Author's Note: Okay just a little bit of world-building background before we get started. In this story anyone aligned with the Targaryens is going to prosper, including the Daynes. If Ned never made it to the Tower of Joy, then Arthur Dayne doesn't die and would've successfully protected Lyanna while Rhaegar went off to kill Robert, earning himself and his family quite the reward. Taking it one step further, if Ned never had to return Arthur's sword and report his death Ashara would have no reason to climb that tower and jump. Which loosely translated means she's alive and well and able to visit the Red Keep to cause trouble – enjoy.

RC

Fresh from a bath Daenerys was sitting on her recently made bed in a silk robe while Missandei was in the closet hunting for the perfect dress to wear on the first day of her new job. She was supposed to be paying attention, to rule on the garments Missandei held out with an extended arm but she was much more interested in the story she was telling. "I thought she was going to kiss me," Daenerys admitted. The disappointment was just as profound as it had been the night before.

Instead of just a dress and a hand being made visible Missandei's deep, dark, understanding eyes peeked out too. "You don't sound especially horrified," she teased.

She was certain she was blushing. "I'm not, I'm sad that I misread things so drastically." Almost as an afterthought she added, "Not that dress."

Missandei returned to rummaging and came out holding a pale blue dress, with white trim. "Perhaps you didn't misread her at all," the helpful handmaiden supplied.

"I thought she would kiss me, and she didn't, what other reason can there be?"

"Maybe she wanted to."

Daenerys appreciated her friend's efforts, but she disagreed. "You know Arya, if she wanted to kiss me, she would've."

The dress she was holding jiggled as Missandei shook it to redirect Daenerys's attention. "This one is nice," she observed.

She knew she was being childish. They needed to get ready and Daenerys was too busy whining about things she couldn't change. "I'm sorry Missandei, you're right, it's radiant."

She carried the dress over to the bed and gave the Princess a smile. "No need to apologize, but if we don't get you dressed before Arya arrives, she'll see much more of you than you intend to show her today."

It was meant to be a joke, a way to lighten the mood and make Daenerys smile, but it hit a little too close to home, calling forth a recent memory from when Missandei was away. Her cheeks burned for a second time as she confessed. "She's already seen everything."

The normally composed handmaiden faltered briefly. "What?"

Daenerys enjoyed seeing her flustered. She smiled and savored the moment as she stood up and untied the knot at her waist. She shrugged out of the robe and let it drop as she explained. "Arya insisted she stay with me, since you weren't here." Only as she watched Missandei digest this new information did she recall Arya had a second, more logical reason for sleeping on the floor. "She wanted to get an early start on our day in the city, so we didn't waste any of it needlessly," she said weakly.

Missandei smirked knowingly as she handed over the dress. "Yes, because the walk from the barracks would have ruined everything," she opined sarcastically. "She does know I don't typically sleep in your chambers, doesn't she?" Daenerys's face must have betrayed her because with a quiet laugh Missandei shook her head. "I'd wager you didn't try overly hard to send her away."

It was scary sometimes, just how well Missandei knew her. She avoided her friend's eyes when she said, "It was nice having her here, even if she stayed on the floor."

Sensing her discomfort, Missandei moved on. She was behind the royal now, helping her secure the dress in place. "How did that lead to her seeing all of you. Her tone turned suggestive on the word, 'all.'

"She had a nightmare," Daenerys explained. They moved to the mirror to begin styling her hair. "It was horrible, she was thrashing and mumbling."

"What happened next?" Missandei wondered, appearing fearful of the answer. She wasn't asking to be polite, she truly wanted to ensure Arya's well-being. They were friends too.

"I didn't know what to do." She quickly amended her statement. "I mean, I did, I wanted to help, but I didn't know how. When she started moaning in pain and whimpering 'no', I couldn't do nothing anymore. I got out of bed and went to her."

"I'm sure she appreciated that."

"I don't think so," Daenerys noted sadly. "When I got close to her it was like she knew I was there. Without warning she became angry, she started thrashing again, and this time I heard her say 'die!'"

Missandei smiled sadly through the mirror. "That sounds terrible."

"It was," she confirmed, "I hated feeling like there nothing I could do."

Missandei provided immediate reassurance. "I'm certain that you helped."

"Do you know what she could have been dreaming about?" She hadn't meant to ask that, but it occurred to her that maybe Missandei knew. They shared a cabin on the ship, so it was possible that Missandei was aware of the nightmares already. She also couldn't discount the idea that maybe Arya chose to confide in the woman from Naath instead of her. Remote as the chance was, she felt obligated to check. "Has she mentioned anything to you, about her past?"

"Very little, she's as skilled at avoidance as she is with her sword."

The relief she felt was unfair, but undeniable. If Arya wanted to open up to someone, Daenerys wanted it to be her. Satisfied, she finished her story. "I didn't realize I wasn't dressed until after Arya woke up."

"That must have startled her."

She laughed, forcing Missandei to stop braiding until she finished shaking. Her friend had a talent for understating things. Startled wasn't quite the word for it. "No more than me," she said as she reflected on the past, "I hadn't thought to grab the robe, I just wanted to help her and then I'm suddenly naked, grabbing her, trying to jostle her awake."

"Perhaps you were right not to pick a dress," Missandei joked, "we could have tempted her into action."

All too easily her mind followed the path being laid out, imagining everything that might happen next if Arya was tempted by her. "I doubt it would work," she lamented, "she didn't seem interested."

One of Missandei's hands stopped working in her hair and slipped to rest on her shoulder for a moment. "Take it from me, nightmares can be painful and vivid. She probably wasn't thinking clearly."

That was probably true, Arya had seemed confused when she woke, going so far as to ask where she was? "I wanted to ask about it…"

"It's best you didn't," Missandei interjected. "If it was a memory, it likely isn't the sort of thing she'd want to talk about."

Once again Missandei's words rang true. "You're right. We better finish getting ready, we have a meeting with a Septon this morning."

"We do?"

"Yes," she replied happily, preparing to tell Missandei about her bargain with Tyrion and the newfound responsibilities she's undertaken.

R-C

One of the things she noticed about the Red Keep was how drastically things could change in a short amount of time. In the span of minutes an empty room would fill to capacity. It wasn't just the nobles either, a hall empty one moment could be lined from end to end with servants the next, as they rushed to fulfill their appointed tasks.

So, it wasn't all that odd when the empty courtyard she crossed to reach Tyrion's office was bustling with activity on the way back. Dozens of Unsullied were paired off, sparring with one another using all manner of weapons. Separate from them and much less enthusiastic was a handful of the Kingsguard. They were talking more than training and didn't appear motivated. The lone exception was Jaime Lannister. He was wielding his sword with a determination and dedication that could rival Grey Worm or Oberyn. Arya was impressed.

