It began late morning. Having completed two meetings for Tyrion, including one with the Septa who ran the orphanage, Daenerys was in a good mood and feeling useful. Prepared to capitalize on her high spirits, she intended to take her guard up to her chambers for a more intimate appointment. Naturally she should have assumed it wouldn't be that easy. A servant found her before she reached the stairs and informed her the King was requesting her presence.

She considered lying, declaring that she had some urgent business that couldn't be postponed, but she held her tongue. If her father was asking for her, nothing real or imagined would be sufficient enough to deny him. She bit back a sigh and nodded in agreement as her opinion of the day's potential dropped like a stone.

In her head she went back several days to when Arya spoke of leaving the capital. Maybe she had the right idea. Things in the keep would never change, perhaps the best thing she could do would be to remove herself from it. She glanced over her shoulder and Arya was watching her. If she stayed or if they disappeared in the dark, she took comfort from the knowledge that Arya would be right there with her.

She hated herself for it, but her steps faltered as she neared the throne room. As was custom, Arya was there to provide support. "Deep breaths," she instructed. Coming to stand in front of the Princess, she blocked Daenerys's eyeline to their destination. They stayed like that, grey eyes staring into violet, with nothing but the sound of Daenerys's breathing, until her fear was manageable. It remained in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't have the desire to flee anymore. "Good, that's good," Arya praised when the Dragon was under control. "It'll be okay, no matter what, I'll be right behind you the whole time. Let's get this over with, then we'll do something fun for the rest of the day."

Daenerys's mind quickly filled with suggestions of 'fun' activities she could enjoy with Arya. Reluctantly she pushed those thoughts aside. She needed to focus. In the throne room she'd be under intense scrutiny from all sides; the court, her family, the advisors and any number of other assembled guests. Unless she was calm, unless she had her mask firmly in place those vultures would feast on any weakness she showed them. "Thank you," she said to Arya, before the soldier moved off to the side. "What would I do without you?"

Rather than respond, Arya simply smiled, ducked her head, and led Daenerys the rest of the way in silence.

R-C

Arya stood in her designated spot, next to Missandei. Like her, the handmaiden had been located and ordered to attend. In addition to the usual attendees, there was a large group of spectators, including Oberyn. The Red Viper was seated near the back, literally as far away from the King and his son as he could get. Arya suspected that wasn't accidental.

Few knew more about the happenings within the castle than Missandei. The woman from Naath heard secrets from the servants and the nobles alike, giving her access to wide ranging information. It was for this reason that Arya wanted to talk to her, to inquire about what brought them there, but she couldn't. The room, despite its size and occupancy was deathly quiet and still. If she spoke now, even in a whisper, it would draw unwanted attention.

Her final thought before the proceedings began was that she hoped she hadn't been called to witness an execution. When the King began speaking moments later, what she heard led her to believe that was exactly what was in her future.

"Thank you all for coming," Aerys said loudly from his seat on the Iron Throne. "I'm pleased so many could be here today. We must plan for the future my friends. This very moment enemies plot and scheme against us, they think they can kill me, but they don't know, don't know I will be reborn as a mighty dragon."

Arya closed her eyes and leaned her head back into the unforgiving wall. Fuck. In her experience, when Aerys started raving about his enemies, someone usually ended up dead. When she opened her eyes again, she swept them over the crowd. It was obvious by facial expressions and postures alone that many of the spectators had reached the same conclusion. Friends traded heavy, nervous looks, and a few leaned forward in anticipation of the bloodshed.

The King, oblivious to the tension he was creating, continued his speech. "But what becomes of the Realm when I take to the skies to reshape the world?" he asked. "I must leave us in strong, capable hands, in the hands of my children."

Arya felt sympathy for her lover as everyone sought her out, her and Rhaegar. To her credit, Daenerys didn't squirm under their gazes, she remained calm and unresponsive, at least outwardly. If you didn't know the Princess well, you could be forgiven for thinking Daenerys hadn't heard her father mention her.

"We all must prepare," Aerys shouted, building up to the point he was trying to make. "No one is safe, and everyone must do their part."

With every word the focus on Daenerys decreased. Arya thought the storm had passed, but then Aerys had to go and make everything worse. "We all must prepare," he repeated, "for no one will be spared when the Dragons enemies are at the gate. My daughter knows this, that is why she is learning the sword."

Arya gagged from where she stood, impressed she was still upright. She didn't like where this was heading one bit.

"Isn't that right Daenerys?" Aerys asked directly.

Being singled out, Daenerys showed discomfort for the first time. Sitting up straight, she turned her head toward her father and replied, "Yes."

Arya held her breath, hoping he'd move on, but it wasn't to be. "Show us," he commanded.

Daenerys's voice broke as she clarified. "S…show you?"

"Yes, show us what you've learned."

Daenerys was immediately reluctant, trying to avoid the scrutiny. Arya didn't blame her. "Oh Father, I don't think that's a good idea, I still have much more to learn. I've only just begun my lessons and there are certainly more important things…"

He didn't hear it. He'd made up his mind long before they arrived. Daenerys was going to put her progress on display for the whole court to see. He snapped his fingers and pointed to Arya. "You there, you've been training her, give her a lesson now."

It was for Daenerys's sake more than her own that she tried to placate the King. "Your Grace, perhaps now is not…"

He interrupted her as naturally as he did his daughter. "And bring Daenerys's sword."

She knew what sword he was referring to and she knew she didn't have much of a choice. She took the span of two heartbeats to think, to try and find an escape for her and Daenerys, but none existed. The King had given an order and they were obliged to carry it out.

