Within a moon, Myrcella arrived at court. Wedded and bedded, the Baratheon now Dornish princess was even more pregnant than Arya, and believed to give birth any day. When she arrived with her caravan on her Dornish sand steed pale as snow, she appeared as a beautiful mirage. Her skin was richly golden and tanned from the harsh sun in Dorne, and her flaxen hair seemed to glow. Since her wedding she lined kohl around her eyes and kept her hair as Arianne Martell had taught her. Myrcella was a true depiction of The Dornishman's Wife. It was no mistake that Myrcella was a woman grown, and Cersei almost fainted out of shock as she greeted her own daughter. Arya was sure Cersei went mad soon after.

The morning after Myrcella's arrival, she sat with Arya in her solar. Gendry was as court per usual and Arya would have joined, but she wanted to spend a day with her old friend, the only kindness shown to her besides Gendry during her first visit to King's Landing. They both sat together, Arya tapping the arm of her chair in boredom, and Myrcella embroidering a blanket for her babe. She noticed the cloth was orange, but with golden threads weaved through.

Arya was never the type to host embroidery sessions nor tea sessions as she had always found it boring, and she still did, but she no longer contained the energy to practice her water dance or ride on her stallion like she used to. The babe which grew inside her took too much energy from her and sometimes she found herself weak and tired. Her stomach had swelled to a point where it could have been noticeable, but she wore the biggest clothes she could find, such as Gendry's loose tunics. She knew that sooner rather than later she would have to clean out her court to find who she could trust before the pregnancy was officially announced.

"I hope your marriage to my brother is a happy one." Myrcella said without looking up from her work. The words sounded spiteful and suggested that her own marriage was anything but, yet she wore a warm smile on her lips as the sunlight poured through the window, shining on her. Arya almost forgot that all along it was Myrcella that pushed the couple to become closer, resulting in their traditional visits to Blackwater Bay.

"Our marriage was a surprisingly joyful union, despite your brother being a bullheaded idiot." Both the Queen and the Princess of Dorne laughed. "Tell me, what is Dorne like?"

Myrcella sighed and leaned back in her seat. "It is even warmer than King's Landing, and more beautiful. The people are wonderful, and oh you should meet Arianne Martell, the Heiress of Sunspear. She is beautiful and kind to me, and reminds me of you."

The comparison of herself to the Heiress of Sunspear was a laughable one. Arya did not think it was possible to compare her own beauty to one of a princess of Dorne. She did not brush aside Myrcella's compliment, but instead laughed and inquired of how her own brother was faring in Dorne. Myrcella's smile faltered the slightest, but returned as fast as it left.

"Your brother enjoys Dorne as well. He squires under my husband, and they seemed to find an unlikely friendship." To others her voice might have sounded convincing, but Arya was quick to see through. Arya hoped that her thoughts proved wrong.

Within a fortnight, for whatever reason, Arya took it upon herself to fulfill her duties as Queen. She sat next to Gendry at court, and withstood the boredom for hours. Accompanied by Kingsguard, as was the only way Gendry would let her travel, Arya visited the orphans and bastards in Flea Bottom and handed out loaves of bread. She was as loved by the small folk as their King. Her father once commented on her new behavior, and she honestly did not know the answer. She thought mayhaps it was the babe inside her that carried out her new actions, or mayhaps she wanted her babe to live in a kinder world. Or it might have been under the influence of Myrcella's presence.

That evening when Gendry was at court, she took an absence and waited in her chamber to carry out her plan. Her handmaidens dressed her in a richly dyed gown which the seamstress had made especially for her, as she was certain the color brought out all of the Queen's beauty. She ordered her handmaidens to fix her hair and apply kohl around her eyes. She felt as if she was readying herself for battle. She knew that men were more willing to do anything for a beautiful woman, so she readied herself as such. She asked for her hair to be done like her mother's, with two braids at the crown of her head tied at the center. But her hair was left in a braid the night before and was wavy. She realized that she looked like a bad imitation of Margaery, and removed it at once. After she was properly made up, she dismissed her handmaidens and ordered one to fetch Grand Maester Pycelle. Soon after she dismissed her handmaidens, the old man limped towards her and greeted his Queen. She knew better than to trust his weak façade.

"Is anything troubling you, Your Grace?" He asked her in a frail voice after she asked him to sit.

"I am afraid I am getting headaches frequently now, and it seems they are getting worse." Arya tried to sound pained as she massaged her temples. It was no lie after all; the babe was toying with her health.

