Sitting on the Iron Throne, awaiting the start of a meeting, she began playing with the silver around her neck. She ran the pad of her thumb down the rectangle, passing each of the gems on her way. She hadn't realized she was doing it until Missandei spoke from the seat on Daenerys's left. "That's beautiful."

She blinked back to the present with a jolt, looked at Missandei first, then the necklace and finally the room. It was busy, but everyone was engaged in their own conversations. Jorah with the Unsullied, the members of the court amongst themselves. Tyrion had yet to return, giving the women time to speak. She used High Valyrian as she often did when she was worried about their audience. "It was a gift."

"From Arya," Missandei guessed.

The Queen was sure her face hung open like a fish out of water. "How…"

"You wouldn't have worn it each of the last three days if it were from anyone else," the advisor explained. Missandei was the smartest woman in her service, likely the smartest woman Daenerys had ever known and somehow, she still didn't give her enough credit. She didn't think anyone noticed. No one had commented on it.

"She left it for me a few nights ago. I got back to my room and it was waiting for me."

Daenerys knew Missandei's wide smile had more to do with the romantic gesture than the gift itself. She stood and moved to get a closer look at the pendant. Daenerys lifted it off her skin carefully and held it out for Missandei to see. "Arya bought you this?" Missandei asked in awe. "How could she…"

That was a question Daenerys herself had been dying to know the answer to. "I have no idea," she confessed. "I haven't seen her since." She'd been at war with herself of late trying to decide the best course of action. On one hand she loved the necklace and all that it represented, on the other, she didn't like that Arya had spent what had to be such a large amount of money on Dany. "I know I should return it, but I don't want to offend her, and I love it."

Once the necklace had been thoroughly examined Daenerys set it back into place. She moved with extreme caution, afraid to cause even accidental damage. "You care about her," she stated factually.

"So much," Daenerys admitted, feeling better now that she'd said it out loud. "I wasn't supposed to, it was just one night. Arya knew that from the start, it's how I wanted it."

She didn't continue, so Missandei prodded her to keep going. "But?"

After a deep breath she told the truth. Things she wasn't brave enough to say to Arya yet. Some she'd even been hiding from herself. "I missed her before I made it back to the keep. When I came over the hill and saw Jorah and the Unsullied looking for me, I wanted to turn and go the other way, back to the tavern, back to Arya." Now that she'd started talking, it didn't seem she could stop. It just kept pouring out. "She makes me feel…" she paused to choose the appropriate word, "normal." She chuckled fondly at a memory. "She treats me like a woman and not a Queen. Even when she's here in the castle, she acts like it's that small, dirty room above the tavern."

Missandei smiled at her obviously smitten friend while saying nothing. The silence was the only opening Daenerys needed to keep rambling. "She tells me what she thinks, exactly what she thinks. It's refreshing. I think sometimes she even forgets I'm Queen," Daenerys remarked. Her claim was accented by a strange, short laugh that she tried to conceal. It came from the realization that she too forgot she was royalty in Arya's company.

Tyrion and Varys entered together in the midst of a heated debate. "Apologies, your Grace," the spymaster said as he ducked his head. "I met Lord Tyrion on the way to see you."

Her easy chat with Missandei faded to the background and she sat up a little straighter on her throne. "Is something the matter?"

Varys and Tyrion eyed one another to decide who would speak. Whether Varys won or lost she couldn't tell, but he did reply. "Rumors of trouble in the North, your Grace."

"What sort of trouble?"

"Just whispers, your Grace," Varys informed her, "they say someone is working hard to make Sansa Stark appear incapable of leading. Others go so far as to predict an open rebellion in the coming days."