Pushing off the wall her hands went to her waist, unfastening the belt that held her sword. Holding the scabbard in her left hand she stepped forward. As she did, she saw Missandei from the corner of her eye observing in silent horror.

Grey eyes swept the room, skipping over the throngs of people who didn't matter and focusing on the few who did. Oberyn was there. With a severe expression he nodded, the message was clear. 'You can do this,' he told her without words.

Adjusting her gaze from the rear of the room to the front, she passed over Tyrion, Varys and a whole host of others who looked uncomfortable with what they were seeing but remained silent, nonetheless. The whole scene was entirely too familiar. The King's demands, the silence of his advisors, the thick tension in the air. She pushed away the memories of her childhood, knowing they wouldn't help her. She needed to focus. She wasn't that girl anymore. She was strong and she was capable. She could do this.

Stepping up to Daenerys's chair, she held out the Valyrian steel sword. "Your sword, Princess," she said formally, aware many were listening.

The hand that reached for the offered weapon shook. Beneath the cracking exterior Arya could tell she was terrified. She took the weapon without moving her lips, but her eyes said plenty, she apologized for everything, for taking the sword, for complaining about the lessons, for insisting they weren't needed. Arya didn't doubt that she regretted, but it was too late. That conversation would have to wait. First, they had to get through this. "It'll be just like we practiced," she reassured Daenerys. "You can do this Princess, forget about them, just watch me."

The rest of it might've been noise, but those last words got through. Daenerys turned slightly, angling herself until Arya was centered in her field of vision. "Okay," she decided.

A small area that was usually lined with members of the Kingsguard was cleared out for the spectacle. On their walk over Arya kept her strides short, buying her the necessary seconds to formulate a plan with Daenerys. "Remember what I taught you, keep your feet firmly planted, follow through on your strikes and don't tense up when I swing," she advised.

"Arya, I'm so sorry. I should have listened when you…"

They didn't have time for this. "We'll talk later." Arya's rebuff caused Daenerys's shoulders to sag. Damn. She'd apologize after. "I need you to listen. I'll make sure I hit the sword every time, you just hold it up the way I showed you, when I taught you how to block, remember that?" Daenerys responded with a nod. "Don't move around, stay in one spot, and plant your feet."

"That's it?" Daenerys verified, hopeful it would be that easy.

"When it's your turn, aim for the middle of my chest, forget about everything else and just swing as hard as you can." She gave her a moment to retain that and then summarized, "Block first, then aim for the sigil on my breastplate."

They were out of time. She backed away from Daenerys slowly and came to a stop six feet away. Only when she was ready to get this over with, did she realize a problem. "Your Grace, I'm afraid I don't have a sword."

Her admission got snickers and outright laughs from many of the smug Highborn, but Arya barely heard them. She kept her eyes on Daenerys, who needed to know it would be okay.

"A guard without a sword is no guard at all," Aerys commented, before he snapped his fingers and gestured for the man on his right to relinquish his blade.

Jaime Lannister walked to her holding an impressive long sword. "I want this back Sand," he joked as he passed it off to her.

She nodded to him in thanks, then took a few practice cuts at the air, getting a feel for the weapon. It was heavier and longer than she was used to, but she was confident she could control it well enough to ensure Daenerys remained unscathed.

"Show us what you've learned Daenerys," her father instructed.

After a deep breath and what Arya could only assume was a very thorough mental talking to, Daenerys drew the steel from its scabbard, dropped the casing to the floor and came toward her guard. She stopped about halfway between where she'd started and where Arya was. She'd chosen her spot. Arya would go to her.

As she got closer, Arya could feel the nervousness radiating off of her opponent. She'd been trained to capitalize on such things and use them to ensure victory. It went against almost all her instincts to see the woman opposite her, holding her sword as anything other than an enemy. Over and over she kept reminding herself this was Daenerys. Daenerys wasn't now and never would be, her enemy.

Facing Daenerys with a sword in her hand was a moment Arya would never forget, though she was sure she'd try. All at once it turned her stomach. Without warning, all the voices that had been dissecting her stance and assessing the best way to defeat Daenerys were screaming other things. They pointed out the crease in her brow, the fear in her eyes, and her ragged, uneven breaths. She had plenty of reasons to hate Aerys, but she never hated the Targaryen King more than in that moment. He was to blame, he took the strong, happy woman Arya spent the morning with and he turned her into this. Making matters worse, Arya couldn't comfort her, although she desperately wanted to. No, she'd have to make it worse by attacking Daenerys when she was already afraid.

It was unimportant to Arya that she had tried to teach Daenerys multiple times with limited success. It didn't matter that Daenerys had claimed this day would never come, insisting that her father would forget. She'd been wrong, but blame wouldn't help either of them. The woman she loved was scared, so she tried to help.

"That's good there," Arya whispered, when the Princess began shuffling her feet nervously, moving off the spot she'd picked. "Plant your feet," she whispered, "and get ready to block."

"What are you saying? We can't hear you!" Aerys yelled.

"Apologies your Grace. Daenerys has been learning how to block and deflect incoming attacks, to ensure she is always well-protected."

"That's good," the King remarked. "Show us."

Swinging a sword at Daenerys was an unforgivable sin in Arya's opinion regardless of how necessary it was. Ready?" she asked the Targaryen, looking suggestively to her feet to remind her what she needed to do. Daenerys nodded, but only after adjusting her stance slightly. When there was nothing left to do, she drew back Jaime's sword and took a slow, lazy swing toward Daenerys's middle. Although she tensed, Daenerys knocked it away.