"Of course, Your Grace." He sympathized with her pain, "I agree that pains in the head are the worst. I know of a tonic that may aid you in your predicaments, but it is not ready; you must give me a few days to fetch the proper herbs."

"Thank you, Grand Maester." Arya smiled graciously as she saw her sister do many times. She wondered if it was believable enough. "I am so grateful to have a man of such vast knowledge and wisdom on my side." Her smile slowly vanished and she pretended to seem troubled as she looked out the window and to Blackwater Bay. The old man seemed to notice her discontent, and he inquired on so.

"Is everything alright, Your Grace?"

She frowned and furrowed her brows gently and tried to look somewhat weak. "I can trust you, Pycelle, can I not?"

"Of course, Your Grace. I am sworn to serve the Crown."

Arya nodded and cleared her voice as if it was a troubling subject. "Surely, you have heard the rumors of the Targaryen in the east with her armies." She looked up to see that Pycelle nodded in agreement. "These are perilous times, and if war shall come, the Crown must forge new alliances. These alliances must often be sealed in matrimony."

"Matrimony…" The old man grumbled in agreement. She took it as a sign to carry on.

"I am intending to broker an alliance between Prince Joffrey and Lady Elinor Tyrell." Arya said, and she was proud when she realized the words flowed smoothly off her tongue. She sounded as much a Queen as she looked.

"Elinor Tyrell?" Pycelle asked, dumbstruck. It was known that the lady was only a member of a junior branch of Highgarden, but she was still a Lady of the Reach.

"Yes, Elinor Tyrell. With the impending war that the Targaryen girl brings, we need to make sure that our city does not fall to starvation. The alliance with Highgarden will bring bounty to King's Landing." Arya confirmed. Pycelle nodded again, finally coming to an understanding. "But Lady Lannister must not know. I cannot have her meddling in affairs too important to the Realm"

"Oh yes, of course." The old man said. He then smiled to his Queen, with wrinkles formed around his eyes and a toothy grin, yet it did not look friendly at all. "I swear, Your Grace, that I shall be silent as the grave."

"Remember, Lady Lannister mustn't know." Arya warned, her voice as regal as she commanded so. Lord Varys sat stout on the chair beside her, and she was sure to keep his wineglass filled.

"She must not know?" Varys laughed as he swayed the wine in his hand. "This conversation must be interesting."

"I plan to marry Prince Joffrey off to Arianne Martell of Dorne."

Varys arched an eyebrow. Arya was sure he saw through her. "Your Grace, do you not think she is a bit too old for the Prince?"

"Ten years is not much." She shrugged and poured a glass for herself. "We can both agree Joffrey is old enough for marriage, and I am sure an older wife will keep my dearest good-brother in line."

"We have already brokered an alliance with Dorne. Is one princess not enough?" Varys asked in regards of Princess Myrcella and Trystane Martell.

"With the news of the Dragon Queen making her way to Westeros, we need all the assurance we can get that Dorne is on our side. We need to solidify the alliance, and take away any uneasiness between the two houses." Arya explained, and she hoped that the Imp believed her enough. "But remember-"

"Lady Lannister mustn't know." Varys finished her sentence for her. The eunuch did not seem trustworthy to her and even if he passed her test, she did not think it smart to line herself with him.

"You must tell no one." Arya said to Petyr Baelish, who sat across from her.

"Tell no one… what, Your Grace?" Petyr cocked his head in false curiosity.

"I intend to wed Prince Joffrey to Asha Greyjoy." She sat with her back straight as a spear and she hoped she looked and sounded believable enough.

"Your Grace, Asha is a Lady of the Iron Islands. Their Rebellion was just crushed. Do you not think the Prince should wed someone higher?" Littlefinger suggested softly.

"Indeed, but we need to be assured that their loyalty remains truly with us."

"Yes, I suppose this is a smart match." Littlefinger nodded and looked at his Queen. It was no mistake; she indeed was beautiful, as she had planned to make herself look so. The candlelight illuminated her Northern beauty, and she looked as dangerous and beautiful as any Queen should. "I must admit, Your Grace, I was surprised yet flattered that you have requested my company tonight. I will not speak a word of your plans."

His words suggested something that made Arya want to cringe, but his tone meant otherwise. It was no secret that Littlefinger admired her mother, but she did not know just how far his admiration went. She would do well to keep her distance from Littlefinger.

