Arya laid awake and squinted in the dark as she tried to memorize the woman next to her. The warmth, the softness, she refused to forget any of it. Even with Oberyn's new tonic, every action brought pain. Daenerys clinging to her added more but Arya didn't have the heart to remove her. Not when she was very likely running out of chances to be with the Dragon she loved.

There would be time to rest and recover later. For now, she just wanted to soak up every second she could. She had to go back. Not long ago, that was all she wanted in the world. Now, the thought caused a knot to form in her stomach. How could she leave Daenerys, after everything? She didn't want to, but what choice did she have? Aerys and Rhaegar were making it for her.

Daenerys had been defiant. She wanted to fight, to disobey and face the consequences but Arya couldn't let her do that. Before her last trip to the throne room, she intended to stay in King's Landing by severing her ties to House Martell and pledging her sword to the Targaryens instead. She really believed it would have worked. Unfortunately, in her current state that wasn't possible, and she didn't think Rhaegar was going to wait patiently for her to heal. He wanted her away from the Princess, and one way or another, she would be.

After Daenerys's defiance came bargaining. She wanted to fix it, and she thought she could. Twice she tried to leave, to find her father or her brother or both, but each time Arya persuaded her to stay. She told her it was because she wanted to spend every available moment with her, and while that was true, Arya had a secondary motive. She didn't want Daenerys placing herself in danger trying to change anyone's mind. Not only did that have a low probability of success it also exposed Daenerys to grave danger. Although she liked to think her family would never harm her physically, the foster who'd suffered the whip wasn't willing to bet Daenerys's life on the likes of Aerys and Rhaegar. If she had to go, the least she could do was ensure she didn't leave too great a mess behind her.

In addition to Daenerys, she also had Oberyn to contend with. He looked livid when Daenerys started crying and physically pained when she began blaming herself for their predicament. He let the guard do the majority of the comforting but agreed when Arya made it clear that none of the blame belonged on Daenerys.

He excused himself not long after and to be honest Arya wasn't inclined to give it another thought. She was busy trying to calm her lover and assumed Oberyn was just giving them a little bit of privacy. She would have continued believing that if the Targaryen hadn't stopped sobbing long enough to inquire about where he was going. It was while they waited for the answer that Arya's eyes met Oberyn's and she saw what she could only describe as a flicker of guilt. It was as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. He assured Daenerys it was nothing important, just some business he needed to resolve before they left for Dorne. The royal accepted his excuse, Arya didn't. She knew him too well, and knew he was planning something.

In the end she let him go because she was powerless to stop him and because she knew the Red Viper could take care of himself. Daenerys needed Arya far more than he did.

"I love you," she whispered to the sleeping woman. She may not be able to hear, but Arya was running out of opportunities to say it so she seized this one.

R-C

It wasn't because of her back that Arya was awake when Daenerys woke with a gasp, wide eyed but seeing nothing, frantically grabbing for the person next to her. She knew the signs, knew what they meant and knew Daenerys wasn't thinking. With that in mind she bit her cheek hard and tried to stifle the scream as a frightened Daenerys clawed into her bandaged hip. "Not…so…tight.." she spit between her teeth.

There was another gasp, this one much more natural. Daenerys released Arya and threw herself in the opposite direction of the guard. By the time Arya had reins on her pain, Daenerys was off the bed entirely, clutching the sheet in front of her body wearing a look of absolute horror.

"I'm alright," Arya informed her before the string of apologizes could start, hoping it would settle some of the unrest Daenerys was sure to be feeling.

The words made Daenerys more frantic instead of less. "I'm so sorry. I knew it was a bad idea, I never should have…"

Not even the pain of getting whipped could keep her in the bed. Daenerys needed her and she was useless to the woman she loved lying down.

Daenerys saw her move and immediately misinterpreted the meaning. "What are you… oh are you hurt? Are you going to get the Maester, I can…"

"Stop," Arya pleaded, hoping the request got through. "Please, just stop."

Daenerys was afraid to touch her, but when Arya struggled to stand as she had the day before, Daenerys couldn't refrain from offering aid. Arya took it, straightened up but maintained her hold on the Princess's hand. "I'm sorry," she repeated, already near tears.

"Look at me," Arya instructed. Easing her guilt would be difficult if Daenerys refused to look at her. "Please Daenerys, I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt anymore."

There was a sniffle or two before she said, "I hurt you. You aren't supposed to hurt the people you love. I don't want to be that kind of person. I don't want to be like…"

She didn't finish, but Arya had heard plenty. She could think of a few people Daenerys probably didn't want to imitate. The vulnerability and the pain were obvious, and they cut deep. "You," Arya said, shuffling a bit closer, "are nothing like them. What happened was an accident, you were asleep and didn't know what you were doing."

"I still did it, and I chose to get in the bed. I should've known better."

She sighed, lacing her fingers with the Targaryen's. Daenerys appeared even more stubborn than usual today. "I quite liked having you in my arms again. Even if it hurts sometimes, it is absolutely worth it."

With a watery laugh Daenerys finally looked up. Arya reached out, a bit unsteady with her free hand and wiped away some of the tears. She looked so utterly broken Arya felt tears of her own threaten. "Oh sweetheart, it's going to be okay, just breathe."

They ended up sitting side by side on the bed. Arya was leaning on Daenerys a little more than she might've otherwise, but apart from that, she didn't feel too bad. Perhaps Oberyn's magic tonic was more than dirty water and horse piss.

"I had a nightmare," Daenerys confessed after a lot of quiet. Her crying had stopped, and they were just together, content to be sharing the same space.

'I know,' is what Arya was tempted to say. She had enough experience with nightmares to spot one. Any doubts she had while she watched Daenerys dream disappeared when she woke up and was so intensely emotional. "About what?" she asked instead, deciding supporting her was more important than proving her own intelligence.

"I dreamt you were gone. I woke up and you weren't there," Daenerys explained in a rush.

Arya leaned over a little more, a physical reminder that the dream was over, and that she wasn't gone, yet. "I'm still here," she whispered.

