A Dornish Wolf

by RussellCraig

To punish her father for his role in Robert's Rebellion, Arya Stark is sent to Dorne as a foster. After years as a servant in the Water Gardens she is finally starting to make a life for herself. When the Targaryens arrive for a meeting with Prince Doran will it change Arya's future?

61. Chapter 61

The fates had a funny sense of humor. How often had she dreamed of being busy, truly busy from dawn to dusk? Never in all that time did she think fulfillment of her wish would feel like this.

She spent her days pretending. Luckily, she had help. Missandei, Arya, Margaery, Loras and Sansa all assisted in making Daenerys appear busy to anyone who cared enough to check. She led meaningless tours around the castle, she wrote letters to the orphanage to accompany her latest donation and she did her best to behave as she always had. If they were going to succeed, the many eyes and ears within the Red Keep needed to think Daenerys was unchanged; oblivious, meek, malleable. She thought it would be relatively easy, after all she had decades of practice being exactly the woman she was now 'pretending' to be, but that old joke was proving true, you can't unring a bell. Now that Daenerys had woken up to the corruption, hypocrisy and pure evil around her, it was painful to ignore it. She wanted to step in, every time she witnessed a guard bullying a servant, or when from down the hall and around the corner she heard Cersei Lannister screaming at someone, but she couldn't. The old Daenerys, the one she was supposed to be, she wouldn't interfere and so the furious Dragon bit her tongue, balled her hands and promised herself change was coming.

Even if she couldn't intervene, she could remember, and Daenerys made it a point to. She began a list, in her head and also hidden in a drawer beside her bed, it tallied all the wrongs she'd seen in recent weeks and who committed them. She would see the men and women responsible punished. It would be among her first acts when she sat on the throne. The first step in a very long journey to right so many wrongs.

If her activities in the daylight hours left her drained and frustrated, how she spent her evenings was invigorating. After acting all day, it was nice to embrace who she truly was, and how she actually felt. She threw herself into the plot they were crafting, asking questions, pressing for more details and making suggestions. She couldn't recall ever feeling quite so passionate about anything – except maybe Arya – and it gave Daenerys a thrill that was better than eight hours of restful sleep.

She and her allies would talk and debate and scheme and despite needing to meet in secret with the fear of death hanging over them, Daenerys felt free. This, she decided was who she was meant to be. That realization provided the necessary encouragement when she was knocked off balance by a wave of self-doubt or skepticism. Night after night, when their makeshift Small Council parted ways, a little more had been decided, and were that much closer to their goal. Daenerys loved it.

As much as she enjoyed the challenge and the excitement plotting brought, Daenerys's favorite part of her daily ritual came after. Once Tyrion and Varys had excused themselves, after Missandei and Grey Worm had been dismissed, and Loras, Margaery and Sansa said their goodbyes, Daenerys would fall into bed next to the most gorgeous woman she'd ever seen, and they'd make love until they couldn't anymore. Sometimes it was tender and romantic, other times it was rough and wild, but it was never unsatisfying.

Daenerys had been born into power. She was a Princess by birth and the daughter of a Dragon, but she didn't know true power until she agreed to replace her father. In the days and weeks since, she'd come to understand not only the benefits of wielding such authority, but also the burdens. It scared her at first, but with Arya by her side, constantly reassuring her, she found her footing and settled in. Now tens of thousands of men waited in the Kingswood for her to give the order. Great Houses from all over the Seven Kingdoms were anxiously awaiting news of their success. Whether it was the Martells, the Tullys, or the Musgoods, they'd sided with Daenerys, and were bound to her, win or lose. Having lives in her hands, being looked up to, was as unusual as it was overwhelming. She was the last line of defense. Her decisions would alter the futures of millions of innocent people – it was daunting, even if Daenerys was determined to get it right.

In Arya's arms, she was allowed to forget she was a Princess, a Targaryen and the last hope for a lot of people. There were no choices to make, no scales to balance, no lies to tell or secrets to keep, no there was only Arya. The touch of her fingers, the taste of her skin. After hours of stress, she sank into her lover's embrace like a warm bath and each night Arya provided exactly what Daenerys needed.

It was while she was straddling her lover's naked body, kissing a path from her throat to her breasts, that Daenerys began to wonder if she'd been thinking about power incorrectly. With a wicked chuckle she ground herself into Arya's overheated center but pulled away before the guard could reciprocate. "Patience love," she teased, two small words dripping with potential. She slid down Arya's body, kissing as she went. A strong hand tangled in her hair and applied pressure to ensure her mouth landed precisely where Arya needed it. Daenerys didn't mind. As Arya squirmed and groaned under her, as she neared her climax and called out the Princess's name, Daenerys came to a stunning realization – true power was relative. She could command armies sure, she could collect allies and secure support, she could overthrow a King and name herself Queen, but all of that paled in comparison to watching and feeling Arya Stark come undone beneath her.

Exhausted as she was, it gave her a jolt every time, and when it was over and Arya would pull her close, kiss her gently and confess her love, nothing else existed in Daenerys's world. Arya would usually fall asleep soon after, with a soft, dare she say innocent, smile written across her face. Daenerys would stare at it in the darkness and think. If she could make Arya smile like that, if she could somehow earn the love of such an amazing, incredible woman, the surely, she was capable of anything she set her mind to, right?

The deeper in love she fell, the more Daenerys likened it to swimming in the sea. The further she got from shore the more she was willing to do to ensure she never needed to return. She was in the center now, with no hope to reach dry land in either direction, and yet, there was no panic, no fear of drowning, instead, she basked in the warmth that surrounded her. If her actions led to more nights with Arya, nights where the last thing she heard before she drifted off to sleep was that she was loved, and the last thing she saw was that contented smile Arya so rarely showed, it would be a good life, for a Queen, a Princess or a peasant. Gold, titles, lands, privilege, they were all illusions. Meaningless illusions. What she had with Arya was real and for that reason alone it was worth conquering the world, burning it down, or both, if need be.

R-C

She filled with dread as she entered the hall. She was shadowed by a pair of Unsullied, Green Slug and Black Ant if she remembered right. They were acting as guards because Daenerys had given her friends the freedom to enjoy some time away, a luxury Daenerys couldn't participate in. Missandei, Grey Worm, Sansa, Margaery and Arya had all gone into the city. Daenerys wanted to join them but didn't think it safe to. Weeks ago, just after the arrival of the Tyrells, she learned her father was too lost to his illness to really take note of them. She thought herself lucky then, a small blessing that the King was occupied with the whispers, but now she wasn't so certain. In the days that followed Aerys's temper shortened, and his mood worsened. There had been a long string of executions and burnings of late and Daenerys feared it was just beginning. She wasn't alone either, almost everyone in the castle was attempting to master some form of balancing act, completing their duties while at the same time trying to avoid notice. Daenerys had seen her father like this before, but as the weeks piled up, she struggled to recall another time he remained absent from reality for quite so long.

The day to day tasks of ruling the Realm fell to Rhaegar and Tywin, since Aerys was indisposed. They were busy and under normal circumstances that might've granted Daenerys some additional freedom, but not this time. Although her father was of little use to anybody except his pyromancer, he remained present. He didn't lock himself away in his bedchamber, he appeared every morning for breakfast and spent hours in the throne room afterward. Daenerys was glad she wasn't required to be there, relieved she didn't have to see the death the King's madness demanded, but she was wary. How long could things continue this way?

Only three days earlier, while she'd been eating her dinner, next to Aemon, the King stunned the entire hall by shouting for Daenerys. He hadn't spoken to her in ages, and no one was more surprised than her. She set down her spoon and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin before she moved to respond.

Arya was behind her in an instant, to pull the chair back. Even without words, Daenerys could comfort in her presence. "Yes Father?" she asked, hoping her voice wasn't shaking. "Is something the matter?"

He stared at her and for a moment looked as though he forgot who she was and why he summoned her. She and all those watching, witnessed the exact moment he recognized her. "Oh Dany," he said, sounding genuinely relieved. "I didn't see you there. I feared you had been taken from us."

