Daenerys needed fresh air after her talk with Aemon, so she went for a walk. She was certain that Jorah was looking for her by now, and for that reason alone she stuck to secluded areas, avoiding the spots he'd think to look for her.

She ended up near the castle's forge, on a small square of grass that was almost entirely hidden from view by large buildings. Aimless walking had led her there, but it was ideal, and she took comfort from the knowledge that it was damn close to the last place anyone who knew her would imagine she'd go. She kicked off her shoes, folded her legs under her and sat down. She needed to think, alone.

What had she done? She left her brother and went straight to Aemon, determined to tell him the truth. As she knocked on the door, as she hurried in and overlooked his wet hair and exposed chest she was sure she was doing the right thing. He deserved to know. So, why did the pit in her stomach remain?

She'd been angry after learning Rhaegar used her, angry when she found out he lied, again. As she sat alone, in the shadow of the forge's sweltering heat, she questioned her motives. Had she done it for Aemon or was she as spiteful and vindictive as all the other Targaryens? Maybe she told him not for his benefit but to punish Rhaegar.

She was tired of the lies, but the truth appeared equally chaotic. Aemon knew Lyanna Stark was his mother. If he hadn't questioned Rhaegar about it yet, his restraint wouldn't hold much longer.

Rhaegar would not only discover Daenerys revealed his most closely guarded secret, he'd also learn as she did that his plan for the future of Westeros was flawed. She believed Aemon when he told her he didn't want to be King. He didn't hesitate, he didn't equivocate, he was adamant and certain. Rhaegar's schemes didn't account for that.

Where did that leave them? Would Rhaegar suddenly change his mind and decide to be King after all? Would Aemon's unwillingness to rule be enough to alter Rhaegar's plan? If Aemon wasn't going to fill the void, that left only Viserys. She shuddered to think what the Seven Kingdoms would become under his leadership. If she thought it was bad now, the potential of Viserys as King reminded her it could always get worse.

Then there was Arya, her beautiful, damaged Arya. Gods did she love Arya. She loved her so much the words didn't seem adequate to express the true range of her emotions. She couldn't lose her, not now, not ever.

Daenerys put the other problems to the side for the time being. The Realm, the latest Targaryen drama, even Aemon, they could all wait, she would have the opportunity to examine them later. She needed to give all of herself to solving Arya's predicament. If Daenerys couldn't convince Rhaegar to let her stay, there was little point wasting the energy persuading her father. Even if she got the King to see the wisdom in Arya's continued service, it would only last until Rhaegar learned of it and then he'd begin swaying Aerys in the opposite direction. She was his daughter, but Rhaegar was a first-born son. Their standings weren't remotely close to equal. If she made their father choose between him and her, she'd lose every time.

What options remained? She could run. She threatened to flee, but Rhaegar's words rang true. Her father would hunt her down, and he would believe Arya kidnapped her, no matter how fiercely Daenerys insisted otherwise. Arya was a soldier, she should be leading men proudly in an army, not hiding from her lover's disgruntled and deranged father.

She knew Arya wanted her to stay. They'd spoken about it at length, into the early morning hours. She said it wasn't forever, that they'd find their way back to one another again. Arya wanted Daenerys to remain in the capital while she returned to Sunspear. She promised she'd visit and write, that it wasn't the same as saying goodbye. Daenerys knew Arya was worthy of her trust, and if she said it, it was practically set-in-stone, but that didn't dull the ache she felt in the slightest. It wasn't that she thought Arya wouldn't write, or never visit, she knew the woman she loved would do both of those things as often as possible. Daenerys's doubt came because she wasn't confident that she could survive the days, weeks and months between the letters and the visits. How could she go back to the life she had before Arya? Seeing her a few times a year and reading words on a page – no matter how sincere – wasn't going to be enough, not for her, not for them.

Arya might be willing to endure months apart, for the chance to have a few blissful days together, but Daenerys wanted more. She was selfish, she was greedy, and she was in love. She'd wear those labels proudly if it meant she could have what she wanted this one time.

She didn't know how long she was sitting there, time lost it's meaning, until suddenly she wasn't alone. Her initial thought was, 'Shit, Jorah found me,' but instead a reprimand about her reckless and irresponsible behavior, there was silence. From the corner of her eye, she watched him sit down next to her, looking perfectly at peace. It wasn't Jorah.

"Did the Prince agree to help you?" Oberyn asked.

Daenerys's anger had held the tears back since she left Rhaegar's bedchamber, but now a single inquiry from Arya's mentor had her lip quivering. "No, he lied, about everything."

"That's hardly surprising. He has had years of practice," he commented. Immediately he turned his head and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, as you know my history with your brother is long and unpleasant."

"You can say whatever you wish," she swore, giving him an open invitation. "You're right. He is a liar and he's a damn good one."

Reacting to the venom in her words Oberyn's tone and face displayed sympathy. "What happened my friend?" Despite her tumultuous emotions she smiled at that. 'My friend,' is how Oberyn addressed Arya. It filled her with pride to be gifted with the same moniker, to know that to Oberyn at least, Daenerys was a friend, on her own and separate from her relationship with Arya. It didn't matter to him that she was royalty or a Targaryen, in fact the Princess suspected he was her friend in spite of those details and not because of them.