"Not for long," Daenerys complained. It was quiet and subdued, but moments later she was speaking loudly, fueled by a fire inside. "I can't believe Rhaegar would do this to me. He's supposed to protect me, to love me!"

Arya didn't know if she was supposed to respond to that or not. "He probably thinks he is protecting you," she eventually contributed.

"I don't need protection from you!" Daenerys declared passionately.

"He doesn't know that. He likely `thinks he's helping." Defending Rhaegar Targaryen made her sick, but he was Daenerys's brother, and once Arya was gone, Daenerys would need him.

"Or he just wants to see me suffer," she retorted bitterly.

"Do you really think he'd do that to you?"

She gave it some consideration before replying. "After yesterday, anything is possible. He was furious that I threatened to tell Aemon the truth."

"If you think he's upset now," Arya pointed out, "wait until tonight, after you've done more than threaten."

Without warning Daenerys sprung up onto her feet. Her absence almost toppled Arya, but the guard managed to get her hand down in the spot Daenerys vacated, providing the necessary stability to keep her upright. "That's it," she decided, "I'll make a bargain."

As badly as she wanted to remain with Daenerys, Arya knew there were limits to what she was willing to do to achieve her goal. Daenerys didn't seem to be bound by the same restraints. It wasn't because Daenerys didn't care, in fact it was the opposite, she cared too much. She was becoming desperate and Arya knew desperate people did dangerous things. She didn't want that for her lover. "Rhaegar knows about us. If you go to him and ask him to let me stay, he'll assume it's because you want to keep me as your consort, regardless of the reasons you give."

"I know," she acknowledged. "He wants you gone, the only way he'll let you stay is if we make him a better offer."

Arya definitely did not like where this was heading. "Like what?" she asked. "We have little the Prince desires."

Daenerys who was pacing in front of Arya stopped moving and faced her. "That's not true. He wants my silence."

Her heart sunk. "Daenerys, you can't…"

"He wants me to keep his secrets, well then fine, but it's going to cost him. If I agree not to tell Aemon, he will have to let you stay."

"You can't do that." She held out a hand and waited for Daenerys to take it. "I love you, and I'd do almost anything to be with you, but not that. We can't do that to Aemon. He needs to know who he is."

"I need you more."

She shook her head. "You'll have me, forever, I am yours, but we can't trade our happiness for Aemon's. I know you, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. It would ruin you."

"So, I'm just… I'm just supposed to let you leave? Watch you board some ship and sail off to Dorne?"

Arya smiled sadly. "Yes," she confirmed, "you let me go, but you always remember that I love you. No matter where I go, or how many miles are between us, you will be the woman I love."

Breaking down again Daenerys climbed into Arya's lap, taking care not to injure her in the process. "This isn't fair," she repeated over and over again as she cried.

Arya kept one hand on the bed for balance and used the other to stroke the softest hair she'd ever touched. "It isn't, but you're a survivor. You'll make it through this. We can write letters, and once I heal, I can get myself assigned to guard shipments bound for the capital. We will see each other again, I promise."

There was a humorless chuckle from somewhere in her arms. "You'd hate that," Daenerys predicted, "guarding crates of wine and spices, travelling from Sunspear to King's Landing again and again."

"I can think of worse ways to earn a living," Arya commented, doing her best to sound casual. She was right of course, Arya would be bored as fuck and feel completely useless guarding shipments but what was the alternative? The prospect of never seeing Daenerys again was infinitely more terrifying than any boredom. If she had to spend the remainder of her life bouncing back and forth between Sunspear and King's Landing just so she could steal a few more moments with her Dragon, then that was exactly what Arya Stark was going to do.

R-C

She didn't bother knocking. It was pointless to waste energy on insincere courtesies when there was no chance of a peaceful resolution. The door was unguarded, additional, unnecessary proof of the hypocrisy she lived with. Rhaegar had as remote a chance of surviving an attack as Daenerys did, but no one required Barristan to follow him everywhere. The precious Prince got to pick and choose when he was protected, but because she was a woman, she couldn't venture outside her bedchamber without Jorah or someone like him serving as her shadow.

The guard wasn't with her now. She told Jorah she was going to take a much-needed nap after spending the night with Arya, and suggested he do the same. She waited just long enough to ensure he was gone, and then she went to accomplish her true objective.

She walked in on Westeros's Crown Prince shaving. He twisted, nearly falling as he tried to face whoever was barging into his room. His face was coated with cream, and he clenched his razor tightly until he recognized his sister as the intruder. He threw the razor down next to the bucket of water. "Gods Dany, what are you doing?!"

He wiped his face clean without actually removing the hair. He dropped the towel carelessly and then reached for his cane. On another day she might've helped, but for once, possibly the first time in her life she didn't care if he had to struggle for it. "I could ask you the same thing. Why are you sending Arya back to Sunspear?"

"Her job is done," he stated simply, as if he had no ulterior motive for ordering her away. "It's time for her to go home."

His indifference, real or false, bothered her. "Her home is here! With me."

"No, it isn't!" he disagreed, just as fiercely. "You're a Targaryen, a Princess and she's…"

"She's what?" Daenerys snapped, taking a full step toward her brother. "Go on," she urged him, "I want you to say the words. Tell me she's just some poor Dornish bastard." He said nothing, he just stared at her as though he was looking through her. Somehow it was more hurtful than when he spoke. "Do it!" she commanded. "Do it, and then ask yourself if Lyanna had been the miller's daughter, or a Snow instead of a Northern Princess, would it have made any difference to you?"

The mere mention of Lyanna's name had his jaw clenching and his grip on the cane tightening. "That's different."

"You keep saying that, but it really isn't. You fell in love with Lyanna, and didn't care what anyone thought, not Father, the Martells or Robert Baratheon. Is it so hard to believe I feel the same way about Arya?"

"It doesn't matter," he maintained. "Father has already decided. She'll be leaving as soon as the Maester says she's healthy enough to travel."

