Outwardly she and Jon appeared to be a traditional married couple. They spent time together, held hands, and kissed when appropriate. In private though the ghost of Arya hung over them both.

Melisandre had promised them that the Lord of Light would reward them with a child and so she'd taken Jon into her bed four times since they were bonded, including the first night. After each encounter she waited for news from the Maester that she was pregnant, but it never came. In between there were no additional trysts. Where once she'd welcomed his affections, now his presence was a reminder of the burdens she carried. She wanted an heir, knowing it would be invaluable for future generations but she rarely sought him out to try in earnest. Not even the promise of a baby, a thing she had long since thought impossible for her could be adequate motivation.

Few seemed aware of the fact that her King kept separate chambers next to hers. No one questioned the reason for their frequent nights apart. At first Daenerys thought it strange, although not unpleasant, until she remembered she was their Queen and Jon their King. Few who served her were in the position to inquire about a matter so personal. She was a foreigner in their eyes, with her 'savage screamers' and eunuchs. The Westerosi likely blamed her Targaryen blood for any breaks from customs that she carried out.

The longer they went without Daenerys becoming pregnant the more reluctant Jon was to approach her for sex. When they were married, he erroneously believed they'd be sharing a bed nightly. Given that she'd been willing that first night, she could understand the confusion. When they were alone she encouraged him to seek comfort from others, but the manners instilled in him by Lord Eddard Stark prevented him from following through.

Since learning of Arya's actions Daenerys had been able to think of little else. She'd begun praying regularly, not at the Sept, but in the privacy of her chambers, using it as an excuse to talk to Arya, hoping she'd hear. This night, she'd pray for the speed of the raven she sent to Pyke. The letter needed to reach her before she moved on. It was the only chance Daenerys had.

It was late when the knock came, and she instantly feared it was Jon. Tonight, was not the night for him to proposition her for sex. "Come," she answered, sounding bitter even to her own ears.

The door opened slowly to reveal Missandei and not her husband on the other side. Her attitude drastically improved. "Apologies, your Grace."

She waved it away with her small hand. "Come in Missandei. I'm sorry for my mood, I thought you were someone else."

The advisor closed the door behind her and locked it. She said nothing until she was standing beside Daenerys, wearing a black dress that was even darker than her skin and an accompanying sad smile. "I may have mentioned to the King that you and I had plans this evening," she explained.

One more time she was reminded of just how lucky she was to have Missandei with her. "Thank you, my friend."

They sat at a small circular table and Missandei poured the drinks, not wine as they usual drank but expensive rum from Essos, the kind favored by Daario's sell-swords and war-hardened mercenaries the world over. "I heard of Arya's deeds."

Of course, she had. The whole castle was humming with the news that Arya Stark, the murderous daughter of the honorable former Hand to Robert Baratheon had killed Euron Greyjoy and installed Yara on his throne. "I didn't send her, and I'm furious that she put herself in danger but…"

Daenerys wasn't sure what she wanted to say. She was thrilled to know where Arya was, to be able to confirm she was alive but she hated knowing she'd endangered her life, no matter how noble the cause. Daenerys understood better than most that even the most capable warriors sometimes fell. Drogo was a vivid reminder of that lesson. She didn't wish the same fate for Arya. In fact, she'd give all she owned to keep it from happening. That said, it warmed her to the core to know that Arya still served her, still honored her and protected them all, in spite of what had happened. Hope was a dangerous thing, but she couldn't deny it tonight.

"But you're pleased she still cares," Missandei completed for her, cutting right to the heart of it.

She took a drink of the rum, letting it burn its way down her throat. "Exactly."

Missandei smiled as she too took a sip. "Tell me, when did you know you cared for her."

"From the moment we met I was struck," she confessed. "I had so many questions. They kept me up nights, and filled my mind during the day, when I should have been listening to others. I would catch myself wondering where she was or what she was doing. I never invited Jon…" she couldn't finish the thought but didn't need to. Missandei put a soft hand on hers. She swallowed down her pain with a mouthful of rum and continued on. "I knew I was interested less than a week after that first night."