With an insincere smile she barked out a hollow, empty laugh. "Don't worry Father," she told the King, "I'm not going anywhere."

"That's good," he said, leaning back in his chair, "that's good, you belong here."

She didn't know if she agreed with that, but she wasn't about to contradict him. She nodded politely and then sank back into her own seat. Arya gently pushed her chair back toward the table. Before she walked away, two of her fingers grazed the back of Daenerys's right shoulder, a subtle but oh so important reminder that she wasn't alone.

The rest of the meal passed without incident and there had been no other problems since, but Daenerys was still worried. Enough that she chose dining in the keep with people she hated over escaping into the city with the woman she loved and many of her dearest friends.

She studied the room quickly, searching for a safe harbor. The prospect of sitting at the royal table was less than appealing. The guilt Daenerys originally felt after agreeing to remove her father from power was gone now. She didn't feel remorse, or even sadness, instead she was angry. Aerys should have stepped down years ago. If he refused to go willingly, it should have been done with force. Rhaegar should have seen to it, but he didn't, because he was too lazy, too selfish and too weak. She didn't feel badly about what she was going to do, because it wasn't her choice. If Rhaegar had done the reasonable thing when she was a girl, perhaps Lyanna would still be alive, perhaps Aemon would have a mother and Arya another aunt. No, Daenerys was cleaning up the mess everyone else made, there was nothing shameful about that.

Despite her peace with the path she was walking, it didn't necessarily mean she wanted to sit at the same table as her brother and father and listen to them chat with their friends and advisors. When they gathered like this, they spoke as if the biggest problem Westeros had was the potential for a coming storm, or a poorly negotiated trade agreement. Personally, Daenerys could think of a few other issues she'd classify as more urgent.

A hand raising up from the corner of the room waved her down. She went after it, passing several empty tables in the process. Even when he was little more than a shadow in the room's darkest corner, she knew who it was that was inviting her over. She smiled. Much better than dining with Dragons.

There was a familiarity about their situation. She and Oberyn sat across from one another, with their meals in front of them. It had been a lot like this the night he suggested she become Queen. So much had changed since, mainly her, and yet she still found herself back in the same place.

They spoke for a time about nothing in particular, and then the subject shifted to one they could each discuss for days without boredom, Arya. Oberyn told her of their trip to Essos from his perspective and Daenerys was just as captivated as she'd been when Arya discussed it. From Oberyn she learned that he'd been trying to get Doran to release Arya from her service for months, but he refused. "He didn't want to anger the King," Oberyn explained. "He worried what would happen if word reached your father that the foster he sent to Dorne had been allowed to do as she pleased." Although a reasonable concern, Oberyn's tone made it clear how little he thought of the argument. "She was dying inside, in that place, cleaning up after highborn pricks. She should have been one of them, she was better than them, and they treated her like shit. I couldn't stand to watch it and so I went to my brother for help. When he refused, I planned the longest, most unnecessary voyage to Essos ever and offered her a spot on my crew." He paused and set down his fork. "I thought it would be only a one-way trip for her," he admitted.

Daenerys nodded. She vividly remembered Arya telling her about that. "What you did for her, what you've continued to do for her, I'm not sure you realize just how grateful she is." She paused, it felt strange, talking about Arya's feelings, when she wasn't there, but this was important. "Even if she doesn't say so, you should know…"

She didn't get to finish. "I do know," Oberyn told her with a smile. "She and I are family. We do not require words anymore than you and she do." He gave her a moment to consider that opinion before he pressed to prove his point. "How long did you love Arya before you told her so?"

Daenerys went back in her mind. When did she love Arya or when did she finally admit it to herself? Truthfully, she loved Arya long before she had any hint her feelings would be returned. "A while," she minimized.

Her vague reply didn't have the desired effect. Oberyn's smile twisted into a devious smirk. "And in all those days, during that 'while' did you do things for her, to show her you felt?"

"Yes," she confirmed as the memories flickered in rapid succession. Harvest Time, their first kiss, the sword.

He nodded. "Tell me, given the choice would you rather hear Arya tell you every day that she loves you, or would you prefer she show you, even if she never confesses it out loud?"

The Princess was speechless. Oberyn really was a wise and worldly man. After swallowing hard several times to clear her throat she replied, "I'd want her to show me."

"Yes," Oberyn echoed, "because words aren't the only way we can tell someone how we feel. Arya has thanked me many times, but she needn't. I know she is grateful, just as I hope she knows how grateful I am that she is in my life."

The conversation was lighter after that, until the servants had taken away their dirty dishes. All around them people were leaving, spreading out to the castle's many sitting rooms for a drink, but Oberyn remained where he was, and Daenerys with him.

"Things are happening quickly now," he said. Although he was practically whispering it wasn't required. The nearest person was five tables away, giving them all the privacy they could want. "I hear men from the Vale and the Riverlands will be making camp in the Kingswood in the coming days."

Daenerys allowed herself to smile. That was great. "I'm pleased to hear that," she said simply, although she trusted Oberyn to understand what was left unsaid.

"You and me both."

She liked Oberyn and didn't want him to leave, for Arya's sake more than her own, but still, she felt obligated to provide him with an opportunity he may not realize he had. "You must miss home, Ellaria and the girls. You could return to them if you wished. I will see this thing we've started through to the end. You have my word."

"I do miss my girls, everyday, all of them, but my place is here." He must've known she was about to comment because he hurried to finish before she could. "For now, at least."

"Arya and I are both happy to have you here. Your friendship has been…"

A warm hand settled over top of hers on the table. "We are not friends," he told her. A rock sank in her gut for an instant before he removed it by adding, "we are family." He gave her hand a squeeze before he justified his logic. "I love Arya as though she were my own. You are the woman she loves, the one she intends to spend the rest of her life with. That makes us so much more than allies or even friends, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," Daenerys confirmed, basking in Oberyn's approval. After the whipping, Daenerys thought it reasonable and fair that the Prince would hate her, but he never did. They bonded over their shared concern and love for Arya. Had it not been for that, he probably wouldn't have chosen her to take the throne and she definitely wouldn't have agreed when he asked.

"Arya hopes to spend the majority of her future, here with you. What about you?"

So deep in thought, Daenerys didn't immediately understand what it was he wanted to know. "What about me?"

"What do you want?" he wondered directly. "Do I have anything to worry about?"

Oh, that was what he was asking! When she sat down, she never imagined she'd be having this particular conversation tonight, but then again, is there ever a proper time for it?

"I love Arya," she began, starting with the simplest and most honest words she could find. "I love her more every day and each morning when I wake up next to her I want to pinch myself and make sure it isn't a dream."

"Do you?"

"No," she admitted as her cheeks and neck heated. She was blushing. "Even if it is only a dream, being with Arya is the kind of dream I never want to wake up from. She makes me happier than I've ever been, happier than I ever thought I could be. I don't deserve her, I know that, but I want to spend the rest of our lives trying to become someone worthy of her." Tears burned the back of her eyes. "I know I'm probably the last person you'd want to see with one of your daughters, but I can promise you, I'd die before I hurt Arya."

She hadn't realized one of the tears had broken through until Oberyn wiped it away with his thumb. Though his skin was rough, his touch was gentle. "You are exactly the kind of person I want for each of my girls, Arya included."

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask.

"You make her happy and it's clear you love her just as deeply as she loves you. What more could I want for her than that?"

Daenerys didn't have an answer. They stayed in a peaceful silence long enough for her to calm her raging emotions. Then Oberyn made another abrupt turn. "We are nearing the point of no return," he warned her. "Those armies out there in the forest, they are expecting something to happen soon. So are the Lords and Ladies who sent them here."

"I know," Daenerys swore, swiping across her cheeks one final time to knock away any errant tears. "I'm committed."

For a second time he placed his hand over hers. "I know you have your reasons but outside of this castle, this room, they don't matter." She was going to say something, to counter that argument, but he held up his free hand. "Your reasons are your own, just like all of your allies have their own motives for fighting at your side."

She waited to make sure he didn't have more to say, before she replied. "I know." It sounded feeble and insignificant when compared to what Oberyn was telling her, but what else could she say? She did know they had their own reasons for supporting her and she also knew that the fear of losing Arya wasn't quite the motivating factor for her allies that it was for Daenerys.

