ARYA

This place must be somewhere near Arianne Martell's chambers, she thought as she moved forward in the darkness, only guided by her instincts and the touch of the rough stone of the wall.

She had been exploring the Red Keep's secret passages ever since Jon recovered. At first it had been for mere diversion, out of curiosity. However, after Sansa spoke to her and gave her the mission, it had become a serious matter for Arya. She had to find a method to deliver the gift without raising suspicions.

Poison was out of the question since too many knew about her training; it would immediately make her suspicious. She wouldn't be able to use weapons either, for similar reasons. To make things more difficult, she would have to make the accident public so that many could declare no northerner had been involved.

After a succession of three sleepless nights, she decided what she was going to do. Her plan even provided her an alibi. She would have to memorize the mockingbird's habits first, though. That had been why she had ended roaming the secret passages.

She had discovered how the spider managed to spy on everyone in the Red Keep. The secret passages were all over the castle and had been designed to overhear every conversation and enter the quarters without being noticed.

Two or three times she had crossed paths with one of the little birds, but they had never noticed her. She had even memorized their schedules and knew how to avoid them better. Unlike them, she didn't need light to go over the place.

"Please, Arianne, I'm begging you." She recognized Trystan Martell's voice through the stone.

"We already talked about this."

"You said I couldn't visit her or talk to her, but this is different."

Is he crying? It wouldn't be strange, not after what had happened.

Cersei Lannister had gone mad after the resolution of her trial and had killed her son and daughter. Then her twin brother had strangled her to death because of that. It had been a great scandal, even Arya felt nauseated by the events.

Arya had wanted her dead, she wouldn't deny that, but her children were another matter. The way things had happened was horrible. Furthermore, the worst part was the castle's gossip. People kept commenting on it as if it were something that had happened far away, a thousand years ago. After all, no one cared for the Lannisters anymore.

"Father said we had to cut ties with the Lannisters," the princess said matter of factly.

"I thought she was your friend."

"No Lannister can be a friend of a Martell, not after what they did to Oberyn and Elia."

"Myrcella had nothing to do with it!"

"You're right, but it's still better for us not to attend the funeral." Arya heard steps. "My brother is not allowed to leave his chamber until the end of the day."

"Arianne!"

Arya heard a door opening and closing, then nothing. Before she knew, she had entered the room through the secret passage. She blinked at the light before distinguishing Trystane Martell, still, in the middle of the room and staring at the closed door.

He turned his head, noticed her and gasped in surprise. Arya lifted one finger to her mouth to ask for silence; he nodded. She went to the door and closed the bolt. Then she got close to him.

"Do you want to attend the funeral?" Her voice barely audible.

"My sister..."

Arya rolled her eyes and cut him off.

"I heard her. I'm asking if you want to attend."

"I do."

"Fine. Put on the oldest cloak you have; you'll have to hide your face."

He did as she had instructed. She took his hand and whispered one last time, "don't make a single noise until I tell you." He nodded again.

Arya dragged him through the passage and walked confidently in the dark corridors. It took them a couple of minutes to reach the exit, the one near the Hook, not the stinking one at the sewers.

"Very well, let's walk to the Sept," she released his hand and started to walk, the prince right behind her.

"How did you know about that exit?"

Hasn't he heard about it from the Sand Snakes?

"I got lost when my father was the Hand. I kept walking and found the dark corridors and that exit. I use it when I want to go out unnoticed," she stopped and turned to him. "You can't tell anyone about it, not even your sister."

Trystane Martell looked taken aback at first, then relaxed.

"Only if you don't tell anyone that I came to the funeral."

"I guess we have a deal."

They continued walking in silence until they reached the Great Sept.

"Go in, I'll wait for you near Baelor's statue. Don't take too long or someone will notice you are gone."

Once she was there, she realized she had made an awful choice. It was the place she had been standing when her father was beheaded. She felt the bad memories starting to gather in her mind. Fortunately, something distracted her. Had she just seen Jon entering the Great Sept? She had to find out.

She entered in silence and hid behind a column. She saw the prince in front of Myrcella's corpse and Tyrion Lannister speaking to the High Septon. Jon was standing with Cyara near the statues of the Seven Gods. They were staring the corpses from afar.

Arya walked to them, still hiding behind the columns. She pulled his cloak to draw his attention. He turned surprised.

