"How is she?" Missandei asked the royal, placing a plate of food in front of her.

Daenerys's hair was still wet and although she should probably dress, she was too hungry to delay. "She is okay I think," Daenerys said after swallowing the first bite. "You saw her, she's tough."

"And you?"

That was a much more complicated question. "I don't know," she admitted, dropping her fork and throwing up her hands. She pushed one through wet strands of silver. "It was all my fucking fault and now Arya is in so much pain and I'm trying to fix it, trying to help, and I'm not doing a very good job."

Missandei was firm when she reached for Daenerys's wrist and guided her hand away from her head. "It's okay to be scared. Did you and Arya have a fight?"

That stopped her chaotic worrying abruptly. "What?! No, why would you think that?" While she waited for the justification that explained such a random inquiry, she thought back. She was sleep deprived, furious and scared, perhaps she was not the best judge.

"There was some tension in the room when I came in. I thought perhaps you and Arya disagreed."

"No, I sided with her," Daenerys clarified, getting back to her meal. With few people she could confide in openly, she seized the chance to tell Missandei everything. "Have you ever had milk of the poppy?"

"Yes, once when I was young," she confessed quietly.

"What happened?"

"I displeased my first Master," she stated plainly, as if it were exactly that simple. Daenerys supposed it was.

"What was it like? I ask because Arya's experience, it sounded terrible."

"Really?" Missandei asked, giving Daenerys her full attention. "I remember it made the pain go away and I slept a lot."

"That's the problem," Daenerys said before she shoveled another forkful into her mouth. She chewed quickly before continuing. "Arya couldn't wake up, and what she was dreaming was unpleasant."

"She had a nightmare?" Missandei understood immediately. It was only then, that Daenerys realized her lover and her best friend shared a connection, one Daenerys couldn't join. Missandei's life, like Arya's was littered with difficult days, harsh lessons and devastating losses. Regardless of how much the Princess empathized, nothing in her life came close to comparing.

"She did," Daenerys confirmed, "and she said she was stuck in there unable to wake up. It didn't make a lot of sense but Oberyn seemed to think the milk put her in too deep of a sleep for her to rouse herself."

"That would be horrible," Missandei acknowledged. "She seemed well when I saw her," she added, trying to steer them to a happier subject.

"She was, I know she was tired of lying down, so I'm pleased they let her sit up, but I'm worried about the pain. She says she can handle it, but…"

Again, Missandei understood. "But she'd say that even if she couldn't."

Daenerys smiled. "Exactly. She made me promise not to let the Maester make her drink the poppy, but I have no idea if I did the right thing. She's already in agony and it is only going to get worse when she starts moving around." By the time she finished speaking any peace she found in Missandei's company had evaporated. She looked into her friend's caring, chocolate eyes and asked the question she wasn't brave enough to face alone. "What if I made the wrong choice? Maybe milk of the poppy is what she needs, Pycelle certainly thinks so. I want to help her, but what the fuck do I know, I'm just a stupid girl who has never lived outside a castle."

"You are not stupid," Missandei insisted, "you're just scared and it is reasonable to worry, but Arya trusts you, so you should too."

If only it were that easy. "What if I'm wrong? Her back…" An unexpected sob shook her entire body, and a shaky hand covered her mouth to prevent the next one from escaping. "It has to hurt so much! I want to make it better and I can't."

"You do make it better. It may not seem like it to you, but going there, sitting by her bed, talking to her and holding her hand, to Arya that's everything."

"Thank you," Daenerys mumbling, returning to her food and making quick work of what remained. The morning sunlight was coming through the window and lit the room. "I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome," Missandei replied kindly, standing and clearing away the dishes. "If it gives you comfort, I would have done the same thing."

Daenerys's mind was on Arya and so she thought she missed the portion of the statement that explained what she meant by that. "Done what?"

"Ordered the Maester to stop giving her milk of the poppy," she elaborated without complaint. Endlessly patient, Missandei didn't take offense to Daenerys's lack of attentiveness.

Actually, that did help. "Why?" she found herself asking. It was reassuring to think Missandei would have done the same in her place, especially since Missandei's intelligence was obvious, but her motives were less overt.

"Arya spoke of her nightmares to me."

Daenerys didn't expect that. "Really? What did she say?"

"Not much," the handmaiden made clear quickly, "only that since returning from Highgarden she is thinking about the past more frequently."

Stunned, she just stared at her hands. How had she not known this? She spent more time with Arya than anyone, knew her better than anyone and hadn't been aware she was struggling. She'd been failing the woman she loved and didn't even realize it. "I had no idea," she muttered, "she didn't say anything."

Missandei seized on that. "No, she didn't, likely because she didn't want you feeling as you do now."

"What else did she say?" It was rude to ask her to break Arya's confidence, but manners were secondary. There were things she needed to know and a limited number of ways she could go about discovering the answers. Missandei looked hesitant to reveal the secrets, so Daenerys stooped lower than ordering, and begged for it. "Please, Missandei."

"I found her in the yard late," she recalled, gesturing for Daenerys to settle. "She was obviously upset, acting as if she didn't intend to stop until either the sword or the target broke."

As much as she enjoyed hearing about Arya, couldn't this move a little faster? Daenerys chewed on the inside of her cheek and waited anxiously for the rest. "I asked if she was alright and she told me of the nightmares and how they'd been plaguing her more frequently since Highgarden."

Before Daenerys could select from the many questions circling her head, Missandei released more. "Apparently seeing Sansa increased the intensity of the nightmares some and returning to the Red Keep did the rest."

Daenerys feared her body might reject the food she'd eaten. "Here?" She'd been so selfish. That shouldn't have been surprising. Arya had a lot of horrible memories of the castle, Daenerys just assumed her presence was enough to offset the negativity.

Though she barely spoke, Missandei knew exactly where her mind had gone. "I suggested that maybe she'd be happier in Sunspear, but she rejected the notion, making it known that she wanted to be with you, here or anywhere else."

Without quelling her concern completely that detail made it easier to think. "Is there anything else?" she asked, while she tried to compose herself.

She could tell Missandei remained reluctant, so she made it easy for her. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything else. Thank you for helping me understand."

Missandei nodded. "What you need to understand," she announced seriously, "is that it is Arya's love for you that makes staying here possible. She couldn't do that without you. She chooses to live here for you, knowing that it might cause more nightmares, might invite more bad memories, that is how badly she wants to walk at your side."

Daenerys was touched. Missandei really did have a way with words. "Is there anything I can do to make it easier?"

"You need to tread carefully. Talking helps, but only if she is ready." She paused and then drew from her personal experiences. "I never thought I'd find anyone to talk to, about the things that have happened to me. I never imagined people would see me as a person and not property. Now I have you and Grey Worm and Arya."

"Anytime you need to talk," Daenerys declared, "about anything at all, I'll listen, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. You're not alone anymore."

Her expression showed that Daenerys's offer meant something. "I know but I am okay. I am far from my past and little here reminds me of it."