"That's not going to happen!" the Dragon roared. Against the counsel of her advisors, she'd allowed the North to maintain its independence only because it was unified under Stark rule. Jon and Sansa had been instrumental in helping Daenerys defeat not only the Night King, but Cersei as well. She wouldn't be Queen without them. Sansa was loyal to her and the Realm, so Daenerys saw no harm in letting her retain the title 'Queen in the North'. A Northern ruler who wasn't Sansa Stark or her kin would be a lot more difficult for Daenerys to tolerate. If someone took Winterfell from Sansa, it would be the opening shots of her third war since returning to Westeros.

How could this be happening without her knowledge? It had been several years since she'd seen Sansa in person, but letters were exchanged frequently, trade was up, and all appeared well. This was the first she heard of any difficulties. "Did you know of this?!" she asked her Hand, a little too harshly.

"I did not."

She addressed Tyrion first. "Send a raven to Winterfell at once, ensure Sansa has everything she needs to root out this rebellion." She didn't wait before turning to the Spider. "Pay your 'little birds' double for any news from the North! I want to know who is leading the opposition and what their motives are."

Tyrion let the tension in the room settle before he made a suggestion. "If I may, your Grace, there is a line of people who seek an audience with you today and the Dornish are expected back from their tour of the capitol before long."

There never seemed to be enough hours in the day to do all that was required. It's why she hadn't managed to sneak away to see Arya since the night of the feast. "Send them in," she instructed Tyrion, "then go and prepare the raven to Sansa. You can join us when you're through."

"I will."

R-C

The day had begun early and ran late. It was the first full day since the party from Dorne left to begin their long pilgrimage home. The visit had gone well. Negotiations were held, and both sides got what they wanted. An increase in the amount of trade between Dorne and the capitol would put more gold in Dornish coffers while providing King's Landing with unique goods it couldn't get elsewhere. She also met with two of Oberyn Martell's surviving daughters. The eldest living Sand Snake remained in Sunspear ruling over her kingdom, but the presence of the others reinforced for Daenerys that she had Dorne's support. When it became clear they wanted a larger presence at court than they already had, Daenerys saw an opening. In their final meeting she offered one of the Sand women two additional seats in her court, provided they join her in her efforts to better the Realm. When Obella Sand agreed, Daenerys couldn't help but think of how proud Arya would be to see her not only playing the Great Game but winning.

Giving two seats to Dorne was a major concession but one Daenerys could live with. Two new additions who were inclined to support her proposals would shift the balance of power in her court more substantially than a single new member could.

"Do we have any other appointments on the calendar?" she asked her Hand as she stood and stretched her aching back.

She must have looked tired because Tyrion set down the document he was reading and gave the Queen a smile. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, your Grace."

No one needed to tell her twice. She was overdue for an important appointment. "Very well then. You can all take the remainder of the evening off. I think we are all owed some rest."

"I like the sound of that. Drinks in the Hand's Tower?" Tyrion proposed. After translations a few of the assembled Blood Riders were interested, if for no other reason than the alcohol. Jorah hesitated, waiting for Daenerys to confirm she'd be in attendance before agreeing. Missandei looked to Grey Worm and after a few seconds of wordless communication they too were on board. "Excellent. Mormont, Daenerys are you going to join us?"

"Not this time," she said. She absentmindedly twirled her pendant as she thought of the woman who had given it to her.

When Jorah was the only one undecided he wavered.
"Maybe later."

Everyone to cleared out quickly, well almost everyone. "I believe I gave you the night off Ser," she said, working to keep her voice light.

"Are you going to see that girl?" he asked gruffly.

"I haven't decided yet," she lied. She had every intention of going to see Arya tonight. Her time entertaining the Dornish had kept them apart too long.

"Why do you always refuse to take guards with you? What is it about this woman…"

She was glad he didn't finish that particular thought. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Arya with a man who loved her. "Have a nice night Jorah, you've earned it."

"You too Khaleesi," he said without feeling.

There was something in his eyes that led her to believe he wasn't ready to give up. There was more anger than resignation. It wouldn't be above him to follow her discretely and then announce himself at the worst possible time to ruin her evening. Daenerys refused to let that happen. "I mean it, I hope you enjoy yourself, but know this – if you follow me tonight, you'll need to find another Queen to serve."