Arya was relieved but the King less so. "She's a Dragon, she can do better than that. Give her a challenge!" he demanded.

Muttering a curse, Arya thought about how she could show Daenerys's talent without pushing her past her ability. She came up with a strategy. "That was good," she said privately. "This time we'll try two strikes, the first one will be the same, then you lean right, and raise the sword, I'll hit the steel."

Visibly unsure, Daenerys hesitated. "I don't know…"

She was cut off by her father. "What's the delay?"

Arya backed up to make room, and then attacked again. This time she brought the sword down harder and faster, pulling back at the last second to ensure Daenerys remained safe. Daenerys got her sword in place and deflected the blow, improving on her last attempt. Since Aerys wanted a show, and Arya wanted to give Daenerys extra time to prepare, she performed a graceful spin while she transitioned into the second half of the attack. Coming around to face Daenerys again she used her momentum to load up a heavy swing of Jaime's longsword. As promised, she brought the bigger blade down against her own. The clang echoed in her ears. If that was all there was, she might've thought they'd passed the King's test, but unfortunately immediately after their swords connected, there was a startled yelp and the clattering of a weapon hitting the ground. Damn it! She misjudged how much Daenerys's inexperienced sword arm could take.

Aerys wasn't pleased. "Seems to me that keeping hold of her weapon should be the first lesson," he raged, his eyes alight with fury.

She tried to calm him by agreeing. "You're right, your Grace, we will continue to work on blocking going forward."

Dismissive of everything she said, Aerys raised a wrinkled hand. "Offense now. Try and kill the girl Daenerys."

Having retrieved her sword, Daenerys was ready for the next attempt, but her father's words unsettled her. Shock gave way to anger quickly and Arya knew she was going to say something impulsive. She hurried to stop it. "You heard the King," she said. "Three strikes, as fast and as hard as you can." She tapped the sun on her chest to remind her of the target.

Daenerys nodded to confirm she understood, but Arya already knew their chances weren't good. Fresh of what she would consider a failure, Daenerys would want to do something to prove herself, and she'd go beyond the plan they agreed upon. Like the last time, Arya approached her, but this time instead of waiting, Daenerys stepped forward to meet her. The first swing wasn't bad, a little wild, but it was strong and true. The problem came when Arya blocked it away. With all her body weight leaning into the strike, Daenerys wasn't prepared for the way the block could knock her off balance. She didn't fall, but she did stumble, and it put an end to any thought of additional blows. Aware that was bad, she had hoped to engage Daenerys again quickly, before the King could voice his disapproval, but it just wasn't their day.

"Girl do you hate me?!" Aerys asked her.

She choked on the truth as she searched for a suitable response. "Your Grace?"

"Do you hate me?" he asked again. "Do you hate my daughter? Do you want our only Princess to die a painful death when our enemies come?!"

She tried to counter Aerys's rage with an easy calm. She chose to address only the questions she could without inciting death. "I do not hate the Princess and there is nothing more important to me than her safety."

Daenerys's guilt likely motivated her to speak up. "Father, Arya is the finest guard I've ever had and as I said, our lessons have only just begun."

He didn't glance in his daughter's direction as she made her impassioned plea. He just barked an order. "Daenerys return to your seat. I'll arrange for you to receive a proper instructor."

"Father, please…"

With no desire to see Daenerys punished she extended her empty hand and touched the Princess's shoulder. "It's okay," she said, pointing with her chin to the chair.

Daenerys's expression made it known how strenuously she disagreed, but she went anyway. "I asked you to prepare my daughter for the dangers that are on the horizon, and you failed me. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Reminiscent of all the times before, she faced the Mad King with all the honor and bravery she could muster. She had plenty to say, but not to him and nothing that would change the outcome. "No," she said, as she waited to learn her fate. She'd been right when she guessed the meeting would end in violence, she just didn't expect to be the victim.

R-C

Walking away from Arya, leaving her to face the King's wrath when she was the guilty one made her feel disgusting. Arya had tried to teach her. It was Daenerys who wouldn't learn. She told Arya that her father would forget, that warfare wasn't important. She'd been wrong and now Arya was paying for her mistake. Why couldn't he punish her? Frightened as she was, she'd gladly take Arya's place.

She threw Arya's sword on Viserys's empty chair before she sat down. The sound it made was enough to turn heads, specifically Rhaegar's. It hadn't been intentional, but she knew better than to let the advantage pass. She couldn't stop this, but Rhaegar could. "Help her!" she pleaded, as the King ordered Arya disarmed.

"I can't," he whispered back.

It was as if she was living in a memory. He'd said something similar when Arya was accused of desertion. He'd been wrong then and he was equally wrong now. He was the Crown Prince, of course he could do something. She always regretted not speaking in Arya's defense that day, regretted not doing more but she wouldn't make that mistake again. "It was my fault," she confessed to her brother, "Arya tried to teach me. She wanted to, but I refused."

Rhaegar purposefully avoided looking at her. "Be quiet," he cautioned. "That doesn't matter anymore."

That was crap, and also entirely unacceptable. They were fucking royalty. Many of the most powerful people in the Realm were gathered in the room. She refused to believe that nothing could be done. The words she said to him after learning the truth about the war repeated in her head. She called him a coward and he was being cowardly again, hiding while their father raged against an innocent woman.