"Your reasons aside, the actions you take in the coming days will change the fates of millions and alter the balance of power across the world."

"I know," she repeated again, feeling dumber each time she uttered those two small words.

"Things will be different when your father no longer sits on the Iron Throne. Houses will rise and fall in the aftermath. Nothing will look quite as it does now once you are Queen," he predicted, "but I suspect few things will change as much as House Targaryen."

Daenerys who had been sipping from a glass of water, gulped down more than she meant to. She set the glass down and looked into Oberyn's dark eyes. "You're probably right about that."

"It's not only your House, Daenerys, but your family, your father, your brothers, are you prepared for what's coming?"

She didn't need to think about it, her choice was long made, but she did him the courtesy of contemplating it. "Yes," she told him, feeling more confident than she had all day. "What's happening is what needs to happen, I believe that, and I know you do too. Someone should have done this years ago, but since they didn't, I will. It's long overdue."

R-C

"Is something wrong Dany?" Aemon asked. With just a few words, the strange events of the day made a little more sense. He'd surprised her shortly after lunch, showing up at her bedroom door with tea. Usually, he was busy training in the yard at that time of day, but he apparently made an exception to spend some time with her.

Was it by design that he approached when Missandei was occupied elsewhere, and Arya was entertaining Sansa and Margaery?

Unsure of what exactly he meant Daenerys treaded carefully. Her life had a surplus of secrets and it wasn't immediately obvious which one Aemon was referring to. Saying the wrong thing would be far worse than remaining silent. "What do you mean?"

"Something is going on, isn't it?" he checked. "You've been having a lot of private meetings lately and you seem stressed," he paused and amended his statement, "more stressed than usual, I mean. Is this about Loras and the wedding?"

She should have known Aemon was too smart to overlook her odd behavior. She may have managed to avoid Tywin's notice or Rhaegar's, but Aemon was different. They'd always been close. "I am fine," she assured him. "Everything is fine, I'm just a little busier of late."

His concern for her shifted into anger in a blink. "Don't do that! Don't lie to my face. You and I, we aren't supposed to do that, not to one another."

Aemon was right and Daenerys was struck by a crushing wave of guilt. She shouldn't have lied to him. There was a time when Aemon was her closest friend, and the only person she truly trusted. Things had changed in recent months, but her fondness for her nephew wasn't among them. She took a deep breath, set down her teacup without sipping from it and began with an admission. "You're right. I should have been honest with you. I just didn't want you to worry."

"What's happening? I've seen Varys and Tyrion knocking at your door. Since when do you meet with them?"

Daenerys took a moment to consider her next step. It was a thoughtful, cautious, intentional decision to not include Aemon in her plans. For one thing, this wasn't his fight. He never wanted to be a part of King's Landing's politics, that was Daenerys's weakness. All Aemon wanted was to go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch. She wanted that for him and knew involving him in her scheme would only endanger his dreams for the future. Similarly, Daenerys didn't want to condemn her nephew if she and her allies failed. Aerys wouldn't hesitate to hold Aemon accountable if he had even the slightest role in the plot. She doubted anyone, including Rhaegar would be able to protect his son then.

She stayed inside her head too long and Aemon grew impatient. "What is it?" he pressed. "You can tell me."

"Something is happening," she confessed, needing to give him something. "I've finally got the chance I always wanted, a real opportunity to make the Realm a better place."

"How?"

Daenerys resisted the urge to cringe. Of course, he'd have more questions. "The details aren't important, all that matters is that I believe in this. I know in my heart it's a good thing."

"Then why keep it hidden?"

"It's a work in progress," Daenerys explained, repeating each word in her mind before she let it pass between her lips. "If people found out now, it would ruin everything, but if I wait, just a little while longer, and choose the right moment…"

"What is it?" He paused and then met Daenerys's eye with a serious stare. "Why do I get the feeling I should be worried for you?"

She forced a smile and reached across the table to make contact with him. "You shouldn't be. Everything is going to work out, you just have to trust me."

"I do," Aemon confirmed, "you know I do, but I don't like secrets. Nothing good comes from them. Look at this business with my mother, if my father had just told me…"

"This isn't like that," she assured him quickly. "This isn't anything like that, I promise."

"Then why won't you tell me what's happening?"

As she searched for a way to satisfy him, Daenerys questioned if it was his Stark blood that made him so damned stubborn. Arguing with Aemon was almost as harrowing and perilous an experience as disagreeing with Arya. "I swore I wouldn't speak of it," she justified. "I gave my word it would remain secret until the moment came to reveal it to everyone. I'm sorry, I am not trying to hurt you, but I can't break my oath either."

Her logic seemed to hit the mark because Aemon relaxed. "I don't like it," he acknowledged freely, "but I understand why you want to honor your pledge."

"Thank you," Daenerys said, hoping that they were done with this. She wasn't that lucky.

"How can I help?" he asked unexpectedly.

"What?"

"How can I help?" Aemon repeated. "If this is that important to you, then I want to help. So just tell me what you need me to do."

She bit her inner cheek to keep from sighing. "Aemon, I told you, I can't discuss it."

"You don't have to tell me the details, you don't have to tell me anything more than what you want done, and I'll do it."

Daenerys was touched by the offer. Even without knowing what she was involved in, Aemon was willing to assist her. He was a good man, a good friend and far better than she deserved. "Right now, there isn't anything pending," she noted, "we are simply waiting."

Aemon wasn't pleased by the rejection. "Come on, there has to be something."

As quickly as she could she sought out middle ground for them to share. "I'll tell you what," she bargained, "I don't need any assistance right now, but if that changes, you'll be the first one I tell."

Wary that he was being brushed aside again, Aemon required reassurance. "Promise?"

The smile she gave him to go along with her reply was more sincere than her last try. "I swear it. If anything arises, I'll let you know." She waited just long enough to ensure Aemon didn't have any objections and then she did her best to steer them toward something safer. "What do you think of Sansa, Lady Margaery's new handmaiden?"

R-C

She wanted to sleep, the Gods knew she was trying to, but her mind just wouldn't allow it. Despite a long and taxing day, her brain would not cease. Not even the warm, comforting hold of Arya's arms was enough to coax her into a dream. She was too busy thinking about all the choices she was going to have to make in the coming days. Without trying she saw the faces of all those destined to oppose her plans. Rhaegar, Viserys, Tywin and Aerys would all need to be convinced.

Daenerys thought she knew how things would resolve themselves with Rhaegar. He made it clear he didn't want the throne, so it didn't seem likely that he'd fight to keep her from taking it, especially once Aemon declared in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in being King.

Viserys was the unknown. He had thousands of men at his command and would not tolerate Daenerys becoming Queen in place of him. He would do anything and everything in his power to thwart her and seize the Crown for himself. Unlike Rhaegar, Daenerys was conflicted about how to handle Viserys. Should she wait until she had control of the capital and then deal with him, or was it better to bring him to King's Landing and deal with everyone and everything that might stand in her way all at the same time? The timing may have been uncertain, but it was the only matter of dispute. Sooner or later, she knew, deep in her heart and in her soul that Viserys would make her life as miserable as he could, for as long as he was permitted to. She planned to take from him what he always considered his birthright. He wouldn't forgive such a slight and that left Daenerys with remarkably few options. With Rhaegar there was a chance for a peaceful coexistence. With Viserys Daenerys had no such illusions. She and Viserys would need violence to settle their differences, that was unavoidable.

Tywin's reaction, Daenerys predicted would fall somewhere between that of her two brothers. He defiantly wouldn't be as understated as Rhaegar, but he was also nowhere near as impulsive as Viserys. He would certainly think he was better suited to rule Westeros than she, and he would probably one day seek to usurp her, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. Tywin was too calculating, too clever to rush headfirst into an uncertain outcome. Daenerys had discussed the Hand's thinking and behavior with Tyrion at length, hoping to gain some insight and while she wasn't supremely confident, she did think it was more likely than not that Tywin would heed caution. Even if the majority of the Kingsguard and Casteguard joined him, they'd be severely outnumbered by the men under Daenerys's command. Tywin was too smart not to know this and for that reason alone, she was counting on him to retreat back to Casterly Rock. He'd want to assess his strengths and Daenerys's weaknesses, before mounting an offensive and that would take time, weeks and months Daenerys could use to strengthen and solidify her position in the capital. Once he was outside the city walls, she'd sleep a little easier at night, though she acknowledged, he was the sort of man who could make a fearsome and formidable opponent from anywhere.