R-C

It was late, so Daenerys treaded carefully. She crept as silently as she could toward Arya's camp, not wanting to wake her if she was already dreaming. She thought she'd been quiet until she stepped between the final trees and saw Arya. She wasn't sleeping as Daenerys feared or even sitting by the fire with a drink in her hand. She was standing there naturally, as if she'd been expecting her Targaryen visitor all along.

How Arya had known she was coming was a question that didn't seem all that important. A smile stretched her face and Daenerys took off in a sprint toward her lover. She kicked off her shoes as she went, sensing they wouldn't be needed. The necklace Arya gave her swung from side to side as she ran. Arya had her hands behind her back, but that didn't give her pause. She launched herself at Arya with the upmost faith she wouldn't be allowed to fall. In Arya's arms, Daenerys hung on as though her life depended on it. She laced her arms around Arya's neck and pushed her fingers up into the hair on the back of her head. Her legs closed around Arya's waist like a clamp, locking them together and maximizing the amount of contact between their bodies. Gods had she missed this. She greedily attached her mouth to Arya's.

Daenerys used their kiss to say everything she couldn't. She poured it all out, the long, exhausting day she'd had, the endless claims on her time, her overbearing knight, the burdens of governing and every other frustration she could think of, no matter how minor or trivial. Arya kept pace with her, kissing back the entire time, matching her intensity with ease. When Daenerys passion led to biting on Arya's lips, she took it all without complaint, even nibbling back at Dany a time or two.

Slowly the kiss changed. As Arya's tongue played with hers, first in Daenerys's mouth, then Arya's and finally in the limited space in between, she remembered why she'd come. It had been more than just an escape from the Red Keep and her responsibilities. She'd come for Arya, to thank her for the gift she received and to enjoy time in her company. She pulled her head back slightly and sucked in air. "Thank you for my necklace, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Aware of Arya's discomfort with praise she expected her to brush the statement aside in as few words as possible. "You're more than just a Targaryen or a Queen. I didn't want you to forget that."

She looked at the chain around her neck. "I'll always remember," she promised. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Although she didn't want to, she squirmed a bit, to try and convince Arya to set her down on her own feet. She shook her head and tightened her hold in reply. She was as content to hold Daenerys as Daenerys was to be held. The silence between them wasn't at all uncomfortable. Daenerys savored it before she said, "Arya I love it, but it's so expensive…"

She didn't get to finish. "Don't!" Arya said with force. "I had a few extra coins laying around. I wanted you to have it."

She made it sound so simple. Even knowing she spent more than 'a few coins,' Daenerys almost let the matter drop. "It had to have cost you a fortune," she said, hoping Arya understood the reason for her worry. It wasn't that she didn't like or appreciate the gesture. "I love that you bought this for me, that you thought of me, but I don't want you going without what you need, just so I can have a pendant to wear."

"I didn't buy it, I had it made," Arya corrected.

That only made her point more necessary. Commissioning a necklace cost more than buying one that was already made. "Arya, I didn't need…"

"Do you like it?" she asked, cutting off Daenerys's half-hearted attempt to rebuke Arya's generosity.

She hoped her emotions showed on her face when she said, "Of course I do. It's the most gorgeous thing I've ever been given but…" She meant it too. Not even her dragon eggs could rival the necklace Arya gave her. They didn't have the same sentimental value.

"Good, then just accept it and say, 'thank you.'"

It was an order, one Daenerys challenged anyone to defy, even a Queen such as herself. "Thank you," she said, giving Arya a smile that admitted defeat. She still didn't approve of Arya wasting so much gold on her, but Daenerys could sense she wasn't going to win the argument. It was hard to prolong the fight when she had a stunning necklace to wear, and a sweet Arya to reassure her.

"Your welcome," she said again.