She was still looking at Rhaegar, willing him to help when Aerys's next command chilled her bones. "Remove her armor." Arya stood directly in front of the throne and didn't resist when Jaime Lannister and Arthur Dayne began removing her armor. She didn't stop them from fulfilling their task, but she didn't help either. Her arms hung loosely at her sides and she didn't move them, requiring the men to manipulate her limbs as necessary to separate her from the various pieces. When they dropped the last of the Martell armor to the floor and left Arya more naked than clothed Daenerys's fear and panic blossomed into anger. Why wasn't anyone stopping this? The whole court was staring at the woman she loved in very little clothing. Making matters worse was the knowledge that if Aerys didn't plan to punish Arya, he wouldn't have needed her out of her armor. She thought about speaking but doubted her father would listen. She needed an ally, a man, of some importance if she was going to end this. Rhaegar was the logical choice. Contrary to her brother's claims, Aerys did listen to his heir and if Rhaegar persuaded him to give Arya a warning, there was a likelihood that he would. Forgoing manners she reached across the empty chair to poke his arm. He moved his forearm out from under her finger, but otherwise refused to acknowledge her. Their father continued to berate Arya for her inadequate abilities as a trainer. Daenerys would have been a mess in her place. Stripped nearly naked, on display and ridiculed, she would have melted into a puddle on the floor, but Arya was too strong for that. She was unaffected by the eyes on her, or the King's harsh opinions. She simply stood there and waited to hear how it would end.

Daenerys had no intention of being ignored. Since subtlety wasn't working, she'd move on to something that did. "Rhaegar," she said at her normal volume, making no effort to conceal her rudeness. "Rhaegar!" she called again, louder.

Daenerys was determined to get her brother's help. She didn't care how many nobles she offended or how many rules of decency she broke in the process. Nothing mattered more than Arya. Her mind repeated the exchange that took place in Daenerys's bed days earlier. Arya had raised the possibility of them leaving together. Daenerys wished she'd seized on the idea when she had the chance. If they were on their way to Dorne or Essos, Arya wouldn't be at the mercy of a man utterly devoid of it.

Seconds away from going to stand in front of Rhaegar's chair. She was nearly out of patience when her father finished his rant. What he said next pulled the Princess's eyes off her brother and onto her father. "Ser Payne, fetch the whip."

Some of the pigs in the audience actually cheered as the mute knight went to get the weapon. Daenerys's blurred vision and tightly coiled emotions finally shattered. A sob slipped out barely parted lips and tears streaked down her face with haste. She didn't wipe them, needing the energy for other things. She wasn't going to let this happen. "Damn it Rhaegar, look at me or I swear to the Gods I'll tell Aemon everything."

Rhaegar did turn to look at her and he was almost as furious as she was. She felt no regret, no sympathy, no guilt for threatening to expose his secrets with Aemon close by. The young Prince was watching the siblings with rapt attention. He'd obviously heard her, and he'd undoubtedly have questions, but that would have to wait. She'd speak with him in private, later. Arya's needs were undeniably more immediate than Aemon's. "What do you want?" He was speaking in whispers, probably as a precaution in the event Daenerys brought up Aemon's mother.

"Stop this!" she implored, lowering her voice slightly as a show of good faith. "It was my fault. Arya tried to teach me, but I didn't want to learn, I didn't think I'd ever need to know. I'm the one who should be up there."

"It's too late. Father has made up his mind."

Had his excuses always been so hollow, so petty? She didn't know but they certainly seemed weak recently. She wasn't too proud to beg. "Please, I'll give you anything you want, just help her!"

Rhaegar used Ilyn Payne's return as an excuse to end their negotiation and turn away from his sister to face the King once more. Behind him Aemon was looking at his aunt with thousands of questions sparkling in his familiar eyes. Daenerys nodded to him, to try and convey that they would speak later, and then she turned to Arya.

As Ser Payne laid the whip before the throne, He placed it between where Aerys was sitting and Arya was standing. While that was happening, someone did speak to try and save Arya, but it wasn't Rhaegar. "Your Grace," Oberyn began, standing up and moving toward the King, "as you know Arya Sand is a soldier of Dorne. On the authority of Prince Doran, I ask that you allow House Martell to train her further. I promise any shortcomings will be rectified and we would gladly return at a time of your choosing to show all those concerned of the progress she's made."

Daenerys had always liked Oberyn but now she thought she might love him. He spoke so eloquently, so confidently, Daenerys found herself envious and optimistic, despite her tearstained cheeks. She folded her hands together in front of her father's court and prayed that he'd agree. She'd miss Arya terribly, but if it spared her this, she'd survive it.

"I was told she was the best," Aerys said when Oberyn was finished. "I was promised the best!"

Her heart sunk. That did not sound like a man inclined to show leniency. "You've seen her fight, your Grace," Oberyn continued, desperately trying to save the young woman he loved like a nineth daughter. "She was first among her peers in training and she won a match before your very eyes in the Water Gardens to earn her place in the Princess's service. I trained her myself."

Daenerys was vaguely aware of movement behind her, but she gave it little thought. At least until she heard someone standing up to echo Oberyn's arguments. "Your Grace," Aemon said formally, "may I speak in this matter?"

Shock was the primary emotion, and not just for Daenerys, but almost anyone who had even a basic understanding of the innerworkings of a Targaryen family. Aerys despised Aemon and did nothing to hide it. Aemon knew how his grandfather felt and did his best to stay out of the King's way. Being Aemon's son he was involved occasionally, much like Daenerys was, but he always attended in silence, speaking only when spoken to. Those occasions were rare, and the inquiries never came from Aerys himself. In fact, Daenerys couldn't recall a single time Aemon asked to speak in such a public setting.