The next evening was the first night after Myrcella's return to King's Landing that Arya was alone in her solar, rather than in court. She deemed herself too weak that night, and told Gendry as such. He ordered for Ser Arys to guard their chambers as she regained her strength. It annoyed Arya that she was treated as a weak and fragile lady rather than the fierce Queen she was, but such matters had to be treated as so. Ser Arys was not too bad of a knight anyways; while Gendry was away during the Rebellion he was ordered to stay with Arya. They found a friendship of sorts, and some even started to call him a Queensguard.

Her peace was immediately disrupted as the door of her chambers flew open and then slammed shut. She originally had no intents to check who so ferociously intruded her chambers until she heard a familiar sneer from beside her.

"How dare you bind me to that Tyrell bitch." Joffrey screamed at her. She immediately sat up in her bed, but did not think it necessary to stand.

"It is pleasant to see you as well, good-brother." Arya sighed. She wondered how Joffrey managed to pass Ser Arys.

"You have no right-" Joffrey was prepared to unleash all his madness, but Arya was quick to interrupt. She remembered the King's own proposal for herself and Gendry, and how much she hated the idea at first. This very plan went against her own beliefs that ladies should not be used as items for trade. If it was anyone else she would have revoked the betrothal under kindness. But there was no kindness in her heart for Joffrey.

"Some might say this is your duty. Elinor is a Lady of Highgarden, and the alliance will bring wealth and bounty to both King's Landing and The Reach." Arya tried to explain the reasons behind the betrothal, but Joffrey did not want to listen.

"I will tear you apart, and you will be sorry you ever crossed me, you Stark cunt." He threatened. He started to move towards her bed, and she tried to move away. She was too weak at the moment to fight back, and if the foolish Prince intended to rape or strike her, she would not have been able to defend herself. She did not loathe the child inside her, but she abhorred how frail the babe made her. As he crawled towards Arya with fury, she slipped out and under him with the intent to kick him between his legs. Before she was about to try to hit Joffrey with whatever strength she still had, the door was slammed open once more, but it was Ser Arys Oakheart that entered. When he took in the scene before him of his Queen defending herself against the Prince, each person in the Queen's chamber froze.

"My Queen, is there anything wrong?" Ser Arys finally asked. Joffrey was foolish enough to try and move closer to Arya even under the supervision of Ser Arys, but she was quick to move away.

"I am afraid Prince Joffrey is tired and needs to be escorted to his chambers." She ordered. She might not have had her strength, but her words were just as frightening. As Ser Arys stepped towards Joffrey and took his arm, Joffrey pulled his arm away and snapped towards Arya.

"I am not tired."

All it took was a glare from Arya for Arys to grab Joffrey's arm again to be escorted to his chambers. Only after they left did it don on Arya that she sent the Prince to bed without supper.

The next evening, she took Ser Arys and her own husband to Grand Maester Pycelle's chambers. Ser Arys would have been enough to subdue the old man if he ever tried to harm his Queen, but the presence of the King was only meant to daunt him more. However, Arya had only wanted him to stand outside so first she could do what she can to reveal his secrets before he was to be jailed. When Ser Arys knocked down the door to the old man's chambers, it only revealed a naked whore on top of Pycelle, who was gingerly helping himself to her bosom. After Ser Aerys stormed in, the whore immediately flew off the old man and hid in the corner of the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Pycelle roared at the Kingsguard. It wasn't until Arya followed behind Arys that the whore whimpered her apologies and tried to cover up herself and Pycelle started to panic. "Y-Your Grace!"

Aerys gingerly removed the maester from his featherbed and brought him to kneel in front of Arya. The action was more meaningful than Arya asked for, and wanted, but the old man was already kneeling against his own accord.

"You disappoint me, Grand Maester." Arya shook her head and spoke as if she addressed a child.

"I am your loyal servant, Your Grace." Pycelle barked as he hung his head in mock shame.

"So loyal that you told Lady Lannister my plans to sail Prince Joffrey to Highgarden?" Arya chided as she walked closer to the old oaf and sat in his chair.

"No, never! I swear of it." Pycelle's voice shook as he tried to find a reasonable excuse, "It must have been that Spider, Varys! He cannot be trusted, Your Grace."

"Yes, but I told Lord Varys that I was giving the Prince to the Martells. I told Lord Baelish that I planned to marry him to Asha Greyjoy. I told no one that I was offering him to the Tyrells. No one but you." Arya cocked her head. Before Pycelle could spit out another lie, Arya sighed again. She was growing tired of the old man's games, and if she was going to get anywhere she would have to intimidate him. She turned to Ser Arys, "Ser, cut off his manhood."