"Arya, you scared me. What are you doing here?" He susurrated.

"I could ask you the same question. I'm only here because I saw you entering."

"I needed to get out of the Red Keep." He looked very tired, like her father when he was Hand.

We have to leave this place. Their place was at Winterfell. Even if Jon had Targaryen blood, that was where he had grown up.

"Did you fight with them again?"

It had been almost a week after Baelish's trial, and the relationship between Jon and the other judges had not improved. They didn't understand his opinion regarding the trials. Plus, he kept worrying to keep the North and the Vale away from trouble.

"I didn't fight with Aegon. Although I think Daenerys liked it, Connington wasn't happy when I told him I don't want to precede the trials anymore."

"That man is never happy."

Cyara scoffed, "Sorry, you couldn't have said it better."

"Whatever, why are you here? You could have gone any other place."

Jon hesitated before saying, "Look at this, it's very sad don't you think?" The Sept was almost empty. "I don't understand this place or its people. Daenerys is the Queen, but not long ago they were their king and princess."

"The people of King's Landing just want to live in peace. They don't care about whose ass sits on the Iron Throne."

"I'm not talking about the small folk, but the Lords and Ladies. Margaery Tyrell, for example, she was married to Tommen; she could have come."

"They don't want to risk insulting the Dragon Queen."

"For attending a funeral?" he winced. "They dealt with the situation as if it was nothing. Seems like their lives meant nothing for Connington or Daenerys or Aegon because they represented no political advantage," he exhaled. "It makes me worry."

"For the Realm?" Arya was confused.

"For the North, for the Vale, for you and Sansa and Rickon. It makes me wonder what they would do with you if I weren't here. If I weren't the son of Rhaegar." He closed his eyes with a pained expression.

"I don't know, but fortunately for us, you are here." She took his hand and squeezed it.

"My presence didn't make any difference during the trials," he retrieved his hand away from hers. "I'm sorry, little sister, I'm going back first." He didn't muss her hair before leaving and it made her feel very sad.

"Don't worry about him. He needs some time to get rid of that bad habit of blaming himself for things he can't control," Cyara pat her shoulder. "Make sure to return your guest safely," she added before following Jon.

Arya was so worried for Jon that she didn't have time to wonder how Cyara had known about the prince. She considered what Jon had told her and decided she would make the difference if necessary.

I'll start with the mockingbird.

The dornish prince found her at the statue some time after that. His eyes were swollen, and she knew he had been crying. They returned to the Red Keep in complete silence.

Before they reached the entrance, he made her stop.

"Since I won't be able to speak inside the tunnels, I'll do it here," he started. "Thank you," he took her hands and squeezed them. "You don't know how grateful I am that you allowed me to say goodbye to her." He was looking at her as if she had brought Myrcella back to life.

"It was nothing."

"No, it was everything, but I don't understand why you would take so much trouble to do it."

"I know how it feels to lose a friend and not being allowed to mourn for them," she had not thought of Mycah in a long time. "Plus, I wasn't able to mourn my family properly."

After taking the prince to his chambers, she pondered about the stupidity of her decision. He could tell someone about her knowledge of the passages and ruin everything. In the end, she set the matter aside and concentrated on what she was going to do next. She had taken a lot of time to develop her plan, and a single mistake would be disastrous.

She changed to her sparring clothes and walked to the outer yard to look for the Sand Snakes.

"Oh! Look who's coming," Obara called her sisters; they waved at her. "It has been some time little she-wolf."

"I know," she paused, "I came to see if I can resume my lessons with the spear."

"You mean you didn't get enough the last time?"

"I'm not going to give up just because you beat me up a hundred times."

"As expected of the little she-wolf," Obara laughed. "Unfortunately for you, I can't beat you personally," she lifted her splinted arm. "I'm sure Nym would be glad to do it. After she's done with Elia, of course."

"I can wait." Arya sat beside Obara and pretended to observe the Sand Snakes sparring.

Sometime after that, she saw the shift change at the castle's walls. It was time. She closed her eyes and looked for the big black cat. When she found it, she immersed into the darkness.

He allowed the mouse to run away. Suddenly, he decided that he wanted to hunt a mockingbird instead. He knew where to find it. He jumped to the window and walked through the place always hiding from the humans. It took him some time, but he finally found the place where he knew the mockingbird would appear soon.