She thought of the Hand's children and wondered where they'd side. Cersei would follow her father, desperate to cling to any scrap of power she could, but what about the Kingsguard? He didn't seem as ambitious as his sister or as ruthless as his father. Would he follow them? Would Tyrion allying himself with Daenerys change anyone's position?

It wasn't just Jaime either. The Kingsguard were many of the best, most storied soldiers in the Realm. Angering them would not be wise for a novice Queen. She needed to disband her father's sworn protectors without inviting trouble. She had been speaking to Oberyn, Arya and even Loras about this, and settled on a strategy she thought had a reasonable chance of success.

Her father. He was the most immediate concern she had, and yet she actively tried not to think about him whenever possible. It was easier to plot her ascent without acknowledging that she'd be stealing from her father in the process. How does one handle a man like Aerys Targaryen? Even if she could get him to see logic and accept that the Realm was better without him on the throne, how long would such a concession last? How quickly would he be screaming about enemies and fire and dragons? Deep inside Daenerys knew what needed to be done. There was only one thing she could offer her father now, but the question remained, was she strong enough to maintain her convictions?

R-C

Arya had been asleep, until something pulled her back to the world. Initially she thought Daenerys was rolling over. Her arms instinctively flexed as she held the Dragon in her arms, and she was nearly back to sleep before it occurred to her that Daenerys hadn't settled. In her current state it was hard to focus on the details, but something wasn't right. One minute passed, then another. After a third, Arya cracked an eye open and peeked at the woman next to her. The Stark was no stranger to trouble sleeping, which gave her ample opportunities to watch Daenerys unknowingly. For this reason, she was intimately familiar with what Daenerys looked like when she was resting peacefully, or when she was dreaming happy things. Arya could tell neither of these things were happening tonight. She was wide awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark, oblivious to Arya's eyes on her.

Her own exhaustion not withstanding, Arya was immediately concerned. It was unusual for Arya wake in the middle of the night to find her lover uneasy. Typically, the Princess slept fairly comfortably, right up until the sun's rays came poking through the window.

Accepting that she'd never be able to go back to sleep without making certain that Daenerys was alright, Arya posed a simple question. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Although the words were whispered, Daenerys reacted as though she'd screamed at the highest volume. With a shriek of surprise, her head turned toward Arya so abruptly, the soldier was sure her neck would be sore tomorrow. "A…Arya, wha…what?!"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm… I'm fine," she tried, unconvincingly.

"If that were true, you wouldn't be wide awake right now, you'd have your eyes closed, and be dreaming of me."

The sound of Daenerys laughing in the dark, made Arya smile along. "What makes you think I'd be dreaming about you?" she challenged.

"You talk in your sleep Princess," Arya told her plainly, "usually I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my own name being chanted again and again."

She didn't need candlelight to know Daenerys's face was on fire. "Wh…That's… I do not talk in my sleep!" she declared with as much confidence as she could muster.

Arya had to hide her smirk behind her hand. Daenerys didn't talk in her sleep, but by suggesting that she did, she had managed to help the Targaryen get her mind off whatever had her troubled.

"I don't talk in my sleep," Daenerys said again, this time, much more uncertain, "do I?"

Arya answered first by tightening her hold on the older woman. "No, you don't, but would you be so worried if it wasn't me, you were dreaming about?"

"That was mean!" Daenerys complained, slapping lightly against the upper part of Arya's bare chest, just below her neck. Arya smiled as she pressed Daenerys's warm hand to her skin.

"It made you smile," she noted smugly.

Daenerys's slight smile widened and took on an indulgent quality. She was so beautiful Arya squinted and tried to memorize every detail.

"I suppose it did," she allowed.

"Do you want to talk?" Arya offered, taking them back to the beginning.

This time Daenerys didn't pretend she was unaware of what Arya meant. With a defeated sigh she shook her head. "Do you ever wonder if I can really do this?" she started. Arya knew there was more she had to get off her chest, so she didn't reply, she waited in silence for the rest. "I mean what makes me the right person to be Queen? I know nothing, I have no special skills or talents, I should be everyone's last pick for Queen and yet, all these great houses and important families have supported me. Thousands and thousands of men are willing to risk their lives to see me on the throne."

She paused, but whether she was truly finished or just in need of air, Arya couldn't say. When the delay lingered, she provided a little nudge. "And?" she prompted.

"And what if everyone is wrong?! What if I'm not the person they think I am? What if I'm not strong enough to do what needs to be done?"

More than anything else, Arya felt sympathy for her lover's plight. She hated seeing Daenerys upset, especially when her concerns were centered around her own self worth. "You are the strongest person I've ever known, Daenerys," she announced, "you never have to doubt that."

Daenerys gifted her with a smile, although it was short-lived. "Thank you," she said, dropping a quick kiss onto Arya's lips, "but I'm being serious."

"So am I."

Even without the aid of light, Arya could see that Daenerys didn't believe her. She was proven right soon after. "Me?" she verified. "How can you say such a thing? Why me and not Oberyn or your father?"

After mentioning her father, Daenerys tensed as if she realized too late that including Ned Stark might be unhelpful to their current situation. Arya didn't mind. She responded to the inquiry as if nothing was amiss. "How can you think yourself weak, after everything you've been through? Living here with your brothers, and your father, with Jorah, Tywin and so many men just like them, not many women could have endured here the way you did."

"That's not strength," Daenerys disagreed, "I wasn't trying to be strong or brave or courageous, I was just trying to survive. It was perseverance and nothing more."

Arya was unmoved. "Call it what you want. If you weren't stronger than you realize, you would have opened your wrists to end your suffering long before your father ordered you to join him on a trip to Sunspear."

The room was quiet for a long time after that. Arya could tell that Daenerys wasn't sleeping, she was thinking. The foster didn't interfere. "I thought about it, you know," she whispered. "I'm ashamed of that now, to have to tell you that, but more than once, I thought about it."

Arya wasn't surprised. She too had contemplated ending her life after she was sent to Dorne. In truth it would've been more shocking if Daenerys claimed the thought never crossed her mind. Given where and with whom she was raised, suicide was probably an appealing option more often than Arya wanted to consider. An act of power and defiance by a young woman who was trapped, marginalized and largely voiceless. "What stopped you?" she needed to know. Whoever or whatever prevented Daenerys from carrying it out, she'd be indebted forever.

"I'm not sure," she mumbled quietly. "Maybe I was too afraid. I kept telling myself that if I just kept trying then maybe things would get better." She rolled toward Arya and their eyes met, grey and violet. "And they did."

Daenerys kissed her and Arya reciprocated. They didn't stop until Arya's lungs had begun to burn in protest. Once they separated, Daenerys finished her thought. "In the end, I didn't really want to die, I just wanted a different life for myself."

Arya smiled, understanding fully. She felt the same way after years of scrubbing bedsheets. She got the life she wanted with help from Oberyn, and now she was getting the chance to support Daenerys as she searched for the road she was meant to walk. "Let's find it then."

R-C

Memories from the night before stayed with her all through breakfast, specifically her concerns about Viserys.

It was with this in mind that she postponed her first appointment for Tyrion in favor of seeking out the Spider. She found him in his office, already working, behind a large, organized desk. He smiled when he saw them coming, standing up. "Princess, Lady Sand, so lovely to see you this morning. You both look radiant."

He gestured for them to enter and they did. Despite it being his office, it was Daenerys who motioned for Arya to close the door behind them. Once she had the entire mood within the room changed. With one satisfying click, Varys's bright, friendly, accommodating posture shifted. Now they didn't need to worry about being overheard. In his protected office behind the thick walls and the heavy door, they could speak without fear.