The knight saw through the Queen's bluff and pushed the old man down as if he was ready to follow through the act. Pycelle tried to shoo away the knight as he spoke, "All I did, I swear, I did it for House Lannister. Your good-mother's house." Arya was about to open her mouth and proclaim that she held no affection in her heart for Cersei, but then she remembered that she truly was the mother of her husband, and the grandmother of the child inside her. "It was all since the days of the Mad King."

Arya shook her head. She needed more. "I don't like his beard."

Before Pycelle could react, Ser Arys had already grabbed the old man's signature long white beard and shaved it off his chin. The old man truly started to whimper and plea, and Arya almost pitied him. She stood from his chair and looked down on him.

"How many monarchs have you betrayed, Pycelle? King Robert, King Aerys…"

"The Mad King… he was an evil one, I did a good deed."

"So you let the Lannisters sack the city and murder and rape Elia Martell?" Arya roared furiously. She did not know why all of a sudden she had become so interested in Elia Martell, and why she became so defensive over the dead woman.

"No, never! I only opened the gates…"

"And what of King Robert?" Arya asked him. Arys put a firm hand on the old man's shoulder, ready to commit any more acts to get him to speak.

"I did not kill him,"

"Yes, but you let him die when you could have saved him!"

"It was all for the Lannisters! Everything I do is for the Lannisters!" Pycelle admitted finally. It was that moment that Gendry stormed in the room as well. When the old man saw the son of the man he only just professed to murdering, he wet whatever clothes he was wearing. "Your Grace, please, it was all for your mother's house. I am a loyal servant."

Gendry struck the old man, leaving a trail of blood on his cheek. Arya flinched when she realized the horrifying sheer strength he held. Gendry was never close to his father, but he was still his father. Arya could not imagine what she would have done if she just heard someone professing they murdered her own father. She feared she would have comitted much worse.

Arya nodded to Ser Arys and together he and the King grabbed the old man and dragged him out of his chambers, no doubt to be thrown in one of the black cells.

The next dawn, there was no time to waste. Immediately, Arya and Gendry announced her pregnancy to court, and when the sun was high and shining down on them, they both walked to the Sept of Baelor and announced the heir which grew inside her to the smallfolk who all rejoiced and celebrated with the utmost fervor. She could hear shouts chanting, "Long live the Queen! May the Mother bless their child! Long live the King!"

It was the first time Arya enjoyed her reign.

After Gendry returned to the Red Keep, Cat and Myrcella joined her in the Sept with appropriate guards and Bannermen and Ser Arys, where from there they travelled to Flea Bottom to hand out food to the orphans. It was all Myrcella's idea, as she had done similar charity work in Dorne, but Arya could not help but to be reminded of Sansa and Margaery during their stay in King's Landing. After so, they decided to go to the markets, where they were greeted by smiling and celebrating smallfolk. Once Cersei had warned her to stay away from them, but now she wondered why. They were harmless, and they treated her with kindness and they adored both her and Gendry.

Myrcella stopped in front of a stall that sold tea, and she was greeted by an old feeble woman who was eager to sell her tea to the Dornish Princess. Myrcella laughed and called both Cat and Arya to her, which made the guards follow as well. When Arya stepped closer to the woman she saw tanned skin and her clothing style was unfamiliar. She must have been from the Free Cities.

"Oh, Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise." The woman bowed her head when she saw Arya and picked up a goblet of heated water and sprinkled in some tea leaves and a concoction of other ingredients. "You must try this, Your Grace. This is my finest tea yet, hailing from Meereen. I promise you, you will not regret trying this tea."

"I am not accustomed to the taste of tea."

"I swear, this is sweeter than any tea you have ever tried, Your Grace! You might even change the way you think of tea after this one sip."

Arya was about to refuse, but the old lady kept pestering her. "Oh alright, but only one sip." Arya sighed as she took the cup in her hands. The tea had a strong herbal scent, and had a mirkish forest green hue, almost as green as the Tyrell's color. Before Arya could bring it to her lips, Myrcella screamed and slapped the cup from Arya's hands.

"Arya, that is moon tea!" Cella yelled as the cup shattered on the hard soil under them. Despite the attempted murderer, Arya wondered why her good-sister was so accustomed to the sight of the tea. The trader attempted to escape and pushed Arya down as she darted through the stalls. Myrcella and Cat helped Arya up and checked if she was alright as Jory Cassel and Ser Arys chased down the stalls and tackled the woman. Arya could hear one last cry from the woman's lips before she took her own life with a dagger sheathed under her cloak.