She could have brushed him off with a pretty, fake smile and a few empty words, she could have told him a portion of the whole sordid tale, but in that moment, she didn't' feel like concealing any of it. She was raised to believe that being a Targaryen meant putting your family first, above all else, and she tried to meet those high expectations for years, before finally admitting she simply couldn't. After being constantly ignored, marginalized, and belittled, she was sick of it. How many meetings had she attended only never to be called upon? How many times had she politely agreed to something she disapproved of because consensus is what was expected of her? How many men had dismissed her ideas as meaningless because of her gender? She endured all of it in an attempt to feel as though she was doing something, contributing something, to the family, to the castle, to the Realm and its people. She foolishly believed that those around her would show likeminded loyalty if and when she needed them. Rhaegar especially, she would have bet her life on the fact that he'd support her in a time of need. It was a fantasy, a child's dream of what a family was supposed to be. Rhaegar didn't care for her anymore than Viserys did, he merely did a better job of pretending. Why should she keep their secrets, why should she suffer in silence? It was clear now that none of them would do that for her. Why was she the only one making sacrifices?

She told him everything. Every detail she could think of from the moment he left her and Arya the night before, until he showed up next to her and sat down. It came pouring out, every terrible admission, every unforgivable sin, every angry outburst and cold reply.

R-C

She'd finished speaking and Oberyn had run out of questions, so they sat together and listened to the smiths work their steel in a peaceful quiet. Daenerys's mind raced as she tried to find a solution that kept her and Arya together and safe. The Viper somehow sensed she needed space and didn't interfere.

It was utterly random. She'd been staring at the grass for so long her neck was starting to cramp. She raised her head and rolled it from side to side while attempting to stretch her tight shoulders. As violet eyes swept her surroundings without interest, she spotted a tall, familiar figure approaching the forge. She squinted first to make sure it wasn't a case of mistaken identity. Once she was certain, the squint became a glare, hateful and murderous.

"If only looks could kill Princess," Oberyn teased, but even as he joked there was an undercurrent of sincerity and seriousness in his message. Daenerys understood. Oberyn shared her pain and her rage.

"Actually," she confessed without pulling her eyes off the man in the distance, "I was thinking of using my hands."

Oberyn popped up to his feet and quickly dusted bits of grass off his expensive clothes. He snatched one of Daenerys's hands with incredible speed, but also kept his touch gentle. He looked at her hand for a long moment and then another, as if it were a work of art, or a puzzle he meant to solve. "Not your hands," he said emphatically, before he released her. "Come," he said taking his first step toward the castle, "let us find our mutual friend and let her know what is happening."

Seeing Arya and letting her know about Rhaegar and Aemon was important, and Daenerys knew she needed to do it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Oberyn was trying to distract her. Was his sudden desire to locate Arya just a ploy to get her thinking about something else, something other than the man she intended to painfully murder? She followed after the Martell without complaint but decided to let him know his strategy hadn't succeeded. "I am going to kill him, no matter how long it takes me."

He nodded, but it didn't feel like an agreement or comprehension, more that he wanted her to know he heard. She didn't expect they'd discuss it any further. Their route toward the castle took them past the man she'd been staring at. Ser Ilyn Payne was there, less than five feet in front of her. Unlike the woman he whipped, the knight had no visible injuries, no trouble standing under her own power. He was fine and Arya was upstairs suffering. It wasn't right. While she seethed, her hands curled into tight fists on the off chance the opportunity to strike him might arise. If it did, she wanted to be ready. "I mean it," she told Oberyn.

"I'm sorry Princess," he responded, sounding truly regretful, "but this one's mine."

Her steps faltered, but thankfully no one other than Oberyn seemed to notice. He patiently paused and waited for her to catch up. She looked at him intently, trying to see into his mind. Did that mean what she thought it did? It should hardly be surprising, Oberyn cared for Arya deeply and all the reasons Daenerys had to hate Payne were true for Oberyn too. Her stumble allowed for more distance between them and the knight, but Daenerys still took care to make certain her voice wouldn't reach him. "You're going to…"

"It's already done Princess," he told her calmly, "we will have our revenge soon."

Already done? What in Seven Hells did that mean? Payne clearly wasn't dead. She didn't know how to ask, or what to ask, so she waited, hoping Oberyn would provide more. He opened the door for her and held it so she could go inside. As she passed under the arch, she looked at him and whispered her thanks. He replied by saying, "He's already dead, he just doesn't know it yet, he soon will."

Perhaps it made her despicable, or wretched, or maybe just a typical Targaryen but Daenerys took some joy from those words. A grim, perverse smile decorated her face. He was going to die, if not by her hands than by Oberyn's. She'd been thinking about killing Ilyn Payne since he picked up the whip and lashed Arya's back the first time. Justice or vengeance, she didn't know, she was committed to seeing her will done regardless.

R-C

"You're avoiding me!" Jorah accused as he hurried down the long hall to catch up to her.

She could admit, at least to herself that she enjoyed his frustration more than was healthy. "Am I? That doesn't sound like me."

He sighed heavily. "You told me you were going to sleep."