"Unfortunately, most of Arya's terrors happened in the keep." Was it cruel to expect Arya to recover here? Perhaps it was kindness to let her go some place new? She seemed to like Highgarden and Lady Olenna wouldn't mind. Arya could recover with her sister… shit. She'd been so busy she forgot to write Sansa and invite her to visit. She promised herself she'd do that today, probably while Arya was sleeping.

"Talk to her," Missandei encouraged. "It won't be easy for either of you, but it may help you find the way forward."

"Would it be better if you did it?"

"Me?" Despite the room containing only them, Missandei looked around to make certain the Princess was addressing her.

"I want Arya to have whatever she needs to get better," she said passionately, believing it to her core.

"And that involves me how?"

A sigh she wanted to keep in got out. "I can't relate to her Missandei. She's been through so much, I'm a Targaryen. The last person she wants to discuss her nightmares with is me."

She was expecting a denial followed immediately by a whole heap of reassurance, but Missandei took a more practical approach. "Try and talk to her about it once, just once, and if doesn't go well, I will relate to her as you say."

"Thank you, from the both of us!" It really was the best of solutions. Daenerys would try to support Arya, but if she couldn't, Missandei would be there to ensure Arya wasn't alone.

"I wouldn't get too excited. I meant it, you have to try, one serious attempt to talk about her about all this."

"I understand what we agreed, but it won't matter."

Smiling indulgently, Missandei disagreed. "It will. She will tell you everything the first time you ask. I'd wager it all comes pouring out within the first few minutes."

"How can you say that?" Daenerys fired back in disbelief. "You know Arya. She isn't going to share her feelings about the worst moments in her life just because I am willing to listen."

"You're wrong," the handmaiden resisted blatantly.

Normally when Missandei had to adjust her understanding of a topic, she did it subtly and without any direct statements. The change gave Daenerys pause. "How can you be so confident?" With little concern about being wrong, Daenerys was far more interested in what made Missandei so sure.

"These aren't the sort of things you can tell just anyone. When she's ready to speak about them, it will be to the person she trusts most." She let that sink in before finishing. "That is why I don't think you will need me. It will be hard, but just listen and remind her you're there."

"Thank you Missandei. I don't know what any of us would do without you."

She laughed lightly, covering her mouth quickly. "Luckily, I happen to quite like it here."

Daenerys didn't know if she believed that, but now wasn't the best time to dig for truth. Arya needed her. Missandei's sudden affinity for the capital could wait. "Do you think they're finished changing her bandages yet?" Daenerys asked. She still had to put her dress on but that would only take a moment. When properly motivated she could be quick.

"There is more we need to speak about."

Daenerys didn't like the sound of that. "There is?"

Gesturing to the mirror, Missandei said, "Sit, we'll talk and work at the same time, so when we're through, you'll be able to go to Arya."

A brush was being passed through her hair when the handmaiden revealed the subject they needed to address. "Jorah."

"What of him? He wasn't outside the Maester's room when we left," she recalled. Daenerys hoped that meant he finally knew when he wasn't wanted.

"Only because I sent him away."

So much for that theory. "He was there?"

She nodded. Daenerys watched the dark curls bounce in the mirror. "He was sitting just outside the door when I approached. I don't think he'd slept."

"I didn't ask him to stay, in fact I ordered him out of the room," Daenerys proclaimed in a rush, eager to tell her side of the story. "I didn't ask for him to follow me around."

"No," Missandei acknowledged, "apparently your brother did that."

She knew she was supposed to stay seated, but she couldn't. She jumped up, likely shaving years of Missandei's life in the process. She turned and looked her friend in the eye. "He did what?"

"According to Jorah, the Prince found him after Arya's…" she paused and adjusted her choice of words, "after Arya was hurt. He reinstated Jorah as your guard until Arya is well again."

"Over my dead body!" she fumed. It wasn't Missandei's fault, she knew that, but she did have the unfortunate duty of passing along less than welcome information. "I'm not going to pretend things are the way they were before. I refuse to act as if nothing has changed. Jorah tried to have Arya killed and now he is stealing her position. And Rhaegar…"

A hand touched her shoulder. "Sit. I know you're upset but don't let Rhaegar or Jorah take time away you could be spending with Arya."

Missandei had a way of making the most unpleasant ideas seem like worthy undertakings. Sitting in this instance was the last thing she wanted to do. Daenerys was much more inclined to move, yell and fight. Still, she did settle back into her designated spot. "I can't believe them. Taking advantage of the situation like that is deplorable. I know why Jorah did it, but why was Rhaegar so eager?"

"You should ask him at your meeting," Missandei recommended.

She was tying the ribbon in the Princess's hair, so she put extra effort in keeping still. "What meeting?"

"Last night, we all met out in the hall, remember, you and I, Oberyn, Jorah, Ser Barristan and Rhaegar?"

"My mind was on other things." She did remember trying to visit her bedchamber and finding a crowd of yelling, glaring men crowded around, but the details were less than firm.

"We went inside to speak," Missandei reminded her, "Oberyn waited. You told Jorah I'd speak to him about his concerns, and you told the Prince you'd see him later."

It was coming back. "I remember." Rather than address the issue at hand she skipped over it. "You and Grey Worm should go out into the city."

"And do what?"

"Anything you want," she announced. "I'll be with Arya, there is no reason to waste the day awaiting my return."

Daenerys had plenty of experience with the thick, uncomfortable tension that tended to fill the keep on days like this. She planned to hide away from it in the Maester's room with the woman she loved. Missandei deserved the chance to escape too.

She peeked out from within the closet, where she was retrieving the Targaryen's dress. "Do you think that's wise? You might need me here."

"I'm going to be occupied," she predicted, "there won't be much for you to do. Go and enjoy the day."

Missandei's expression was less than thrilled, meaning there was likely a flaw in Daenerys's strategy. "Your brother is expecting you."

Oh yes, that. She got a little off track. Before they got to Rhaegar, she thought of the knight. "Did Jorah tell you of his urgent problem yet? Do you know what it is?"

"Yes, he wanted to tell you of the orders he received from the Prince. He also advised me that he plans to repair your friendship."

She scoffed. So typical. He didn't ask her opinion, didn't consider what she wanted, just told Missandei what would happen. He wasn't going to like the response when he broached that subject with the Princess directly.

She was dressed and looking for shoes when Missandei guided them back to the last item pending. "And Rhaegar? Last night, you told his knight you'd see the Prince after breakfast."

She was afraid Missandei was going to say that. That matched her recollections, although she had hoped they weren't accurate. "Well, Rhaegar is just going to need to be patient."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If he is upset already, delaying further might make it worse," her friend cautioned.

"You're right, but if I see Rhaegar right now I can't promise I won't kill him," Daenerys confessed openly. There was no shame or guilt, associated with the admission. In fact, it was freeing to be able to own her emotions so completely. She kept going. "I begged him to help Arya, I offered him anything he wanted, and he acted like he was just some noble from a far away kingdom who was powerless to stop our father. He's the fucking Crown Prince of Westeros. He could have done something, and he didn't. Until I know how to make peace with that, the last place I should be is in an enclosed space with him."