He didn't have to wait much. He could hear the mockingbird as he climbed those steps humans used to get from one place to another. The mockingbird was not alone. A human that smelled sweet and two humans of steel were with him.

"I'm just saying that the Ice Dragon has the means to do it. If you want the Silver Prince to become King, you will take your precautions with the bastard brother."

"You should accept that you are out of the Game already, my friend."

He got angry at the sight of the mockingbird, but he knew he had to wait. The men of steel got to the top of the steps and moved aside for the mockingbird to pass.

The mockingbird got to the last step. He gathered all his strength and pounced on him, directly to his face. The mockingbird lost the balance and fell back to the bottom of the steps. He heard the shouts of a woman.

He descended to the bottom and sniffed at his prey. It smelled of blood and death.

He got away from there; more humans would come to see.

Arya breathed deeply before opening her eyes. Obara Sand was staring at her curiously.

"Were you sleeping? In this kind of place? And I swear I heard you meowing."

"I was," Arya faked a yawn, "the combat was getting boring. Perhaps it was a howl."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Elia had heard her.

"Never take your eyes away from your opponent, Elia," Lady Nym said before knocking her down.

"Looks like it's my turn," she smiled and took the spear from Elia.

"Show me what you have, little she-wolf," Lady Nym spun her double daggers.

Arya lifted the spear, "I'll show you how lethal I can be."

JON

Daenerys, Aegon, and Connington were discussing something related to land redistribution in the Storm Lands and the Western Lands. He had been ignoring them ever since they started. He was only sitting there to avoid a discussion with Connington, but it wouldn't make any difference if he were somewhere else.

If they are going to keep ignoring everything I say, they should allow me to return to the North, already. That was the Kingdom that required their attention.

Apparently, they thought that the fact that the northerners had offered him the rule of Winterfell solved the issue. They only wanted to know they would have control over the place but had not even cared enough to ask him about the situation there. And that was without considering the White Walkers.

He had expressed his concerns about the Others to Cyara, and she had told him that nothing had changed yet. Apparently, the raven would send a message if something went wrong. There was nothing left to do, but trust her word.

He directed his attention to her. She was leaning on the wall beside the door. Unlike Jon, she was paying attention to every word the council was pronouncing. Furthermore, she looked like she wanted to intervene. It was strange to see her showing interest for something. Now that he thought about it, she had been acting strange ever since he recovered. No, in her case, it would be acting more normal. She was still very silent, but she had been showing more emotion. Like in the morning when they went to the Sept. She had looked sad when she saw Tommen and Myrcella, and somehow, he knew it had been genuine.

Time can change things a lot. They had been away a good amount of time after she returned to Storm's End with Arya.

The door opened abruptly. Ser Barristan and Cyara held their guard until they identified the man as a member of the Golden Company. His tunic's sleeves had blood on it.

"Your Graces," his eyes were impossibly widened, "Petyr Baelish is dead."

What? Jon prayed it had not been a northerner's doing.

"Where is Arya Stark?" Daenerys demanded to know.

Jon turned to her immediately.

"Are you insinuating it was Arya?"

"Calm down," Connington stopped their dispute. "I want to know what happened first."

"I wasn't there when it happened, but I heard he fell from the top of the stairs that conducted to his chambers."

"Sounds like an accident to me," he said trying to remain calm.

"Faceless Assassins are famous for making murders look like accidents. I demand to see Arya Stark. Go for her, Ser."

"That won't be necessary," Cyara had stopped the knight, "if the Queen wants to see Arya, I'll bring her. Perhaps you could bring someone who witnessed what happened, Ser." The man nodded.

Could it be that she spared Baelish just to force Arya to kill him? He considered while they waited. Daenerys sounded like she had been waiting for it to happen that way.

Cyara entered with Arya behind her. One of the guards Daenerys had assigned to custody Baelish arrived an instant later.

"What happened, Ser?"

"Lord Baelish was directing to his chambers. He had just got to the last step of the stairs when a black cat appeared out of nowhere and attacked him. One of the stones of the steps had loosened, so he lost his balance and fell back. He broke his neck and his brains ended scattered on the floor." The man was nervously staring at Daenerys, waiting for her approval.