"Does it look as good on me as you imagined?" Daenerys heard herself ask. Those were words she only intended to wonder privately. Her cheeks burned as a result.

"Better," Arya swore with conviction. It was all Daenerys could do to let her finish the lone word before she kissed her again.

"I missed you," she breathed out when the kiss was over, knowing it was true.

She was watching Arya closely as she confessed, and she was rewarded with the smirk she loved. The arms supporting her squeezed a little tighter and Dany settled in for what she hoped would be a long night spent just like this. Their next kiss was the opposite of the first. Slow and soft it still managed to set Dany on fire. How did she get so lucky?

She lost track of how long they stayed there, kissing, but eventually Arya carried the Queen toward the fire. Her bed was already set up, exactly where it had been the last time Daenerys stayed the night. A tan pelt on the bottom, a single battered pillow and two blankets. She smiled at the flood of memories. "Got room for me?"

The answer came with a quick peck on her lips before she set Daenerys down on her own feet for the first time since she arrived. Her legs were more than a little unsteady. "You don't exactly take up a lot of space."

Arya backed up, glowing by the firelight, looking glorious. In that moment there was only one truth in Daenerys's world – she wanted Arya – anything else, if it existed it all, was secondary. She reached for the straps of her dress and pushed them off her shoulders. She was naked in a blink, stepping forward with her hand out in invitation. "Coming to bed?" she asked in her most enticing voice.

Arya's proximity to the fire afforded Daenerys a fully lit view of the passion and hunger in her eyes. That was good, because it would have been a shame to miss even the smallest detail. She tried to memorize the way Arya's tongue swept across her smirking lip, and the undeniably predatory stare that had every muscle below Daenerys's stomach clenching in anticipation.

The fact that she hadn't rushed straight to Daenerys when the Queen made her desire known would have frustrated her with anyone else. Arya liked to make her wait. She knew from experience Arya was more than worth waiting for. Their standoff continued, and Daenerys quickly recognized it for what it was, the next in their long list of games. She could have gone to Arya, but it would have disappointed them both to end the battle so soon and with such little effort.

A gust of wind blowing through provided her with her next idea. "Aren't you cold?" she said, staying rooted to the spot while her instincts wanted nothing more than to throw herself at Arya as she'd done before. "Dragon blood has its perks, I'll keep you warm."

The widening of Arya's smirk to a full grin told Daenerys it wouldn't be that easy. "From the North, remember," she said pointing to herself, "it'll take more than a little wind to chill my bones." One heart beat passed in silence and then two. "Besides, I'm not the one standing in the Kingswood naked."

The embarrassment that would be natural for anyone in her situation was quickly snuffed out. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She was with her lover, alone, and she wanted her. That wasn't something the Queen needed to feel badly about. It also dawned on her she wasn't naked exactly, she still had on the pendant Arya gave her. It reached halfway to her breasts, the cool silver nice on her heated flesh. Arya's eyes landed on the necklace and stayed there. She noticed it too.

She took time to prepare her retort and did what she could to mirror Arya's cocky expression. "Now that you mention it, I was kind of hoping I wouldn't be the only one naked by the time we're through."

"You could put your dress back on, sit by the fire and warm up," Arya proposed. "I'll even give you one of my blankets."

Violet eyes found the puddle of silk in the dirt. Putting her dress back on would be like admitting defeat and she was a Dragon, not a loser. "I was imagining other ways we could stay warm tonight, actually," Daenerys confessed boldly.

The change was subtle, a narrowing of her steely eyes, a band of tension running through her jaw and a pulse pounding in the side of her neck. "We?"

Never before had she had to work so hard for sex. Perhaps that was what separated sex with Arya from all her past lovers. "We, as in you and me, together," she clarified.

She thought she was making progress when she saw Arya lean in her direction, close her eyes and take a long, deep breath. When her eyes opened however her resolve was once again strong. What came next proved it. "And what makes you think I want to be the one keeping you warm tonight, Dany?"