If he was dead set on being stubborn, refused to listen to anything she had to say, and insisted on making everything difficult, then so be it. Two could play this game. "Fine, perhaps I'll go with her then. I loved Sunspear, I think I'd be happy there."

Rhaegar's expression showed that he hadn't anticipated that. Whether it was because he steadfastly refused to acknowledge the similarities between her situation with Arya and his past with Lyanna, or if his motives were more innocent, she couldn't say, she could only tell he never thought his compliant little sister would threaten to run away from their home. "You can't! Father would never allow it."

She rolled her eyes. So predictable. The minute he was challenged or made to feel uncomfortable he relied on the Targaryen name and their Father's madness to get his way. Not this time. "I wasn't planning to ask for permission."

His face reddened with every word in their exchange and Daenerys didn't think it was because of his weak legs. "Don't even joke," he barked, "do you have any idea what Father would do if you left?" He asked the question and then immediately delivered the answer. "He'd burn the world down to find you and when he did, he'd hold everyone within a hundred miles accountable for your disappearance. You think he's bloodthirsty now, just you wait, you have no idea how deep that particular well goes."

Mentioning their father's illness provided Daenerys with a reminder that before she and Rhaegar were at each other's throats, they were allies. They had agreed to work together to replace Aerys. Perhaps mentioning their past bond could help them find some common ground. "I believe you, which is why he shouldn't be King anymore. He slaughtered an entire family because you fell in love with Lyanna."

"He'd do it again without a second thought."

Unfortunately, she didn't doubt that. "If he wasn't King, he wouldn't be able to. Our disagreements aside, I agreed to help you, and I will. Have you arranged the allies you need to remove Father from power?"

"That doesn't matter right now," he told her as he limped toward his chair. "Even if Father wasn't King, she'd still be gone."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't belong here," he said, lowering himself down.

Outrage didn't come close to accurately describing what was bubbling up under the surface. She didn't want to think that Rhaegar really believed that. That he truly felt Arya was unworthy because of who he thought she was, or who he assumed her parents were, but unfortunately for all of them, Daenerys did think he was being honest. It fell in line too perfectly with a whole lifetime of memories and experiences to be an exaggeration. "Were you always like this?" she wondered, asking herself as much as him.

"Excuse me?"

"All those years, when Father was whispering about dragons and fire ending the world, when Viserys was taking his hatred of you out on me, I actually believed you cared about me. I thought you were one of the few people in this world who actually wanted me to be happy."

"I do want you to be happy…" he started.

She wasn't interested. "Was I happy before Dorne brother?" she challenged. "Was I happy before Missandei? The only friend I had, our father literally purchased for me, like a necklace. Do you understand how disgusting that is?!"

"You will be happy. It won't always be this way. You'll go to Highgarden, you liked it there. You'll be happy, I know it."

He said all the right things, and it probably would have been enough a year earlier, it was less convincing now. "Highgarden?" she repeated back sarcastically.

"The Tyrells are good people. The Reach is a good place."

She scoffed. "It may be, but I won't be happy there."

"You never know, you might surprise yourself."

"I do know," she assured him. "I'll be no happier with Loras Tyrell as my husband than he will be having me for his wife."

That caused Rhaegar to reconsider whatever he planned to say next. He appraised his sister carefully before asking, "You know? About Loras?"

She laughed humorlessly. "No, I naively failed to notice my future husband would rather be marrying you than me."

"Why did you agree? You were in charge of the negotiations, you could have declined."

She saw no reason to skirt the truth. If he wanted to know why she was willing to enter into a fake marriage with Loras, she'd tell him, but he wasn't going to like the answer. "I decided if I was going to be whored out by my family to strengthen relations with another kingdom, I could do worse than the Tyrells."

As expected, he took offense to her characterization of the arrangement. "Wait a minute, that's not fair…"

She ignored his pitiful complaint. "I decided that I'd prefer a husband with no interest in me over one with too much interest."

"You aren't being fair Dany," he claimed, falling into his role as the wise, displeased older brother. "Not all marriages are bad. Sometimes they work well."

Not for her. "I love Arya, that's the truth whether you want to accept it or not. I'll always love her, and no wedding to some noble in front of the Gods, a Septon and hundreds of guests I don't care about is going to change that."

"You're young. You won't feel this way forever," he said, repeating an earlier assertion.

She was unimpressed by his foresight. "This from the man who has been pining for his lost love for decades? I don't think you get to say that to me."

"Stop that!" he shouted. "Stop pretending what you have with some soldier is anything close to what Lyanna and I had. You don't have a clue!"

His unwillingness to see what was right in front of him baffled her. She decided to show him that she wasn't as clueless as he thought. In fact, on this subject she had more information than he did. "Did you know Ned Stark had children?" she asked rhetorically. "Five, three boys and two girls."

"Reading more dusty books?" he spat rudely.

Daenerys let the comment pass. "The middle son was just a boy. Father had his legs crushed with the same Warhammer that broke yours."

"Horseshit. That's impossible. I told you Father killed the Starks years ago. Where did you hear that anyway?" Although he worked hard to appear unaffected, his face lost color and his eyes turned empty.

"From someone who was there," she announced proudly, wanting him to realize the value of her knowledge. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am, and I'm not blind either. What happened to the Starks, to Lyanna's family and so many others will keep happening unless we do something to stop it."

She didn't think he'd suddenly heed her words and agree to be named King tomorrow, but she wasn't ready for the response she got either. Grabbing the first thing within reach, Rhaegar took his cane and threw it across the room. It collided with a painting on the wall and they both fell to the ground. "What exactly do you think I can do Daenerys? He's the fucking King."

"He's a deranged man who is a danger to everyone and everything. Having no King is better than bending the knee to a man like that."

"Careful," he warned, pointing a shaking finger at her. "He's still your father, and mine."

Daenerys was unmoved by the familial connection. "That only makes what has to happen more tragic. It doesn't change anything else."

Seeming to have run out of anger, the Prince was resigned and almost defeated when he said, "You're wrong. You think replacing Father will fix Westeros, but it won't. He might be the one people fear, but he's not the only powerful man in the capital with a taste for torture and revenge."