R-C

When Missandei took her leave, Daenerys asked that she send Jorah in. She needed to know exactly what her brother's instructions were.

The speed with which he arrived was telling. He'd been close. "Princess, how are you feeling?"

She hadn't slept, her stomach was in knots, Arya was in agony and everyone around her seemed to be conspiring to make her life more difficult. If that weren't bad enough, Arya needed her, and she was wasting her time with him.

"Close the door, Ser," she demanded.

He did. He didn't seem tense or nervous and that annoyed her some. After everything, did he really think he'd just step into Arya's place and be welcomed with open arms?

"That's a lovely dress," he remarked as he went toward her collection of jewelry. "It would look beautiful with the necklace I gave you for…"

"Stop!" she shouted. He turned to face her, a little less confident than he had been. "What I wear is none of your concern."

"I was just…"

She didn't care. "Tell me, did you go to Rhaegar or did he come to you?"

There was a long pause before he said, "Barristan and I were speaking, and we agreed you needed a guard so I…"

That was enough. "You are not my guard," she told him as directly as she could. "I have a guard – one I like very much. She will continue to serve me until she returns to Dorne or I dismiss her."

"This is serious, you must be protected," he tried, steering them away from Arya and back to his favorite fallback position, her safety. "Viserys has returned, the wedding is scheduled, Oberyn Martell came from Sunspear to bring the girl home."

Daenerys felt she could spit fire. Her rage consumed her. "The girl's name is Arya, and she isn't going anywhere."

By his expression alone Daenerys could see he didn't believe that, but in this instance the sheltered Princess knew more than the worldly knight. "Be that as it may, she can't guard you right now. She's in pain and…"

She interrupted him again. "Oh, she's in pain?" Daenerys mocked with a heavy amount of sarcasm. "And you know this how? Have you been to see her? Did you spend the night beside her bed holding her hand?"

Jorah recoiled from the venom in her tone, but it didn't prevent his feeble response. "I've seen wounds like that before."

He likely had, but he didn't know Arya. She was strong and determined, she would get through this. They would. "I do not need a guard because until Arya is well, I intend to go from here," she said raising a finger to point to her bedchamber, "to there and back. No where else."

Jorah immediately jumped on what he viewed as a weak point. "What about your meetings, or to visit the orphans or the port? I'm sure the Prince would agree you should get some air after yesterday. I could ask him."

Was he trying to bribe her? If so, he was going about it all wrong. Taking her further away from Arya would only worsen her mood. "Very kind of you Ser," she replied falsely, "but as I said, I have plans. Your services will not be required, you are released of your oath, go and do whatever you please."

"I want to help you!" he insisted, becoming frustrated by her stubbornness. Little did he know he hadn't seen anything yet.

"I do not want your help," she countered, matching his passion. "This castle is filled with guards, should I need protection from the many assassins lurking in dark corners, I'll summon one of them."

"The Prince assigned me to serve. I have no more say in it than you do."

It was her life, and she'd wasted too much of it believing statements like that. Things were different now but explaining the magnitude of those changes to Jorah Mormont would take more energy than she was willing to devote to such a trivial exercise. "Then I suggest you run to the Prince and tell him I sent you away."

"I can't. As I said, my orders came from him!"

This was getting them nowhere. "You want to be my guard? Fine. Get ready, I'll tell you how it's going to work."

He smiled for the first time since she started yelling. "I know how to be your guard Daenerys."

She chuckled humorlessly. "You don't know anything." She watched the smile fall from his face before she proceeded. "Here are the terms of your service, first, you can follow me where I need to go, be it the Maester, or my bedchamber but you will remain outside. You will protect me, by guarding the door and ensuring no one interferes with my affairs." All at once Jorah understood how drastically different she intended to make things. His face paled and his lips parted, but Daenerys wasn't done. "Second, you don't speak unless spoken to. I don't want to having profound conversations or meaningless back and forths, you are my guard, and I am a Princess, that is all."

He took a step forward and reached out as if he planned to touch her arm. A glare made him question himself. "Daenerys, I understand that yesterday was difficult, for all of us, and I'm sure you are worried but it's going to be okay. Before long everything will return to normal."

She didn't doubt that, and that was the precisely the problem. The 'normal' the castle operated in, what was considered acceptable for the Realm was utterly sickening. She continued as though he hadn't spoken. "When we are in a crowded area I will stay within your line of sight, if there is trouble, I will hold my position and you will come to me. Do you understand the duties of your new position Ser?"

"I do," he agreed, "but Princess we don't need rules and terms. All of this is unnecessary."

"It is very necessary," she disputed.

"Why?"

She felt no guilt, and no doubts, even though the next words she spoke were some of the sort she could never take back. If anything, she was eager to be done with it. "Because Ser, we are not friends. You're right, I may not be able to send you away, I can't stop you from following me, but I do have some authority and I can enforce these few rules."

Jorah was hurt, but only for a moment, then it twisted into defiance. "We are friends. I know you're upset with me but a few arguments does not undo years of friendship and love."

She ignored the mention of love, because it wouldn't benefit either of them to open that up for debate. "We were friends," she clarified. "I trusted you and in return you tried to have one of the people I care about most in this world executed."

"I apologized for that," he reminded her as if that remedied the damage. "I was angry, and I regretted it immediately, but it ended well and there is no reason for that to divide us. It was a mistake, one I am sorry for, but it's over."

Daenerys was still haunted by the memories, so she'd have to respectfully disagree. "You're sorry?" she spat, her contempt obvious. "All is well, because Jorah Mormont said the magic words?" She didn't try to dampen her ridicule. "You tried to have Arya killed because you were jealous."

"I didn't think she'd be executed," he whined.

"Yes, you did, that is exactly what you were hoping for."

"Not all those who go before the court are found guilty," he noted in a pathetic attempt to provide a defense.

"Really? How many times have you seen someone brought before the King, accused of a crime against a member of the royal family and then granted mercy?"

He thought about it, as she did, but it didn't take long. Her answer was likely the same one Jorah was coming to. Zero. Arya was the only one. Mercy was rare in any instance, because the King liked his Fire and Blood, but when the crime directly related to a Targaryen, it almost guaranteed a violent end.

Rather than admit what she knew Jorah tried to find safer ground. "I'm glad she didn't die, I do regret it, and I'm sorry."

She was tired of this. "More apologies? You're a soldier Ser Jorah, not a poet."

Confused, Jorah looked as though he was questioning her sanity. "I don't understand."

She huffed dramatically. "Unless you make your way in this world as a poet, the niceness and beauty of your words matters little," she informed him, "you are a soldier, and as such are measured by the actions you take, or don't take. Your actions nearly got someone I care about a great deal murdered."

She left him to ponder that and went to check she still looked presentable in the mirror. The marks under her eyes from exhaustion were quite unbecoming but she hoped Arya would forgive her.

She was at the door when she looked back and found Jorah in the same spot he'd been occupying when she berated him. "I'm leaving."