With so many roaming about she almost didn't spot Aemon. He was standing between the Unsullied and the Westerosi, as if he didn't belong with either group. His focus was on the man-shaped target directly in front of him. He had his sword out and was imagining an epic battle. Rather than attacking the unmoving dummy at full-speed, he was perfecting his technique, moving with an exaggerated slowness, guiding the blade with care to precise parts of the target's frame. He pierced the heart with one thrust then followed it up with a quick slash across the side of the neck. Aemon wasn't solely focused on offense. He'd also freeze at random intervals and take a distinctly defensive posture. It was clear to Arya what he was doing, he was imagining a suitable counter to his attempt, and then wondering how he might protect himself against such a strike. His form was good, and he had plenty of Gods-given talent.

Aemon never took his eyes off the enemy and yet he somehow knew she was there. He shouted her name before he sheathed his sword and jogged over to meet her.

Daenerys and Missandei were probably waiting for her, but she still stopped. She liked Aemon and not just because he was likely a member of her family. He was straightforward in a way that seemed out of place in the capital. He wasn't the sort to smile while he stabbed you in the back. Arya could respect that. She hadn't had many opportunities to spend time with him. They sparred a few times, and shared casual conversation when their paths crossed, but that was the extent of their interactions.

"Come to train?" he asked with undisguised hope in his voice.

"Afraid not," she responded. "You were looking good though. Have you been out here long?"

"I wasn't hungry, so I skipped breakfast and got an early start."

Arya understood. More often than not she would forgo the first meal of the day in favor of stealing a few extra minutes with a weapon in her hand. "I used to do the same thing."

The comparison made him smile. His eyes, her father's eyes, shined with pride. "Got time for a quick match?"

She didn't. She'd just come from visiting Tyrion, picking up the gold for not only the Septon, but also another smaller purse for a family who appealed for the Crown to assist in paying for their son's burial. Tyrion had scheduled one after the other. He made it clear that he was willing to handle anything Daenerys wasn't, but knowing how excited the Princess was to be useful, Arya assured him the extra work wouldn't be a problem. "I wish."

He wasn't ready to give in. "Dany wouldn't mind," he tried.

From the corner of her eye Arya saw Jaime had stopped swinging his sword and was wandering aimlessly in their direction. Was he waiting to hear her answer? That seemed unlikely. Chastising her overactive mind, she gave Aemon her full attention. It didn't matter if the Lannister wanted to watch her spar, she couldn't. She was already late. "The Princess has several appointments this morning."

By the time she took note of Aemon's disappointment Jaime was back with his brethren, showing off his many abilities. Was it a coincidence he'd stopped listening as soon as she made clear she couldn't fight? Was he interested at all in their conversation or was he just taking a break and happened to do it closer to Arya?

Aemon flashed her one of his rare smiles, the kind reserved for his father or his aunt. "She'd hate to hear you call her 'the Princess'."

That was true. "She would, but she'd hate it more if I made her late for her appointment with the Septon."

"Yeah," he acknowledged, "you're right." Before she could step away, he had more to say. "Can you come back later if you're not too busy?"

"To train?" she guessed.

"Yeah," he repeated, "and I, I have a question I'd like to ask you too, when you have the time."

She could have gone, he was giving her an escape, but her feet wouldn't budge. "I don't have time to spar, but I can answer your question, if you want."

Nervous all the sudden, he wasn't sure how to reply. "Oh, I didn't mean now, I…" he paused and made another more successful attempt. "You're from Dorne right?"

"Yes," she said simply, aware she was nearing a battlefield littered with traps. Why was he questioning her about her origins? Did he suspect something? Was the question his or his father's?

"I don't know if you noticed," Aemon began looking at the ground beneath him before he caught himself and adjusted his gaze, "but you and i look a little alike."

A little? They could pass for brother and sister easily. It wasn't just the eyes either, it was the hair and the structure of their faces. Nearly everything about Aemon Targaryen reminded her of the family she had. "I did," she finally said, wary of where this was leading.

At the first opportunity he rushed ahead to finish his point. "Yeah, me too, and that got me thinking. Maybe my mother was from Dorne too, that would make sense, right?"

Since she met Aemon and saw the similarities he had to her father and brothers Arya had wondered how much he knew. If he was asking her, it confirmed that Rhaegar hadn't been forthcoming about his mother. What should she tell him? How much could she without revealing her own secrets? Her own feelings for Rhaegar aside, Aemon seemed to love him, and Daenerys did too. Apart from petty retribution, what would she gain from damaging one of the few meaningful relationships in her cousin's life?

While she was debating her options, Aemon was filling the silence. "Does that make sense? Are there many people who look like me, us, in Dorne? When I read about Dornishmen, it's always dark hair, dark eyes and bronze skin."

The risks not withstanding, she would never have a better chance to inquire and learn the extent of Aemon's knowledge. She'd need to tread carefully. "Do you not know your mother?" she asked, not needing to try very hard to sound empathetic.

"No, not even her name. Father won't speak of her and not just to me, to anyone. Daenerys has asked about her too, and he refuses to discuss it."

Her knowledge made it difficult to craft a reply. She understood why Rhaegar didn't want to tell his son the truth. It wouldn't benefit Aemon to discover he was the product of a kidnapping. "I'm sorry," she finally said. She meant it, she regretted that he was distraught about this. That he was willing to bring it up at all suggested that it was on his mind frequently. It'd have to be to compel him to ask her of all people.

"It's not your fault," he said quickly in a well-practiced way. "I was just thinking that maybe she is from the same place as you."

She took an extra moment to review her response before she said it aloud. "I think you're right. I don't think I ever met your mother, but it's likely that she and I were born in the same place, that would explain the similarities we've both noticed."

Aemon was so pleased to have his theory validated that he missed the way the words were arranged. Lying to him about this would've tormented her, so she danced around the truth instead. She couldn't tell him everything, not without exposing herself but at the very least, she could give him small pieces of the puzzle he'd been obsessing over. She hadn't met Lyanna and they were from the same place, though she never specified Dorne.

"I knew it!" he said loudly. "I knew it couldn't just be a coincidence. Do you know anymore about her, could you put me in touch with someone there?"

"I didn't remain where I was born for long. I moved to Sunspear young, so I wouldn't be able to help. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, you've given me more information in a few sentences than I've ever had." He paused just long enough to take a breath and then steered them to another topic. "Do you think I could join you when you return? If it's where she's from, I'd like to see it, and maybe the people there have more information."

Could she take him to Dorne with her? Sure, if his father permitted it, but he wouldn't find what he sought there. In truth if he wanted to find his roots, he needed to head North. "I wouldn't mind a travelling companion, but you'd need to ask your father."

Aemon's high mood fell sharply. "He'd never allow me to go."