He was surely curious about what brought them to see him, so early and unexpectedly too, but he hid it well under a mask of concern. "Is everything alright Daenerys?"

"It is," she said confidently, "although I do have a request and it is one I can trust to only you."

Her admission certainly piqued his interest, just as she hoped it would. "I am at your service. Please come and sit, both of you, and tell me what's on your mind."

Daenerys remained standing and Arya as always followed her lead. "I'm afraid we can't," she refused, "I am already behind schedule. Unfortunately, this business can not wait."

"How can I be of use?" the Spider offered kindly.

"Summon my brother from Dragonstone," she directed, watching his eyes for the flash of shock that was quickly concealed.

"Prince Viserys?" Varys verified needlessly.

She nodded. "It would look strange if the request came from me, and I can think of few others he'd listen to."

"You want me to send for him," the Spymaster verified a little too late.

"Viserys knows you're on the Small Council, he knows you often speak with my father's authority and on his behalf. If you request that he return to the Red Keep, he won't question it."

Daenerys didn't miss the way Varys looked to Arya before he responded. Despite not knowing what Daenerys intended to ask of him, Arya remained expressionless, the picture of composure and calm. "Are you sure this is wise Princess. Given everything we are attempting, might it not be best to settle things in the capital first and then invite your brother for a visit?"

That had been precisely the strategy Daenerys planned to employ but delaying the inevitable wouldn't benefit anyone. She and Viserys were always going to be on opposing sides, the sooner she resolved their outstanding issues, the better it would be. Once Viserys was dealt with, she could move on to larger, more important, more relevant matters. "I've made up my mind," she declared bravely. "Invite my brother back, and with luck he'll arrive just in time."

Although he tried to hide it, Varys was uneasy. Again, she caught him looking to Arya for assistance that didn't come. Without support, he made another attempt alone. "Princess, might I suggest waiting. Viserys is no threat to you…"

She held up her hand to silence his protest. "Thank you, Lord Varys, but as I said, I do not require counsel on this matter, and we are late. I'll trust a courier will be on his way to Dragonstone by the end of the day." Her tone left no room for argument and that was precisely how she wanted it.

"Of course, Princess. I'll make all the necessary arrangements."

With a final nod, she turned her back on the Spider, who was still behind his desk. Arya opened the door and held it for Daenerys to pass through. Neither woman spoke until they were out into the hallway, down the corridor and around the corner. "What are you thinking?" Arya asked. There was no malice or ridicule in her words, just a genuine inquiry.

Alone with Arya, she was willing to confess things she'd never admit to anyone else, especially Varys. "Viserys will be a thorn in my foot for as long as I allow him to be. Letting him retain control of Dragonstone and its garrison will only embolden him to defy me," Daenerys predicted.

"And what happens when he reads Varys's letter and boards the next ship bound for King's Landing?"

She smiled sweetly at her lover. "Then you and I settle our outstanding debts with my dear brother."

Intelligent as she was, Arya understood instinctively what Daenerys was proposing. She didn't object to the idea or even provide an alternative, instead she only asked, "Are you sure that's what you want?"

She snagged Arya's hand with her own and wound their fingers together. The contact calmed her. She sighed and her eyes closed without permission as she savored Arya's closeness. She was absolutely certain about the course she was charting. Not only in regard to Viserys but everyone else as well. She had no doubts, no reservations, nothing. Opening her eyes, she looked to Arya and tried to convey everything she was thinking and feeling without words. The dazzling smile she received made her think she'd been successful but just in case, she provided the guard with a little hint. "This only works if I'm the last Dragon left standing."

R-C

There was a strong wind blowing from the east and it brought with it a chill that made Arya smile. After a long afternoon training with Aemon, sweating to ensure she was continuing to improve, to heal after the whipping, the breeze was welcome.

Daenerys, Missandei, Margaery and even Sansa were all wearing thick cloaks. Only Arya and Grey Worm went without.

"Aren't you cold?" Daenerys asked, not so discretely as they rode side by side. The question had been overheard and Arya could see Margaery for one was listening intently to hear the reply.

Arya rewarded Daenerys with a playful smirk. "Until you're up to your ass in snow and you can't open a window because they're all frozen shut, it isn't truly cold."

This had the Princess's full attention. "Does it really get that cold in Winterfell?"

The siblings looked at one another and shared knowing smiles. "Yes," Arya announced directly.

Sansa elaborated. "It does indeed. In fact, even though it was always cold when it snowed, some of the coldest days were the ones when the sky was clear, and there was nothing but wind."

Daenerys shivered just thinking about it, causing her horse to slow slightly as she inadvertently tugged on his reins. "Well, I suppose if that's what you're used to, you probably can go without a cloak."

Sansa laughed and shook her head. "Even in Winterfell, she'd go running around without a cloak or furs, isn't that right little sister?"

Fully aware she was being teased, she tolerated it because she was quite enjoying the easy back and forth between her sister and her love. Perhaps things were really beginning to improve between them. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" she fired back to counter Sansa's taunt.

"Did you not have a cloak?" Missandei wondered, misunderstanding. This only caused Sansa to laugh harder.

Responding to her woman's reaction, Margaery contributed with, "Oh I have got to hear this."

"Me too," Daenerys agreed.

Suddenly all eyes were on Arya. "Isn't much to tell really. I did have a cloak but going to get it would have taken too much time, and I didn't want to waste any."

On the horse next to Arya, Daenerys wore a puzzled expression for a moment or two then looked to Missandei in hopes the former translator had better luck. She appeared just as confused. Sansa saved them. "Tell it right!" she directed.

"Every word I just said was the truth," Arya assured them in her defense.

With a huff that was part laugh, Sansa surrendered. "Fine, I'll tell the story then." There was a slight pause, while everyone waited to see if Arya would intervene, but she wouldn't be doing that. Also, she wanted to hear how Sansa remembered things, they hadn't exactly been close at that time. "Yes, Arya had many cloaks, most lined with fur, and all suitable."

"But she didn't wear them?"

Peeking at Sansa as she waited for the tale to continue, she noticed her sister smiling at her, looking genuinely happy. It made Arya smile too despite being the center of attention and the brunt of the joke. "When we weren't using them, our cloaks were stored in the closet of the room we shared. That closet and the cloaks inside were quite far from where we'd meet the Septa each morning for our studies. We were taught downstairs, on the opposite side of the castle." Sansa paused for dramatic effect and Arya rolled her eyes a bit as she continued to listen and remember. "This," Sansa restarted, "may be hard for everyone to believe but Arya was not very fond of our lessons with the Septa. She hated them in fact and would often sneak out when the Septa's back was turned, running out into the yard, where our brother and our father's men were learning the sword."

Missandei, Margaery, and even Grey Worm chuckled along with Sansa once everyone understood. Daenerys directed her inquiry to the woman sworn to protect her. "Anything to say for yourself?"

She shrugged. "If the Septa agreed when I suggested we learn outdoors, it would have made everything a whole lot easier."

"Did you get sick?" Daenerys fretted.

"Once or twice," Arya minimized. Unfortunately. Sansa's memory was still strong, and she was only too happy to contradict Arya's claim. "She was sick all the time," Sansa corrected. "Sometimes it would take hours for the staff to find her squatted down in some random bush somewhere or to spot a head of dark hair peeking out from between two buildings."

For a second time Daenerys looked to Arya to refute Sansa's telling and she couldn't so she just shrugged and smiled in a way she knew Daenerys found distracting.

It worked because moments later Daenerys's stallion was inching toward hers. She leaned out of the saddle toward the guard and whispered, "You're lucky I love you."

Raising up out of her own saddle Arya straightened up and stretched so she could connect Daenerys's mouth to her own. "Yes I am."

Once she was seated back on her own mount again, Daenerys made a request. "Please don't get sick. I've done enough worrying at your bedside to last a lifetime."

Arya felt a stab a guilt as Daenerys final point hit its target. She never intended to cause any discomfort for Daenerys, but through her actions, it happened. If the Princess needed reassurance, Arya was going to provide her with it. "I promise." She let that sink in for a moment before adding, "As soon as we're done, how about wine by the fire in your chambers?"