With a groan Aerys addressed Rhaegar's son. "What information could you have relevant to this?" The question was a reasonable one in Daenerys's mind, though she could have done without the demeaning tone.

"Since coming here, Arya has been assisting me in my training. I can personally attest to her skill as an instructor. I am a far better warrior now than I was before Arya Sand came to King's Landing. During one of our sessions she mentioned that influenced by the trip to Highgarden, wedding planning, and Daenerys's other appointments, they were still in the early states of Daenerys's education. I have no doubt your Grace that if given the chance, Arya would be able to rapidly and dramatically increase Daenerys's skill with all manner of weapons just as she'd done for me."

Her gaze bounced from face to face, around the various members of her family. They were still waiting to hear how, or if Aerys would respond to the statements given in Arya's defense. Daenerys was in awe of her nephew. That was a brave thing he did. Aemon appeared nervous, and he had good cause to be. Still, he cared enough about Arya to want to help her, even if it went against his usual strategy of being seen and not heard. For his part Rhaegar seemed initial proud of Aemon for sharing his opinion, but it didn't last. By the time Aemon finished his comments, Rhaegar looked furious. When Aerys looked down from the Iron Throne and set his focus on his grandson – something he rarely did - his expression was one of unbridled contempt.

Instead of waving him away or ordering him back into his chair, Aerys looked to the floor directly in front of his throne. "Go stand next to your mentor then."

Normally she'd feel sympathy for Rhaegar. Being trapped between his son and his father, with the Realm hanging over them had to be difficult, but this time he had no one to blame but himself. If he'd heeded her requests earlier, Aemon wouldn't have needed to speak at all. She was close enough to see his pain as Aemon went to join Arya. He claimed he was powerless, was he really prepared to see Aemon whipped just so he wouldn't have to admit he'd been lying?"

"What say you girl? Are these boys claims true?" Aerys asked Arya.

She looked sideways at her cousin and smiled briefly before replying. "It is true, I aid the Prince when I can."

"She trains with me for hours, Your Grace," Aemon pointed out, "after long days serving as Daenerys's guard."

She waited, hanging on every word for the first clue that her father was changing his mind, but it didn't come. Now that Aemon was up there with her, Daenerys could only hope Rhaegar would intervene to protect his son and secure Arya's release in the process.

Rather than addressing anything Aemon said, Aerys sought out Oberyn. "And you trained her, you say?"

"I did, and proudly I might add. It was my pleasure."

Daenerys heard those words and thought of the bond between Oberyn and Arya. Aerys heard the same thing and found a much darker meaning. "Come stand with her then."

Oberyn didn't try and alter the King's mind, he just nodded his head and walked forward. He took the space on Arya's right, since Aemon was already on her left.

"The girl failed the task she'd been given. My daughter is not prepared for the coming fight. That is wholly unacceptable. The question before us now is this – is the fault hers alone? "This man," he said giving a dismissive wave of his hand toward Oberyn, "he trained her, but obviously not well enough. Should he be punished for that along side his pupil?"

He let the question hang in the air for a time, then moved on. "This man claims he spent hours training with the Princess's guard. Isn't he also at fault since he admits he kept Daenerys's instructor from her? The hours she wasted training him would've been better spent on Daenerys."

Daenerys gasped. He couldn't mean that. Taking such aggressive action against minor crimes was uncalled for. She glared at the side of Rhaegar's head. Was he really going to let this happen? How he could he sit there and let his father talk about his son like that? Saying the training was wasted on Aemon, that was beyond cruel. Rhaegar hated Oberyn but did that hate run so deep he'd subject his son to a similar fate?

How many times had she begged Rhaegar to speak, how many silent prayers or secret wishes? When he finally decided to intervene, what he said was weak, pitiful and self-serving. "Father, surely you can't hold Aemon responsible for this woman's poor choices. She made the choice to train Aemon and not Daenerys. Aemon had no knowledge of the order Daenerys had been given. He didn't know that time he spent with the guard would be time she couldn't train Daenerys."

She was seething. What a snake! What a snivelling, despicable, petty little man. He rushes to Aemon's defense, but did nothing to benefit the other two innocent people being accused. Assessing her emotions in a thoughtful and intelligent way was beneath her right then, but she didn't think it was a stretch to say she hated Rhaegar, and if it wasn't quite hate, then it was certainly closer to it than she'd ever been.

"Is that true boy?"

Even if she hadn't known Aemon as well as she did, she would be able to tell he was conflicted. He didn't want to abandon Arya, but if he kept defending her, he'd be opening himself up to a whipping. "I… uh…"

While Aemon struggled over what to say, Arya had no such limitation. "It is true, The Prince had no idea I was supposed to be training Daenerys. Aemon is innocent."

No one was more surprised by this than the Targaryen males. It gave Aerys pause, a chair away from her, Rhaegar stared at Arya as if she was a riddle to be solved. Lastly there was Aemon, he turned to Arya. "Arya," he began, speaking loudly.

While she watched, Daenerys noticed Rhaegar tensing as Aemon seemed ready, willing and able to upset the escape they made for him.

The weird dynamics, only reinforced Daenerys's pre-existing feelings. Arya was a good person. She was trying to save Aemon, even after Rhaegar refused to help her. She could've held a grudge, it would be forgivable, but that wasn't who Arya Stark was. She was protecting Rhaegar's son, knowing full well he wouldn't do anything to save her.