In an effort to cheer him up, she called attention to the one place he wanted to go above all others. "You'll probably be on the Wall by the time Viserys returns anyway. Last time we spoke of it, you told me the Prince was close to allowing it. Do you no longer wish to take the black?"

"Of course, I do," he said without hesitation, "it's where I belong."

"I need to go, Daenerys is waiting for me, but I'll try and come back if I can. We need to get you ready if you're going to be a Ranger."

Mentioning the Wall and his potential as a Ranger served its purpose, he was smiling again as he nodded and stepped back. She admired his commitment and his willingness to serve the Realm, even if it wasn't in the way Targaryens traditionally did it. "I'll let you go, thanks for everything Arya and please apologize to Daenerys on my behalf for keeping you."

She pointed to the target he'd been practicing on. "Keep going. Try and imagine an enemy just as smart and strong as you. How would you defend against your own attack? How would you beat that defense?"

With renewed purpose Aemon went back to the target and Arya broke into a run as she hurried to make up lost time. As she weaved through the busy hallways she thought of Aemon. He didn't know it, but she'd given him more than guidance in combat. Dorne didn't hold the answers he wanted, but if he went to the Wall, he'd be much closer to finding them. Maybe her Uncle Benjen would have the courage to say what she couldn't. One way or another she hoped he learned the truth. She just needed to make certain that she was back in Sunspear before that happened.

R-C

She stood with her back to the wall, three feet behind Daenerys's chair. This position wasn't random, it afforded her a clear line of sight of the room's only door, she could be at Daenerys's side in an instant and most importantly she could look over Daenerys's slim shoulder and see the face of the man or woman sitting opposite her. If the person she was meeting had less than pure intentions, Arya would take action.

Her first meeting, the one with the Septon had gone so well it made Arya question why Daenerys hadn't been taking such appointments already. She certainly had a knack for it. She asked Missandei to bring juice and snacks and she spent the first half of their hour discussing the wide-ranging programs offered to the citizens of King's Landing. Daenerys listened intently and asked intelligent, relevant follow-up questions.

The Septon was only too happy to talk about all the people the Crown's donation could help and Daenerys hung on every word. The Septon was reluctant at first to give anything beyond the basics. Arya guessed he developed a script after Gods knew how many requests for funding. How many times had he been encouraged to stop talking and just take the gold? She couldn't fault Tyrion or any other Master of the Coin if that was their approach. They had a lot to deal with. They didn't have time to sit and listen to the Septon's grand plans, but Daenerys did. More than that, she wanted to hear all of his ideas. She opened him up with a few innocent sounding questions and before long he was telling her everything.

The more they talked, the more relaxed Daenerys became. She really listened, and complimented the Septon on his commitment, when many others might have given up.

When it was his turn to thank her, Daenerys brushed it aside. "You're the one doing the hard work. The least the Crown, the least my family can do is make sure you have the resources you need to succeed."

The actual giving of the money only happened at the end. The meeting had run long, and their hour together was up. Daenerys gave him the gold and then encouraged him to make another appointment if and when he needed assistance with his future projects.

Daenerys stood when the Septon did but didn't exit. Missandei was the one who helpfully offered to escort him out. She maintained her composure until the door closed and they were alone and then she shrieked in delight and threw herself at Arya.

Arya caught her in a hug and held a little tighter than usual. "You did great," she said honestly. "A lot of people will be getting help now, thanks to you."

The hug was over, but Daenerys didn't retreat. They remained face to face, the only major difference was that their arms had returned to their sides. "I didn't really do anything. It wasn't my gold, I just…"

Going back to when she was Arya Stark, she never really liked being praised. There were exceptions of course, when the compliment was coming from her father, for example, then she couldn't get enough. When she was being singled out for her talents as a soldier or a warrior, that too she could tolerate, but all other praise aimed at her made her uncomfortable, especially when she felt it undeserved. Therefore, she could relate to Daenerys's habit of downplaying her achievements, but in this instance Arya couldn't allow that. Only a few people were even aware Daenerys took on this job. Unless Tyrion told someone, the list was limited to him, Arya, Daenerys and Missandei. In such a small group, Arya couldn't rely on others to adjust Daenerys's point of view, she'd have to be the one to make her see how meaningful an impact she was having.

She waited for the anxiety to come, but it didn't. Whether she was Arya Stark or Arya Sand, the fastest way to make her uneasy was to force her into a conversation about feelings. There weren't many people Arya cared enough about to try and provide reassurance in a moment like this, but Daenerys was one.

With a deep breath she thought about her mother and how she'd comfort her youngest daughter when Arya was upset about one thing or another. She'd sit down on the edge of the bed where Arya was lying face down, crying into her pillow. She'd take Arya's hand and trap it between both of hers. "It's going to be okay," she'd promise. "I'm here."

No matter what had Arya distraught, Catelyn Stark always managed to make it better. She'd need different words, but she could at least try to do that for Daenerys.

She took her hand, an easy feat given how close they were. Daenerys looked down at their linked fingers and then up into Arya's eyes. Unasked questions were written all over face. Arya took the plunge before the Princess could find her voice.

"You did do something!" she said with passion. "You heard what Tyrion said, it would be days if not weeks before he could meet with the Septon. How many people would have suffered or worse in that time? The only reason people will begin to get help today is because of you."

When Daenerys didn't say or do anything in the wake of her comments, she feared she'd make a mistake. It sounded okay to her ears, but maybe Daenerys disagreed. She never should have tried, she's not Sansa, she's not made to have deep, meaningful conversations, her place was swinging a sword, she should've stuck to that.

While she was contemplating the best ways to apologize to Daenerys the limited space between them vanished. Daenerys was hugging her again, even more vigorously than before. "Thank you," she said, leaning in fully.

After a delay that stretched beyond what was proper, she managed to convince her arms to hug back. She tried not to notice the way they fit together, or how she felt warm in every place Daenerys's skin brushed hers. "I mean it. The people of King's Landing will never know what you did for them, but I will."

"How do you do that?" Daenerys asked. She leaned back so she could look at Arya's face.

Unsure of what she was being accused of, she needed to clarify. "Do what?"

"Know exactly what to say. I was happy before but now…" she trailed off.

This was why Arya didn't talk about feelings, once that door opened, it led to this. What sort of reply would get her out of this?

It took an unusually long time, but she eventually settled on, "I just told the truth. The Septon is lucky you were here, or he'd still be waiting."

With some extra color in her cheeks Daenerys smiled sweetly and rocked back and forth, going from the tips of her toes to the back of her heels. Arya recognized the habit as one Daenerys engaged in when she was too excited to remain still. That said, she was clueless about what exactly had the Princess nearly bubbling over.