She planned to give him the choice of guarding her or not, but he quickly pivoted toward the door and her. There was no point in wasting the words.

R-C

Another nightmare. She was losing count. How many times had she fallen asleep, only to wake up minutes later gasping for air? She'd try to sit up and be reminded of the reasons she couldn't. It was a vicious cycle.

As promised the pain did get worse, once the last of the poppy wore off, and while it did feel unbearable at times, it was definitely preferable to the alternative. In addition to being able to wake up from her various nightmares, Arya also felt more clearheaded. It was easier to think, unfortunately there was little to focus on apart from the anguish.

The Maesters changed her bandages and made some notes about the state of her wounds. She didn't pay them much mind, choosing instead to give her focus to not screaming each time her torn flesh was poked or prodded.

When the pain subsided and the memories returned to their cages, she thought about Daenerys. Her heart broke knowing she was in no position to help the Dragon she loved, and she was going to need help. Things were going to be difficult moving forward. If she were whole, she'd be there to protect and aid Daenerys, guiding her to the other side, but she was an invalid now, and as such little use to anyone. The best she could do was to employ others to do what she couldn't. With a little assistance from King's Landing's favorite handmaiden, they might be able to convince Daenerys not to spend her days fretting at Arya's bedside.

The Maesters came and went and she was fine with that. She preferred privacy for when she couldn't hold back the tears, but the quiet was equally strange. Whether it was the servant's quarters of the Water Gardens, or the barracks she lived in later, Arya had always been surrounded by noise. Even in the Princess's bedchamber, she had Daenerys, who hummed to herself, or talked, laughed or moaned to fill the silence.

When the door opened Arya expected to hear some grouping of the three Maesters returning, but she was wrong. Quick, light footsteps rushed straight for the bed. Arya was propped up on side, allowing her to use her arm more freely. It wasn't ideal and it intensified the pain, but it felt good to be off her stomach. "How are you? Did you sleep? Did they bring you food? Did you have nightmares? They changed your bandages, did it hurt?"

She laughed at her excited lover and used her greater reach to touch Daenerys's hand. "Calm down beautiful," Arya whispered, unsure if they had the room to themselves. "We've got time, you can breathe between questions."

"I was so worried about you. I wanted to be here sooner but…"

"You're here now," Arya pointed out, "that's what counts." Daenerys's smile was blinding, so the injured woman was forced to ask. "Are we alone?"

She looked behind her. "Jorah is guarding the door, but the Maesters aren't here. Why aren't…"

Arya would apologize for interrupting her later. "Good," she said, pulling lightly on the hand she was touching. She tried desperately not to notice how weak and feeble her limb was. She also tried to block out the pain that came from the movement. It was worth it when she pressed her cracked, dry lips to the back of Daenerys's smooth hand.

"Thank you," she said with a grin. "I've been missing those."

"I know the feeling," she muttered lazily.

Daenerys took the room's chair and returned it to where it had been all night. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she dragged it across the floor, making a scratching sound the whole way.

"Better now."

Although she appeared to not want to be amused, she failed to hide it deep enough. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, I'm just glad you're here," Arya confessed. Once she was seated, Daenerys put her hand in a location Arya could easily claim it, she quickly did.

"Where else would I be?"

"It's a big castle," Arya noted, pleased she remembered to skip the typical shrug that usually accompanied such comments. That would have been unpleasant.

"It is," Daenerys conceded, "but the only place I want to be is with you." As she was speaking, she seemed to realize something. "Is it safe for you to be lying on your side like that, doesn't it hurt? The Maester said your wounds weren't just on your back."

"They aren't," Arya agreed, "and I can't stay like this for long. I'll have to go back onto my stomach shortly, but they say it's good to move around."

Daenerys nodded as she attempted to retain the new information. "Did you rest any?"

"Some," Arya replied, aware she wasn't very convincing.

"Nightmares?"

She took a breath before admitting what they both knew. "Yes."

"But you didn't have trouble waking, right? They didn't restrain you or give you the poppy?"

Arya did her best imitation of squeezing Daenerys's hand. She used to love the way the Princess matched her grip, but now her hold felt embarrassingly weak. "I woke up, before the worst parts, just like usual."

Relief passed over her features. "What about the pain? Are you doing okay or just faking it?" She was done before circling back for more. "Any regrets about refusing the milk?"

Arya didn't need to think about it. "No, none." Between the conversation and the physical movement Arya was fading fast. She could sense it but had to do something first. She kissed Daenerys's hand again. "Thank you for not letting them make me."

Observant as she was Daenerys saw she needed a reprieve. "Rest now. We'll talk later."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, "love you too."

R-C

In the hour since she returned, Arya had been asleep or trying to sleep for three quarters of it. Daenerys came to understand that if her lover could stay asleep for any length longer than ten minutes before the pain brought her back, it should be considered a victory.

This was their best showing yet. Arya had been out for a few minutes and seemed to be marginally comfortable. Daenerys crossed her fingers and prayed things remained as they were.

When she started to stir, the Princess would whisper to her, reminding her she wasn't alone. She also calmed when Daenerys played with her hair or hummed a soothing melody. "Someone needs a haircut," she noticed, as she combed through it.

Was it coincidence, or something else that Arya chose that moment to groan? Was it an objection to the notion of cutting her hair? The possibility amused her. Even asleep Arya didn't change. Daenerys was fine with that.

"Okay," she whispered indulgently, "no haircut, but get better soon because I need kisses."

Yeah, it was totally unrelated that Arya's response to that was to tighten her hold on Daenerys's hand ever so slightly and settle into her pillow. She was sure there was another, perfectly logical explanation, or maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to her.

R-C

Each time she woke up and found Daenerys next to her it was an immense relief. Even though the dreams ended, the parts she had to endure were horrific and gruesome and Daenerys's hand in hers felt like an anchor that kept her where she belonged, with the Dragon.

After a particularly brutal nightmare Arya flinched to try and protect Daenerys from the incoming sword, inadvertently moving her body and inflicting pain. She cried out, startling Daenerys, who was on her feet and looking for aid in an instant. "What's wrong? Do you need the Maester?"

"No," she croaked. Daenerys didn't seem satisfied, so she said it again. "No, only you."

Her voice must've sounded hoarse because it prompted Daenerys to go in search of water. With little interest in spilling it everywhere she began trying to sit herself up. It was slow and difficult, but she was making progress. "What are you doing?" Daenerys hissed, as she came back with the cup to find Arya halfway between lying and sitting.

"Sitting up," Arya declared.

There was a pause, before Daenerys relented. She set the cup on the chair she vacated and asked, "How can I help."

She wanted to do it on her own, but every time she made use of a muscle in her midsection the pain flared. Whether she was clenching her stomach muscles or adjusting her hips for balance, it was all akin to being stabbed with fire. It felt safe, seeking help from Daenerys. "Give me your hand," she instructed as she fought to keep moving in the right direction. One slip and she'd be falling back to the bed.