Daenerys didn't expect things to change immediately, but she knew replacing their father was the logical first step. "We have to begin somewhere."

"And what about all the others?" he inquired, "they're not as mad as him, but they're just as greedy and selfish and violent?"

The answer was obvious to her. "We replace them too."

"With who?" He looked her in the eye and gave her a sober assessment of their world. "If we did as you're suggesting, if we even could, there would be no one left."

"I don't believe that. There are good people out there. We could find them."

Rhaegar didn't approve of her optimism. "Is that your expert opinion?"

"Do you have a better idea?" she fired back bluntly.

"Yes. We save ourselves a lot of pain and heartache and just accept that somethings can't be fixed. We'll live the best lives we can, and that'll just have to be enough."

"It isn't enough," Daenerys yelled, "it's not even close." When had her brother become such a defeatist? Was she oblivious to who he was, seeing only the good, or had he changed? "What about the people? Millions of people live in the Realm and they deserve better than this."

"The people," he scoffed, "you're worried about them?" Shaking his head Rhaegar ran his hand over the stubble she prevented him from shaving off. "Let me tell you something about those people, half of them would kill you, rape you or both for a handful of gold dragons, and the others, they don't give a fuck about who sits on the Iron Throne."

"You don't mean that," she checked, hoping he'd confess to overstating things.

"I know it," he declared boldly. "Most parents don't care which noble rules their land, they want food for their children, a roof over their heads and a few coins in their pockets, that's all. It's only us highborn who care about the rest of it."

She honestly wasn't sure if she preferred this Rhaegar over the one who ridiculed her and screamed. He was emotionless, as if he were recounting a story that meant nothing to him. "All the more reason for change," she tried.

"You want to fix something that's already rotted to the core. Removing one man and replacing him with another won't change a thing."

Maybe he was right, but didn't they have to attempt it? Wasn't it better to take a shot and miss, than to be too afraid to pick up the bow? "Then we scoop out the rot and replace it with something different."

"You're not hearing me," he said, sounding tired. "It's too late."

She refused to relent. "No! If you were King, things could be different. With the Small Council's support, we could do it."

Rhaegar surprised her by smiling. "You remind me of myself sometimes."

"Really? We don't agree on much these days."

His smile turned sad. "Not this me, the man I used to be. Before," he looked down at his legs. "I wanted to change the world too once. I wanted to fix all the problems and make it possible for every man in every kingdom to prosper under my rule."

"What happened?" she couldn't help but ask. If her brother had felt that way once, maybe she could help him find that again. If she could bring back that man, maybe she could persuade him to let Arya stay.

"I wanted to be King once, I wanted to be a good King, a just King. I had so many dreams. I thought I'd raise my children to sit on the throne after me and they'd raise their children after them."

She was struck by his use of past tense. What did he mean he 'wanted to be King once?' That day was coming regardless. "It's not too late."

"It is," he insisted without malice. "I haven't cared about any of that for a long time."

Daenerys knew what the defining moment in Rhaegar's life was, so it wasn't difficult to make sense of his vague, incomplete explanations. She was still upset with him, angry that he tried to remove Arya from her life, but something compelled her to show empathy. "You changed, after everything you went through, how could you not?"

She didn't think it was a stretch to assume her efforts to support him fell on deaf ears. When he spoke, he had a far away look in his eyes, she didn't think he was speaking to her anymore. "The day I met Lyanna, my world started spinning in the other direction. Nothing felt familiar anymore, not my home, not my wife, not my children. I tried to continue on, to forget, but then a courier hand-delivered a letter from Winterfell." Daenerys hung on every word, hoping it would provide the clarity she was lacking. "For months I acted as if nothing had changed, but everything had. I had. The life I was living with Elia, my responsibilities as Prince, none of it felt real. I was merely existing, smiling, laughing, eating, sleeping, waiting for the next letter to come. Each time I sent a courier North with a reply, a little more of me went with them."

Daenerys didn't know where to begin or what to say, so she remained silence. Not unlike the last time they discussed Lyanna Stark, Daenerys acknowledged that this wasn't the conversation she thought she'd be having with her brother this morning. She just hoped something he said, would provide a hint of the path forward. Was she destined to repeat history and run away just like Rhaegar had, and with another Stark no less?

"It hit me like a bolt of lightning," he continued, staring at the wall behind her, "I was sitting next to my wife, with my son in my lap, Elia was talking about how things would change once I was King and it just occurred to me, right then I knew I didn't want any of it. Not my family, not the throne, not the power or the responsibility, nothing. I sent Elia and the children away the next day."

The way he said it, more so than the words themselves sent a chill down Daenerys's spine. He was talking about abandoning his family and it didn't seem to trouble him in the least. Well, she wasn't as indifferent. "I met them you know, while I was at the Water Gardens, Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys. They're good people. Don't you care about them? Are you really so cold that you don't care about your son and your daughter?"

"I just told you," he said, looking at her and really seeing her for the first time in a while, "from that day at Harrenhal, all I wanted was her."

She tried to be understanding, to see things from his perspective, but she couldn't manage it. Her patience was at its end. "She's gone, so now what?"

He shrugged, unbothered by her frustration. "Now nothing," he told her, "I raise Aemon as best I can, I try to make him into the man she'd want him to be."

"Father isn't going to live forever!" she pointed out. "You're heir to the throne."

"I don't want it," he barked, before he scrubbed his hands down his face hard. "Are you listening? I don't fucking want it, none of it, the castle, the throne, the crown, they can keep it."

She couldn't believe he was behaving so childishly. "Who exactly do you think is going to be the next King then?" She paused but he didn't provide any insight into his thinking. "Viserys?" she guessed first, already dreading the thought. "Aemon?" she chose next. It was slight, but there was a momentary change in the set of his jaw. And just like that so many separate pieces fit together. She'd been viewing them as individual, as disconnected, but when weaved together with this new information, it painted a clear picture of her brother's intentions. "You want Aemon to rule after Father," she realized. It wasn't a question, she wasn't asking. She kept following the same road. "That's why you haven't let him go to the Wall, why you haven't told anyone about your grand plans, because you know Father will never give Aemon the throne. If he knew what you intended to do, he'd name Viserys his heir in a heartbeat, so you keep him happy by pretending to be the heir he's always wanted."

