her defence. "Lady Myrcella is my betrothed, Queen Daenerys. I would ask that you speak to her with the respect she deserves."

The Little Queen snorted, as if to show just the amount of respect she thought the girl deserved, and Cat spoke against the woman she'd just pledged her allegiance to.

"Myrcella Lannister was always kind to me, Your Grace," she lied easily. Myrcella had been kind, true, but she was also terribly cruel as Cat knew children to be. All eyes in the room turned upon her then, a new piece to the game to be pawned.

"And who, are you?" Prince Doran asked, greyed brow arching. Aegon Targaryen frowned at her, as did his aunt, most probably for two different reasons.

Cat fought the urge to swear and retreat back to where she'd been standing-behind Darrio Naharis (Gods knew he was nearly as tall was the Mountain). Instead, she met the Dornish Prince's expectant gaze.

The words were thick in her throat, and when they did slip past her lips they sounded choked. "I am Arya of House Stark, my Lord." It hurt nearly as much as remembering had, to claim her birth name.

Myrcella Lannister gasped, recognition shining in her face. "The world thought you dead."

Arya Stark snorted contemptuously. "And married to some Northern bastard or other, no doubt. There's not much truth to be found in rumours nowadays, Lady Lannister. I would not trust in it too much."

Princess Arianne laughed; dark eyes intent on Arya Stark's long face. "Well, aren't you something," she all but purred. Cat bristled at the tone; it was condescending and so utterly queen-like that Cat automatically disliked the curvaceous woman. Even sitting at her father's feet, Arianne Martell still managed to look down upon those standing opposite her.

She grinned at Cat, but Cat did not return the gesture. If Cat had been less proud, perhaps she would have. Would have tried to worm her way into their good-graces with flattery and promises; but Cat couldn't bring herself to do so.

Arianne did not let Cat's lack of reaction deter her. The smile stayed. It was simply redirected to one who returned it with their own. Aegon.
Prince Doran inclined his head to the khaleesi, face solemn. "My honoured guests," he began. Daenerys Targaryen drew herself straighter, violet eyes intent on the old prince's face. "Be welcome within my walls and at my table. I extend to you my hospitality and protection in the light of the Seven."

The Little Queen smiled and accepted his offer on behalf of those in her party, and told him that he was a gracious man.

Prince Doran smiled politely back, and the prat king butted in with his own pleasantries.

They were shown to the guests' chambers, and the servants told them that they were to dine with the Martells that evening.

Lanna laid herself down upon Cat's bed, but then sat up when Cat lingered by the window.

"What is wrong?" The blonde asked.

Cat glanced away from the sprawling city and to the blonde. "It is just…" Lanna stayed quiet, jade eyes intent on Cat's. "I had thought that it would feel different somehow, being in Westeros again."

Lanna grinned, a happy, pretty thing. "And you are secretly a Princess!" she exclaimed, coming up to her knees. "And you didn't even tell me!"

Cat returned the woman's playfulness. "It seemed to have slipped my mind, dear Lanna."

The blonde sobered. "You have done much for me and my mother," she said. There was a suspicious lit to her voice. Lanna was many things, but stupid and dull of wit was not one of them. "Why ever for?"

Cat could tell that this had been waiting on her tongue for a long while. She decided to indulge her. "Tyrion Lannister will be the heir to Casterly Rock," she paused and corrected herself. "Is the heir to Casterly Rock. Therefore he will be a valuable ally in the war to come, and it will come if I have any say in it."

Lanna sat still, green eyes sharp. "So I am a nothing more than a play piece in this grand game?"

Cat frowned. "You know that you are more than that to—''

Lanna laughed. "I know, I know. So serious, Cat." She leant forward and caught Cat's slim hands in her own. "It is quite a smart plan, too."

Cat nodded and bit her lip and slipped her hands out of the blonde's own. Collecting her thoughts once more, she turned from the bed and stepped towards the gowns laid out upon the large oak table.

"I do not wish to sup with the Martells," she told the woman on the bed. "Arianne seems to be as scheming as her father, and Trystane already hates Daenerys Targaryen—I am quite certain that they all distain her, for was it not her children to murder their brother and son?—and those whom call her friend." Cat ran a hand over the smooth Myrish silk and turned her nose up in disgust. "I will not wear this." She turned back towards Lanna. "Do you want it?"


D.P~ Yay? Nay? Review, maybe. I don't know, do as you wish. I have homework I should be doing.