"Is it possible that someone had pushed him?"

Where is she trying to get? What else does she want to hear? He looked at Arya; she was very calm. It was weird, he would have expected for her to be shouting it had not been her. Could it be that she actually did it? He had to accept she had the means to do it, no matter what he wanted to think about her.

"I... Your Grace, it was the cat. No one pushed him."

Daenerys narrowed her eyes before asking, "When did that happen?"

"Half an hour ago, maybe, Your Grace."

Daenerys turned to Arya, "And where were you, Lady Arya, half an hour ago?"

"At the outer yard, Your Grace," Arya was holding Daenerys's stare.

"Is there someone who can confirm this?"

"There is," Arya smiled, "the Sand Snakes. I have been sparring with them since noon, Your Grace."

Jon sighed in relief when the Sand Snakes confirmed what Arya had already said, and Daenerys relented. The council session didn't continue after the interruption. He was the first to leave.

Jon wanted to speak with Arya, but she disappeared along with the Sand Snakes, more likely to continue their training or go cause some trouble somewhere else. At least she had been set free from Daenerys accusations regarding Baelish's death.

How am I supposed to feel about this? He had wanted to sentence the man to death, but now that he was no more, he didn't feel relief nor like he had gained something from his death.

"Aegon is coming after you," Cyara's voice extracted him from his contemplations.

He stopped and breathed before turning to face Aegon. He couldn't keep avoiding him forever.

"Jon, I know you are angry at Dany for suspecting your sister, but Arya had reasons to do it... and the means."

So you share the opinion. He had expected Aegon to think oppositely. Even if he's my brother, we're more different than I thought. He was getting tired of their clash of opinions.

"She had reasons, just as any inhabitant of the Vale of the North, but she did not do it. She's not the person Daenerys think she is."

"She isn't the person you think she is either," his expression shifted to anger. "You keep judging us from your honorable perspective, but you ignore what's just in front of your eyes. You didn't see her that night, all the persons she killed, what she was about to do. And you assume she's better than us just because she's a Stark."

What am I supposed to do? He was not blind; he knew there was something wrong with Arya. He had seen it the day Baelish's told them about Sansa, but it wasn't her fault. What Arya had become was the result of the actions of people who had used power to protect their own interests, instead of the interests of the Realm as they were ought to. The decisions they had made during the trials made him think that they, him included, were not different. That was intolerable. How many Aryas is this reign going to create?

"If you believe I'm judging you based on a family name, you're mistaken."

"Then explain to me what it is about."

"I've been trying, but you refuse to listen, and frankly, I'm tired of it," right now, he couldn't stand the sight of Aegon. "If you excuse me, I've got an appointment with your cousin, and I believe you have one with Margaery Tyrell. We'll have to leave this for later." He didn't give time for Aegon to answer.

He made a stop to change his clothes and wash his face, trying to delay the meeting with the dornish princess. He didn't believe it was the right time to speak about marriage prospects. He didn't want to risk insulting the princess because he wasn't in the mood to speak with anyone, but he had run out of excuses. Connington had become impossibly insistent about the matter.

As if waiting a bit more would make a difference, he ran a hand through his hair and walked past the solar to open the door. Cyara stopped him from doing that.

"What are you doing?"

"I won't let you get out of here until you change that face. You look as if you were going to attend a funeral, not meet your intended."

"How do you know about that?" It was not official; no one was supposed to know.

She cocked her head and gave him a meaningful look, "You told me it was a possibility the day you woke up, and half of the castle knows already. I was there the day Connington asked Tyrion his opinion about the match. Both of them agreed it was an excellent option."

I'm a mere puppet in Connington's plans. He had no idea of that discussion.

"And what do you think about it?"

She looked surprised at the question first but scowled almost immediately, "Why would you ask me that?"

Indeed, why would I ask her opinion about something like my betrothal? He couldn't think of someone who would be less interested in the matter than Cyara.

"It's just, I'm not sure about it."

"That is exactly why you are going to meet her today, isn't it? To make sure."

Pretty logic, he nodded and moved to open the door again. He got the same result as the last time he tried.

"What now?!"

"You still have that world is about to end face."

"What am I supposed to do about that? It's not like I can get rid of my face," before realizing, Cyara was stretching his cheeks. He was so astonished that he just stood still staring at her until she was done.