"Aemon," Arya said, just as it seemed the Prince had made up his mind about the course he planned to take, "it's okay. You don't need to do this, not for me." Aemon wasn't convinced, so Arya kept going. "I appreciate what you tried to do, I'll be forever grateful, truly, but please go sit down. I don't want this for you."

Aemon confirmed he'd heed Arya's advice by nodding to his favorite sparring partner. Arya seized the moment, turning to Aerys. "I alone am responsible. Neither Aemon nor Oberyn had a hand in any of it. My failings are my own."

That statement cut deep into Daenerys's stomach, but even as she feared what it would mean for Arya, she could acknowledge that the selfless act was what she'd come to expect from the woman she loved. She protected the people she cared about and took the blame on herself.

Oberyn noticed too. "Arya no," he said, trying to talk her out of it. "I…"

She smiled at her mentor and interrupted right before he said something that likely would've changed things irrevocably. "Oberyn don't!" She took a deep breath before turning to look the Viper in the eye. "You've done enough for me, don't do this too. Go home, Ellaria and the girls are waiting."

Daenerys's tears began anew as Arya tried to save Oberyn too. Why wasn't anyone stopping this?!"

While Daenerys was realizing the lack of character in most of the people around her, Arya's exchange with Oberyn was ongoing. "I can't leave you here like this, I won't."

"Our bond isn't in our blood, it isn't secured through a highborn marriage or a political alliance, you are the brother I chose. You gave me a family and showed me love when I felt deserving of neither. I wouldn't be who I am today without you. I could never repay you for all you've done, but allow me to try, allow me to start. Go, please, go home, regale the girls with tales of our adventures together and remember me as I was before this."

Daenerys felt uncomfortable listening in. That should have been a private moment between Arya and Oberyn and it had to take place in front of the court, and the gossips and the Small Council. Although she felt awkward, it seemed she was in the minority. Many in the audience were eagerly drinking it all in, like it was a play for their amusement. Daenerys was appalled.

Having settled her business with Oberyn, Arya turned back to the throne. "I'm the one at fault. I accept full responsibility. Aemon, Oberyn, they have nothing to do with this.

The words were typical Arya, fearless and brave but the tone unsettled the Princess. Arya was a fighter. That's who she was, so why wasn't she fighting anymore? If she wasn't willing to save herself, Daenerys would just need to do it for her. This was her fault anyway. She was the one who refused to be taught. Why couldn't her father ask her to demonstrate the bow? That she liked doing, that she had some aptitude for. That was a test she would have passed, so naturally Aerys had to choose another. She stood up, drawing the eyes of half the room, including the King, his heir, the Spider, the Hand and his children. The one person Daenerys wanted to look at her didn't. Arya was back to looking at only the King. "Father, if I may speak."

Rhaegar for one, wasn't interested in hearing what she had to say. "Daenerys, sit down," he growled.

She imitated him and pretended as though she didn't hear. "I'm to blame for my poor showing. Arya has been trying to schedule lessons for weeks, but with the trip to Highgarden and all the meetings I had upon my return, I haven't had many chances to train with a sword. I have had more success with a bow, and would you permit me, I am confident I could strike a target with my first arrow."

Rarely having the courage to address her father directly and oppose him, Daenerys was proud of herself for getting the words out without sounding like a blubbering fool. She was sure she looked hideous with puffy eyes, wet cheeks and red skin, but she didn't care about any of that. She'd live the rest of her life in the keep, listening to everyone mock her, if he'd only agree.

"Daenerys sit down!" her father barked. "I did not ask you to learn, I asked her to teach you." Although there wasn't any doubt who he meant, he pointed to Arya all the same. "It was her responsibility to prepare you for the dangers lurking all around us. She failed and that's why she must be punished."

She should have known he'd be incapable of placing the blame on a Targaryen. If the truth wasn't enough to change his mind, maybe a counter proposal would get his attention. "Father," she started, "give me another chance. Grant us one week and I promise I'll wield the sword to your satisfaction." She'd train as many hours as it took, even if she hated it. All he had to do was accept. When she was done, she wished she had more to say, if for no other reason than because no one would hurt Arya until all parties had been heard.

Rhaegar had the nerve to try and make her sit again. She defied him on principle. The hypocrite. He was allowed to defend Aemon, but she was supposed to stay silent while Arya was attacked? The next voice she heard, was in agreement with her brother and it was the last one Daenerys was expecting. "It's okay Princess," Arya said. Daenerys had to cover her mouth to keep the sobs in. "I should have trained you better, it's my fault and I'm sorry."

Why was she saying that? The rest of them might believe the guard was to blame but Daenerys and Arya knew the truth. They knew it was Daenerys who resisted all attempts and here she was taking responsibility.

No, none of this was right. Why was Arya behaving like that? Why was she resigned and accepting? Daenerys wanted her to fight. Even if she had to cut down every man wearing a three-headed dragon to do it, Daenerys still thought she should.

"The girl admits her guilt!" Tywin said from the other side of the throne. "Proceed to the punishment."

Although it would have happened eventually, she hated Tywin for speeding things along. She vowed in that moment that she'd find some way to hurt him, him and everyone else who was letting this occur.

"Ser Payne, if you please." The sadistic torturer was only too happy to oblige. He grinned wickedly at Arya as he stood before her to retrieve his weapon.

"Wait," Arya said, filling Daenerys with hope. Was she finally ready to defy the King, had she decided that her sins, whatever they were didn't merit a whipping? "Allow me a moment to apologize to the Princess," Arya requested. "It's important to me that she knows how sorry I am."