Her use of the name no one else was allowed to call her, had her biting back a moan before she revealed how aroused this torture had gotten her. Weakness now wouldn't result in the relief she ached for it would only embolden Arya to keep toying with her. She did as Arya had, closed her eyes, composed herself and then replied, "Recent history."

Arya's body rippled with barely concealed tension and Daenerys sensed she'd found a soft spot. She went for it with everything she had. "There was the tavern," she began, holding up one finger to signify their original encounter, "then dinner at the keep," she added a second finger to her growing count. "Mmm that was fun," she purred. "Thank the Gods the walls of my chamber are so thick, or you would have woken the whole castle when you screamed my name."

Daenerys was a Queen. Her word was law and her choices carried weight. She affected the lives of countless people every day with the things she decided. Wars had been waged on her word, and millions lived under her graceful rule only because she permitted them to. She was the single most powerful woman in the world and yet, never in her entire life had she felt that power so intently as she did right then. Not when she brought dragons back from the dead, or when she sat on the Iron Throne for the first time. All of that paled in comparison to this. Arya was cracking right before her eyes and for once Daenerys was going to win one of their games.

"I wasn't the only one, if I recall correctly," Arya reminded her, the words passing through barely parted lips.

Rather than blush and admit the truth in her recollection Dany went for the kill. Every inch of her exposed body was hot, but she made a show of shivering. "If you aren't going to keep me warm, I'll have to do it myself before I freeze."

The time for talk was done. Like a cat she stretched her body, putting it all on display for Arya to see. Her small hands started on her neck, under her pendant, side by side. They began to rub down, spreading out as they went. They slowed as they reached her breasts, giving each of the mounds a squeeze. Her nipples hardened more than they already were as she played. The moan that echoed off the trees hadn't been as fake as she initially intended.

Keeping her eyes off Arya went against her every instinct but it proved worthwhile when she heard a sexy growl from her lover about the time her hands dipped below her stomach. "Mmm, it's warm here," she said cupping her core with one hand while the other massaged her thigh. She rocked her hips against her palm and shuddered as pleasure rattled her. She was wetter than she would have expected given that Arya had only kissed her. She was more than ready for her to join in.

"I should probably pick up my dress, don't you think, I mean I'll need to wear it back to the city tomorrow?" She didn't spare Arya a glance as she asked. She turned her back to the woman and bent down. She kept her legs straight and her ass high, wiggling it back and forth as she worked to get a non-existent spot of dirt off the silk.

It was too quiet. There was the crackling fire and her pounding heart but nothing else to hear. No sign that Arya was enjoying or even still watching. She was about to check. Before she could Daenerys was torn off her feet hard but escorted to the ground with care. When it was over, she was lying face down on the pelt where Arya slept. Arya was over top of her. She didn't try to hide her triumphant grin as she twisted to see Arya's face.

Her intention to gloat didn't survive past Arya's mouth finding the side of her neck. All the clever things she had planned to say following her first victory against Arya jumbled in her mind as Arya devoured her. She was moving quickly, kissing, sucking, and biting at anything she could reach. Daenerys heard herself moan. Not exactly the witty remark she imagined.

One of Arya's arms slid under her as she writhed. She applied pressure to the underside of the Queen's stomach. With a grunt she had Daenerys on her knees and forearms. Arya fit her like a glove, laying over her back while staying bound to her neck. The passion stole Daenerys's air. It was hard to believe anyone, or anything could push her composed lover over the edge so thoroughly, but she had. Within seconds of her being on her knees Arya was reaching between them. Arya moaned lewdly when she felt Dany's wetness and didn't delay in pushing one of her fingers in, followed soon by a second.

Arya stayed folded over her, kissing and biting her neck in random intervals as she pumped her fingers in and out. The louder she got expressing her pleasure, the faster Arya moved. She tried to hold it back but she couldn't and eventually she was pleading for more.