"Sounds perfect," Daenerys agreed, her eyes sparkling and her smile breathtaking. That moment seemed to go on longer than it should have. It was hard to think, but the next thing she knew Margaery was dismounting her horse. Arya had a look at their surroundings. They had arrived.

Since Margaery had the most knowledge about the Kingswood camp, she took the lead, with Sansa at her side. Arya liked that, especially the way the Tyrell took Sansa's hand as a show of support. Given where they were and what they were doing, nerves were to be expected. Arya was battling her own.

Arya jumped down from the horse Daenerys bought her and hurried over to aid the Princess. Behind them, Grey Worm helped Missandei down in a similar fashion. Although Daenerys insisted, she could do it, and Arya had no doubt she was capable, the guard still led both of the horses, allowing Daenerys to take a break. A few hundred feet from the road, they came to a cluster of trees with lengths of ropes attached. Some had horses tied to the other end, while the rest remained available for use. Margaery had already found a spot for hers and had now moved on to assisting Sansa.

Arya sought out two openings relatively close together and was pleasantly surprised it didn't take all night. Once the horses were secured, she took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself. If there was a proper way to go about something like this, that is. It's not often you're reunited with family who spent years believing you were dead.

Loras hand-delivered a note that morning. It came from the Kingswood where the armies of the Vale the Riverlands were settling in. The leaders from each group were requesting an audience with any of Ned Stark's surviving children. They'd been promised that supporting Daenerys would mean supporting the Starks and they clearly required proof before they did more than march.

Arya hadn't known when she sent the letters that Sansa would be in the Red Keep too, but it worked out well, since the elder sister was as eager to see their mother's family as Arya was. Since everyone still had pretenses to maintain, they waited until after dinner when Daenerys and the others were reasonably sure they could sneak away without alerting anyone. Margaery came to support Sansa, Daenerys offered to say behind, but Arya refused. She loved Daenerys and she wasn't ashamed of her. She would not force Daenerys to hide away. If Arya and Sansa could get past her being a Targaryen, then surely the Tullys and the Arryns could do the same. Arya enlisted Grey Worm as additional security and once he was scheduled to come, leaving Missandei back in the keep didn't feel right to Arya or anyone else.

Arya could feel uncertainty radiating from Daenerys as they stepped away from their horses and toward the first of many fires set up for clusters of men to gather around. Just after they'd passed a group of soldiers from Riverrun, Daenerys leaned in and whispered, "Are you sure It's okay that I'm here? I could go. I don't want to offend…"

Sensing words would mean less than action, she reached out and took Daenerys's hand, as she'd seen Margaery do with Sansa. And just as Sansa responded with a momentary pause, a turn of her head and a sweet smile, Daenerys did too.

Arya's heart pounded so loud it was easy to miss the conversations happening all around her. She could only hope Daenerys would forgive her if she didn't hear something of importance.

Time could change people, few knew this better than Arya, but when a gruff man barking orders turned away from the man he just dismissed and the foster got a good look at his face, she just knew precisely who he was. The Blackfish. They called him Uncle even though he was actually their mother's uncle. He could be rough and rude at times, but Arya had always liked him, largely because he told great stories, always brought treats when he visited and most importantly, he adored Catelyn.

Nearby Sansa was seeing the same thing. "Arya," she gasped in surprise when she spotted the familiar man in the crowd. Given the distance between them, the noise of those around them and the wind, she barely heard it, but she did. Turning toward her sister, Sansa was staring at the Blackfish and when Arya shifted her focus to the Tully, she found him equally frozen, gawking at Sansa.

Arya felt a stab of empathy for the old warrior. She had a hunch it wasn't Sansa he was seeing, but instead his niece.

Without letting go of Daenerys's hand, Arya pulled them toward Sansa. They stood in a line, Daenerys and Margaery on the ends, with the Starks in the middle, each clinging to their partner. Grey Worm and Missandei stood back, close by, but not involved.

Brynden's eyes flickered from Sansa to Arya and back before he abruptly turned and used a thick finger to point at a passing soldier, seemingly at random. "You there," he commanded, "go and get Jon Arryn. Tell him the girls are here."

"Who m'lord?" the confused archer questioned.

"The Starks," he practically shouted. Whether it was his tone or his words that sent the young man scurrying Arya couldn't say, but he broke into a run.

While she waited to see what would happen next Arya tried to keep her expression even. It was surprising to her that Jon Arryn had come. She pictured her father's mentor in her mind and wondered how it was possible. He had been old the last time she'd seen him. Now almost a decade later, it was unexpected to find him alive, let alone able to travel to war and lead men.

The Blackfish pulled her from her thoughts. "You have the look of your mother," he said to Sansa. He stood in front of her, and she smiled when he opened his arms for a hug. She released the hands she was holding and embraced him. "I miss her," Arya heard her great-uncle say as he squeezed Sansa tight.

"I do too," Sansa assured him.

More was exchanged before they released one another, but Arya couldn't make out more than the occasional word.

Once he was done with Sansa. Brynden moved down the line, only to come to a stop in front of Arya. He opened his mouth but hesitated briefly when he noticed the sun marking her armor. Arya took the opportunity to ease some of the tension. "And I, do not have the look of my mother."

The Blackfish smiled. It was warm and easy, and it made Arya feel good. "Perhaps not, but she loved you regardless. Just one glance at you and it'd be obvious to anyone you're a child of the North with ice in your veins. You carry yourself as he did, strong, brave, direct."

For a large portion of her life Arya's greatest wish was to be compared to Ned Stark in such a way. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she stepped forward to hug her mother's uncle in part because she wished to buy the necessary seconds she'd need to compose herself. When it was her turn to be within range of his whispers, the Tully told her, "Worry not child, it will all be okay now. You are with family again."

When she stepped back into the line between Sansa and Daenerys, Arya noticed they had a new arrival, but it wasn't Jon Arryn. Instead, it was the same man Brynden sent to find him. "Apologies, but the Lord Paramount requests you join him, he is sitting by the fire."

The guests looked at one another in silent question. Arya was debating whether or not to comment when the Blackfish did, but only after rolling his eyes. "The old fuck probably can't get up." He sighed dramatically and then extended his right arm. "Come now, let us drink and talk and make up for all this lost time."

Sansa and Margaery made small talk with Brynden during the walk. Arya was too captivated by the thousands of soldiers they passed. She tried to count the number of different sigils she saw, but to get an accurate assessment would have required much more time and she didn't want to be rude and wander away from the others.

Before they left the Red Keep Sansa and Arya agreed they'd refrain from mentioning to the Blackfish or anyone else that Ned might be alive. One reason was simple and the other slightly more complicated. Arya didn't trust the Spider, so until he saw her father and brother alive with her own two eyes, she'd be reluctant to take him at his word. Secondly, they needed the army's focus here, on the capital. If word spread through their ranks that Ned Stark survived, there would be no telling how that might alter things. Would Jon Arryn lead his troops North to see it for himself? Would it change the men's allegiances to Daenerys? No! One battle at a time. First, they'd settle things in King's Landing and install a worthy Queen on the Iron Throne and then, she'd travel North and see if Varys's words were more than self-serving talk.

She rejoined the conversation just as Daenerys spoke for the first time. "Ser Tully, I wanted to thank you for coming. I know it means a lot to Arya and Sansa, I am pleased we can be allies in this and begin working to make the Realm a better place."

Arya was proud of her. Daenerys had spoken clearly, directly and sincerely, qualities the soldier would approve of. Instead of responding however, Brynden spared Daenerys only the briefest of glances before he asked Sansa, "So you were in Highgarden then, with the Tyrells?"

"Yes, Arya and I were sent to foster, albeit in different kingdoms." As Sansa explained, Arya saw their destination up ahead, the old strategist sitting there waiting for them.

With a polite, but tense smile for Margaery, he nodded. "There are worse places you could have gone I suppose," the Blackfish acknowledged before taking a moment, "and what of your brothers?"