"Feeling more like smiling?"

"Not at all," he said as he rubbed his face with both hands.

"Better stunned than melancholic," she said with a faint smile. This time she opened the door to let him pass.

What's going on with her? There was no doubt, something had changed, but he couldn't grasp what it was.

A dornish guard received them at the princess's door.

"Princess Arianne is waiting to receive you, Prince Jon," Jon frowned at the word, but the guard didn't seem to notice. "She wants to speak with the Lady as well," he added.

Arianne Martell was waiting for them sitting on a lounger with a goblet in her hand. She was wearing an elegant yellow dress of yellow fabric, one way too light for winter.

"Welcome," She stood up and ran to take Cyara's hands in hers. "I wish we could have talked before, but this place is horrible mess between trials and council meetings. And, of course, I was busy taking care of my cousin." She was directing her attention only to Cyara; the last of them looked pretty uncomfortable

"I was glad to hear Obara Sand was out of danger, princess."

"Oh yes, she's almost fully recovered by now. It's all thanks to you, of course."

"I didn't do anything."

"You did, Elia told me that if not for you, that monster would have finished Obara. Plus, there's the fact that you guided my dornish here safely. We're indebted to you, ask for whatever you want and I shall grant it."

"Princess, I didn't do it to get something in exchange."

"Such a humble person. I insist you should think about it."

"Thank you, princess."

Arianne Martell smiled to Cyara and turned to him, "My prince, I think we have something to discuss." She took his hand and guided him to sit on the lounger beside her before pouring him some wine.

"Please don't call me prince," he asked as he took the goblet from her hands.

"How should I call you then? Ice Dragon?"

"That's even worse, princess. Jon is enough."

The princess started to laugh. "You are the only person I know that considers the title an insult," she gave him an intriguing smile as if she knew something he did not.

"It's not that I think of it as an insult. I don't think I'll ever get used to it, princess."

"I guess it's something understandable," she paused and made a pout. "And you should stop calling me princess as well. It's quite impersonal don't you think? Call me Arianne," she got closer to him, and he perceived the scent of flowers emanating from her. "We might become more intimate soon, am I right?"

He felt a known sensation, one he had not felt ever since he parted from Ygritte. He remembered they were not alone and turned to the spot where he had seen Cyara the last time. She was not there, at some point she had left the room without a single sound.

"She's very smart. I've known few servants who are capable to know what it's required of them without receiving orders."

"She's not my servant; she's -" he didn't know how to finish his sentence. "More like a friend, I guess," he decided in the end.

"I'm sorry; I meant no offense towards her."

"You don't need to apologize, Arianne."

She smiled when he said her name. "Perhaps you could tell me how you met one day. For now let's focus in that which we're supposed to be discussing."

She made a move to place her hair behind her shoulder, and he swallowed hard; the yellow silk showed too much cleavage. He hid his embarrassment behind the goblet. When he had calmed a little, he decided to speak.

"Forgive me if my question seems too straightforward, but I'm afraid I do not know any other way to express myself. Do you truly agree to this match, Arianne?"

"An alliance between the North and Dorne has never been seen before. I think it's a great opportunity for both of us."

"No, I'm not referring to that," he shook his head. "Beyond politics, I mean, what happened to Elia Martell... I would understand if your family held some kind grudge against me."

She remained speechless for an instant. "I believed Aegon would have already told you. We don't think what happened to Elia was your fault; my father wouldn't have suggested the match if he thought wrong of you."

"What about the rest of your family?"

"If what worries you is the reaction of the Sand Snakes," she chuckled, "which I would understand, you don't have to. You gained an important part of their respect when you killed that thing. Plus, they like your sister a lot; they find her very amusing. 'A dornish woman who was born in the wrong Kingdom.' Obara said when I inquired about her."

Jon smiled at the thought; he was glad Arya had found someone who understood her rather than judge her for the things she did. He hoped it could help her to return to be the girl she had been.

"Arya loves to spend time with them as well," he remembered Baelish's issue. "They helped her to dismiss Daenerys accusations, today. Maybe you could thank them on my behalf."

"Perhaps you could thank them yourself," she leaned forward and took his hand. "We could have lunch together, us, my brother, my cousins, and your sister."

"Arya would like that."