Before she could take another stab at solving the riddle, Daenerys rocked even harder, going as far back as she could without falling and then surging forward, using her momentum to carry her to Arya. The guard lifted her hands, anticipating another hug, but that wasn't what Daenerys had in mind this time. She pressed her lips into Arya's cheek, suspiciously close to the side of her mouth, while the soldier just stared. She'd been trained for war, to kill, to fight, to defend and die if necessary but none of her lessons covered this. All her swords, spears, daggers and bows left her woefully unprepared now. She couldn't recall ever feeling more vulnerable than she did right then.

It was such a strange circumstance. To have so many thoughts in her head one instant and then for them to be gone the next. She had been thinking about Daenerys, questioning her behavior, trying to select the right strategy to show her she was valued, even privately taking delight from seeing Daenerys excel at something and then suddenly it was gone. In its place was a very different collection of details about Daenerys everything from the smell of her perfume, to the softness of her lips. She spent more time than she'd dare admit wondering what it would be like to kiss Daenerys, and although it wasn't a real kiss, it was sufficient to assure Arya's most detailed fantasies were cheap forgeries of the real thing.

Slowly the world expanded beyond Daenerys again and she noted other things, for one the incessant pounding in her ears. It was just a kiss on the cheek and her heart was threatening to break through her ribcage all the same.

Arya wasn't the only one coming to terms with their kiss. In front of her Daenerys looked to be on the verge of panic. Why? Had she not meant to kiss her? If that was the problem, it was no reason for distress, it was a kiss, not a marriage proposal.

The long awkward quiet came to an end when they both spoke at the same time.

"Arya."

"Daenerys."

Their dueling attempts to restart the conversation eased some of the tension and Arya saw a brief but real smile on Daenerys's face. "You go ahead," Daenerys encouraged.

She wasn't sure what to say, she just knew she had to say something. She didn't want Daenerys to feel guilty. It was a kiss, in the heat of the moment, when emotions were high. Even if Arya may have wished otherwise, it didn't mean anything. They were friends and that was enough. Arya just needed to keep her safe and bury her affections for the older woman until the wedding.

Aware that Daenerys was still waiting for her to respond, she opened her mouth to try. She had no idea which words to use or in what order.

Mercifully Missandei arrived and brought with her a middle-aged woman, a girl of about twelve and a boy of six. They were obviously a family, with matching blonde hair and light green eyes. "Princess, this is the Whitley family, Bren, and her children Ava and Thom."

Daenerys was visibly conflicted, looking between her guests and Arya, unsure of which to choose. Arya tried to help. She retreated to her place against the wall but not before whispering, "We'll talk later."

Instantly relieved, Daenerys's smile became more genuine. Arya relied on the wall to hold her up as Daenerys approached the mother and children. They took a knee before the Targaryen.

Daenerys encouraged them to stand and then hurried them to where they could all sit comfortably. She asked rather than ordered Missandei to get another round of drinks and snacks.

Once everyone was seated, Daenerys started her second meeting of the day. "I'm so sorry for your loss, I can't imagine losing my child," she said to Bren, "or one of my brothers," she continued, looking each sibling in the eye as she spoke to them. "You have my sympathies."

With glassy eyes and an unsteady upper lip Bren replied. "Thank you, Princess." The gratitude was divided by sniffling.

Arya didn't need to see Daenerys's face to know her smile was a little less real now. "Please call me Daenerys."

Missandei returned and began passing out the food and drink. "Thank you," Bren said politely.

Daenerys waited until both of the children were occupied with their snack before she addressed the mother. "So, Bren tell me about your son."

R-C

She would have been content to spend another evening with her closest friends in her room, enjoying wine and stories, reliving their favorite moments from the past few days, but she couldn't. There was an urgent matter that needed her attention. She postponed it long enough.

It was why she released Missandei early, and dismissed Arya, why she spent the next hour alone going over the various things she wanted to say. When she was sure she had her thoughts properly arranged she slipped out of her room and headed down the hall. She knew Arya would be disappointed that Daenerys put herself in danger, but this was one appointment she needed to have alone.

Barristan Selmy was at the door. The fact that he was in the hall and not the room suggested that her brother was in one of his moods. That was fine, Daenerys was confident she could match any of his emotions tonight, the hurt, the pain, the outrage. She didn't even consider leaving and trying again later, this needed to happen, and it couldn't wait. Missandei was back now, and Daenerys needed to do everything in her power to ensure her friend was safe.

"Princess, is everything al…"

"Is he in there?" she asked bluntly, cutting the kind, old knight off.

"He is, is something the matter?"

She ignored the question and took a step toward the door. Understanding her intent, he opened it for her. "Prince," he called, "your sister wishes to speak to you."

He set down his drink and stopped staring into space. He provided a smile but it was clear whatever had been on his mind before she entered, remained. "Dany," he said, just as Selmy closed the door behind her back. "What brings you at this hour?"

She moved directly in front of her brother's chair. "First, I wanted to thank you. Arya told me that our time in the city wouldn't have been possible were it not for you, so thank you."

"I'm… glad you enjoyed it. Did you have a good time?" By the end he had fully recovered from her unexpected gratitude, sounding more like the confident Crowned Prince she knew he was.

"It was two of the best days of my life," she admitted without exaggeration. "It was incredible."

His smile reminded her of her youth. When she was a girl and she'd receive a new toy or decide a particular dress was her favorite, when she learned a new random fact about the Realm and wanted to share that knowledge, she'd always run to Rhaegar. She'd inevitably interrupt a conversation of some kind, but he'd listen intently anyway and compliment her with the same smile he wore now. It was indulgent and real, like she was important to him. It warmed her heart, but the sensation didn't last, not tonight.

"That's great Dany," he said, gesturing for her to sit. She did. "You deserve it. So, what did you do?"

She was tempted to launch herself into a retelling of the monumental experiences she'd had, but she refrained. That wasn't why she'd come. She rose out of the chair she had just settled into. "What happened at dinner?" she asked, unable to keep the scorn from her voice.

"Dinner?" he repeated dumbly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean with Father," she snapped, "the other night he accused Missandei of being disloyal and you didn't correct him."

Understanding passed over his face and that familiar smile became a distant memory. "You had it under control," he contended.

No, no she didn't. In fact, she'd been too afraid to even speak until Arya stole everyone's attention and gave her time to think. She didn't want a meaningless compliment from her brother, she wanted an explanation. "I didn't. I didn't know what to say or do, I was frozen."

Rhaegar took her hand. In years past his touch would have brought her comfort but it felt as hollow and insincere as his words now. The older she became, the harder it was to overlook his intentional ignorance. He was no fool and yet he pretended not to see all the horrible things happening around him. She used to give him the benefit of the doubt, insisting, believing he was trying his best to make things better, but it was difficult to convince herself of that lately. It was more likely that Westeros's next King favored doing what was easy over what was right. How else could he justify allowing their father to misjudge Missandei like that?