Unsure of what to do, Daenerys placed her right hand near Arya's arm. That was all the soldier needed. She took her hand off the bed and set it in Daenerys's instead. The change was immediate. Having a higher perch to push from made a world of difference. Arya was successfully sitting under her own power within seconds. She didn't need Daenerys's support anymore, at least not to get up, but that didn't mean she wanted to let it go.

"Are you okay?"

"Perfect," she exaggerated. "Thank you."

As relieved as Daenerys appeared to be, it didn't last. She put her hand on her hip in annoyance. "Next time just ask. Don't hurt yourself being stubborn."

"You're more stubborn than I am," she retorted.

With an insincere glare, Daenerys shook her head. "Last week I might have agreed with you, today I'm not so sure. I think you've got me beat." She retrieved the water and handed it carefully to Arya.

"Don't sell yourself short," she quipped. "You'll always be the most stubborn woman I've ever known." She took a sip.

"Thanks, that means a lot." Arya would've laughed if she didn't think she'd spill the water Daenerys gave her. It felt good to be sitting, good to hold Daenerys's hand and even better to be able to tease her like this. The pain was there, gnawing at her, wearing her down, but with Daenerys so close, the discomfort wasn't all there was.

Arya finished her water and then was given more. When she'd had enough Daenerys took the cup away and asked. "Why did you scream? You were resting and then," she hesitated, "you weren't."

"I'm sorry," she said instinctively. "I didn't mean to startle you."

A finger on her chin tilted her head back. "No," she said emphatically, "that's not what this is about. I just want to know you're okay."

She knew Daenerys deserved to hear the truth, but she was afraid it would scare her. Was it fair to share her burden with someone so good? It didn't feel like an honorable thing. She was about to change the subject when Daenerys looked into her eyes and implored her to be honest. "Please, you can trust me."

She did. "It was a nightmare. We were in the throne room. A sword was coming, I wanted to get in front of it, I tried to move, and when I did, it hurt. That's why I screamed."

She forced herself to watch Daenerys closely. Her eyes were so expressive, she knew they'd provide all the insight she needed. Amazingly while there was sadness, concern and sympathy, Arya didn't see pity. She was still wondering how that could be possible, when Daenerys's next question froze everything. "Who were you protecting?"

Shit. She didn't lie to Daenerys, that was the rule, not anymore. She didn't have many options. "You," she admitted. The Hound had his sword out and was going to kill you, so I tried to stop it."

"Me?" she double checked in disbelief. "I wasn't even there when your family died."

"It's not always that day," Arya explained, "sometimes it's the Water Gardens, or when I was accused of desertion, sometimes it's all of them."

Horrified as she was, Daenerys was working hard to hold it together. She swallowed hard, nodded in understanding and then forged ahead. "And the night you slept on the floor of my bedchamber, when I woke you?"

She smirked at the memory. "When you woke me naked, you mean?"

A chuckle slipped from between those kissable lips and Arya ached to hold her. She would, she promised herself, she swore it on her father's name. She'd heal and she'd be the kind of woman Daenerys deserved.

"Yes," she allowed playfully, "the night I woke you naked." The humor was short lived. "I heard you talking to yourself that night, in the dream, I didn't understand it then, but I thought you were trying to kill someone."

"I was."

"My father," she guessed.

She didn't confirm it, but Arya knew she didn't have to. Daenerys was calm, like she anticipated it. "And when you were on milk of the poppy and couldn't wake up, you were stuck there, with him."

It would have been fairly easy to let Daenerys believe that. It wouldn't have been a lie. For some reason however, she wanted Daenerys to hear it all. A part of her hoped that if she knew everything and still stayed, still loved her, then maybe it would give Arya the strength she needed to face what was coming. "That was different," she started, "usually I see bits and pieces, it begins in the middle and I see someone die, or two people, sometimes it happens like it really did, other times it's worse, but when it gets too bad, when I can't take it anymore, I always wake up."

With care Daenerys moved from the chair to the bed, sitting beside Arya. The guard appreciated the closeness so much, she didn't mind the extra discomfort caused by the movement of the bed beneath her. "I'm so sorry."

She'd deal with the needless apology later. First, she had to finish this, or she never would. "It's like I told you, I just couldn't wake up. Over and over again, they'd die, you'd die, Oberyn, Missandei, Grey Worm, Aemon, anyone, everyone I ever loved. I was stuck, forced to watch."

Daenerys reached for her, until she remembered to show restraint. "It's okay," she said, resting her hand on Arya's leg. It was one of the few places she could touch that wouldn't hurt or unsteady her.

"I lost count. How many times I saw them, how many times I lost them, how many times the whip cracked..."

Arya was being swallowed by her frantic mind, but Daenerys had a question. "The whip? You dreamt of the whip?"

Her eyes filled with tears she wouldn't cry. "Yeah. It was like reliving it, until it was time for the pain to start. I'd hear the whip crack and a scream, but it wasn't mine."

Daenerys gasped, squeezing Arya's thigh in a gesture of support.

"I couldn't move. I could only watch and listen. Until the burning."

Daenerys was crying openly when she asked for more information. "The burning?"

Her blurred vision made it look like the Princess was about to be sick. "That's how it ended, when the whipping was over, we'd die together in the flames, me and whoever I just watched take the beating meant for me."

Her account was cold, and factual, empty of most emotions. She didn't think she could get the words out otherwise. Daenerys on the other hand was a mess, sobbing and sniffling. "Then what happened?"

"It would start again, with someone new."

Watching Daenerys's pain and knowing she felt it, because she loved Arya so deeply, tore at something in the soldier's chest. She needed her. It didn't matter that they were in a public place, or that every adjustment of position no matter how minor or gentle would hurt, she just knew sitting next to the woman she loved wasn't going to be enough. "Lie down with me."

With her thoughts focused on the nightmare, Daenerys was caught off guard. "What? What are you talking about?"

Arya put a weak, sweaty hand on Daenerys's shoulder, wobbling slightly as she reached up. She nudged her toward the bed. "Lie down with me. I'll sleep better with you here."

"I'd sleep better too," she predicted, "but we can't. I'd hurt you."

"I don't care. It'll be worth it."

"I do care," she resisted. "It's bad enough I couldn't stop it, I'm not going to tear your stitches."

If it were anybody else that she was dealing with, Arya would have admitted defeat and given up, but with Daenerys, she still had one more method that might work. "Five minutes," she bartered, "lie down until I fall asleep and when I'm better I'll give you anything you want."

Keeping a straight face was difficult. She wanted to laugh at how visibly conflicted Daenerys was. Probably because she was recalling the last time, they made such a deal and how enjoyable it was for the both of them. "I want to, but I can't hurt you."

"You won't," she claimed, without much evidence to back it up. Luckily, Daenerys seemed to be losing resolve. "If it hurts, I'll tell you, I promise."

She had just pledged, but Daenerys needed to hear it again. "Promise?"

"I swear."

With a huff she stood up. "Can you lie down without help?"

Arya thought about it, trying to recall the last time she did it. "Yeah," she assured her, "down is a lot easier than up."

"Fine, lie down and once you're comfortable, I'll see if I can squeeze on," Daenerys proposed.