R-C

More Than Six Months Before the Wedding

Being new to Winterfell, Daenerys took time looking around without purpose, getting a feel for the area. She stumbled upon a young woman berating a man more than twice her size. He shied away from her fury while his cohorts in the Winterfell garrison stood by in silence. While the troops wore castle-forged steel covered by fur to protect from the elements the woman looked woefully underdressed in her thin looking shirt and light furs. The shiny sword on her hip that didn't look capable of hurting anyone. A blade that thin would surely break on contact. From the back, Daenerys didn't recognize it as Arya at first.

While the scene unfolded Daenerys worked her way closer, more than a little curious. It was the red hair that provided the first hint, Sansa's famous fire-colored locks. She assumed correctly that the guards were her personal protectors.

In the cold Daenerys could see puffs of air leave the woman's mouth with every furious word. "You can't protect anyone from over here!" she yelled. "You might as well stay home. You're fucking useless."

Aware of what the woman apparently wasn't, Sansa tried to reign in her defender. "This can wait until later Arya," she suggested, sparing the Queen a smile.

Arya? Despite many attempts she hadn't managed to speak to Arya since their meeting in the forest. She saw her occasionally, at meals or conversing with her siblings, but whenever Daenerys approached, the youngest she-wolf would make an excuse to leave. It was becoming hard not to take her response personally.

"It can't wait," she disagreed fiercely. Gripping the man by his shoulder she pushed him to a position she thought more suitable. "Do it right or I'll find someone who can."

Embarrassed, the guard looked like he wanted to justify his actions but wisely held his tongue. He changed his mind after looking around and seeing the size of the audience, many of whom were laughing at his expense. "I was close enough," he protested weakly.

She glanced sideways and saw Tyrion was as captivated as she was. They both held their breath while they waited to see what Arya would do next.

With a humorless chuckle she walked away from the noble and her men. When there was about fifteen feet between them she glanced over her shoulder. "Protect her then." To prove her point Arya twisted gracefully, retrieving a dagger from up her sleeve at the same time. She flipped it over in her hand and threw it toward her sister. All four of Sansa's guards tried to intervene, including the one who started the argument, but none were quick enough. The dagger hit its mark, striking above her right shoulder, sparing the flesh but binding the white shawl she wore to the wall of the stable.

Beside her Tyrion looked as if he was struggling not to laugh. "Effective presentation."

Daenerys couldn't argue. Arya marched straight to Sansa and tore the dagger from the wood. "Was that really necessary?" she asked in complaint.

She turned to the men as if Sansa hadn't spoken. "Protect her with your lives or you'll be answering to me."

Another opportunity to talk to Arya came when she headed Daenerys's way. She opened her mouth, but a pair of stormy grey eyes silenced her. It was probably for the best, she had no idea what she intended to say. Those thoughts were pushed aside by Sansa's appearance. "Your Grace, Lord Tyrion, I'm sorry you had to see that. Arya takes my security very seriously, she's…" she paused and took time to search for the appropriate word, "passionate."

Her eyes darted to the Stark in question. She had no trouble believing that. Since causing the spectacle with the guard she'd hopped a fence and was already sparring with a pair of soldiers. Daenerys pulled her eyes away. "No apologies needed. Proper training and passionate armies are going to be essential if we're going to win these wars."

She ended the memory by emptying her glass of its rum. "That's when I knew," Daenerys whispered, "I simply had to speak to her again."

R-C

The long table was meant to be lined with Starks. The current state of her family meant she sat alone, surrounded by empty chairs. Jon had gone South with his new wife, Bran went in the opposite direction soon after to ready things on the Wall and Arya… Sansa had no idea where Arya was. She could be in Braavos or King's Landing or any place in between. She'd left without saying goodbye, using Bran to pass along her apology like a coward. She was upset and hurt but she needed to be strong. A Stark was needed to maintain order in the North and rule Winterfell and there was no one else.