"What about you, Jon? Would you like it?" Arianne traced the line of his jaw with her fingers. "I can still feel uncertainty coming from your words."

"I'm wondering if this marriage is something that would make you happy," he confessed.

"You are so gallant," her mouth was one breath away from his. "Perhaps we might give it a try to know if it can make us happy."

His astonishment, when he felt her full lips against his, didn't last. He had not imagined that he would miss that type of contact; it felt incredibly good. Her mouth opened to receive his, and he buried his hand in her dark curls to bring her closer. They separated after an undeterminable amount of time, panting.

"And Aegon told me you were shy," she said holding his gaze with her dark eyes full of desire.

"Aegon can be mistaken," he answered still trying to regain his breath.

"I'm so glad that he was."

She leaned forward to kiss him again. He could feel her hands undoing the buttons of his doublet. He took her shoulders to separate from her. Her skin was so soft and so warm that he almost regretted it. She gave him a puzzled look.

"This is not right, Arianne."

"Are you still uncertain?" she arched a brow.

"No, but I don't think we should be doing this. Not now."

"What's wrong about it? We're going to get married, aren't we?" She was over him once more, her hands dangerously ascending over his thighs. "What does it matter if we move forward to the bedding?"

Indeed, this would be the minimum of my sins. Besides, his body was craving for it.

It didn't happen. There was a strange knock on the door.

"Prince Trystane, the princess can't receive right now." They heard the guard.

"Ser, I've been secluded in my room the whole day. At least allow me to visit my sister before I go mad."

"Looks like we'll have to leave this for another occasion," she gave him a chaste kiss before tidying her hair. "A storm is about to enter through the door," Arianne stood up and directed to open the door herself; he followed her. "Trys, you have interrupted an important meeting, this better be relevant."

"I'm bored, and it's your entire fault, Arianne, you better take responsibility for it," The prince regarded him and gaped like he wanted to say something but repented almost immediately.

"Where are your manners, Trys?"

"I'm sorry, Prince Jon, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't. I wouldn't dare to steal the precious time you spend with your sister," he looked at Arianne. "Excuse me," he said before crossing the door.

"How did it go?" Cyara asked when they were far enough from Arianne's chambers.

"It went well; I think." He expected his face wasn't showing his previous fervor.

I would like to get to know her better. What he had felt back then was nothing more than desire. It's better than not feeling anything at all, I guess.

'You know nothing, Jon Snow.' He wondered if he would have to live with Ygritte's memory forever.

"You should go to rest," he told Cyara when they made it to his room. "A northerner will arrive anytime."

"Before that, I was wondering if you could grant me a couple of minutes," she looked quite... nervous? That was odd.

And what's with the formal treatment?

"I have nothing else to do today."

They sat on the table. She took something out from the sporran she was always carrying and put it on the table. It was a bunch of parchments tied with thread.

"I think you should have this."

"What is this?" He untied the thread and started to look at the contents of the parchments. His eyes went wide. "This - "

"It's the work of my life," she nodded, "I think it's accurate to call it that way. The drawings were made by the children of the forest, but the notes and the descriptions are mine."

He was out of words. The parchments had detailed descriptions of the wights and other creatures, the routes they followed to move from one place to another, and the necessary measures to contain them.

"You have visited the lands of always winter?!"

"I have, although I didn't make it too far. They discovered me almost immediately."

"Wait. Why are you giving me this?" he lifted his head to see her. "Why now?" He had the feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"I didn't do it when we met because I didn't want to waste my efforts on someone I didn't believe in."

"You said -"

You deceived me. He felt incredibly betrayed.

"I know what I said. I was following orders," she lowered her eyes to stare at the table. "Back then I didn't care for anything aside from ending this. I just wanted you to do what the raven wanted so that he would give me some peace," she raised her stare to meet his and for a moment, he thought she would cry. "But I swear it's not like that anymore. I... I feel so ashamed for deceiving you."

So that was it. That was what had changed. He should be mad at her, but if anything, it had been the raven who had dragged them into that situation.

"If you have changed your mind, then there was no reason for you to confess this," he gave a bitter laugh. "I had fallen completely for it."

"Don't laugh, it's not like I'm proud of it," she rested her forehead on her hand. "Connington offered me a white cloak, and I accepted it."

"Does that mean -?"