"It worked out," he said, diminishing the horror of what had almost been.

She yanked her hand free. "You know what he would have done!" she screamed. "He would've killed her or burned her or both and for what? She didn't do anything!"

"Calm down!" her brother demanded, though his words did nothing to ease her fury. "Nothing happened. Father didn't hurt her, Missandei is fine."

She didn't want to hear it. "Nothing happened this time. She's fine for now, but what about the next time he gets it in his head that she's disloyal?"

As she grew more and panicked, Rhaegar remained largely unmoved. His indifference multiplying her pain. "There won't be a next time," he stated simply. "It's over."

She scoffed. "You don't honestly believe that, and even if you do, you can't mean it. He's not in control of himself. There is no way for you or I or anybody else to predict what he's going to do. No one else hears the whispers he does, so we can't know what he's thinking and that scares me."

With every negative word spoken about their father Daenerys watched Rhaegar's face shift into an angry mask, but it changed back just as abruptly when she admitted her fear. "I'd never let him harm you," he swore.

Although she knew her brother meant to help, his promise proved he was missing the larger point. "It's not me I'm worried about."

Rhaegar tried again to placate her. "I'll do everything in my power to ensure no harm comes to your handmaiden."

She was tempted to remind her brother that Missandei had a name, that she was more than a handmaiden but there were more pressing matters to discuss first. She steeled herself for what was coming, knowing it would be the most difficult conversation she and her eldest sibling ever had. "Thank you," she said, forcing a smile to start them out on the right foot, "but even if he never accuses Missandei again, he will accuse someone."

"What are you saying?" he fired back, his concern for her covered completely by his frustration.

"Isn't it time Father stepped down?" she asked carefully. She knew Rhaegar wouldn't want to hear it, but the facts remained.

"Absolutely not!" he roared, gripping the arms of his chair tightly. "How can you even suggest such a thing, he's your father and your King!"

"He is my father," she agreed calmly, "and he is the King, but he's also sick."

"This is treason!" Rhaegar cried. "I shouldn't even be listening to this. I demand that you stop this at once and never speak of it again."

For a girl who worshipped her brother and spent a large portion of her life seeking acceptance, those words nearly hit their mark. A part of her – and it wasn't a small part – wanted to abide by Rhaegar's wishes and submit, but she couldn't. It wasn't about her anymore. Her long-held desire to be viewed as an equal, her overwhelming urge to forge a strong bond with her brother, those things weren't quite so important today. There were other considerations that needed to be taken into account, things far more valuable and irreplaceable than an insignificant Princess or her feelings. "Someone needs to speak of it," she countered, "and if not us then who?" She was glad she'd practiced ahead of time, she never would have been able to get those words out otherwise.

"No!" he said, as if that would be enough to silence her.

"He can't help himself, he can't control it, he needs to step down before any more innocent people die."

"No, our father is the King and that's the way it'll stay." He infused his words with a finality that he likely expected to subdue her. Unfortunately for Rhaegar she was no longer a scared little girl too afraid to speak her mind. She still had a long way to go to be as confident and self-reliant as she wanted, but she was strong enough to withstand her brother's disapproval.

"And how many people will die before the end of his reign?" she wondered. "How many of your people? How many loyal subjects will you allow a murderer to kill before you stop him?" It hurt calling her father a murder, and she could see Rhaegar was as pained by the label as she was, but it was true, and they couldn't continue to hide from it. It was time for change. It may have started as a quest to keep Missandei safe, but it went beyond that. This was for all the people who would be summoned to the throne room for a meeting with their King, this was for Westeros.

"Enough!" he screamed, rising up out of his chair slightly before the pain in his legs became too severe to continue. "We aren't talking about this anymore."

"You can't ignore it any longer," she pressed. "You'll be King after Father, wouldn't you rather there still be a Realm to rule by the time you get there?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Rhaegar said after a dismissive, hurtful scoff. "The Realm will be fine, and Father will be fine. I'm sorry about your friend but you're overreacting."

She wasn't. If anyone was at fault it was him and everyone else for underreacting. "If he wasn't your father, you'd have killed him already," Daenerys predicted darkly.

"How would you know that?" Rhaegar spat bitterly. "Is that your expert opinion after so many years mastering politcs and leadership? Leave ruling Westeros to the rest of us, you just go back to your tea and cookies with wives and children."

She knew what was happening, he was retaliating, pushing back after she pushed him too far. He was taunting her to try and direct their argument to a safer subject. She knew he didn't mean it, but the words still hurt. How many times had she gone to him, asking, pleading, begging for the chance to be involved in the Realm's business? He always refused her and now he was using her lack of experience against her, when the only reason she didn't have it was because of him. "You're right," she said with a cold, detached calm, "I don't know anything, I'm just a woman, but consider this, men have been fucking up the Seven Kingdoms for centuries, maybe an opinion like mine is exactly what you need."

"Dany, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

She was at the door when she looked back in her brother's direction. "Think about what I said, if you need me, I'll be enjoying my tea and cookies, with the wives and children."

"Dany!" he tried again, louder this time.

In the hall Barristan was there, unchanged from when he let her in. The walls were thick, but she and Rhaegar had gotten pretty heated, neither concerning themselves with their volume. Had he heard all of that or some? She didn't know and right now she didn't care. It was obvious he wanted to speak with her, but she dodged him and walked away.

She'd done the right thing, she knew that, but it didn't absolve her of the guilt that came from betraying her father. Rhaegar wasn't wrong, she was condoning and actively encouraging treason, but it seemed like the lesser evil. If she could convince her brother to ascend to the throne, it would have a significant, and calculable effect on not only King's Landing but the whole Realm. The change could be measured in lives saved. What she was suggesting might make her a terrible daughter, but it made her a good neighbor and a good person and wasn't that more important? If she had to carry the burden of 'bad daughter' to save untold lives, she'd do it, especially if Missandei was among the rescued.

R-C

She'd just finished in her morning ritual. She met with Tyrion and Rhaegar to learn what the Princess's day would hold. The dwarf had no meetings for Daenerys to take, and Rhaegar refused to allow his sister to leave the keep. The castle would be receiving visitors and Daenerys needed to be on hand for their arrival.

Arya was nervous. The Musgoods of Storm's End were coming to visit King's Landing. After the rebellion failed Aerys gave all Baratheon lands and titles to families loyal to him. Storm's End ended up in the care of House Dayne. Dornish by birth the house was led by Arthur Dayne until he accepted a post as one of Aerys's Kingsguard. Presumably, that was when Arthur and Rhaegar's friendship began. It was even rumored that Dayne was given a special assignment by the Crown Prince himself before Rhaegar led the army to the Trident. it was just speculation really, but no survivor could confirm seeing the Sword of the Morning on the battlefield that day. Maybe he wasn't there, but it was just as probable that all those who saw him didn't live to say so.