With her orgasm approaching Daenerys began rocking back and forth, hoping to push Arya's skilled fingers even deeper. Her longer body easily maintained the contact without pinning Dany down. It was perfection. Arya somehow knew exactly what she needed, even if Daenerys didn't know how to ask for it.

Her senses were being overwhelmed. Arya's breasts rubbed against Daenerys's bare back, separated only by the thin shirt she wore. Up and down she felt Arya's nipples grazing her spine. The rhythm was mesmerizing, offset by Arya's gravelly grunts and heavy pants each time she buried her fingers inside Dany. She curled them without warning and sent Daenerys bucking wildly in reply. The wicked, sexy chuckle she heard as she tried to keep from collapsing nearly wrecked her. The breasts, the fingers, the panting breaths, it was all becoming too much for Daenerys to take. Arya's free hand chose then to reach under her and attack her clit in short, fast strokes. Daenerys didn't stand a chance.

"Ar…Ah…Arya!" she screamed as she erupted.

Her nakedness and the night air not withstanding Daenerys was covered with a coat of sweat as she basked in the intensity of her climax. Beside her Arya was looking entirely too proud of herself for the Queen's liking. After all, hadn't she won their stand-off?

"You really need to work on your patience," Daenerys chastised, trying to mimic the tone Arya had used on her so many times before. "I thought it was going to take much longer than that to break you," she lied.

"Uh-huh," Arya muttered, unconvinced. She ducked her head and Daenerys raised to meet her halfway. "You can tell me all about it later," she said just before she sealed their fates with a kiss that ended all thoughts of discussion.

R-C

Those around her wisely kept their distance. If looks could kill, she'd be the only one still alive in the whole of the Red Keep. Daenerys was beyond furious. It didn't matter that only one man had incited her rage, she was willing and able to take it out on everyone she saw.

She was becoming lost in her anger. Everything she heard sounded as if she was listening from underwater. There was a fog, blurring the edges of her vision. It made it hard for her to think. Every time she inhaled the air burned her nostrils. Her tongue was rough and dry against the teeth she was grinding together. She marched the length of the hall bringing her small feet down as hard as she could. If the stone crumbled under her abuse, she wouldn't have noticed.

How dare he?! Ronan Neesom – her lips turned down into a scowl as she pictured the middle-aged man who started all this.

It began when a crying woman with thick black hair and olive toned skin presented herself to the Unsullied at the gate and requested an audience. There was a long line, but after spotting what appeared to be fresh bruises under her eye and on her wrists, she was escorted in. When Daenerys first laid eyes on her she could see her dress was torn in several places.

Her name was Lena Neesom and although she tried to remain calm before the Queen, it was obvious she was distressed. "Did someone hurt you?" she asked gently, as Missandei gave Lena a cloth to dry her tears.

Lena nodded, swallowed down a sob and told her story. She started at the beginning. She was the daughter of a smith. When she was young her father arranged her marriage to the son of a wealthy merchant. Lena confessed openly that she did not love the man her father selected and told him so, but they were married anyway.

As she listened Daenerys felt anger on Lena's behalf. She knew all too well what it was like to be forced into a marriage. The fact that she'd grown to love Drogo in time didn't change the fact that Viserys had sold her like cattle.

"I gave him two sons," Lena said as a fresh wave of tears came. "I was a good wife, and a fine mother, even when he beat me and visited whores."

The delay that followed was long enough that Daenerys found Tyrion's eye and silently wondered if she should say something.

"Last year I met a man," she continued, "James Waters." Daenerys could see where this was going. Lena's crying slowed a bit as she mentioned James and she hurried to make one thing clear. "I didn't break my vows, I kept them, every last one." Daenerys hadn't been expecting that. She studied Lena's face for any hint she was lying and saw none. "James cared for me and I him, but we were only friends."

Tyrion was skeptical. "Only friends?"