"It means I won't return to the North."

"Are you planning to run away after what you have just told me? You should take responsibility for it."

What am I saying? I should just let her do whatever she wants. Forcing her to stay wouldn't be different to what the raven had done.

"Look where we are; I failed miserably to do what I was supposed to do. I promised you dragons and all you got were difficulties."

"You gave me back the most important part of my life." That at least was the truth. He reached for her hand, and she snatched it away immediately.

She shook her head. "If you found Arya was because you insisted we should take the dragons the right way."

"Then this mess is my fault. You have done a lot of things for me. It's not like I want you to get away because of what you just told me." He couldn't understand his reluctance to allow her to leave.

"There's nothing else I can do for your sake," she said with a hurt expression.

Maybe we're just damaging each other. Considering the way things had started there was no other way for them to occur.

"Is it really what you want?" He inquired in the end.

"It better is."

"Then I have no reason to stop you."

She nodded and left. He stayed on the table staring at the papers. It was depressing to think that would be the only thing remaining from her when he returned to the North.

CYARA

She lingered in front of the door after she closed it; she wasn't sure where she should go.

'Are you planning to run away after what you have just told me?' There was accuracy in those words, yet, so was in hers.

She had not liked the idea of abandoning him, especially considering she had lied to him at the beginning. But soon enough, what Brynden had given her would fade away and she would not represent any advantage for the war against the Others anymore. And didn't she have the right to act to protect herself?

It would be a torment to prolong this situation. Cyara could have gathered her courage and tell Jon about her feelings, but there was no way for that to end well. If he rejected her, she would take her distance. A very similar result to what had just happened. On the other hand, if Jon were to return her feelings, both of them would only suffer from it. Jon wouldn't want to emulate his dragon father, and marry Arianne Martell after all. That wouldn't be fair for the princess either.

Neither was silently remaining by his side an option. She would have to stand to see him with the princess every day. Besides, despite the gentle way Arianne Martell treated her, there was no way she would willingly allow Cyara to stay so close. The princess had, without a doubt, heard the false rumors about them. She would want to defend what was hers by oath, and she would be in her right to do so. The more accurate course of action was to take her distance before her feelings strengthened to a point of no return. All that had driven her to accept what Connington had proposed her.

Cyara had also taken other things into consideration to decide accepting the offer. Daenerys' suspicion towards Jon had not vanished; in fact, it had increased after their confrontations because of the trials. If she stayed as a Royal Guard, she might be able to know if the Queen was planning something against the Vale and the North and prevent them. Last but not least was her self-fulfilment.

When she arrived at the conclusion that she had to select something else for her life, she had been lost. She had spent so much time following orders and acting for the sake of others that she had not known what to do. She then tried to remember what she had wanted to do when she lived at Pentos.

Traveling around the world didn't seem a viable option with her limited resources. But if she entered the Royal Guard, her name would be written in the White Book. She could be remembered as the first woman to become a member of the Royal Guard, and if she worked hard enough, perhaps become Commander. The possibility was vague but not inexistent.

She had repeated her reasoning a hundred times to rid her doubts. Nevertheless, that did not prepare her to face the deception she saw in Jon's eyes. She felt horrible because of that.

What's done is done. I made a decision, and I'll live with the consequences of it.

The northerner guard arrived and greeted her with a frown. She merely bowed her head and walked away from there. She didn't want to direct to the cell where she slept, so she went to the godswood instead. As much as she loathed Brynden, lately, the godswood was the only place where she could find some calm. She didn't get there.

She had just made it past the Sept when she crossed Aegon and Margaery Tyrell. The Silver Prince was surely escorting her back to her chambers. She bowed to them and received two gleaming smiles in return. She was about to continue her way when Aegon held her arm to make her stop. Margaery Tyrell's smile had vanished.

"How may I help you, Prince Aegon?"

"It's about my brother. The way things are between us right now; I don't like it."

We're on the same boat, Aegon, she would have wanted to tell him.

"I don't think this is the right moment. I was going to see Lord Connington," she lied, "and you clearly are busy right now." She tried to avoid Margaery Tyrell's infuriated stare.

"It will be just a minute," his beautiful violet eyes were pleading.

"Fine," she conceded. They walked further away from where the Rose of Highgarden was.