"Yes," she acknowledged. She did tell him that. "And?"

"You didn't," he accused. "You lied and snuck out."

"I didn't sneak anywhere," she disagreed with an authority she didn't actually feel. She had snuck away, and although she didn't regret it, it is what happened.

"Why do you insist on behaving this way?" he lamented. "I know where you were anyway, so there was no reason to hide it."

She rolled her eyes. So smug and entitled. "Let me guess, the big, strong Prince complained to the knight that his sister was mean to him?" she mocked. By the time she was done, her contempt and sarcasm were evident. "I didn't leave the castle and I didn't ask for a guard, I have a guard. You following me around like a puppy was not necessary."

Jorah flinched when she used the word 'puppy' to describe him. "Those aren't the rules, and you know it. You're required to have a guard with you every time…"

She didn't want to hear it. She knew the rule. She'd known it far longer than Jorah Mormont. "Maybe it's time for the rules to change," she snapped. "If I can't have a conversation in my own home, with my own brother without armed escorts, I think there is something wrong in this world."

"You were with Prince Rhaegar?" he confirmed cautiously.

Daenerys

Daenerys huffed. "You just said you knew I was," she reminded him, tiring quickly of this meaningless back and forth.

"I thought you were with the girl," he admitted feebly. "I came to check on you and you weren't in your room. I went looking and saw you talking with the Dornishman talking…"

Daenerys didn't feel obligated to let him finish. She got the point. "If by 'the girl'" she quoted bitterly, "you mean Arya, then you were wrong. I wasn't with Arya this morning, I had business with Rhaegar. After that I went for a walk and bumped into Oberyn, so we spoke."

"What about?" he wondered, working awfully hard to appear casual.

She didn't consider answering him for a second. Even if she and Oberyn hadn't discussed murder, she still wouldn't have shared the details of their private conversation. It occurred to her that Jorah claimed he saw her talking to Oberyn but didn't approach until the Viper had left. They were on their way to find Arya when a servant presented Oberyn with a scroll that demanded his attention, he excused himself and was immediately replaced by the man from Bear Island.

"You should have taken a guard," he whined.

She was done with this. "Whatever you say." Without a destination in mind, she turned and went back the way she came. She secretly – not so secretly – hoped he'd grow weary and give up. Although it was petty to make him chase after her, she did it anyway.

Regrettably, his longer legs allowed him to keep pace with her without too much difficulty. "I spoke to the King today," he said, as if they were two friends discussing their lives while enjoying a casual stroll.

She was sure silence was the right course. Nothing she said would cut Jorah as deeply as ignoring him outright, but the moment he mentioned her father she saw red. Holding her tongue was no longer an option, no matter how logical. "Plotting more executions of innocent women?"

It wasn't by design that she asked him that just as they were passing a young noblewoman, but her horrified expression and Jorah's embarrassment made her wish she'd planned it. "I'll keep apologizing for as long as you want," he offered.

"And I'll keep telling you words aren't enough."

She expected more protests about how unfair she was being, or how aggrieved he was, but he returned them to the topic of the King. "Your father still wishes for you to learn the sword. He's assigned me to train you now."

She stopped walking. "Absolutely not!" she roared, without a care for who might hear her fury. "I won't do it." This nonsense with the sword had gone too far. It was her training that caused the mess they were still trying to wade their way through and now she was supposed to do it again? It was utterly ridiculous. She didn't want to learn to fight. If Arya Stark couldn't persuade her to practice, no one could, because that woman had some interesting motivational techniques.

Jorah sighed again and looked as though he was addressing a scorned child and not a Princess. "He is serious Daenerys, he wants you to learn and he isn't going to stop until he's satisfied."

"No," she said again, just as vehemently as before. "You can't force me to do it, and neither can he, not anymore."

"Do you want to make him angry?"

"Do you?" she retorted rudely. "It wasn't me he blamed for failing, it was the instructor."

He tried to act as if it were a joke, he forced out a stiff laugh to help sell it, but it sounded hollow. "You forget how well I know you Daenerys," he proclaimed boldly, "you're a good person with a good heart, you won't knowingly allow me to be harmed just so you can avoid your lessons."

His confidence pressed down on a nerve and she wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong. She scoffed dismissively. "You actually believe that, don't you?" She didn't let him answer. "You tried to have the woman I love executed so you could take her job. Do you really think I'm going to lose sleep if the next time Father summons his pyromancer it's for you?" She let her ominous question hang in the air as she walked away. She hadn't seen Arya in too long.

R-C

Arya didn't know how it happened. She didn't arrange it and to the best of her knowledge none of the others had either and yet, they still ended up together, in Daenerys's bedchamber. The Princess, Missandei, Grey Worm, and Tyrion had all gathered to wish her and Oberyn safe travels back to Dorne.

She purposefully waited until everyone was enjoying their wine before she addressed the other Dornish. "How long do I have?" She wanted to know how many more nights like this she'd be permitted.

She had hoped to keep the question from Daenerys's ears, choosing to ask it when she seemed suitably distracted by Missandei, but Daenerys's conversation with the handmaiden ended just in time for everyone to hear Arya's private inquiry.