Since the Kingsguard are prevented from holding titles, the spoils of the war fell to Dayne's only kin, a sister named Ashara. Aery's decree not withstanding, Storm's End wasn't Starfall and they wouldn't follow a woman. Within months of Robert's death Tywin Lannister had a solution for that particular problem. He arranged a marriage that would satisfy everyone. The beauty Ashara Dayne would be wed to the Lord Jon Musgood. Based in the Stormlands the Musgoods were an inconsequential house. They had so few men at the time Robert was gathering his forces that he didn't even stop marching long enough to ask for the Lord's troops. That decision would prove significant, because by being the only house in the region not aligned against Aerys's son, it put tiny House Musgood in the King's good graces.

Jon was moved from his family home to the much larger and more impressive Storm's End where he ruled the whole of the Stormlands for the Targaryen King. Most of the Lords who fought for Robert kept their lives and their titles, the exceptions being Robert himself, the Starks and Jon Arryn. Everyone else was allowed to keep their lands, although the capital did impose a crippling tax on each and every house from the losing side. For each of the next ten years the King punished those who opposed him, taking from men and women who had very little to give. The financial hardship was enough to cause the end of more than one formerly great house.

When Ashara learned what had been arranged, she left Sunspear where she was serving Princess Elia, and went to Storm's End to join her husband. As a girl Arya was required to learn about every house in the Seven Kingdoms and the Musgoods were no exception. It's how she knew Ashara gave Jon three daughters lauded for their beauty before they were finally granted a son. It also made her aware of the fact that while Jon may hold the titles, the real power resided in his wife. Few considered Jon Musgood anything more than the lucky prick who got to marry the true ruler of Storm's End.

Although she tried to remain calm, she worried Ashara would know who she was. The future Lady Musgood left Dorne long before Arya was sent there, so their paths didn't cross but just two years before the King sailed to Sunspear to barter away his son, the Musgoods returned to Ashara's homeland and stayed in the Water Gardens as guests of Prince Doran. She came to seek forgiveness for abandoning Elia and leaving without permission. It was a formality since Doran couldn't take revenge without risking a war with the Targaryens. It amounted to little more than a tense week-long visit, but one Arya had been present for. She delivered food to both Ashara and her husband on more than one occasion. They never spoke, but that didn't mean they wouldn't remember her face. It was also possible, if not likely that during her stay in the Water Gardens someone told the Musgoods about Doran's Northern foster. Any one person with that much knowledge about her past was dangerous. If they put the pieces together, Ashara would tell Arthur, who'd tell Rhaegar, who'd tell Aerys. From there, she knew what would follow – her death in Fire and Blood.

What choice did she have? She could flee, but how far could she rightly expect to get? Could she make it to Dorne or Essos before she was cut down? How many others would be killed in the Mad King's hunt to locate and murder her? If she knew where Ternesio was she could go to him and begin a new life as a deckhand on his ship. He'd take her on gladly and it wouldn't be the worst outcome, unfortunately without knowing where he was going next, it was hopeless. It could be months until he returned to Westeros. All she could do was minimize the amount of time she spent with the King's guests. If she stayed in the background and began wearing her helmet again, maybe they'd never associate the soldier guarding the Princess to the servant who waited on them years before.

With that problem resolved, another reared its head. Daenerys's nameday was fast approaching and Arya had yet to get her a gift. She knew what she wanted. she just hadn't had the opportunity to go and get it. Long days with Daenerys had been keeping her occupied. She needed to make this a priority. If she didn't place her order soon there was no guarantee it would be ready on the date. The situation demanded haste, but Arya remained reluctant. She almost turned back twice. Sneaking into the city to buy Daenerys's present would demand her to swallow her pride and ask someone she hated for help.

She knocked on the door of his bedchamber hard and fast, before she could lose her nerve. She heard him moving around and seconds later the door opened to expose a topless Jorah Mormont. He looked at her in surprise, but by the time he was ready to speak it had shifted to anger. "What do you want?"

She fought the urge to look away from his contempt, staring him down instead. "I have an appointment in the city," she explained, "it'll be brief, less than an hour."

Jorah continued to glare. "Go then, why are you telling me?"

She wanted to roll her eyes. How had a man this slow bested her father? "Daenerys can't join me, she's needed at the castle for the arrival of the Musgoods."

Recognition flickered in his eyes. "Oh,"

"It'll be quick, but could you watch over Daenerys and Missandei until I get back?" The words tasted like acid on her tongue, but her cause was just. She was doing a good thing and that made her discomfort bearable.

"Does the Princess know about this?" He stepped back from the door, but didn't close it, allowing Arya to see through the opening. Jorah was already putting on his Targaryen armor.

"No, I haven't seen her yet. I spoke to Rhaegar and Tyrion and neither have anything for her. She's required to stay in the castle, so she'll be available when the visitors arrive, but…"

"I get it," Jorah snapped, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him, "I don't need you to tell me how to guard the Princess, I was doing it for a long time before you got here."

More than anything she wanted to ask why if he was such a superior guard did Daenerys prefer her to him? She wanted to remind him Daenerys had all but exiled him, but she held her tongue. Jorah, despite his many flaws was doing her a favor and so she gagged on all her rude comments and nodded.

They parted ways at the crossroads of four connected halls. Jorah went toward the royal quarters, and Arya headed the opposite way, looking for the first available exit.

She promised Jorah she'd be quick, and even with Mormont guarding them, Arya wouldn't be able to relax until she was back with Daenerys again. Before she got too far away, she reached under her armor and found a collection of tattered pages. She flipped through them quickly, counting them in her mind to ensure she had them all. Confident that she did she returned them to their hiding place and took off running for the stables.

R-C

"You kissed her!?"

Daenerys had told the handmaiden everything, she needed to tell someone before she burst and Missandei was the obvious choice. Still, did they need to discuss it at such a high volume? The Princess looked behind her to make sure they were alone. "Yes," she confessed in a whisper. "On the cheek," she amended after too long.

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing, you returned with the Whitley family and that was it."

Missandei's dark eyes were filled with sadness. "I'm so sorry, had I known…"

This wasn't Missandei's fault. Daenerys patted her hand gently. "You couldn't have known. Arya said we'd talk, we just haven't yet."

"Perhaps today." Missandei was a bright light of optimism in Daenerys's life. Her friend could always be counted on to find the good in a situation.

"Maybe."

"What made you do it? Why then?"