He did nothing in word or deed to correct or affirm her ideas, but he didn't need to. It made too much sense to be wrong. "There is a flaw in your scheme."

"What's that?"

"Well for one thing, Aemon doesn't want the throne anymore than you do and even if he did, he's got less experience in politics than I do. You can't expect him to wake up the day after Father dies and become King."

It was short-lived but there was a smile on Rhaegar's face for an instant. Daenerys couldn't be positive, but she got the impression her brother was pleased by her logic. "All Aemon has ever wanted is to belong, when I give him that chance, he'll take it," the father predicted, "and yes, he will have a lot to learn, but I'll be there to help him."

She'd been wrong. Rhaegar's plot wasn't flawed at all. He'd thought of everything. Including, it occurred to her, manipulating the stupid Princess to meet his needs. "You lied to me," she accused him hotly. Her mind was still coming to terms with the implications of his confession, but there were a few undeniable elements. "You let me believe you were going to replace Father soon. Did you have any intention of actually doing that?"

He averted his eyes before he justified the inexcusable. "The timing wasn't right. Aemon isn't ready, the Realm isn't ready."

"The Tyrells agreed. Maybe the Realm is more ready than you think."

He sighed and immediately placed the blame on her. "I told you not to discuss it with them, I told you to wait."

That request made a lot more sense now. "Of course, because me talking to Olenna might interfere." She shook her head. "You're just like the rest of them, Father, Tywin, Viserys, Jorah, Daario, Varys, Illyrio, everyone just uses me to get what they want and then tosses me aside."

"That's not…"

"Yes, you did!" Why would he lie now? The damage was done. She knew more than enough to decide for herself what his reasons were. "You knew, you knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted me quiet and agreeable, and after Arya was nearly executed, that was unlikely, so you told me what I wanted to hear and led me to believe we would be able to keep her safe."

She waited for him to look at her. He didn't, so she just kept waiting. Eventually he glanced up. "Did you know Jorah made it all up?" she pressed. Her blood felt like it was burning the underside of her skin. "Arya sought him out that morning before she went into the city, she asked him to guard me until she got back, and he turned around and ran to you and to Father to try and have her killed."

She observed him carefully, curious to learn if he knew Jorah's accusation was a ploy. She didn't like what she saw, the details were new to him, but the concept of Jorah using false claims to achieve his ends wasn't surprising. "That was unfortunate but it's over. She's…"

Daenerys lunged toward her seated brother, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Say the word 'fine,'" she hissed, "and I will rip the tongue from your skull."

He used his bigger, stronger hands to knock hers away and she retreated rather than attacking again. "Calm down," he demanded.

That was not going to happen now or any time in the near future. "She's not fine!" Daenerys screamed. "She was whipped like an animal in front of an audience. She can't stand up straight without help and the pain is so horrible she can't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time."

"She was sleeping fine when I walked in," he quipped, referencing catching them lying together in bed.

She refused to be ashamed, willing herself not to blush or look away. "Trust me, that was for my benefit much more than hers. I hadn't slept since it happened, and I was starting to unravel."

Rhaegar definitely didn't like the idea that Daenerys was in the instigator. For that reason alone, she kept going. "Think about it, she could barely move, if I didn't want to be there, she couldn't have held me against my will."

Bitter and petty, Rhaegar reminded her of Viserys when he responded with, "That won't be a problem anymore."

She clamped her teeth together and growled. "It was never a problem," she clarified. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, trying to get to the root of his actions. It took a moment, but the answer Rhaegar wouldn't give came to her without him doing more than meet her eye. It gave her another line of attack. She didn't hesitate. "What do you care if I spend my nights naked next to some dark-haired, grey-eyed woman?"

"Stop!" he insisted.

His reaction made it known that her instincts were true. "I thought you were simply determined to see me as miserable as you," Daenerys continued, undeterred by his command, she lashed out again, "but that isn't it, is it?" She gave him the chance to speak for himself and when he didn't take it, she said what he wouldn't. "I know why you want her gone, I know why you won't let her stay no matter how happy she makes me, and I know why you've detested everything about her since the day those guards dragged her before us in chains."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

For a liar as practiced and skilled as her brother, that was utterly pathetic. Daenerys kept pressing. "Arya looks like her, doesn't she? It's the eyes I bet."

"Stop!"

The time for stopping was behind them. Daenerys had foolishly believed she and Rhaegar were on the same side, when in actuality, he was just manipulating her like everyone else. "Does seeing us together bring the memories back?" The haunted expression on his face didn't slow her in the slightest. "Do you envy me or hate me?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted in a rare flash of honesty.

Three times Daenerys tired to speak, but the words got caught on their way out, leaving only tension thick enough to cut between them. What was left to say after that?

"I'm doing you a favor," he remarked. "There are things you can change in this world and things you can't. The worst thing you can do Dany is not know the difference."

"So I should just give up, like you did?"

He sighed. "Listen," he encouraged, "and really hear what I'm telling you - The Realm has been like this for a long time, since long before Father lost his mind, and it'll be the same long after our children's, children's bones turn to dust. Nothing you or I can say or do will change that."

That was nothing short of entirely unacceptable. Daenerys would not just sit by and let them take the woman she loved from her. If Rhaegar wouldn't help, she'd find others who would. Before she said goodbye to Arya, she had to know she did everything in her power to keep them together.

"Speak for yourself. You may be ready to give up, but I'm not. I'm not going to let this happen. You can either help me or get the fuck out of my way!"

"What are you going to do?" She didn't respond she just turned and moved for the door. She heard the grunts of effort that accompanied her injured brother trying to stand, but she wasn't worried, she knew he wouldn't be able to catch her. "Where are you going?"