Arya was waiting for a ruling, but Daenerys had heard enough. She popped out of her chair and hurried over to where Arya was standing. Without a care for the people watching and what they might think she threw her arms around her lover. When Arya hugged her back, a new round of sobs began. "I'm so sorry," she said right into Arya's ear.

Daenerys dragged Arya off to the side, in between her seat facing out, and the front row of chairs facing in. It wasn't much, every eye was on them, but if they were careful they could speak without Aerys, Rhaegar or the Hand hearing.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and pried her off Arya. Arya was holding her at a literal arm's length. "This isn't your fault, you know that, right?"

Chuckling humorlessly, Daenerys shook her head. "It is."

"I'm telling you, it's not. I don't blame you and whatever happens, I don't want you to blame yourself either."

Why did it sound like Arya was saying goodbye? "Don't do that," she resisted as her anger made another appearance. "I'm not going to let this happen. I won't. I don't care what it…"

"Hurry up," Tywin complained as what was mean to be a brief apology dragged on.

Motivated by the Hand's words, Arya pulled her in for another hug. Daenerys was savoring the feel of Arya in her arms so intently that she wasn't prepared for the whispered words, spoken directly into her ear. "I have so many regrets, but none about you. Even if this is how it ends, I'd do it all over again if I got to spend these last few months with you."

Aerys too had reached his limit. "Enough. Daenerys return to your seat."

She heard him just fine but made no effort to do as he instructed. "Fight!" Daenerys said as passionately as she could. "This isn't right, you don't have to let them do this."

"Go take your seat, Daenerys, "you've done all you can, there is nothing more you can do for me."

No, she refused to accept that. "Arya…"

"Do you remember the last thing I said to you last night?"

It was hard to think about anything other than the injustice taking place, but with a little effort she did find the appropriate memory. They'd made love and Daenerys had fallen asleep in Arya's arms. She was drifting off when she heard Arya's sleep-addled voice say, 'I love you.' A violent sob shook her whole body as she admitted, "I remember."

"Never forget Princess, it's important and it'll never change."

"I tire of this!" Aerys erupted. "Daenerys take your seat. Guards restrain the prisoner."

By the Gods why couldn't she have a different father, a normal one. Instead of going to her seat as she was told, she closed the space between her and Arya, arriving just before Jaime Lannister and Arthur Dayne. The men each restrained an arm, but Daenerys didn't stop or slow. She threw herself into Arya with force, hugging her fiercely. "I'm so sorry," she said, again and again. "I won't forget, as long as you promise to remember what I said to you right after."

The sad smile her request invoked nearly broke her. She was asking Arya to remember that Daenerys loved her too. "I will," she pledged.

"You need to return to your seat Princess," Dayne said gently.

His attempt to separate them only made her cling to Arya tighter. "Time to go," Arya whispered to her.

"No!" she countered.

"If this is the end, it's okay. I'll get to see my family again." Daenerys was suddenly all too aware of the Lannister and the Dayne close enough to hear most of what was being said. "I'll be waiting when you get there. No matter how long it takes. We'll sail the world together, just you and me, it'll be perfect."

Without permission her legs gave out from under her. She sank to the floor, relinquishing her hold on Arya when she fell. Through tear-filled eyes, Daenerys watched two knights lead Arya to stand in front of the throne again.

She returned to her seat, only because she didn't trust her ability to remain standing given what was coming. Her mind raced for a solution, while Arya was forced to her knees in front of everyone. As Payne moved into position behind Arya, the woman who was seconds away from horrible pain smiled again, not at the King who sentenced her but his daughter. Daenerys tried to smile back, it was likely the only aid she could provide, but before she was confident Arya had seen her attempt, the quiet room was filled with a distinctive crack as Ilyn Payne lashed the whip against Arya's back. Instinctively she raised half-way out of the chair, only to find her legs too weak to actually hold her. She lowered herself back down. The details were clouded, everything was clouded, everything except the sound of the whip lashing out to hit its target. Her target. Her Arya.

This was all her fault. She'd promised to protect Arya, promised Oberyn, promised Arya and promised herself and she failed. Every time that whip cracked, every time Arya clamped her mouth closed to keep from screaming, her failures multiplied. She cried like a baby into her hands while she waited for this nightmare to end. She wasn't counting the lashes, but it felt like it was going on forever. The torture wouldn't stop until Aerys deemed she'd suffered enough. No matter how tired Payne's arm became or how bloodied Arya's back, neither one had any say in the situation any longer.

After what sounded to her to be a particularly brutal blow, Arya's composure cracked, and she released an agonizing scream that tore at Daenerys's heart. How had she let this happen? It needed to stop, no matter the cost.

With renewed purpose she stood again and took a long step toward the throne, toward Arya. Rough strokes by both hands tried to brush away enough tears to make it easier to see. A murmur crossed the room as people began to notice the unruly Princess. When she passed his chair Rhaegar lifted himself up on his weak legs and tried to prevent her from going further. "Don't. Sit down." With one hand on the arm of his chair, propping him up, the other grabbed Daenerys's forearm. Out of patience, she snatched her arm back as harshly as she could, sending Rhaegar falling back into his chair. Aemon, Barristan and Missandei all moved to aid him, but Daenerys just glared. "Don't touch me!" she spat as she towered over the older, bigger Targaryen. He was lying more than sitting in his chair, unable to use his legs to right himself. The thud of another blow landing reminded her of the need for haste. Satisfied Rhaegar wouldn't be able to interfere again she left him where he was and continued on to Arya.