Not even the lack of her family could lessen the crowded feel of the room. Every Northern house pledged to them had representatives there, most were staying at Winterfell until the war concluded. The troops spent the days training both in the yard and outside the walls. The craftsman worked tirelessly to fashion all manner of deadly tools from the dragonglass Daenerys and Jon sent and the Lords and Ladies themselves demanded an audience with Sansa at every turn, so they could yell and voice their discontent.

"Perhaps we made a mistake," Lord Glover said loudly. "We need a King in the North!"

Sansa could tell from the murmurs of agreement, this wasn't going to be easy. Before she could respond, Mazin did. "Glover's right. We didn't choose Jon to be our King so he could fuck a foreign slut!"

"I don't care what he says," Cerwyn began. Sansa tried to interrupt, but her words were easily drowned out by the louder, more aggressive voices. "He's no use to us in the South. We're Northmen! We don't need their fucking help!" The anger around the room grew more insistent. "Umbers with us too," Cerwyn concluded nudging the little boy who now led his house.

"We need a new King," Glover summarized. "One who can't be bought by a nicely shaped ass. The boy forgets his history. The Targaryens killed his grandfather and uncle. They are no friends of mine and no friends to the North."

Sansa had thought that by letting them share their frustrations, things would ease but they were only growing worse. While only the brave few were speaking their concerns, she could see on many of the silent faces looks of agreement. She needed to end this, now. She stood and immediately drew Brienne a step closer, in an unnecessary act of protection. "Enough!" she shouted as loudly as she could. "Lords please! I understand you are upset but now is not the time for us to be fighting amongst ourselves. We have a war in the North and a war in the South. The only way any of us are going to survive the winter is if we unite."

"Apologies m'lady," Cerwyn said, "but your brother has forgotten his duty to us. He was to be our King, not some Dragon's wife."

"Jon has forgotten nothing, not our history and certainly not his duty. How many of you have seen a White Walker? How many of you," she began moving out from behind the table with Brienne in tow, "have fought one, killed one? You Lord Cerwyn?"

She didn't need his reply, she already knew the answer, they all did. Jon was their King in part because he was the only one who truly understood what was coming for them. "And Lord Mazin, you met Daenerys when she was here, did you not? Did she seem as mad as her father to you?"

"I didn't speak with her much m'lady," he confessed.

"I did," Sansa made clear. "I spoke with her, I watched her, and I listened, and she is fair and generous. If that's not enough, I remind you she saved Jon's life as well as many others."

Now in the center of the room Sansa stopped and let them congregate around her. She set her focus on Glover, the unofficial leader of the unrest. "M'lord," she said making it known she was talking to him and him alone. "If you feel that way about my sister, your King's wife, I'll send the raven and inform Jon. I'm sure he'd meet you anywhere of your choosing to settle your dispute, in the Old Way."

The once unruly room was suddenly so quiet she heard nothing but her own breathing. Even before his defeat of the Boltons Jon was known as one of the best swordsmen in the North. In fair combat the elder Lord wouldn't stand a chance. Forcing the issue would only hasten his premature death. Not even Glover's best champion could win. He held his ground but bowed his head in submission. "That won't be necessary Lady Stark, I meant no disrespect."

Sansa said nothing for a few moments, allowing each of them to relax. "Tensions are high and you're worried. I understand, I'm worried too but we shouldn't be bickering like children. Jon left the North to gain an army and rally support. No matter how badly you wish it, none of us can defeat the Night King alone. When he returns, and make no mistake, he will return he needs us to be strong, united and ready to fight."

"Lady Stark's right," Mormont said, her small voice packed tight with authority. "The enemy is out there," she said pointing to the window, "not in here."

"I know my brother well, as most of you do. While it's true we need every man and woman we can spare to fight the White Walkers, he would never force you to follow him, nor risk your lives on his behalf. Go if you wish but consider this, if we fall here, how long before it is your homes the dead are approaching?"