"To see Aemon," she mumbled under her breath, before she slammed the door between them.

R-C

The cursed as she tried and failed to get her shirt over her head. "Fuck!" Not even Oberyn's tonic could make this a tolerable experience.

Pycelle and the other Maesters had arrived just after dawn. Daenerys was already gone and although she didn't leave a note the guard had a pretty good idea where she'd disappeared to. The Maesters cleaned her wounds, applied fresh bandages and then declared her well. She was presented with a small pouch of tonics and advised she was free to return to the barracks. She wouldn't be sad to see another set of walls, but the sudden push to get out the door only reminded her that it wasn't just the room she needed to vacate. Rhaegar wanted her out of the capital and no matter how persuasive Daenerys was, that wasn't going to change.

"Can I help?" a soft voice asked from somewhere behind the disgruntled woman.

"You don't…"

"Let me help," Missandei pleaded, coming closer.

"Surely you have better things to do."

She paused like she was giving it a fair amount of consideration and then she said, "I can't think of any."

"I need a favor," she admitted as she resigned herself to accepting the offered aid.

Good natured as always, Missandei only smiled. "Before or after we get you dressed?"

"After," Arya answered. Missandei was careful and gentle as she helped Arya get the shirt over her head. It still hurt, but not nearly as bad as it would've without the slave's assistance. "Thank you," she said as soon as she was sure the worst of the discomfort was over. "I thought my days of having a servant help me dress were behind me."

"I'm flattered you're making an exception for me," Missandei joked, as she provided the necessary support Arya needed to stand. The guard had gotten her legs into her pants before Missandei arrived but was still figuring out how to pull them up without inviting agony or falling on her ass. "How are you feeling?" she asked once the pants were up and Arya was safely seated on the bed.

"Every day is a little better," she explained. "I'll be okay."

Missandei pondered that, likely deciding if she believed it, and then moved on. "The favor?"

Arya took a deep breath. "I need you to watch out for Daenerys."

Misunderstanding the reason for the request, the handmaiden was quick to provide reassurance. "You don't need to worry, you said yourself, you'll be recovered soon, and Daenerys will be fine."

"I hope so, but I'm afraid I won't be here to see it."

This had Missandei's full and undivided attention. "Why not?"

"Rhaegar found out about us," Arya summarized, "he wants me gone and the Maesters just told me I was healthy enough to travel, so they are sending me back to Dorne."

"Can they do that? It's only been a few days, it's much too soon."

She smiled at the worried woman. "The Prince isn't concerned with my welfare. He wants me far away as quickly as possible."

"When do you leave?"

"As soon as Oberyn and the ship are ready," she guessed.

"There must be something we can do," Missandei countered, sounding remarkably like the Princess she served. "We can…"

They were wasting their time on the wrong things. Arya tried to redirect her by reaching for her hand. Missandei provided it so she wouldn't need to stretch. "Take care of her, please. She's going to be angry, and she's going to want to take it out on someone."

"She won't be alone," Missandei pledged.

Arya smiled at her friend. "Don't worry about me. I'll be as good as new by the time we reach Sunspear."

"Why doesn't Daenerys join you? You know she is not happy here. She enjoyed Dorne, perhaps…"

As pleasant as it would be to lose herself in that fiction, she couldn't. She didn't know how long they had. "The King would hunt us, and if he caught us, I don't think he'd be satisfied just killing me."

Missandei understood the grim message Arya was leaving unspoken, but she wasn't ready to give up on the idea quite yet. "Shouldn't that be her choice? She loves you and she might decide it's worth the risk."

"I don't want her to live like that, afraid, worried every time there is a knock on the door or a stranger approaching. She's not a criminal, she shouldn't have to live like one."

"She wouldn't be living like a criminal, she'd be with you."

"If she disappears at the same time I do, Aerys will assume I kidnapped her. There is no place we could go where we'd be safe."

"I know people in Essos," Missandei supplied, "maybe they could help."

"I do need your help, I need you and the Unsullied to keep her safe, even if you need to protect her from herself."

"From herself?" Missandei repeated in confusion.

"Once I'm gone, she's going to blame her brother. He'll probably tolerate it for a while, but eventually he'll tire of the scorn. I don't want her hurt trying to avenge what happened to me, so you need to keep her calm."

Dark curls bounced as she shook her head vehemently. "If she loses you, nothing will be able to calm her. She will be furious."

"I know," the soldier acknowledged. That was the whole reason Arya began this conversation in the first place, because deep down she knew what Missandei was saying was true. If Daenerys was determined to see the world burn, nothing, not even her best friend could prevent the Fire and Blood. That more than anything else she was facing, terrified the Wolf.

"I'll do what I can," she promised solemnly. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Yes, can you ask Tyrion to visit, please?"

R-C

"Lyanna Stark?" he verified in disbelief. He stared out the window. "Are you certain?"

"Positive," Daenerys assured him. "I asked your father about it, and he confirmed it."

"Why would he tell you and not me?"

Aemon was visibly annoyed. Daenerys didn't mind his anger, it was well-deserved in this instance. "I already knew. I was asking questions and wouldn't let the matter drop. He had to tell me something. He didn't plan to reveal her identity to either of us until he was King."

"We'll both be long gone by then," Aemon noted, "you're to marry Loras and I'll be a Ranger on the Wall."

A blush burned her cheeks. Neither of those things were likely to happen now. "Do you think if things were different here, maybe you might like to stay?" she checked. Rhaegar had put a lot of faith in the assumption that if given the chance Aemon would choose ruling over the Night's Watch, she disagreed and was curious to know which of them misjudged her nephew so severely.

"Different how?" He was giving her some of his focus, but she could tell the majority of his mind was recalling every fact he could about the infamous Starks of Winterfell. Daenerys had done something similar when Arya confessed her identity.

"You know," she nudged him, "Rhaegar wants for you to rule after him. You could be King, maybe sooner than you think. Wouldn't you like that?"