The King may have been oblivious to the dispute between his children, but many advisors and onlookers were not. Daenerys heard them whispering as she neared the throne. A few more feet and they'd have their answers. They'd know what she was doing when she placed herself between Arya and anyone who intended to hurt her, including Payne and his whip. The whip hit again, and Arya cried out as she writhed in agony. Lying prone on the floor gave Daenerys a grisly view of her battered back. The fragment of a shirt she wore had always been tattered, but it was gone now. Shredded by the lashes, it had fallen away. As she got closer, she could see that the wounds were thick, layered one over top of the next, as if Payne aimed for the same spot with intent.

"Daenerys what are you doing?" her father asked as she prepared to cross in front of him. Though largely motionless, Arya did move slightly when the King said Daenerys's name. Was Arya trying to look at her or was it coincidence?

A strong arm snared her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. Her initial thought was that Rhaegar had come after her, but there was no way he could have caught up to her so quickly. Did he send Aemon or Barristan to do what he couldn't? Whoever it was, she fought against him, struggling to get free, to get to Arya. She was crying openly, begging to be set free while the torturer kept up his assault on the beaten woman.

"Stop," Oberyn said quietly. "Arya has no desire to see you lying next to her."

"I have to do something!" she argued. "We said 'together, always together. I should be with her."

She fought with everything she had, but she was no match for the strength the Gods had given Oberyn. When the whip hit the next time, it happened that Daenerys was looking back at her jailor. She saw the anger on his face, and the hurt in his eyes. She stopped struggling, remembering that Oberyn wasn't her enemy. He loved Arya too and they both wanted the same thing. He returned her to her feet and then addressed the King. "Your Grace, she's surely learned her lesson."

With utter disinterest, Aerys assessed the extent of the damage before him. She was a bloody mess. "Very well," he agreed, sounding annoyed he was being made to stop. Daenerys was relieved, until she heard the whip land one last time. Any question she had about whether it was intentional vanished when she looked at the mute knight and saw him grinning. "Enough then."

Oberyn's hand fell away, allowing the Princess free passage to where she needed to be. She rushed over and dropped to her knees next to Arya's body. She wanted to touch her, to use physical contact to tell Arya she was there, but her back was one large, open wound. There was so much blood, and no untainted place for her to lay her hand. "Arya," she tried, as tears obstructed her view of the carnage, "Arya can you hear me?"

Grand Maester Pycelle wandered over lazily from where he'd been sitting and seemed surprised when he nearly tripped on Arya. Daenerys waited for him to do something Maesterly, something helpful but he just watched.

Tired of relying on anyone else, she stroked Arya's hair as gently as she could, mindful of the potential for injury since some of the dark strands were wet with blood. Daenerys hoped it had splattered and that Arya hadn't actually been struck in the head with the whip, but given Payne's taste for violence, it was possible. "Please," she begged, "just let me know you're okay."

"Don't worry Princess," the elderly Maester announced, "she's likely unconscious."

Was he under the impression that reassured her? While she kept trying to coax a sound out of her lover, Pycelle summoned three of his acolytes. Before Daenerys was ready, they lifted Arya off the floor. "Where are you taking her?" she asked no one in particular.

"We'll take her upstairs and tend to her wounds," one of the young men said.

"I'm coming too," she decided quickly.

"Princess," Missandei said from the background, "perhaps we should let the Maester work."

When had Missandei gotten there? She knew the handmaiden was right, Arya needed special care, from trained men and women. It was the sort of aid Daenerys couldn't provide. "We'll take good care of her Princess," the man holding Arya's legs swore.

She walked with Arya step for step. "I'll see you soon," she whispered before the Maester's people took her out the door. Daenerys turned around and was immediately met by an embrace. She and Missandei held one another tightly as they cried. "It's all my fault," she admitted when she could get the words out.

"Let's get you upstairs," the handmaiden suggested. "A hot bath will do wonders and when you're done, we can check on Arya."

She had little interest in anything that delayed her getting to Arya's side and planned to tell Missandei so, but the handmaiden had a counter argument ready. "You'll want to look your best when you're allowed to see Arya, won't you?"

Damn her and her clever use of logic. "I don't need a bath for that," she resisted. "I'll just splash some water on my face and be good as new," she lied. Moments later she told the truth. "I just want to see Arya."

"I know," Missandei replied sympathetically.

"The only thing you'll be permitted to see for the next hour or so is the closed door to the Maester's quarters," Oberyn predicted, coming to stand next to the women. "It'll take some time for them to mend her back, you'll have more than enough time for a bath." Although he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. He was as torn up as Daenerys and Missandei, the Prince was merely better at acting as those around him expected.

"I think I'll just go wait. I don't care how long it takes, I want to be there when Arya is allowed visitors."

"Taking care of yourself will help Arya," Missandei tried.

"She's right," Oberyn agreed. "I'll go and wait for news. I'll come and find you when they're done."

That sounded more than fair, and better than she deserved. "Thank you Oberyn. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep my promise, sorrier than you will ever know."

R-C

Author's Note: Sorry for this one, I just felt Daenerys's growth needed one last hard lesson to get her over the edge, and this was what I came up with. There is no going back now, for any of them. A lot is going to change.

I hope it wasn't too boring or difficult to read, having to spend so much of the chapter in Daenerys's head.

As always, I appreciate the comments and everyone who is reading. I didn't think when I started this a year ago, I'd still be writing, but as long as there is interest, I'll see it through to the end.

Thank you all,

Russell Craig