The offer to leave wasn't accepted by anyone and after a full minute Sansa was satisfied her point had been made. "Lords, Ladies, if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to."

It wasn't until they were safely around the corner that Brienne's stoic expression broke and she smiled. "Nicely done m'lady."

Sansa grinned too. "Thank you."

R-C

With Yara on the throne, peace didn't come easy. Many Ironborn rejected the idea of a female ruler, Greyjoy or not. This ensured Arya had her fill of the violence and death she craved. Many tried to seize control, thinking Yara unfit. The fighting was vicious but was beginning to wane as more and more died by her hands, at Yara's feet or on Theon's sword.

Yara ordered her powerful uncle hung from the bridge where Balon died, as a warning to all who might oppose her. It had the desired effect and slowly things started to calm.

The Iron Fleet was unique. Many were uncertain of Yara's intentions, of her allegiance to Daenerys and her plans to shift them away from raiding. Long before she aligned herself with the Dragon Yara proved herself to be a capable captain, worthy of her difficult father's praise and love, as well as the respect of the sailors who served under her. When word spread that it was she, wounded and weak that killed the much-feared Euron, dozens of crews flocked to her banner.

Not unlike the Dothraki she'd encountered after meeting Daenerys, Arya could tell the Iron Islanders favored strength over cunning, and brute force over deception. It's why they'd followed Euron after he murdered his brother, their true King, and why they were willing to tolerate Yara, at least until someone could best her.

The Salt Queen healed quickly becoming strong, determined and committed. Arya couldn't deny she recognized some of the same features in Yara that had originally attracted her to Daenerys. Theon was also impressive, in his own way. She'd been raised with him, like kin, regardless of how he'd come to Winterfell. She remembered his crude jokes, his taunting words and endless teasing but the years had changed him as surely as they had her. In Yara's company Theon was polite, courtesy and helpful. Not once since she found him had she heard him muttering under his breath, as he often did when Robb issued an order, or itching for a fight, the way he used to by calling Jon 'bastard.'

It was nearly a month after she met Yara that Arya began to consider moving on. It would be only days now before she made her escape. When Yara summoned her, she expected the other woman somehow sensed her impending departure and meant to stop it.

Theon met her just outside the room where Yara held court. "Arya, there you," he said smiling at the sight of her. "My sister wishes to speak with you."

She fell in step beside the older man. "Heard you put an end to the commotion on Orkmont," she said, resting a friendly hand on his shoulder. They hadn't been close when she was a child, but things were different now. He'd proven himself worthy of her respect. Their new bond was born from the fact that Theon was one of the few who truly understood all Arya had lost. He knew of Rickon's innocence, Bran's mischievousness, Sansa's beauty, Robb's honor and Jon's quiet strength. Like her, he'd been on the receiving end of her mother's grace and her father's love.

He grinned proudly. "Didn't even need to fight. I offered the rebels their own ship in the Iron Fleet and a place at the head of the war against King's Landing. Turns out you aren't the only one eager for a fight with the Lannisters."

"Glad to hear it."

Yara was flirting with a serving girl when they entered. She immediately shoed the woman away and stood. "You found her. Good work little brother!" She held out her arms in greeting. "Arya, welcome."

Since being freed Yara was recovering well. Plenty of drinking, fighting and fucking didn't seem to slow her in the slightest. She had scars on her wrists. ankles and throat, and still healing wounds on her back and legs but Arya knew better than most that marks like those could be powerful motivators. She had no doubt Yara would be stronger for it. "Queen Greyjoy," she said formally. She may have recognized her as the Lady Reaper of Pyke, but she knelt for only one woman and it wasn't Yara.

"News from the world," she said snapping her fingers and commanding a servant step forward, scrolls in hand. "The Dragon is sending her freed men to solidify our bargain. I told her they aren't required, that you are more than enough alone, but I fear they'll arrive before word reaches Dragonstone."

Discussions of Daenerys brought no shortage of heartache, but Arya was an expert at hiding her feelings. "The Unsullied are superior soldiers. Your men will benefit from having them here."