The nearby firelight was just bright enough to give Arya a clear view of Sansa's pain. Knowing that confessing what happened to the others would be hard for her, Arya stepped forward. "They were not as lucky. Robb fell trying to defend our mother, Bran after and then Rickon."

She could feel Sansa's eyes on her, silently checking if they were going to expose the truth about Bran. Arya saw no reason to. It wouldn't help anyone to hear the gruesome details.

"Robb was a good boy," the Tully recalled fondly, "a strong lad, talented too. Who bested him?"

Again, the sisters exchanged a heavy look. Should they clarify that Robb didn't have a weapon, that Ilyn Payne killed an unarmed man? Arya was still weighing her options when the Targaryen among them replied. "It was Ser Ilyn Payne."

Brynden scoffed. "The Mad King's favorite torturer, I should have guessed."

Arya twisted toward Daenerys, fearing that she'd need reassurance now that the subject on the table was her father. Surprisingly, she didn't seem the least bit bothered by it. "He's dead," she elaborated, "died a horrible death befitting a man as miserable as him."

For the second time Arya's great-uncle dismissed Daenerys as if she hadn't spoken. Once Arya could excuse, twice, was beginning to annoy her. "Come girls, let's say hello to your uncle."

Jon Arryn hadn't changed much in the years they'd been apart. He was older, thinner, frailer, but his mind was still sharp. His body may have been failing him, but he was quick witted, clever and intelligent. He had to squint to see his nieces, and stopped to cough often, but once they were all seated, the conversation moved easily.

A lot of the information they provided were things that Arya already knew. Mainly, that everyone believed they were dead. It wasn't until their houses received Daenerys's letter, and the accompanying note from Arya that they learned any Starks survived their horrid trip to the Red Keep all those years ago.

Brynden sat next to Sansa, and they exchanged stories of Catelyn, while Margaery listened.

Arya and Daenerys were closer to Jon and he was speaking at length about the Vale, about Arya's Aunt Lysa and their son Robin. Arya asked questions, Daenerys added polite comments, and all was calm.

That changed when a wrinkly finger extended from Jon's hand and poked at Arya's breastplate. He missed the steel, but she leaned in, once she realized what he was attempting. "Is that armor?"

"Yes," she conceded, "I trained to be a soldier while I was in Sunspear."

"She excelled," Daenerys praised happily, always willing and able to boast about Arya's achievements. "I've never seen a more talented warrior."

"Your father was one of the best I'd ever seen," Jon told them, attracting the attention of those across the fire. Sansa, Brynden and Margaery were paying attention too now. Further away Grey Worm and Missandei were there. She quietly translated any words he hadn't yet learned. "He and Robert were like brothers you know. Closer than many who have the same blood running through their veins."

"I know," Arya promised. Going as far back as her memory would allow, Arya had been told of the close bond between Ned and Robert.

"Close as kin, but two different men you would be hard pressed to find." He stopped to sip from the water beside him before carrying on. "Your father was more cautious, quicker but deliberate. Every strike he made, every swing of his sword was purposeful and exact. He fought with his head more than his arm."

Arya smiled, listening to someone who knew her father so well, speak about him. It was a nice treat, as rare as it was special. Jon wasn't yet finished either.

"Robert on the other hand," he continued, with a light laugh that quickly devolved into a round of fitful coughs. "He was your father's opposite, so impulsive and brash, he preferred brute force over any cunning, choosing a direct, frontal assault every time. He had little patience for strategy or tactic, trusting in the strength of his sword-arm and the size of his Warhammer to persevere over any shortcomings in planning."

"The hammer was of little help to him at the Trident," the Tully remarked almost bitterly.

Jon waved away his disapproval with a thin hand. "Separate N…Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon had their limitations, their weaknesses, but together, they strengthened one another. Where your father was weak, Robert was strong and where Robert was ill-equipped, your father excelled."

"And yet they failed," Sansa noted. It wasn't angry or dismissive, it was simpler than that, a stating of an undeniable fact.

"They were betrayed, Prince Rhaegar knew their plan. If he had met them on the field without the secrets Jorah Mormont traded for his knighthood, Ned's plan would have won the day."

How many different times had she heard about the Battle of the Trident? Her father spoke of it as a miscalculation. That he should have known there was a problem when so few Targaryen men stood opposite them. Her father was a proud man, but not a bragger. It made sense that he wouldn't assume their victory but for Jorah's betrayal. He might not have said so, choosing to think the outcome was less certain, but apparently Jon Arryn did not share his reluctance. He was telling them that the battle could have been different. Would a victory at the Trident have changed the outcome of the entire war? What would the world be if it was Rhaegar and not Robert who fell that day?

Arya hadn't realized the conversation around her was ongoing, until Daenerys squeezed her hand and pulled her out of her thoughts of fantasy.

"If you were in Sunspear, and Sansa in Highgarden, how did you both come to be here?"

That was an elaborate tale and one neither Stark really wanted to dive into, so Arya gave the most basic, watered down telling she could. "When I completed my training, I was assigned to King's Landing, to act as Princess Daenerys's guard, until her brother weds Eliza Martell."

"Why would Prince Doran choose you of all people to serve Aerys?" Jon wanted to know.

"It wasn't his choice," Arya acknowledged.

"Aerys picked you?" Brynden verified in disbelief. "Why would he choose a Stark to protect his own flesh and blood? That makes even less sense than Doran sending you."

Arya was at a loss. How could she possibly explain all the pieces that came together to orchestrate her being named Daenerys's guard? She was still crafting a reply when the woman she loved, saved her from the scrutiny.

"My father didn't choose her, I did," Daenerys proclaimed loudly. "As Arya said, I was in need of a new guard until the wedding, and I chose Arya."

Although that wasn't exactly how it happened, it was accurate enough and Arya felt herself relax, it was premature. "So, it was you?!" Brynden accused. "You wanted to torture and torment her by forcing her to King's Landing in your service."

Horrified on Daenerys's behalf she was preparing to jump to her defense, but she was too late. By the time her lips parted, both Daenerys and Brynden were on their feet. "Absolutely not!" the Targaryen insisted. "I had no idea Arya was a Stark, like you I was led to believe the entire Stark family was dead."

"Likely answer," the Blackfish scoffed, "how could you not know, the grey eyes, the jaw, the dark hair."

Her great-uncle's anger was burning hot, but Daenerys didn't back down. "Arya is one of the only Starks I've ever seen for myself, Ser," she justified. "She introduced herself as Arya Sand, and I believed her, because I was not in the habit of searching the faces of strangers I meet, for people I believe are long dead!"

Margaery decided to support Daenerys's position a bit. "It is true," she confirmed. "Until Daenerys brought Arya to see us in Highgarden, we all thought Arya was dead as well."

While everyone waited to see if that would be enough to sooth the Blackfish, the oldest of them realized something he hadn't before then. "You are her," he said to Daenerys, "you are Princess Daenerys."

She moved a few steps closer to the old man. "Yes I am." She took his hand in both of hers, with exaggerated gentleness. "Thank you for committing your troops to this task. I hope you will agree it is past time my father ceased being King and…"

"You wish our help to replace one Targaryen with another?" Brynden shouted. "Why should we bother?! What's the difference?"

That had not only Daenerys's attention, but everyone's, including a handful of soldiers and commanders listening close by. For their part Grey Worm and Missandei inched closer. "Excuse me?!" Daenerys checked, pivoting to face the Tully. "I thought we had an agreement. As I said in my letter…"

Again, he interrupted her. "I don't give two shits about your letter. Fuck your letter, your plan, and your politics. I'm sick of all this Targaryen horseshit."

Unexpectedly to Arya, it was Sansa who tried first to settle things. "Uncle, Daenerys is not like the others in her family. She brought Arya to Highgarden to see me, she wishes to help."

"Perhaps she does want that now," he considered, "but it won't always be so. When her poisoned blood drives her to madness, she'll be as murderous and as blood-thirsty as all the others."

"That… that's not true! I am not my father!" Daenerys protested.

"Not yet," Brynden taunted, "give it time."