Sensing victory, she grinned. "Don't worry I'll make room."

She wanted to be angry, Arya could tell she was really trying but she just couldn't hang on to it. "Just lie down, before I change my mind."

R-C

Arya was sleeping. Not fending off nightmares, but honest and truly sleeping. The pain pulled her out of her slumber occasionally, but each time it did she quickly found her way back. She wasn't foolish enough to think her miraculous change could be sourced to anything other than the woman in her arms. It took some effort to ensure they could both lie comfortably, but once they found the proper fit, they quickly forgot about the five-minute stipulation.

One night spent without Daenerys close and you'd think she'd gone without for years. Now that she knew precisely what effect it could have on her, Arya vowed to spend her nights where she belonged, consequences be damned.

As often as Arya drifted in and out, tensing and shifting to ease the cresting pain, Daenerys didn't offer up a single twitch or mumble in protest. Far as Arya could tell the Princess was fast asleep, unmoved from the position she was in when Arya declared it 'safe.' She stroked her lover's cheek. She'd been up all night, obsessing and blaming herself when she wasn't worried sick. There was little denying that Daenerys needed the rest as badly as Arya did, if not more.

A light sleeper on a good day, Arya knew each and every time the door opened. She kept her eyes closed and feigned sleep. Four times the Maesters came in and out. They whispered to one another, taking care to avoid speaking too loudly. Arya didn't think it was for her benefit, waking a Dragon could be risky. Especially with the fuse on her temper so short lately. After they got over their shock that Daenerys was sleeping next to her guard, they moved on to discussing if they should inform Grand Maester Pycelle. She waited, unsure if announcing she was awake would make things better or worse. Could she persuade them to forget what they'd seen without waking Daenerys? She didn't have to. They agreed quite quickly that Pycelle was busy in the throne room and as long as Arya continued to recover, they saw no reason to mention it.

There were a lot of things that kept Arya from enjoying the deep, consistent sleep Daenerys was. Fear of nightmares for one, her pain, the Maesters coming and going, even the Princess's aggressive snuggling deserved some of the blame. They were both on their sides, with Daenerys in front. She was used to Daenerys pressing back into her chest and thought she could handle it, but when she pushed with enough strength to topple Arya, it was only quick thinking and a strong arm that kept her from landing on her very sore back. With all that in mind, Arya stayed awake a moment longer, intentionally, to admire her lover's beauty. It was possible, if not probable that luring Daenerys into her bed was near the top of the list of smartest things she'd ever done. No amount of sleep could best this.

She was on the edge of another nap when the door opened. Arya waited, listening for the sounds of the Maester's walking in together. She didn't hear what she expected, and it immediately had her on alert. She opened her eyes and saw the cane before the man leaning on it. She gave the Princess a soft nudge. "Time to wake up," she whispered.

Unlike when the Maesters visited she didn't bother pretending to be asleep. She did however attempt to minimize the obvious contact she was enjoying with the woman sharing her bed. It wasn't easy in such a confined space, and Rhaegar wasn't a fool, but it was better than nothing. She'd just have to hope the blanket was concealing the worst of it.

As Rhaegar limped in with Barristan Selmy, Arya tried again to wake Daenerys. "You've got a visitor Princess," she said formally, as if that would make it easier to overlook them cuddled together. Daenerys left her dress on, but all Arya was wearing was the shortened pants that fit under her armor and extensive wrappings of bandages.

Unaware of how dire their situation, Daenerys squirmed against her lover and covered her eyes to block the invading sunlight. "Fi…five more minutes?" she groaned adorably.

There was a distinct possibility that Rhaegar was going to order Barristan to kill her any moment and despite that, she still laughed. Daenerys was utterly perfect. "Not this time m'lady. Your brother is here."

Tired or not, that got in. A panicked pair of violet eyes found hers. As subtly as she could she nodded, before both women looked toward their guests.

"I guess now I know why you missed our meeting," Rhaegar barked bitterly. Arya didn't like it one bit, but she held her tongue. "Care to explain this, and I suggest you choose your words carefully for both your sakes."

Accustomed to being threatened Arya wasn't concerned. More than any worry she felt for herself, was her concern for Daenerys. She was being threatened by the brother she loved. That had to leave a lasting mark. She had her excuse ready and was about to launch into a tale that went a little like this; Daenerys was exhausted because she hadn't slept the night before, she refused to leave Arya's side, and after several failed attempts to sleep in the rooms only chair, Arya offered the bed, rather than see her suffer. That is what she would have said, if she'd gotten the chance.

"Not particularly," Daenerys retorted. It didn't escape Arya's notice that despite her brother walking in, along with his knight and guard, the Princess didn't seem the least bit motivated to get out of the bed. "Is there a reason you felt it necessary to wake me up? I didn't get much sleep last night, as you can imagine."

"We had an appointment," he reminded her pointedly. "You advised Ser Barristan you'd meet with me after breakfast, I cleared my schedule and you never arrived."

She thought about speaking up, but she got the distinct impression this was between the siblings. For his part, Barristan didn't look the least bit interested in participating. Arya decided to follow his lead. "I've been busy."

"I can see that," Rhaegar responded sarcastically. "Now can you please get up, so I don't have to try and explain to Father or the court that my sister delayed the Realm's business by oversleeping?"

Arya relaxed her arm – the one under the blanket, but around Daenerys's waist. It was meant to be an invitation for the Princess to untangle herself, but instead she just stayed where she was, arm or not. It struck Arya as convenient that now, of all days, Daenerys was suddenly a vital part of ruling the Realm. She didn't intend to say anything, but she didn't need to. Daenerys saw the same lie the soldier did and instead of swallowing it, she put it to the test.

It started with a bitter laugh that sounded nothing like the woman Arya had grown to love. "That's the best you can do?" she challenged. "The Realm needs me? It hasn't needed me before, unless you count my limited role, what did you call it, 'having tea and cookies with wives and children?' Wasn't it something like that?"

Arya had been willing to let this happen as if she wasn't there, but that was before. Before she heard what Daenerys's own brother said about her. She wanted his blood, and whether he knew it or not, he was lucky she was too injured to act on her murderous impulses.

His long, drawn out sigh made it known to everyone in the room he was losing patience. It struck her that he was so accustomed to Daenerys being complaint and passive that the moment she showed even the slightest bit of freewill, he was at a loss for how to proceed.

"I need to talk to you. It is important and it does involve the Realm," Rhaegar stated, trying to get them back on the path he thought they should be on. One where Daenerys wasn't reminding him of all the ignorant things he'd said and done, Arya suspected.

Instead of yielding to the desperation in his voice, Daenerys chose to twist the knife and Gods bless her, Arya fell in love a little bit more. "You want to talk, it's important and it involves the Realm," she verified counting off the three things he admitted on her fingers, "but it doesn't involve Father or the court, those were lies."