The mood in the room had be easy and light. Everyone knew Arya would be leaving and most knew why, but they were choosing to ignore it. They laughed, traded stories and drank freely. She estimated that they could have gone the whole night without mentioning Arya's return to Dorne, except now the bubble had burst. She'd brought it up and everyone was silent while they waited for new information.

When Oberyn didn't provide an immediate schedule, she grew exasperated. "Come on, just tell me, I know you have been to the docks. How long?"

He sipped his wine as though he didn't have a care in the world. When he was finished, he set it aside and smiled at his friend. "I did go to the docks, and I did see the Dornish Captain who brought me here, but there was a miscommunication."

His widening grin didn't match the words he way saying. What was he so happy about, and what happened to the ship?

"What sort of miscommunication?" Daenerys wondered for them all.

"The man is a fine sailor, but he isn't the smartest lad I've ever known," Oberyn explained, clearly enjoying his role in the center of the attention. "I told him we needed to go, and he misunderstood, he thought I meant immediately. He left the harbor this morning and is already on his way back to Sunspear."

Arya chuckled. Misunderstanding her arse. He'd sent the ship back without them, and he'd done it for her. "You didn't have to do that."

Daenerys interrupted as soon as she made sense of what was left unsaid in Oberyn's tale. "You're not leaving?!" The hope Arya heard nearly shattered her. Yes, Oberyn had delayed their departure slightly, but how long could the ruse last?

"It'll take a few days for word to reach the Captain to turn around," Arya guessed, trying to keep Daenerys's expectations reasonable.

"It'll take longer than that," Oberyn corrected, "I gave the Captain specific instructions not to send or receive any messages until he is back in Dornish waters. Any attempts to turn him around before he can see the Tower of Spear is going to be met with silence."

Missandei and Tyrion chuckled at his creativity. Arya shook her head, adding one more thing to the long list of debts she owed Oberyn Martell. His gambit would give her several more weeks with Daenerys, a prize that was literally priceless.

Daenerys's reaction was the most surprising and entertaining, not only for Arya but the rest of them too. Her mouth hung open like a fish out of water until the full extent of Oberyn's duplicity became known. Then her mouth closed, and her lips curled into a seductive and devious smirk, one that made it hard for Arya to remember there were other people in the room. Taking Daenerys to bed in her current state would definitely hurt, but Arya would wager it would be a fair trade if it meant she didn't have to delay taking her lover another second. "I could kiss you!" the Princess blurted out, dragging Arya from her thoughts of doing much more than kissing her Dragon. It was only when she looked up and met those stunning, violet eyes that she realized the Targaryen wasn't talking to her.

Oberyn laughed at the sentiment, opening his arms as if he anticipated as much and was ready for Daenerys to climb into his lap. "Please do," he told her.

"Please don't," she fired back. Her disgruntled expression only serving to amuse everyone further.

"Who's going to stop me, you?" he challenged.

"I did last time," Arya reminded him.

"You got lucky, and I was fresh off the ship. I'm faster now, stronger and we both know, so much prettier."

The banter came easy, like there wasn't a dark cloud hanging over her head. She promised herself she'd enjoy it for as long as it lasted. "Is that true?" she asked the ladies directly.

Everyone turned to Missandei for the first verdict, but the handmaiden respectfully looked away and shook her head. Whether that meant she was refuting Oberyn's claim or attempting to dodge the question entirely, the guard didn't know. Naturally, Daenerys made no effort to avoid the comparison. "I'm not sure. You both have a certain charm. Hmmm."

"Wait!" Oberyn shouted jumping up from his chair. "You can't rightly decide until you've seen both of us naked."

Of course, Oberyn would say that. Shit. She closed her eyes and shook her head, a reaction mirrored by the stoic Grey Worm. Missandei gasped into her hand and looked to be fighting back giggles while Tyrion just sipped his wine and watched to see what would happen next.

Daenerys blushed but didn't back down. "You know what, you may be right, Prince."

When Arya heard the rattle of his belt, she had to put an end to it. Perhaps Daenerys and the others didn't realize it, but Oberyn was fully capable of stripping down in a room full of people without a second thought. For all of their sakes Arya tried to prevent that. "Anything that comes out of your pants, Prince, I'll be sending back to Ellaria in a bag." She took pains to try and match Daenerys's tone and her use of Oberyn's title.

Finally, the festivities pulled a response out of the Lannister. "Don't risk it," he advised the Dornish, "I think she means it."

Pouting like a child whose favorite toy was taken away, Daenerys whined, "That hardly seems fair!" Arya had to give credit where it was due, she sounded genuinely disappointed. She knew this song and dance was for her benefit, so she played along.

"Really? Wow, I'll remember this." She didn't think her false indignation was convincing anyone, but she held it nonetheless.

Daenerys's pout bloomed into a triumphant grin as she made her way to her lover. She leaned bent down and they shared an intense but brief kiss. Before Daenerys pulled away, she didn't go far, settling her mouth over Arya's ear. "Forgive me?"

She stole another kiss before she remembered their audience. "Ask me later."

"What about me?" Oberyn asked, putting an end to their private moment. "I'm the one who sent the ship away."

Arya and Daenerys's faces wore matching indulgent expressions before the Princess turned away. "You're absolutely right," she agreed, "you are due a reward, how do you feel about a statue in your honor or a song?"