Daenerys thought back. It was everything, how Arya had been so accommodating and helpful. She was the one who went to meet with Tyrion, to pick up the gold and it was Arya who agreed when he suggested Daenerys meet with the Whitley's. She'd been so happy listening to the Septon talk about his plans for the Crown's money and that was before she was bathed in Arya's approval. She was overwhelmed. "She was so sweet," she remembered, aware Missandei was still awaiting an answer, "she made me feel like I had just saved the Realm singlehanded. She was hugging me and then we were standing so close together, I just couldn't help it."

"How was it? Better than you dreamed?" By the end Missandei was wearing a knowing smile, one that made it clear she already knew the truth.

"It was just a kiss on the cheek," she said, even though it felt like so much more. "It was great, but I think I scared her."

"I don't think Arya gets scared," Missandei noted, "but it was probably a surprise. I'm sure now that she's had some time to think about it…"

Maybe that's why they hadn't talked about it, maybe Arya did think about it and she didn't want to do it again? In the moment, when she was pressing her lips to Arya's cheek, she considered herself to be cautious, restrained even. She wanted to push Arya against the same wall she spent the meeting standing against and kiss her senseless, not on the cheek but on the mouth, she wanted to slip her tongue past her lips and taste her. She wanted to see how their bodies would fit together without their burdensome clothes in the way. She was dying to hear the sounds she might be able to coax out of the quiet woman and she was aching to feel her strong hands moving over every inch of her body.

When Arya said they'd talk about it, Daenerys assumed it was a good thing. She thought they'd talk and she'd be able to make Arya see how good it could be for them, but what if that wasn't the script Arya was planning to follow? What if she wanted to remain friends, or worse yet didn't want to be friends anymore? In just a matter of weeks Arya had become an integral part of Daenerys's life. She was happier and that was due in no small part to Arya. She knew she'd need to return to Dorne eventually, but that was why Daenerys didn't want to waste the time they had.

She been lost in her mind too long, so Missandei brought her out. "It's okay," she said, she sounded much closer to Daenerys than she'd been when she began worrying. Her instincts proved true when she focused her eyes and saw the handmaiden kneeling on the ground, holding each of Daenerys's hands. "It's okay," she repeated, "and it's okay to be happy. You deserve to be and all the people who love you, we want you to be."

When had she begun crying? She didn't know but the evidence was clear. She had tears running down her cheeks. Missandei released one of her hands, produced a cloth and wiped them away. "I'm sorry," she said, as she tried to manage her emotions by willpower alone.

"Does Arya make you happy?" Missandei inquired without advanced warning.

Arya's face popped up in her mind. She thought of her smirking and laughing, and how proud she'd been when Daenerys won that stupid game with the bottles. The memories flashed rapidly but left her with an overwhelming realization – Arya did make her happy. "Yes."

The tears gone, Missandei looked her in the eyes. There was a kindness there that never left. Daenerys was awed by it. After everything she suffered in her life, after everything she endured, Missandei remained at her core, a good person. "Tell her," she encouraged gently, "I think you'll regret it if you don't."

She nodded not only to confirm she understood, but also as a sign of agreement to Missandei's larger point. She would regret if Arya left King's Landing and they never spoke of what they had. If it was entirely one-sided and Daenerys was the only one with romantic feelings, it would hurt, but at least she'd know. She wouldn't be left to wonder forever.

It would be hard to talk about her feelings with Arya, she'd struggle with the words, aware none she knew did justice to how important the other woman had become. If she did as Missandei advised and told Arya, she'd probably embarrass herself more than once, but the alternative was equally unappealing. Doing nothing would mean that nothing would change. Arya would remain with her for a while and then leave, never knowing that Daenerys felt the way she did. That option may spare her pride the awkwardness of confessing, but it also ensured they would never be more than friends. That was the crux of it, if Daenerys wanted more than friendship, she'd need to act like an adult, be brave and take a chance. She had no experience with such things, Daenerys was traditionally the one refusing affections, not the one declaring them. She had a newfound sympathy for all the suitors she rejected. Was Arya worth the potential pain? As soon as her brain posed the question, Daenerys knew the answer. Yes, Arya was worth the risk. She didn't know if Arya felt the same way, or could learn to in time, she didn't know what would happen next, but she was convinced Arya Sand was worth just about anything.

R-C

The sky was dark with a drizzling rain when Arya finished her business and stepped out onto the street. The wind was just strong enough to bite at her through her thin cloak. Poor weather notwithstanding she was pleased with her progress. Daenerys's present would be ready in a few days, if not in time for her nameday then immediately after.

She expected to only be ten or fifteen minutes. She thought she'd explain what she wanted, he'd listen to her idea and that would be that. It wasn't quite so simple.

Bevin, the man she entrusted with this task was older than her but significantly younger than she thought he'd be. Beyond that, he was tall and thin without appearing frail. He was already beginning to lose some hair and squinted frequently as he reviewed the notes she brought for reference.

Arya had become a good judge of character. It was a skill she never needed as a Stark but one she acquired quickly as a servant. She learned to pick out who would be amenable and friendly and which guests to avoid as much as possible. When interacting with the volatile ones she made a point to be prompt, well-mannered and to slip away the second they were distracted. It was a habit she couldn't stop, but one that had benefits in her current line of work as well. As she made the short walk to her horse, she considered Bevin. He was undoubtedly intelligent, gruff, a little rude and set in his ways. The only other person in the shop was a young man and although he appeared to work for him, Bevin didn't give him instructions or ask to be assisted in anyway. He spent a few minutes early on reviewing the documents she brought, squinting but saying nothing as he struggled to read her messy writing. After that, he wrote near constantly in a leather-bound book. Arya couldn't confidently say the color of his eye's because she saw them only momentarily before he opened his book and began writing. He rarely looked up after that. If he memorialized every word she said between hello and goodbye twice, he wouldn't have needed half the pages he filled during their hour together.

She hoped the price for his services reflected the quality of his work. His fee was significantly higher than she estimated but she paid it nonetheless. She had only a handful of coins left from the money Oberyn gave her. What remained would need to last until she got back to Sunspear. It was okay, she had far less once and she survived, she could do it again.

As if for no other reason than to try and ruin her good mood, the sky opened up and the trickling water became a downpour. She cursed as her horse trotted down the road. Her cloak was useless as a means of protection and her hair matted to her head with the edges hanging just low enough to irritate her vision.

Of course, something had to go wrong! She'd been awake for hours and wasn't completely miserable yet, naturally the Gods couldn't allow that to continue. The fates preferred it when Starks were angry, defeated or afraid.

She squeezed her thighs and tried to urge her horse to move faster. He was a remarkable animal. She'd need to remember to thank Daenerys for allowing her to choose one from the Targaryen stable.

Thinking of Daenerys brought their predicament to the forefront. She'd been working tirelessly not to think about it. It wasn't a reasonable long-term solution, but it had worked so far and petty as it was, Arya intended to milk it for as long as she could.