"He was kind to me, never raised his voice, let alone his hand. He brought me flowers and listened to what I had to say." Lena sensed she needed further evidence that she hadn't betrayed her husband, so she added, "I swear before the Gods, I kept my vows."

Daenerys couldn't speak for anyone else, but she was inclined to believe her. That said, this tale clearly didn't have a happy ending. She needed to hear it all. "Go on."

"Yesterday my husband came from his shop upset. I can't say why, I know not, but he was angry and struck me."

She winced in pain as she raised her left arm and kept it away from her side. Without Lena holding her torn dress together a flap of fabric fell away, exposing a portion of her side. The area Daenerys could see was almost entirely purple. Bruises layered upon bruises covered her skin. Daenerys was sickened and enraged at the same time. From the looks on the faces around her, she wasn't the only one.

"When James saw what he'd done to me, he was mad. He went to find Ronan." Her frail body shook as she cried. "I begged him not to, told him I was fine, but he went anyway."

"Did he find your husband?"

She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. "Ronan returned this morning with blood on his clothes and demanded I wash them. When I was emptying his pockets, I found a bronze ring James always wore. I asked him about it and he did this," she finished, gesturing to her marked eye.

Daenerys had heard enough. "Missandei, please escort Lena to one of the guest rooms and have the Maester tend to her wounds."

"At once, your Grace."

"Where does James live?" Tyrion asked carefully.

"Flea Bottom," she answered before Missandei guided her away.

Daenerys waited until they were gone before she issued her orders. "Go to Flea Bottom and find James Waters. If he lives, I want to see him."

Grey Worm left with a stoic nod, calling for several of his men to follow.

"What of the husband?" Jorah wondered.

"You'll take a dozen Dothraki to his shop and bring this Ronan Neesom to me. I want to see how he answers his wife's charges."

Within hours, her will was done. The Maester assured her that with time Lena would heal. James Waters's body was found in a Flea Bottom alley, riddled with far more stab wounds than would be necessary to kill any man. She'd just finished informing Lena of her friend's fate when Jorah brought Ronan in.

On her throne again, she cut right to the heart of it. "You are accused of murder? Do you deny it?"

Ronan was a weak looking man, he had an oddly shaped nose, small beady eyes and a pale color. When he opened his mouth Daenerys's sympathy for Lena doubled. "Deny it, why would I? The bastard was fucking my wife. I was owed justice."

"Would it surprise you to learn your wife denies the affair?"

He scoffed. "Of course, she does. What else is the cunt supposed to say? She can't very well admit she was fucking him, can she?"

She had to pause to reign in her temper before she did something hasty. She really didn't like this man. He was petty and vindictive. Not only had he abused his wife, he murdered the only person in her life who seemed to care for her. He was despicable.

While she fumed, Tyrion picked up where his Queen left off. "So, you're saying you bested James in fair combat? He agreed, and you settled your dispute?"

Ronan flinched slightly under her Hand's questions and she understood why. Grey Worm had said that not only had James been unarmed, he'd been stabbed in the back, not the front. "Yes. It was my right."

"Little hard for James to fight you without a sword, wouldn't you say?" Daenerys pressed, enjoying the way he squirmed.

"Not my fault the poor prick couldn't afford a blade. He should have thought of that before he started fucking 'nother man's wife!" By the time he was through his anger had turned his entire face and neck red.

"You ambushed him, didn't you? You stabbed him in the back instead of facing him fairly!"

Ronan threw up his hands. "Why do you care?" he snapped at the Daenerys. "Some no good bastard got gutted. How's that any of your business?"

She sat up a little straighter in response. "I'm the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Everything that happens in this Realm is my business."

Typically reminding people of her authority forced them to back down but Ronan didn't flinch. "You're a foreign whore playing Queen."