"Don't tease him. He's wanted a statue since his fifth nameday."

Daenerys laughed and Missandei joined in. "Is that so? Well perhaps the day has finally come."

"It was my sixth nameday," he amended with a pointed glare in Arya's direction, "and I certainly wouldn't say no if you wished to memorialize me and my contributions in gold."

Across the room Tyrion nearly choked on his wine. "Gold? Do you have any idea how much it would cost to create a statue of pure gold?" Leave it to the Master of the Coins and the Lannister to worry about the price of something that would come to pass.

Rather than being bothered by talk of the expense, Oberyn chuckled dryly. "Yes, I do," he confirmed.

"Well," Daenerys chimed in, getting them back on track, "until your statue is ready, please accept my gratitude." There was no kiss, but Daenerys went to him for a hug. Arya couldn't hear the words exchanged but she knew Daenerys was thanking him for his efforts.

She certainly seconded that notion. "Thank you," she said emphatically, "truly." She stood, or tried to stand, from the padded chair where she'd been sitting. When Daenerys realized what she intended she moved away from Oberyn and provided the help her scarred back and injured muscles couldn't. She thanked her lover with a smile and limped over to Oberyn, pleased that walking hurt less than it did the day before. He stayed on his feet and was ready to receive her when she got there. "Thank you," she repeated.

"We can't go home quite yet my friend," he told her seriously, "we still have business left here." Everything about Oberyn from his posture and inflection to the choice of those specific words led Arya to believe they weren't joking anymore.

"What business?" The Master of the Coins was just as curious as Arya about what would compel a Crownland-hating Dornish to remain in the capital a single sunrise longer than absolutely necessary.

"I do not like this place," Oberyn began. He stayed there within reach, in the event she needed something to lean on. She didn't, but with her body still so weak, it was impossible to know when that might change. "For years I avoided coming here, but now I see that was a mistake. I need to be here."

"Here? Are you sure? I can think of plenty of places I'd rather be." Tyrion noted with a smirk.

"I wish to right the wrongs done to the people I love. I want the justice I'm owed."

"If you're looking for justice, you're definitely in the wrong place."

"I think not," he challenged Tyrion and the rest, "all the people who have harmed me are here. Perhaps I am in the perfect place."

R-C

The castle was filled with an uneasy mix of unresolved tension and nervous energy. Something was in the air and almost everyone could feel it. Meals were the most awkward. Outside the hall, the warring parties could avoid one another, but the King's decree that his children attend dinner each night, required them to come together at least once a day. Aerys seemed oblivious to the large divide forming within his family. Aemon and Rhaegar weren't speaking. When conversation was inevitable Rhaegar received brief, emotionless responses, usually in as few words as possible. As for the siblings, each time their eyes met Daenerys could see the contempt her brother held for her. It hurt, she wouldn't deny that, but she refused to wilt. She'd given him the chance to tell Aemon the truth, more than once, he was the one who was too cowardly to take it. He refused and forced her hand. The one he should be angry at was himself.

Rhaegar's mood only became more foul once Oberyn informed the court that the ship that was supposed to take he and Arya back to Sunspear was delayed. Again and again, he'd ask his wife's brother when the ship was due and every time, Oberyn would answer with, "Any day Prince," even though he knew it was a lie.

Cersei seeing opportunity tried to swoop in and calm the enraged heir. As Daenerys chewed her food and watched her fawn over him night after night, she had to wonder if she'd still be interested if she knew Rhaegar had no intention of actually ruling anything? Was it her brother Cersei wanted, or the next King?

The prospect of another silent meal at the royal table didn't appeal to her anymore than the chicken they were serving. Deciding to demonstrate her free will, she walked past the chair where she typically sat. She took time to say hi to Aemon, and to ensure she was seen by her father, and then Daenerys crossed the large room in search of people she might enjoy talking to. Oberyn was sitting alone at a table on the room's rear wall. It was as far from her usual seat as she could get, and she loved the idea immediately. No one would bother her there. Since it wasn't a particularly busy season in terms of visits, there were several rows of empty tables between where the newest arrivals to court sat, and where Oberyn situated himself. It would give them privacy. He saw her coming and smiled, standing up to pull out the chair next to him.

Once she was settled with a plate in front of her, she looked over her shoulder and found Missandei, "Sit down," she instructed.

It was such a simple request but all three of them knew how significant it was. "Is that wise?"

Daenerys didn't care about that. She tired of forcing her best friend to stand by and watch her eat. It was incredibly rude and insensitive. Daenerys was done with it. Customs be damned. "Sit. It's not as if Rhaegar can hate me more than he already does."

"He doesn't hate you, he just needs…"

Daenerys appreciated the optimism, but it was needless. "He does hate me. I told Aemon a secret he had been keeping for decades. He's not going to forgive me." As she spoke, she divided her food into two portions and then transferred one to the empty plate in front of Missandei. "That's better."

The handmaiden gave an appreciative smile. "Thank you."

"So, what happens now?" Oberyn asked, picking up his fork. "Do you plan to marry Loras Tyrell and live in the Reach?"