Even Arya was surprised she pointed out his manipulative shit, and she wasn't alone. Barristan appeared shocked if Arya was reading him right. Nearby, Rhaegar blushed as he searched the ground for a way to salvage this. Eventually he settled on the truth. "I didn't think you'd come if it was just me asking." That justification while honest probably would have calmed some of Daenerys's anger, but in true Targaryen fashion, the Crown Prince couldn't help himself. He had to get one last strike in. "I was clearly right, since I had to track you down here."

Daenerys seethed and there was little Arya could do to calm her, not with their audience watching. "Shh, calm down," she whispered. She was so afraid Rhaegar might hear that she spoke so softly, she couldn't say with any degree of certainty that Daenerys did.

"You found me. You're here, I'm here, our guards are here, let's have this urgent, incredibly important meeting."

"Here?"

"Why not? I'm not leaving Arya until she's better. If it's as urgent as you say, we shouldn't delay a moment longer."

She was testing him again, and she was winning. It was hilariously funny to the foster and also incredibly attractive. She had no idea where this new wave of confidence and attitude were coming from, but Arya loved it. She always knew it was there, she saw it when they were alone, with Missandei or Aemon, but this was the first time she'd seen Daenerys wield it like a weapon in public without concern for the damage left in her wake.

"Be reasonable," Rhaegar pleaded, "we are not having our meeting while you are lying in bed."

As entertaining as it was watching Daenerys run circles around the future King's arguments, Arya felt it only proper to try and mediate a truce. "Go and have your meeting. The Maesters are due back any minute to change the bandages and apply that cream to the wounds."

With just a few words exchanged they both seemed to forget Rhaegar and Selmy were there and listening. Daenerys looked back at Arya. "I should stay then. I need to learn how to do that."

"Not today," Arya said seriously. "Wait a few more days, maybe a week, once the wounds heal some, I'll teach you how to do it."

Daenerys's eyes made it clear she knew exactly what was in their way. She tried to clear the obstruction. "I don't care," she proclaimed quietly but with passion. "It doesn't matter one bit."

She wanted to believe that, she just wasn't sure she did. It wasn't merely the physical either. This wasn't Arya the Horseface afraid to expose herself to the most beautiful woman in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. It went beyond that. Yes, her scars would be ugly, but their love was stronger than a few marks. The true problem was what they represented. Arya worried Daenerys wasn't ready for that. Evidence of her father's madness permanently etched into her lover's skin, that would be tough for anyone to handle. She knew what happened in the throne room would haunt Daenerys for a long time, but she feared that if she saw the open wounds with her own eyes, if she touched them, they'd leave injuries of their own on the Princess, equally permanent, just as deep and plenty painful. "Not today." She quickly tried to turn her serious request into a joke. "You go attend your meetings, do whatever good noble girls do, and I'll lay around here. It's been a long time since I've had nothing to do."

Playing along Daenerys smiled. "Me too. As soon as I'm done, with our Realm-shaking business, I'll be back. We can do nothing together."

For one heart stopping moment Arya thought Daenerys forgot Rhaegar was there. She looked ready to kiss her, and while Arya probably wouldn't have complained. She got the impression they'd pushed the Crown Prince more than enough already. With a wink Daenerys threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. She wasn't shy, or blushing, she was at peace and it was gorgeous.

"At least you're dressed," Rhaegar commented under his breath when he saw Daenerys indeed had her dress on.

"That was a coinflip actually," the Princess told him, obviously not sharing Arya's opinion that Rhaegar had reached his limit. She just kept going. "Consider yourself warned, next time you might not be so lucky."

Red faced and furious Rhaegar glared at his sister who was causally slipping her feet back into her shoes. She smoothed out a wrinkle in a dress and adjusted the ribbon in her hair all while appearing oblivious to the enraged Prince. "There will not be a next time!" he ruled, as only a highborn, first son could.

Daenerys laughed humorlessly at his attempt at telling the future. "I hardly think you of all people are in a position to chastise me about romance."

All the blood that had been pooling in his face was suddenly elsewhere and he looked white as Northern snow. It was quite impressive how Daenerys seemed to cut him down so effectively, and without mercy. Arya was left to wonder what exactly happened after she fell unconscious in the throne room. She wasn't complaining, but as recently as yesterday morning Daenerys speaking to Rhaegar so harshly would have been unthinkable.

"Let's go!" he demanded, "we aren't having this conversation here." What he really meant was 'not in front of Arya.' He didn't know that there was nothing about him that was a secret to her, so he was wasting time and energy on a reputation that was long gone.

"Go," she urged the Princess. "I'll see you when you get back."

Given her clear objective to get under Rhaegar's skin and make him uncomfortable, Arya thought it possible she'd profess her love before they parted. She didn't.

When Barristan escorted Daenerys out into the hall and Rhaegar didn't immediately turn to follow. Arya didn't know if they were going to have some sort of heart-to-heart about her intentions or maybe he'd rather fight to the death, she'd be ready, regardless of his choice.

He didn't say anything though. He just stared. Looking at Arya, at the bed, and then at Arya again. She wasn't sure what she was witnessing at first. If he'd only stayed an extra minute, she probably wouldn't have remembered where she'd seen the strange expression but as he lingered, continuing to stare, she put it together. It was happening again, just as it had on the first day she arrived in the Red Keep, he was looking at her and seeing Lyanna. When his eyes flickered to the spot Daenerys had been in, she wondered if he was recognizing the similarities in their situations. He didn't need to know she was a Stark to see Daenerys was walking in the footsteps he made years before. Was he hypocritical enough to say Daenerys's happiness wasn't important enough to upset their father, when Rhaegar's selfishness led to tens of thousands of deaths?

R-C

Following Rhaegar and Ser Barristan, Daenerys just wanted to scream. She was so sick of this shit. It was her life whether she was born into royalty or not. She got to choose what she wanted and who she wanted and that was final. Rhaegar and everyone else were just going to have to learn to accept that.

No one spoke, and Daenerys for one was fine with the uncomfortable tension. It served to feed her anger for the next round of arguments she was destined to have.

Jorah disagreed, because he broke their newly forged rules when he asked, "Are you alright?" She kept walking without responding.

They ended up in a private sitting room where Rhaegar held a lot of his personal appointments. The room had been arranged with him in mind, so there was a suitable chair for him to sit in and a place to store his cane within arms reach. She didn't care where they did it, this conversation just needed to happen.

"Wait out here!" Rhaegar commanded both knights. Daenerys had no desire to have Jorah join her, but she almost protested, purely out of spite. She decided to save her strength for more appropriate battles.

He didn't wait long. As soon as Barristan had the door closed between them, Rhaegar was yelling. "What in Seven Hells are you doing?"

"About what?"

Rhaegar had been going to his chair but he stopped and looked back. "You can't do this Dany. You just can't."

She pressed him for specifics, annoyed by the vague approach he was taking to his very specific objections. "I can't be happy? Just because everyone else is miserable doesn't mean I have to be too."

He got only a step closer to his chair before her words made him stop one more time. "No one is saying you can't be happy. I want you to be happy…"

She laughed bitterly. "Let me guess, as long as I'm with someone suitable. Everyone thought Elia was suitable for you, tell me, how happy were you?"