She tried to keep her tone the same, to hide her serious inquiry in a causal-sounding hypothetical. If his reaction was any indication, he didn't seem to notice she was in distress. "No. I'd hate it," Aemon declared, "the pressure, the responsibility, all the meetings. I'd lose my mind."

Pride filled her. She'd been right. She knew Aemon didn't desire power or titles. Despite her success, she felt it necessary to verify her answer one final time. "So, if you could wake up tomorrow King of the Seven Kingdoms or a Ranger in the Night's Watch, which would you pick?"

Just like the last time there was no quiet deliberation, no uncertainty, no doubt. "The Ranger. Why? What does this have to do with my mother?"

"Nothing," she replied instinctively and then she sighed. She was done lying to him. "Everything." As angry as she was at her brother, she tried to soften the blow for Aemon's sake. "I think your father has plans for you that don't involve letting you go North."

She had his full attention for the first time since giving him the name of his mother. He stood there with his shirt open, his muscles on display along with a single jagged scar across his abdomen. He'd been sick as a boy and nearly died, would've died if Pycelle and the other Maesters didn't cut open his stomach and repair an internal rupture. Just as she had his father, she interrupted him preparing for the day. Aemon was a little further along but appeared too distracted to keep going through the motions. "What? Why would you say that?"

"I wanted him to tell you about your mother," Daenerys said, redirecting them a bit. "I told him you should hear it from him, but he refused."

"Why are you telling me?"

She gave him a sad smile. "I know how badly you've wanted to know who she is. You have a right to know."

"Thank you," he replied, softening his voice and features. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome. According to what I've uncovered your mother and father met at a tournament. He was taken with her, so much so that he sent Elia and the children to Dorne to live."

"I always wondered about that. It was another thing Father refused to discuss." He was quiet for a time before adding, "I suppose now I know why. He didn't want me to know my mother came from a family of traitors."

Those words cut through Daenerys's heart and she immediately wanted to jump to the defense of Arya's family, but she'd promised to keep her secret, so she needed to tread carefully. She trusted Aemon wouldn't tell anyone if he knew, but it wasn't her decision to make. If and when Aemon found out Arya was his cousin, it would be up to the Stark. "That wasn't it." With a hand she gestured to the bed. "Sit, I'll tell you what I can."

"What else is there to know? My father fell in love with the daughter of a traitor. They're gone now, right? I'm the last of them?"

She reached out and touched her nephew's arm. "Some of this is going to be hard to hear," she warned him, "most of the Starks are dead." With two very notable exceptions, she commented internally. "What we were taught, about the war, about who started it and why, it was all lies Aemon. Your father, mine, everyone else, they lied. The Starks weren't traitors, they were just a concerned father and brothers who wanted to know what became of their kin."

"Lyanna?" he tested, making sure he was on the right page.

"That's right. She ran away to be with your father, but they didn't tell anyone where they were going. She was supposed to marry Robert Baratheon."

He understood the weight of that far quicker than she did in his shoes. "That started the war."

She swallowed hard. "Lyanna's father and eldest brother rode to King's Landing to seek information, they wanted to question your father, but he and Lyanna had already left."

"What happened?"

"The King murdered them both," she admitted, trying to remain detached from her emotions. It would be hard to explain why the story of the Starks was such a personal one for her without revealing Arya's truth. "Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon mistakenly thought Lyanna was kidnapped. That's why they went to war. They didn't want the throne."

"Why didn't Father and Lyanna just tell them?" he inquired, echoing the same question she asked not too long ago. "My parents," he paused, "that sounds so strange. I never had parents before, not really, just a father and an unknown mother."

She smiled despite the awkwardness. "I'm glad you know."

"What happened to her?"

"That part was true. After the war, after your father healed, he went to her. He arrived just before you were born. She died not long after."

Familiar grey eyes suddenly became interested in the floor and Daenerys pretended not to notice when he swiped his cheek with the back of his hand. "Why did Father fight the war then? If it wasn't real?"

Daenerys had heard Rhaegar's justifications, she had thought about them a lot in the days and weeks since, but she still couldn't say they made any more sense than they did that first night. The war was avoidable, and he chose to fight it anyway. He claimed it was for Lyanna, to keep her safe, but she suspected a large amount of his motivation came from a desire to kill Robert and a healthy dose of pride. "I don't really know," she told him, not trusting her ability to articulate Rhaegar's reasons properly, "you'll have to ask your father if you want to understand that part."

She anticipated more resistance. He finally had someone willing to tell him the truth, she didn't think he'd want to give that up without a fight, but he surprised her. With a nod, he returned his gaze to the window. "A Stark?" he said in wonder. "I'm half Northman."

"A Stark helped build the Wall you know," Daenerys supplied, remembering something she read in that book before it burned.

He gave her a fond, loving smile. "Dany, everyone knows that."

Oh! She hadn't, not until she read it. Regardless, she chuckled. "I'm sorry I can't answer everything you want to know, but…"

"No," he said, cutting her apology in half, "you're the only reason I know my mother's name was Lyanna Stark."

When he stood up, she did too. One stride later he had her locked in an embrace, squeezing tight. She hugged him back just as fiercely. "I hope it brings you peace, finally knowing."

"I'll never forget this," he swore.

The knock on the door forced them apart. Aemon turned to answer it, but Daenerys's hand reached out to stop him. She gripped his forearm. "Wait, there is something else you deserve to know."

"I'll just be a minute," he said, looking suggestively toward the door. Another round of knocks came. Daenerys thought she knew who was there, and she suspected what he had to say would take more than a minute.

He tried to slip away, but she wouldn't let him. "Wait!" she pleaded.

"What is it?" he asked, showing concern for her as he tried to interpret her unwillingness to let him answer the door.

Although she thought he had a right to hear it all, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him that Rhaegar would never let him go. His belief that he'd reach the Wall one day was the only thing that kept him going. She didn't want to see what became of him when that was taken away. She'd lived without hope for a long time and she didn't want that for him. She chose to offer a warning instead of a declaration. "Just be careful," she advised, "your father has plans for the future and for you. If you want to go to the Wall, then you should, no matter what anyone says, even him."