She hadn't thought about her bargain with Loras for a while. Since returning she'd had quite a few other things that demanded her focus. "No," she told him truthfully, "it was one thing when I thought I'd have Arya, we agreed I'd have my life, while Loras had his, but now…" she trailed off.

"Now what?" Missandei nudged.

"What's the point?" she asked, talking to herself as much as them. "Arya will be leaving, and I'll be alone."

"Would you join her if you could?" Oberyn wanted to know.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

"In Dorne?" he followed up.

"I'd go anywhere with her," Daenerys confessed.

"There is room on the ship," he informed her.

She appreciated his willingness to support them, even though she was confident it was Arya more than her he wished to help. It was tempting to think she could disappear, just run, but Arya remained opposed. They discussed it several times and the Stark was unmovable on the subject. She was of the opinion that they'd never be able to run far enough, or fast enough to escape her father. Daenerys felt it was worth an attempt. Even if all they had was a few weeks alone, together and free, she'd take it over a lifetime spent in her expensive cage. That said, she wouldn't demand Arya join her, so they remained at an impasse for now. Aware Oberyn was still waiting for a response she managed a smile for his kindness. "Thank you, I want to, but Arya worries."

"About what?" Missandei asked.

"The King," Oberyn answered for her. "He'll search for you."

Missandei lowered her voice to a whisper. "Would he really hurt his own daughter?"

Daenerys planned to offer an honest assessment of what her father was capable of, but before she could, Oberyn contributed more. "It's not only this King Arya worries about, it is the next one as well."

That knocked her off balance a bit. She was glad she was sitting. She might've fallen otherwise. How did he know that? Why had Arya never expressed that concern to her?

"The Prince?" Missandei verified looking toward the royal table. "I thought he didn't intend to rule."

"He doesn't."

A dark eyebrow raised as she tried to work through the implications. "Aemon then?"

"Aemon doesn't want the throne either."

Understanding spread across Missandei's face, accompanied by a look of dread. "Viserys."

Daenerys shivered and pushed her plate away. She wasn't hungry anymore. "After what I did to him, if he were King, Arya's right, I'd never be safe again."

Dejected she covered her face with her hands and sighed. Were these the choices she had? She could either lose the woman she loved and live an empty meaningless life without her, or they could be together, and share a life filled with fear as they tried to stay one step ahead of not one Targaryen tyrant but two?

She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until Oberyn answered her. "Perhaps there is another way."

Was it desperation or something else that made her lower her hands from her face and ask what he meant by that? As he began laying out what he had in mind Daenerys kept waiting to feel guilt, horror, or regret but those emotions never came. What she felt in their stead was relief because someone was finally offering a solution that had the potential to keep her and Arya together.

In the end, it was relatively simple – Arya was worth the risk and honestly, she didn't have all that much more to lose.

R-C

"How'd Aemon take it?" It was a transparent attempt to put her mind on something other than her pain. Oberyn's brew helped quite a bit actually but it wasn't magic, and it didn't cure her. She still felt like she'd been vigorously whipped, probably because she had.

"Better than I would've," Daenerys responded calmly. The lack of strenuous and repeated inquiries about her health led Arya to believe the reason she was asking remained hidden from the Princess. That was good. She had caused Daenerys enough heartache to last a lifetime, she had no interest in making it worse. "He's so composed. It's sometimes hard to believe he's a Targaryen."

Arya smiled at her lover. "That's the Stark in him," she explained, "centuries in the harsh North made us tough. As I heard it, my Aunt Lyanna was tougher than most, even by Northern standards."

Daenerys chuckled as she came to join Arya on the bed. "You're probably right," she conceded. "Now that I know what to look for it's rather obvious. It's a miracle more people don't see the resemblance."

"It helps that your father had all of my family erased from memory. Everyone except the people in the room that day think we're dead."

This particular detail seemed to unsettle Daenerys. "What do you mean?"

She thought it was pretty self explanatory, but since she asked, Arya crafted a reply. "Varys told me that most of the Realm believes my family is dead. The King forbid those who knew otherwise to mention that he sent Sansa and I to foster."

Although she tried, she couldn't comprehend the flurry of emotions that passed across the Targaryen's face. She was hurt, then sad and finally hopeful before she settled on a look that Arya could only describe as cautiously optimistic. "Did he tell Rhaegar?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Did my father tell Rhaegar about what really happened to your family?!" she asked again, growing agitated.

"Not unless the Spider lied," she answered, "which is possible."

Daenerys's sudden, wide smile didn't fit their exchange at all. She clutched Arya's hand in her excitement. "He didn't? That's great."

"Is it?"

All at once Daenerys seemed to remember Arya was there. Her smile dimmed but didn't disappear. "It is," she promised. "Do you remember when I spoke to Rhaegar about your family?"

She did, Daenerys had snuck out after their first night together to hear her brother's side of the story. She told Arya about it later. "Yes."

"There were things I didn't tell you, they didn't seem important at the time, but that was before I knew what Varys said, now it could be the most important thing ever and…"

Despite giving it her full attention, she was having trouble keeping pace. "Calm down," she instructed, "breathe, it'll be alright, just tell me what you're thinking."

"Your father," she confessed after a deep gulp of air, "I asked Rhaegar about your father."