"I agree," Yara said, waving Arya closer. "The Queen is pleased with you. You saved me, and now she has the strongest fleet in the world at her back."

Calling back on her time in Braavos she answered in another tongue. "Valar Dohaeris, we all must serve."

Her lips curled into a smirk. "I love it when you talk like that," she teased. "If you want to serve I can think of a few ways you might be of use to me."

Arya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Since the rescue Yara had made no secret of her affections for the killer. She liked Yara more than most but that wasn't enough for her to fall into her bed, however temporary and meaningless it might be. "Very kind," she replied, "but I'm needed elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Yara repeated.

"You're leaving?" Theon interjected.

She looked behind her at the man she'd come to trust and nodded. Then she turned back to Yara to explain. "The Iron Islands are stable but many of the Queen's enemies remain. Ellaria Sand waits for aid as you did. I'll save her if I can."

"You are always speaking of the Queen's wishes, the Queen's orders, not the King's. Daenerys is wed to your brother now is she not?" Yara already knew the answer so Arya just waited. "Why are you sworn to her and not him?"

Fearing offending the Stark, Theon tried to reign in his sister's bluntness slightly. "Yara, leave her be."

She was right, that was a distinction Arya made clearly and it wasn't accidental. "I've always been loyal to Jon. Before they were set to be married, he swore to follow Daenerys as you did, I honored that oath by following his lead. My brother has no desire to sit on the Iron Throne," she said confidently, knowing it to be true. "When the wars are over Daenerys will rule the South and Jon the North."

"But they're wed," Yara protested. "They won't separate, will they?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I guess that's something they'll need to decide when the time comes."

She knew what to expect when she saw the spark in Yara's eye. "Jon Snow isn't the only one who needs a queen, you know. You could stay. I'm sure Daenerys wouldn't mind and think of all the fun we could have together…"

Arya chose her words carefully. "I'm not the right woman for you."

She made no attempt to hide her disappointment. "Not into women eh?" Arya said nothing, and the twinkle returned even brighter than before. "Ah, I see, you're already promised to another," she predicted.

"Be well."

Before she could go Yara was calling out to her, snapping her fingers again. "If you're sure you must leave, take this with you. It came from Dragonstone with the other." Her steps nearly faltered. A message for her? She took a breath to steady her pounding heart. Upon being handed the sealed scroll she knew who'd sent it at once. She also knew she wasn't strong enough to open it yet.

R-C

Four days into her trip toward the Westerosi mainland she found the courage to break the Dragon's seal. The elegant writing, so unlike her own, brought the tightly controlled memories flooding back.

Arya,

I should have known where you'd go and what you'd do. Thank you. Not just for what you've done for Yara, the kingdoms and our people but what you've done for me.

I found your letter shortly after you left. Thank you for that as well. It was exactly what I needed at precisely the proper time.

As I'm sure you've heard, we've returned to Dragonstone. Things have settled and there is much to occupy my time, but not nearly enough to keep me from thinking of you.

I understand why you couldn't stay. It was selfish of me to ask you to, but I'm going to be selfish again. Come home. Jon is worried about you constantly and I miss you desperately. I know that's a lot to ask, possibly too much, but I hope you'll listen.

I'll keep you in my prayers, hoping this letter finds you well, safe and already on your way back to me.

Until next time,

With My Love,

Daenerys

It was physically painful to refuse her. Especially when her pleas were so in line with what Arya wanted to do, but she just couldn't. Jon and Daenerys were still newlyweds and they deserved a chance to see if their feelings could grow. They wouldn't be able to do that if Arya was lurking in every shadow. She blew out the candle and closed her eyes, fully aware that if she did sleep it would be filled with dreams that did nothing but torment her come morning.

R-C

Author's Note: I know there isn't much in this one, but I needed some time to pass to move things along. Next up, I've got more flashbacks, Arya's reply and Jon and Daenerys finally talking about Arya.

The next update should be relatively quick. Hope you'll stick around.