"The things I told Jon today, I didn't mean them," his voice was full of regret

"I think you should tell him that personally, Your Grace."

"He's too mad at me, at us. I understand he didn't like the resolutions of the trials, but I feel like I'm being forced to decide between my judgment and pleasing him," he paused and took her hands. "You understand him very well, please give me some advice."

What a bad joke, now particularly.

"Your Grace, the last time we had a talk like this, the Queen didn't like it."

"I'm sorry about that. I won't let her believe you influenced my way of thinking again."

I'm going to get beheaded, she sighed.

"I don't think I can talk on your brother's behalf, Your Grace, but I can tell you my opinion based on what I've seen."

"I would be grateful to hear it."

"If you excuse me, I have the impression the decisions you make are still being influenced by the Rebellion," the prince was giving her his full attention. "It's understandable for you to be disgusted with those who wronged your family, but you can't be planning to rule over a Realm if you hold a grudge against half of its people."

"I feel the same way about Jon. He keeps plainly rejecting what we try to do for personal reasons."

"Perhaps, but he's the one who understands this Realm the most. Unlike you or the Queen, he has lived his whole life here. He was raised by a man who took part and lived the transitions of the Realm. He was part of an organization that was established to watch over the welfare of the Realm without distinctions. Jon's is the most objective opinion you will get, Your Grace."

"What you're saying is that he's able to see the greater picture."

"Of course he can make mistakes and be oblivious to some things."

The way he is with Arya. It had been a smart move to use the cat to provoke the accident since almost no one knew about her warging abilities. Even if Baelish deserved to die, Jon wouldn't like to know it had been her doing. One more addition to the list of lies I've told him. Not that it matters anymore.

The prince considered their talk with a frown. He finally nodded and gave her the most radiant smile she had seen him make.

"I think I understand him better know. I'll try to make things right with him."

"I hope it goes well, Your Grace."

"Thank you."

It lasted less than an instant, but the way he delayed the release of her hands, the intensity of his gaze and the way Margaery Tyrell was staring at her told her everything. She stood still watching how they got away from where she was.

Cyara fought the urge to pull her hair. The Silver Prince had now ruined her plans. She had to do something about it. She directed to the Tower of the Hand.

"Connington, I must speak with you."

The man nodded without looking away from the parchments he was reading.

"I'm listening," he prompted.

"I can't accept that cloak after all." That made him lift the head to regard her.

"I thought we had settled this conversation before, girl."

"This time my reasons are different."

"Well, I want to hear those reasons." He said arching a brow.

"I..." She stopped.

How am I supposed to tell him this? She couldn't think of a way of saying 'I believe the future King of Westeros has something going on for me.' without sounding conceited.

"Aegon did something that made me think..."

This is absurd.

"He is attracted to you." He completed.

What?

"Did you know?" She couldn't be more astonished.

"Contrary to what he may think, I know him better than anyone else. Maybe, even better than himself," he looked directly into her eyes, "I've been aware of it for quite a long time."

"But..." She was only blabbering nonsenses. "Then, why? You have been warning him endlessly about Arya." Connington sighed exasperated.

"I thought you were smarter, girl." She didn't answer, so he continued, "I raised him. I knew that if I were to forbid him to be close to you, he would become more stubborn about the matter. Arya Stark was my excuse to keep reminding him not to be stupid. And I knew almost immediately that you would never follow his lead."

You're a lovely man, Connington.

"That's why you want me to stay here, isn't it? That way you I will stay at a convenient distance from him." There was nothing she hated more than being used to meet other's purposes.

"That's only part of the reason." He admitted.

Idiot. She had believed him when he told her he trusted her to be part of the Royal Guard.

"Are you going to quit?" He inquired.

She reflected for an instant. Acknowledgment had not been the only reason she had had to make her choice.

"No. I have already given my word."

"I knew you were reasonable."

"Excuse me then, Lord Hand," she said with disdain. When she reached the door, he told her one last thing.

"I believe it's unnecessary to tell you this, but don't change your treatment towards him. He would suspect." He returned to his parchments.

"As you wish, Lord Hand."

As she made her way back to her cell, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. She felt humiliated, infuriated, and she could do nothing about it without causing a fuss.

Tyrion had been right. In the Red Keep existed only two kinds of people, pieces and players. Cyara had become part of the first group.