"Why would you do that?" Arya questioned as something inside her cracked. Whatever Daenerys was struggling to tell her, it involved her father.

"Why wouldn't I?" she countered. "I wanted to see how he would justify what was done to you and your family."

It was a challenge to remain outwardly indifferent. Inside a storm was raging. "How did he justify it?" Knowing the Prince, it was an epic tale with him as the true victim, exactly like his depiction of the rebellion.

"He told me your father was killed, that my father had him executed."

Arya still failed to see how any of that was noteworthy. "He did, so what?"

Daenerys's wide smile returned. "We don't know that he's dead," Daenerys claimed boldly, arriving at the point, "you said yourself that no one outside the throne room knows what really happened, so it's possible that Rhaegar was given the same lie as everyone else. Maybe that's why he told me every Stark was killed."

Suddenly the pain she was suffering had nothing to do with her back. How long had she wanted to know if she was the last of her family? She'd seen Sansa and confirmed with her own eyes she was well, and now Daenerys was dangling the possibility that her father survived too. Hope was a double-edged sword. Arya wanted to believe it more than anything, but if she did and was wrong, it'd be like losing him all over again. She didn't know what the right thing to do was. As hard as it was, she'd come to terms with her father's death, with the loss of her family, with the fact that she'd never see Sansa again, did she really want to open old wounds on the chance Aerys granted mercy to man he despised?

Yes, she eventually realized, she did want to know, because she was her father's daughter if nothing else. He had taught her to face things head on no matter how painful. It would dishonor him to hide from the possibility that he was alive. She couldn't unhear Daenerys's theory, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, and block it from her mind, a part of her would always have doubts. She needed to put this to rest one way or another. If her father was alive, she wanted to find him, and if he was dead, then she needed to know that definitively too.

"What exactly did your brother say?" Arya asked more harshly than was fair. She'd apologize later.

"I asked him what happened to your father," Daenerys recounted. "I told him I remembered your family being Wardens."

"And?" She needed more information than that to understand what made Daenerys so hopeful.

"He told me that our father summoned your whole family here and had everyone killed, including your father. I believed him, why wouldn't I? I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to hurt you by confirming it."

Arya was much less interested in Daenerys's reason for keeping it from her, than she was about the actual details in Rhaegar's story. "What else?"

"I kept asking questions, I wanted to hear what he'd say. When I asked about the children he told me none survived."

"He was wrong," she noted sarcastically as her frustrations boiled over. She regretted her comment as soon as she saw the hurt in Daenerys's eyes.

"I know," the royal assured her. "I thought it strange that he'd lie about it, but I could hardly explain how I knew he was wrong, could I?"

That was certainly true. "Did he say anything else?"

"No," she admitted sadly. "I was so focused on you, that I didn't stop and think about what his story truly meant. It never occurred to me that if he was wrong about what happened to you, then he might be wrong about what became of your father also."

Arya followed her logic easily, but she still failed to see any proof her father wasn't as dead as Rhaegar claimed. "What makes you think he is alive?"

"Rhaegar wasn't there," she reminded the Stark, "he would have heard what happened from someone else, and if my father forbid them from saying anything other than 'they're all dead,' then who would defy him?"

"You really think he's alive?" Arya verified. She thought Daenerys was making a lot of assumptions, but just as she feared, she couldn't quell that tiny spark of hope that lit inside her.

"I know someone who can tell us," Daenerys replied.

It wasn't hard to determine which man she meant. Not many were in the room when her family was judged, and of those that were, there weren't many Daenerys would go to for information. "You want to ask Varys? Are you sure? After what happened on the way back from Highgarden we agreed to tread carefully around the Spider."

"This is worth it," Daenerys contended. "If he can tell us what became of your father, it'll be a bargain at twice the price."

Talk of price had her anxious, thinking about the cost. Information was power and no one embodied this principle more than the King's Spymaster. Even if they could trust his words were accurate, he wouldn't give them up freely. "You can't say that until you know what he wants."

"If he was behind the blockade, he owes us. I think this is a suitable way for him to begin repaying that debt."

Arya may have been swayed by Daenerys's attractive use of her power and title, but she doubted Varys would be as amenable. "Are you certain you want to do this? It's a risk."

"We need to know, and you deserve to know. Varys told you he cared about me, so maybe he'll welcome the chance to help."

To Arya it sounded as if Daenerys was reaching, and she intended to say so, but the Princess wasn't finished. "He has known who you are for longer than I have, and he hasn't told anyone."

Again, Arya couldn't dispute Daenerys's point. The Spider had said he liked Daenerys and he had kept the soldier's secret. "That was before Highgarden."

"He hasn't revealed your identity since we got back either. I know we agreed to keep our distance from him, but I'm starting to think we're overdue for a serious conversation."

She gave what she was hearing consideration and could see the merits of what Daenerys was proposing. "I'm sorry," Arya said, "you're right and if this is what you want, I won't stand in your way." Rewarded with a kiss, there was a delay before Arya could finish her thought. "And, since I haven't said it recently, thank you for keeping my secret."

Daenerys leaned in for another peck at her lips. "Of course, if I didn't tell Aemon, you can trust I won't spill the truth to anyone."