Tyrion threw her a sideways glance before he hurried to keep the peace. He'd seen the outcome when people pressed on Daenerys's last nerve. It usually ended in Fire and Blood and he was trying to prevent that from happening here. "Your Grace, perhaps I could speak with our guest in private and show him the error of his ways."

Jorah was outraged too, albeit for a different reason. He stepped forward to exact revenge for Ronan's insults.

Daenerys addressed both her advisors with a single word. "Don't."

"What's wrong!?" Ronan screamed. "Don't like the truth?!"

"Ronan Neesom for the crime of murder I find you guilty. You will remain in the dungeon until I decide how and when your sentence shall be carried out."

Rather than cowering in the face of his death he continued to resist. He spat on the floor halfway to Daenerys. "Go on! Why wait? Just burn me and get it over with! That's what you fucking Targaryens do anyway right, burn people whether they're guilty or not? How many people have you killed? Why do I deserve death while you don't? We aren't so different, your Grace." He said her title with contempt and sarcasm and it made what she was feeling more debilitating.

At Tyrion's instruction the Dothraki dragged Ronan from the room and to the dungeon. He went kicking and screaming the whole way. cursing Daenerys and every other Targaryen he could think of.

She heard her name being called by several different voices as she stepped down from the throne. She headed for the safety of her chambers. She needed to be alone, before she lost hold of her temper and did something rash.

Who did Ronan Neesom think he was? What gave him the right to pass judgement on her? He was a wife-beating, murdering, son of a whore and yet he had a point. She had killed many. That she'd done so in the name of a greater good didn't excuse it.

Most troubling was the comparison between the Mad King and his daughter. She'd never felt closer to her father than she did when Ronan was berating her. While he was encouraging her to burn him alive, as her father would have done, Daenerys chewed on her cheek hard enough to taste blood. It was the only way she could refrain from ordering it done. She wanted him to burn. She wanted to smell the charred flesh and hear his final screams. She wanted to watch with unblinking eyes and witness every second of a human being razed to ash. He was a terrible person, but he wasn't alone, Daenerys was right there with him, and she didn't know how to contend with that.

How she crammed all her emotions into her small frame, she didn't know. As she passed a decorative wall hanging, she wanted to pull it down and stomp on it. When she saw her reflection in a golden-trimmed mirror, she wanted to shatter it with a single swing of her fist. Self-control was at a premium and it took all she had not to turn around and go straight to the dungeon where Ronan was. If he wanted her to be her father's daughter, she could easily oblige.

Usually her conscience could be counted on to loudly protest. To remind her why she shouldn't give in to her worst impulses. She'd yearn to bathe the world in Fire and Blood and then remember why that wasn't the best solution. She kept waiting for it, for that nagging voice to tell her that Ronan was going to die, not because he offended her but because he murdered an innocent man in cold blood. It never happened. If her conscience had any opinion on the subject, it was drowned out by her hate.

She took the stairs two at a time on the way up. She couldn't get to her chambers soon enough. In that private sanctuary she could unleash her anger and bask in the destruction that followed. No one would dare interrupt her. She'd be safely segregated, unable to hurt anyone. All she had to do was get there.

When she threw open the door her blood of dragonfire froze solid. Her room wasn't the meaningless collection of breakable items she needed it to be. There between the desk and the bed, with her back to the murderous Targaryen was Arya.

R-C

Author's Note: Another chapter. Lots going on, trouble in the North, Arya and Daenerys spending a little quality time together and then Daenerys losing her temper.

I've always been fascinated by the contradiction of Daenerys's character. She wants to do good, but resorts to violence as soon as things don't go according to plan. Part of the appeal of writing this was getting to spend so much time in Daenerys's head, playing with that part of who she is.

Sorry for the ending. Next chapter we'll see if Arya can calm Daenerys down at all. To answer the questions I received, Arya is wearing her own face, which is why I haven't let Tyrion see her yet, and Daenerys will definitely learn who Arya is in the coming chapters.

Hope you'll all keep reading

R-C