"That's different," he defended weakly, limping to his seat.

"Or it's not, and you're just running out of excuses."

She stood behind the chair directly opposite him, at the other end of the table. It gave her a clear view of his stunned expression. "What's wrong with you?"

With her? Playing dumb wouldn't work this time. "Since when does there have to be something wrong with me? Why, because I did something the great Rhaegar Targaryen doesn't agree with? Guess what big brother, if that's how you keep score there is something wrong with a lot of people."

He didn't respond until he was sitting at the table, with an expansive collection of food and drink he'd ordered hours earlier and never used laid out before him. "What were you thinking? This is reckless and stupid."

"If this is what you brought me here to talk about, I'm going to leave. My private life is neither urgent nor concerns the Realm."

"You're not leaving!" he spat angrily.

"Because you say so?" she challenged. "Why should I care what you think?" She took a step toward the door to prove her willingness to go.

He threw up his hands. "Damn it, Dany! I'm trying to help you! What do you think Father will do if he finds out?!"

His attempt to make himself look like he was doing her a favor was all too familiar. He did it frequently when they disagreed and it usually persuaded her, but not this time. It also reminded her of his telling of his past, when he made it seem like all the horrible things that happened were merely unfortunate coincidences, without acknowledging that he set them in motion. "Now you want to help me," she barked furiously. "Yesterday I begged for help. I offered you anything you wanted, and you claimed you were powerless. Now, because it is convenient for you, I'm supposed to accept your generous help?"

Something lit the fuse inside Rhaegar and in an instant he was just as enraged as she was. "Don't play the victim! You threatened to tell Aemon what you know."

If that was his biggest concern, he vastly underestimated Daenerys's anger with him, the castle and its inhabitants. "So, you let Arya get whipped to punish me, to see me suffer? I think I liked it better when I thought you were spineless."

That hit its mark. Rhaegar fumed. "Watch your mouth Dany. I know you're angry but…"

"But what," she roared, "why can't you just admit you are afraid of Father?"

"He's the King, and our father. I show him the respect he deserves, something you seem to have forgotten how to do!"

"Yes," Daenerys agreed, "he is our father, but so what? Yesterday our father had an innocent woman whipped and for what?"

"What did you think would happen?" he shouted from his end of the table. "The King gave her a job to do and she failed to do it. She's lucky it was just the whip."

Although there was probably some truth in his hurtful comment, especially the last part, Daenerys didn't want to hear it. Luckily her anger quickly overwhelmed the guilt she felt over why Arya failed her assigned task. She could carry the blame later, for now, she needed to focus on the fury. "Would you say that if it was Lyanna upstairs with her back torn up?"

"Don't," he growled, raising a hand as if he could swat away her uncomfortable comparison. "That's not the same thing, it's not even close!"

Oh, how wrong he was. She and Rhaegar were practically tripping over one another their relationships were so twisted. He loved Lyanna, she loves Arya, Aemon, the war, the Starks. "You loved Lyanna, I love Arya, I'd say that's the same."

It was clear from the momentary flash of surprise that passed over him that Rhaegar hadn't thought of that. He assumed after finding them that she'd taken Arya into her bed, but he hadn't yet considered that it might be more than sex. "No!" he announced, like a stiff refusal from the beloved Prince would fix everything. "You can't. If Father finds out, if anyone finds out..." he trailed off and then summarized, "you just can't."

That excuse might have scared her into obedience once but not today. She'd faced down Grand Maester Pycelle, and Jorah already, she wasn't about to wither just because Rhaegar commanded it. "Why would Father care!?" she shouted back. "Why do you? I'm a Targaryen, remember. We can do no wrong."

"You can't do this Dany," Rhaegar tried. "She's in your service, and she's not even sworn to this house. She's a Martell."

"So, I have a consort. I'm hardly the first, right brother?"

"She serves you, it's not right," he said again, as his defense got flimsier. "Targaryen's don't make consorts of bastards."

"Since when?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes to let him know exactly what she thought of that particular excuse. "Viserys ran around this castle for years ordering anyone who couldn't refuse him to bed," she reminded him hotly.

"You don't want to be like Viserys."

She ignored him. "Did you know he threatened them?" she asked seriously, genuinely curious if Rhaegar knew how depraved the younger Prince was. "He said if they refused him, or if they told anyone, he'd go to Father and claim they were plotting against him."

"By the Gods."

"Did you know?" she asked directly, remembering the night Arya was faced with that same terrible choice. Had the brother that was supposed to protect her and all of Westeros known and let it go on? There was a time when she wouldn't have even needed to ask but those days were behind them.

"I knew he took women to bed, but I didn't know he threatened them."

"He did," she confirmed. "I heard it from one of women he propositioned."

"That's horrible," Rhaegar admitted, "but Viserys is not you. You need to do better. End things, let her return to Dorne with Oberyn, and we can all move past this." He softened his voice, turning kind and benevolent despite the yelling.

"Are we done here?" she asked plainly, tiring of this pointless conversation.

"We agree then. She'll return to Sunspear?"

She groaned in frustration. "Is that what you heard? I'm not doing anything wrong. If you want to tell Father go ahead, but I love Arya and I'm not going to pretend otherwise to appease you or anyone else. Go on," she invited him, "tell me if it was you in my place and Lyanna in Arya's, tell me you'd do any different!"

On her way to the door, she cursed her choice to get out of bed. She could have spent the time with Arya instead of engaging in this pitiful back and forth with her brother. She had her hand on the knob before he replied. "Daenerys, wait."

She was tempted to slide out the door, but something made her pause. She looked in his direction. "Yes?"

"Yesterday can't happen again," he said firmly.

On that much at least they could agree. "You're right," she told him, it can't."

Any common ground she thought they'd found fell away immediately. "No," he corrected. "I mean Aemon. You can never threaten to use what you know about Lyanna against me like that again. Do you understand?"

And there it was, the reason for all of this. The urgent meeting, the danger to the Realm, it had nothing to do with Arya or her, that was all noise. The real reason he was upset, the only reason she was worthy of his time at all was because he was scared she'd tell Aemon. How pathetic. Hiding his fears behind concern for her and outrage at Arya, but it was selfishness. She was reminded of how he described his behavior before the war. 'It was selfish' he said of him and Lyanna running away without telling anyone. Not much had changed.

She had the door partially open before Rhaegar's booming authoritative voice reached her. "Tell me you understand Daenerys, this is not a game."

She threw the door back into its place with force, letting it slam. Then she spun on her heel to face him. "Exactly, it's not a game, it's your son's life and his happiness. Tell him the fucking truth," she implored. "He deserves it."

"That's not up to you!" he told her as if it was undisputable.

She had the door open again before she left him with one final thought. "Unless it is."

R-C

Author's Note: Daenerys isn't done with Rhaegar by a longshot, and her latest fight with Jorah is my favorite. No turning back now. I hope everyone who has waited this long is happy with Daenerys.

Lots more to come.

Happy Holidays. See you in the New Year.

Russell Craig.