That was a surprise. "You didn't tell Aemon about me?" she repeated dumbly. Arya always assumed that Daenerys wouldn't be able to tell Aemon the story of his birth without exposing Arya Sand's true history. "Why not? He deserves…"

"He does," she agreed quickly, "but I won't put you at risk." Her eyes hardened and her expression became severe. "You've already been hurt enough. I won't make it worse, not even for Aemon."

"You could tell him," Arya permitted, "I'll be gone soon, once I am, you should tell him everything."

She could see that mentioning her imminent departure did little to brighten Daenerys's mood. "I'm not letting you go," she decided. "I'll talk to Rhaegar again."

With an incredulous look Arya reminded her lover of the current state of that relationship. "You just revealed his biggest secret to his son, I don't think he'll be rushing to do you," she paused and amended the point, "or us any favors."

"You're right," she conceded, "luckily, he isn't the only powerful man in the castle."

Daenerys had said something similar the last time they discussed it, but Arya was no more receptive this time. "No, it's too dangerous." She could tell by her expression that Daenerys wanted to argue, so Arya hurried ahead without giving her the chance. "This isn't what we want, but it's better than nothing. I will see you again, as often as I can. I promise."

"But…"

"Don't," Arya implored. "Fighting to keep me will only cause people to question why. Our friends know your reasons, and now Rhaegar and Aemon, but everyone else is still in the dark. If your father finds out I'm your consort, I won't live long enough to see the ship return." It was a dirty tactic to motivate Daenerys to let this go, but she was almost out of options. "So how is Aemon?" she asked, in a blatant attempt to redirect them.

Daenerys was reluctant, and she expertly avoided the guard's eye. "He's okay, a little shocked but who wouldn't be? He'll be fine, given a little time."

That sounded a lot like Aemon, but Arya wasn't buying it. "Just tell me."

"Tell you what?" Daenerys tried, not willing to give it up yet, whatever it was.

"Whatever you're afraid to tell me." She thought of her cousin who was struggling to make sense of what had to be a startling piece of information about himself, and she worried. "Is Aemon alright?"

"It's nothing like that," Daenerys eventually admitted looking pained.

"What then?"

She kept her eyes down. "He thinks his father hid the truth because he was born of traitors." She took a deep breath before adding, "I tried to correct him, to explain it was lies, but I don't think he believed me."

"It's okay," Arya assured her, and it really was. Aemon needed someway to try and make sense of a puzzle when he was missing half the pieces. He'd need a way to justify Rhaegar's behavior and the Starks being traitors made sense. It resolved any and all questions about why Rhaegar wouldn't want to tell his son who his mother was.

"How can you be so calm!?" Daenerys erupted. "Aemon believes his mother's family were liars who were blinded by power and hate, desperate to steal the Iron Throne, doesn't that bother you."

It did. Every time someone disparaged her father or her mother, each time they ranted about the just downfall of the Starks, she seethed inside. She wanted to draw her sword and start killing until there was no one left to spread the King's hideous lies, but other things were more important. Daenerys was more important. Arya needed to make the Princess see that too. "I'm angry too, but we need to be smart. What matters most is our safety, yours, Aemon's, mine." She added herself in as an afterthought but didn't think Daenerys noticed. "When Aemon has questions, he'll come to you. Until then, you need to be careful, around your father, your brother and Tywin."

"I will," she said unconvincingly.

She took her lover's hand. "I mean it, this is serious. Avoid them if you can, and if you can't, stay calm. Now is not the time for anger."

"When is?" Her violet eyes shined with a lifetime worth of mistreatment but mixed in Arya saw genuine curiosity. She really wanted to know when she could unleash the fire inside.

Honestly, Arya didn't know if the day would come when Daenerys could confront her family, especially now that Rhaegar was no longer on their side. When Rhaegar was planning to replace Aerys, Arya took comfort from the fact that it would only be a matter of time before Daenerys was allied to the most powerful man in the world. Now, Aerys would remain King and even after he was gone the crown would fall to Rhaegar or Viserys, both of whom had a grudge against their only sister. Neither future filled Arya with much optimism. She would have put her faith in Ameon given the chance, but Arya was aware her cousin wanted to be on the Wall long before the end of his grandfather's reign. He didn't want the throne and wouldn't take it unless there was no other choice. Few of these options put Daenerys in a place where she could speak freely, voicing her true feelings. Still, Arya knew what she needed. Arya answered with a soft kiss that was followed by words. "Soon," she exaggerated, "when it's safe."

R-C

Author's Note: Another chapter posted. Oberyn delays the ship and saves the day. He also has plans for Payne, plans for Arya and plans for Daenerys. What can I say? I enjoy writing him.

Daenerys thinks Ned is alive. Arya didn't see him die after all, but could they trust the Mad King to be that merciful? You'll find out in the next couple of chapters, I promise (it'll either be one really long chapter, or two short ones).

They couldn't avoid Varys forever, who better to answer their questions? Unlike Rhaegar he saw even more of what happened to the Starks than Arya.

We are nearing the end now and it may take me a little longer than usual between chapters to make sure I can get everything into a semi-coherent finish. Thanks for sticking with me.

RC