It didn't feel good enough, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. More knocking reminded them of the time constraint. Aemon tried again to answer it, and again she stopped him, but this time she took his place. "I'll get it."

She'd seen her brother angry plenty in her life, and even more so recently. She even knew what it was like to have his white-hot, burning anger aimed at her, but she'd never seen him quite so furious as when she opened the door to Aemon's chamber, and he saw her there. Selmy was behind him in the background, looking uncomfortable. "What are you doing here?!" he hissed as they glared at one another from opposite sides of the doorway.

Rather than respond she looked back over her shoulder. "Take care of yourself okay? You know where I'll be if you want to talk some more."

With every word she could feel Rhaegar fuming. She tried to step around him, but his big body impeded her progress. "What did you do?!" he demanded to know.

She pushed past him with force. He tried to stop her but his reliance on the cane left him with only one hand to trap her and standing on injured legs he didn't really have a chance. He wobbled when she bumped into him. Barristan lunged forward to keep him from falling. While he should have been thanking him for the rescue, Rhaegar grunted something incoherent and turned toward the Princess. He called for her to stop, he ordered her to, he even sent Barristan after her but Daenerys just kept walking.

R-C

She'd been ordered back to the barracks to recover and rest until everything was ready for her departure. Her things, few as they were, were in Daenerys's bedchamber. She could have met with Tyrion in either location easily enough, but she directed him to a sitting room in a distant corner of the castle. She didn't want them to be overheard.

The walk was slow and depressing. The frequent number of stops she had to make, the need to use walls and tables for support, it was humbling. She'd been struck in the back, but she felt the effects everywhere, the pounding in her head, the tightness in her chest, even her steps were wary. She feared moving in the natural way she was used to, because doing so would likely invite pain. Most troubling however was how exhausted she became after even the most basic of tasks. She needed to sit and rest after Missandei helped her get dressed, to catch her breath and rebuild some stamina. Never in her life had she felt so weak or fragile, not in Winterfell, not before her training and certainly not after.

She reached her destination only minutes before Tyrion. She thanked the Gods for his busy schedule. It would have been embarrassing to request a meeting and arrive after he did.

"I'd ask how you are, but you're probably tired of answering that." She nodded, and he continued, "That's okay, I know how I'd be in your place, and that's bad enough."

"It's getting better, it'll take some time, but I've been through worse." There was a part of her that knew she was saying those words for her benefit as much as his. Arya needed to hear them too.

"That's good." Without asking he went to the drink cart and prepared two glasses. "As you know, I welcome any chance to get out of my office and away from the numbers, but I don't think you summoned me here without a purpose."

She took the drink when it was offered. She was surprised it was only juice, but then again it was still quite early. "Thank you," she said raising the glass, "and for coming. I need your help with something."

Apparently, that was all Tyrion needed to hear. "How much?"

Confused Arya went back and reviewed their conversation to that point, she remained lost. "How much what?"

"Gold, how much do you need?" he clarified before taking a sip.

"I don't want your money Tyrion," she assured him.

She hadn't seen much in the time she'd known Tyrion that made him seem out of his depth, but perhaps this was the first time. He seemed truly unprepared for that, stunned by the unexpected turn. "I'm sorry," he said after taking another, longer drink. Arya had to wonder if his was juice too. "Usually when someone asks a Lannister for a favor, there is only one thing they want and that's been all the more true since I was named the Master of the Coins."

"You can keep every last copper," she told him honestly. "I just need you to find work for Daenerys. Meetings, tea with Septas, it doesn't matter, she just needs to stay busy."

He chuckled while he shook his head. "I don't think the Princess is going to appreciate that."

"Why not?" She was trying to do a good thing, for Daenerys, for after she was gone. If she was handling meetings for Tyrion there would be fewer opportunities for her to get herself into trouble.

"She came to me after," he used his empty hand to gesture to Arya's injury, "she asked me to stop assigning her meetings. She wanted to be available to assist in your recovery."

Arya muttered a curse to herself. She should have guessed. That was such a Daenerys thing to do. Sweet and selfless. "Things change," Arya advised him. "Please Tyrion, if you care about her, keep her busy from dawn to dusk."

"What's going on?" he asked putting his drink on a nearby table.

"The King and his son have had their fill of my company," she explained. "I've been ordered to return to Sunspear as soon as I'm able."

She gave him a moment to understand the significance. It didn't take the intelligent dwarf very long. "Does Daenerys know?"

Arya nodded and was pleased that it only caused a short, dull pain. Perhaps saying she was improving wasn't the exaggeration she thought it was. "She wasn't there when I woke, I imagine she's probably trying to convince the Prince to change his mind."

"That makes sense," Tyrion noted. "If I were her, that's who I'd turn to. Do you think it will help?"

"No. In fact, I suspect by the time Daenerys is done informing him of her opinion, he'll want to pick me up by the scuff of the neck, toss me into the bay and make me swim to Sunspear."

He smiled softly at her humor. "How long do you have?"

"Oberyn's out making arrangements as we speak, a day or two, most likely."

"You have some rotten luck Arya Sand," he said as he stood, "I'll give you that. It will be far less interesting around here with you gone."

"You'll survive," she assured him, "just help Daenerys, if you can. She's going to need it."

They shook hands and Tyrion committed to doing his part to help Daenerys in the wake of Arya's absence. It wasn't perfect, but with both him and Missandei working together, they had a chance.

R-C

Author's Note: There you have it. I apologize if there was too much dialogue in this chapter for some people's liking. I didn't plan it that way, but everything came together at the same time, the conversation with Rhaegar, then Aemon.

Now who Rhaegar is, and his motives are finally clear. This version of the Prince made sense to me, that Lyanna's death would break him if he had survived long enough to see it. It also made sense that he'd put all his hopes in Aemon, whether he wanted them or not. I am genuinely curious what everyone thinks of this. It has taken a lot to get to this point and I hope the majority of the people reading feel it was worth it.

Thanks,

Russell Craig