"Long live the Targaryen Queen."

During their travel returning to the Red Keep, she was cared for and treated like a weak child. She was constantly asked if she was alright, or if she felt dizzy, or if the baby was still okay. She had grown tired of their worrisome remarks, and she was brought in front of Gendry as if she committed a crime. After her mother relayed to him what had happened, his soft blue eyes grew as cold as ice. He dismissed everyone else from the room and wished to only speak to Arya. She could not help but remember when he struck Pycelle, but she reminded herself that she was acting insane. Gendry was not his father, and he had done so much to prove that.

"Arya, how could you be so careless?" Gendry reprimanded her.

"You sound like my mother." Arya said. She knew he only acted so because he loved and worried about her, but he needn't worry. She was more capable of protecting herself than he assumed. "I could have handled it."

"No, you couldn't have!" Gendry yelled. She wanted to cower from his fury, but she held her ground. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself before speaking again. "Arya, I know that you are strong and not like normal women. I know that you could have defended yourself, the dagger I gifted you is proof enough. But now that you are with child, you won't have your strength. Please, don't throw yourself into dangerous situations."

Arya stuck her nose in the air defiantly. "I was not throwing myself in a dangerous situation, and I could have handled it!"

"Stop being so stubborn!"

"Stop treating me like I'm some sort of frail doll!"

Before Gendry could retaliate, their shouts were interrupted by an open door. A small squire walked in, and Arya noticed he was one of the men that accompanied Myrcella when she arrived. Both King and Queen converted their anger to the interruption and held their cold gazes on the innocent squire. The boy almost ran away, but he spoke in a shaky voice, "Er… forgive me, I was knocking but you did not hear me…"

"Yes, what is it?" Gendry asked impatiently. He tried to sound kind, but his tone from earlier had been preserved.

"Your Grace, your sister has gone into labor."

With haste, Arya was rushed to the birthing room and was expected to help while Gendry waited outside. When she stepped in she was greeted by an army of midwives and her own mother, all prepared to help deliver the Dornish Princess's child. Arya did not know anything on how to help a woman through childbirth, and she did not want to see her friend through horrible pain. Before she could ask her mother as to why she was summoned inside, Cat shook her head and asked to dampen one of the cloths and press it against Myrcella's forehead. Myrcella held Arya's free hand in a vice like grip, forbidding it to move.

Her Lannister eyes held too much fear for Arya to just walk away from. She was needed there. It wasn't long before Cersei came storming in the room. She ordered Cat and Arya to leave, saying that only the mother and the midwives should help with the birth, but Myrcella begged for them to stay. Reluctantly, Cersei bitterly obliged and allowed them to stay, but only because her daughter wished so.

As the hours donned by, Myrcella's screams grew louder and more horrifying. Cat asked Arya to do multiple tasks throughout the evening, and she was never free. She was told to put cloths under Myrcella, and pat her forehead with a cool towel so she won't develop a fever, and had to relay orders to the rest of the midwives. Cersei held her other hand as Cat told her to breathe in specific patterns. It was all dizzying, and Myrcella looked miserable. Arya found her less excited for her own child's birth.

The birth continued throughout the night, and it wasn't until the first rays of dawn reached the top of Aegon's High Hill that the child was finally delivered. After the chord connecting the child to the mother was cut and the child was cleaned and wrapped in the blanket Myrcella was embroidering earlier, Myrcella cuddled the babe to her chest. It was a sight of revelations, seeing a mother first holding her infant. Arya could see the fresh tears in Myrcella's eyes as she cooed over the babe and held her closer.

After Cersei held the child, and after Cat passed the child back to Myrcella, she dismissed everyone but Arya. Cersei was going to protest, but she insisted. After they left the room, Myrcella let Arya hold the baby herself. The babe was heavier than she expected, but the blanket Myrcella embroidered covered too much that Arya nor anyone that first held the child could not see the babe. Before Arya was to pull the first layer of the blankets away, Myrcella put a hand on Arya's.

"Her name is Aryanne." She said. Arya nodded at first, believing it was from Arianne's namesake, Myrcella's friend in Dorne, until Myrcella spelled it out for her. Arya did not know what to say. Instead of speaking, she unraveled the first layer of the orange blanket off the newborn, revealing Stark grey eyes staring back at her. Her guesses were right all along.

In her arms she held the daughter of Bran Stark and Myrcella Martell, Aryanne Sand, a bastard of Dorne.