What else could she do? Daenerys had kissed her. It was just on the cheek and probably didn't mean what Arya secretly hoped it did, but what was she supposed to do now? Initially she thought it was just a friendly gesture. She couldn't recall Daenerys kissing Missandei's cheek, but that didn't mean it didn't occur from time to time. After all, Arya wasn't all knowing, especially on a topic like friendship. She was shocked but prepared to accept it as a one-time, pleasurable albeit meaningless occurrence, until she looked at Daenerys. In that single moment she knew it meant more. Her original shock returned tenfold. After she corrected her expression she was face to face with Daenerys, standing there, looking into those eyes, wearing one of her heart-stopping smiles and all Arya could think was how badly she wanted to kiss her again, properly this time. She said they'd talk later, because she had to say something. She thought that with time and space she'd be able to think clearly. She'd get the smell of her perfume out of her nose and the soft touch of her lips off her skin, and all the reasons they could never be together would become obvious. It was a solid, logical plan with only one flaw – it didn't happen. Even now hours removed from the kiss, she could still feel it, like it was happening again. All those arguments she was expecting never came, and she would know, she stayed awake most of the night waiting for them.

This thing with Daenerys, whatever it was she was feeling, it couldn't be allowed to proceed. It didn't matter if Daenerys was willing, in fact it made it worse if she was, because it would end badly, and Daenerys would get hurt. She didn't want that. Daenerys was a kind, honest person and if by some joke of the Gods she was interested in Arya, then she was destined for pain. She'd be hurt when Arya left for Dorne, she'd be hurt when her father or brother found out and forced her to end it, she'd be hurt when Arya inevitably fucked up and made a mistake, because she would. She had a pitiful amount of experience being someone's friend and even less as a lover.

If this were anybody else, she would rely on the vast differences in their statuses to justify not acting. It had worked when Rhaenys had shown an interest in her, and would be a sufficient excuse with most partners, but wouldn't deter Daenerys. The last thing the Princess wanted for her future was a noble partner her father approved of, or worse, handpicked. Arya's unsuitability would only make her more appealing to Daenerys, not less. She'd jump at the chance to swim against the tide, to do the opposite of what was expected of her.

A more compelling argument involved her work. As the Princess's personal guard, her only responsibility was to protect Daenerys and keep her alive. It was a job she took seriously, not because Jorah and Rhaegar threatened her, but rather because she liked Daenerys and didn't want to see her harmed. Those feelings were deeper and more intense now. She couldn't be watching for danger if her eyes were glued to the swaying of her hips. Daenerys would be vulnerable to a threat if her guard's hands were too busy tracing the curves of her body to grab her sword. It couldn't happen, if it did, it wouldn't just be a failure of Arya the soldier. If Daenerys were hurt on her watch, it would be a failure of Arya the woman too and that woman had already been unable to protect so many people she loved. She refused to add Daenerys's name to the list of apologies she whispered to the Gods each night.

In addition, it wasn't like everyone else would be accepting. Most nobles in the King's court had a brother, nephew, son or cousin they wished to wed to the Princess. They wouldn't take kindly to Daenerys inviting the help into her bed, and that was also true of her family. It wasn't hard to imagine how her life would end if Rhaegar or Aerys learned Daenerys had feelings for her.

It hit her like a bolt, she yanked the reigns and brought her stallion to a halt, she barely noticed. Although she'd been swarmed with valid points, she'd missed the most glaring one. She was a Stark. Worse than that, she was a foster. She was removed from her family and sent to Dorne so she could learn from a non-traitorous Lord, in the hopes she might be rehabilitated. She went to Sunspear to live under Doran's care because her father was deemed unfit. The stain of her father's crimes bled onto her and everything she touched. The fact that she elevated herself to the position of soldier didn't matter, to most, she'd always be a traitor's daughter and little else. A commoner might be able to get away with engaging in a relationship with a foster, but not a noble, and certainly not royalty. Though she didn't act like it, Daenerys was a Targaryen and a Princess. There would be outrage if she chose a Stark. She'd be mocked, ridiculed and berated. Members of noble houses would avoid her as if she had Greyscale and she'd become even more isolated within her home. As bad as that would be, that was the second half of a much larger problem.

Before Daenerys could choose to be with Arya Stark, Daenerys needed to find out that Arya was a Stark. She wasn't sure of much, but this was absolute, if Daenerys was going to be with her, she was going to do it knowing everything. Whether it lasted a day, a year or the rest of their lives, Arya refused to build it on a lie. She'd need to confess that she wasn't Arya Sand. When that happened, Daenerys would hold her life in her hands. She'd know that Arya lied to her, not only the day they met, but everyday since. She'd have to tell her everything, about why she hid the truth, why it mattered, who her father was, his role in the rebellion, Robert, Rhaegar, Lyanna, her Uncle Brandon and her grandfather, even her suspicions about Aemon. She couldn't do this halfway she'd need to tell it all, including what happened to a little girl from the North who was summoned to the Red Keep's throne room. She'd need to talk about things she hadn't discussed with anyone, not even Oberyn.

If she was going to offer her heart to Daenerys, she'd first need to give her some deadly, volatile information. She'd need to put her faith in Daenerys, that no matter how hurt or angry she became, she'd hear Arya out before revealing the guard's secrets. She'd be asking a lot, too much, trusting Daenerys to not only understand and forgive but perhaps more importantly to not share the information with anyone. She'd be asking Daenerys to lie, to her father, her brother and everyone else. She'd worried earlier that morning about Ashara Dayne's visit and how she might possess knowledge that could condemn Arya to death, but what she was contemplating now made serving Ashara a few drinks seem like child's play. Her entire future would be Daenerys's, to cradle or crush. Was it fair or cruel to share her story?

Maybe it was better for the past to stay where it was. Was knowing nothing better than being fully aware? Arya knew too much and was haunted by it. She knew the stories of all seven of them, the man, his wife and their children. She knew who they were before that day and she knew which of them never got to be anything else. Arya knew and there was nothing she could do to change that, but it wasn't too late for Daenerys. She didn't know anything, and no law said she had to learn, but if she didn't, they could never be together.

She sat on her horse, blocking the road, unmoving, getting pelted by rain she could no longer feel. What was the right thing to do? Did Daenerys deserve the truth? Would she be glad Arya shared it or resent her for spreading the pain around? Was there even a right thing in a situation like this, or was it about choosing the lesser of all the bad options?

R-C

Author's Note: I know everyone's waiting for the romance and I promise we're getting there, but Arya's carrying a lot of baggage and it's getting in the way. Luckily, I don't think Daenerys is going to be deterred. And, since we are making progress on that front, we need a little bump in the road. The next chapter is one of my favorites at least so far.

Thanks, and Take Care

RC