The pained expression on Daenerys's gorgeous face cut Arya deeper than any sword could and propelled her into action. She'd been too stunned to get involved but that was over. "Enough!" she growled like the Wolf she was. She moved into place next to Daenerys in a show of her allegiance. "If you didn't intend to aid Daenerys, why come here, why bring your men?"

Brynden was visibly stunned by her question. He looked to Jon and then to Arya. "We came for you," he confessed. He stared at her for a long moment and then shifted his eyeline to Daenerys. "Release the girls to us. They've suffered enough. There is no need for anymore bloodshed."

Arya was speechless. She had been so certain that the Tullys and the Arryns would want vengeance that she didn't allow herself to think it all the way through. Before she met Daenerys, she believed as they did, that one Targaryen was as evil as the next. She should have foreseen this and prepared for it, but it was too late.

"I am holding no one here against their will!" Daenerys shouted loudly, speaking to far more than just the Blackfish. "I asked you here to help me in service to the Realm, and you have come, but I will force no one to fight for me, so if you want to go, then go. Arya and Sansa aren't my captives or my slaves, they are here because they like you, chose to be. Sansa has a prosperous, fulfilling life in Highgarden which she willingly left behind in order to see my father removed from power. Arya," she paused and took the guard's hand, "Arya has been free to return to Sunspear for weeks, and still, she remains because she too wants to help." She stopped and let everyone take that in and then she twisted to meet Sansa's eye. "Lady Stark, do you wish to return to Highgarden and have no further part in this? Your uncle is here, he can surely provide safe transportation wherever you wish to go."

Despite Daenerys talking to her, Sansa spared a glance to Margaery and the two communicated non-verbally. "I want to be here," she announced proudly. "If I didn't, trust me when I say, I would've found a reason to be elsewhere."

"And Arya?" she moved on. Daenerys was strong, confident and defiant. It was as if she'd been leading men for years and not weeks. It was remarkable. In the back of her mind, Arya also took note of how sexy it was when Daenerys got so demanding. But that was something she'd have to examine later, she needed to focus on other things now.

"Don't even finish that question."

Satisfied, she looked to Brynden. "Ser, as you can see neither Sansa nor Arya are being forced to remain here and participate in this. If you wish to honor your pledge and fight for me, then you are welcome, if not, I bid you good day and wish you safe travels back to Riverrun."

With a scoff Brynden let her know what he thought of her offer. "You think you can dismiss me?! You're alone and I have thousands of men, if I want…"

Drawing the sword from her belt Arya drew all eyes to her. "If violence is what you seek, you can find it, but not with her."

"I'm trying to save you!" he hissed, talking under his breath.

"Is there anything Sansa or I have said or done that led you to believe we are prisoners here?" she asked him bluntly. "The Princess gave us the same option that she gave each of you. We were offered the chance to help rid Westeros of Aerys Targaryen and end his reign. We agreed to do our part. Now you heard what the Princess said, you can stay, or you can go, but whether you leave or not, Sansa and I will not be joining you." As if sensing that Arya was struggling speaking for her sister, Sansa chose that moment to come and stand at Arya's side, bringing the Tyrell with her. They were united, in common cause, something she would have thought impossible as a girl.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Aerys needs to die, for his crimes against our families and so many others. Daenerys knows this, we all know it. That's why."

It was quiet in the forest for a time, everyone on edge as they waited for the Blackfish's decision. "We won't fight for a Targaryen, girl. You should be ashamed of yourself for asking us to."

Although she'd deny it later, it hurt that he thought her actions shameful. He was her family and she truly believed in what they were doing. She had even managed to convince herself that her father, when he heard would understand her reasons. Brynden was giving her doubt. If she couldn't convince a Tully who lost his favored niece what hope did she have of swaying a man who suffered as much loss as her father?

She was still basking in her disappointment and anguish when a strong, regal voice demanded to be heard. "Fight for me then!" Sansa tried.

"For you?"

Sansa nodded, either ignorant to or actively ignoring the shocked expressions all around her, including Arya's. Margaery appeared just as surprised, meaning she, like Arya had no idea this was coming. "I am the eldest surviving member of House Stark. If you will not fight for the Princess, then fight for me. Fight for what remains of our family."

"House Stark is no more, child," Jon Arryn said from where he remained sitting. It was the first time he'd said anything since Daenerys and Brynden began their disagreement.

Arya had to wonder if he like the Tullys came to rescue them and not fight for Daenerys. She didn't get to ask, because Daenerys's next words made it impossible to think about anything else. "When I am Queen," she decreed with certainty, "one of my first acts will be to restore House Stark. When that happens, Lady Stark will become the Lady of Winterfell."

"And what of the Boltons?" someone asked.

"The Boltons will be given a choice," Daenerys explained calmly, "they can return to Dreadfort and relinquish Winterfell and their titles as Wardens in the North, or they can face the brunt of my army, which will consist of well over one hundred thousand men."

The even, steady way with which she was talking, the utter lack of hesitation and uncertainty, it all had Arya's mind spinning. Was Daenerys making this up as she went along? Was it always her intent to restore House Stark? Had she discussed it with Sansa beforehand or was she grasping for anything that might keep the fighting men from the Riverlands and the Vale aligned to her?

Sansa picked up where Daenerys left off. "House Stark will rise again. We will reclaim Winterfell, and I will rule the North. When that happens, do you wish to be counted among my enemies or my friends?"

Arya had never heard Sansa speak in such a manner, so cold and detached, with the very real threat of violence layered in. She liked it. She considered mentioning Daenerys's dragons, but suspected that if the Targaryen wished for the men to know of their existence, she would've already said something.

"You are sure you want to do this?" Brynden asked, Sansa first, and then Arya, although with her, he just used his eyes.

She nodded, while Sansa spoke. "We do. We are committed to seeing a new ruler in the Seven Kingdoms and I think Daenerys is the right choice."

A soft gasp made it known Daenerys had not predicted she'd receive such a mark of approval from Sansa. Their relationship had always been tentative and unsteady. Until that moment Arya would have sworn that Sansa was there for her benefit and cared little about who sat on the Iron Throne. Apparently, she misjudged her sister. Though it was hardly the first time.

"Very well then," Brynden relented. "House Tully has been pledged to House Stark for a long time and I see no reason to break that oath now. If both of Catelyn's daughters ask it, we will commit our men and do as you ask."

"Thank you," Arya and Sansa said together. One at a time they took their great uncle's hand and thanked him. Arya used the time Sansa was showing her gratitude to put away her sword.

Once she was finished with Brynden Arya followed Sansa to Jon Arryn's side. It was more of the same. He committed the soldiers from the Vale and both Starks thanked him repeatedly for his faith in them. In response he listed the ways each girl reminded him of their father. One look at Sansa's glassy eyes and Arya knew the conversation was a meaningful for her as it had been for the soldier.

When she got back to Daenerys, the Princess was ready to go. "I will leave you all to your business," she said mostly to Brynden. He nodded and that was all she needed. She went to Sansa, smiled kindly at Margaery and then thanked Sansa for her help. From a few feet back Arya watched her sister diminish her contributions, but it was to no aval. Even if Sansa didn't want to acknowledge it, everyone in that forest knew, the Riverlands and the Vale were only still there because Sansa Stark had brokered the peace.

"You can stay if you want, spend more time with your family," Daenerys proposed when they were far enough away to have a small measure of privacy. "I sent Grey Worm and Missandei back while you were talking."

"Weren't you listening?" Arya resisted, "I'm where I want to be, right here with you."

Without concern for their potential audience Daenerys wrapped her arms around Arya's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Arya didn't care if the whole of the forest turned to watch, she kissed back with all the passion, desire and love she had to give.

R-C

They made short work of saying their goodbyes to Arya's kin in the forest. Sansa and Margaery were lingering longer, and since Missandei and Grey Worm were already on their way, it left the Princess and her guard to head back toward the castle alone.

As Arya readied their horses, Daenerys was conflicted. She clung to Arya's arm tightly even as she suggested they separate. "Are you sure you don't want to stay a while longer? You could talk to your uncle, it would probably be more pleasant without me there."

"What I want," Arya announced, "is to spend the rest of my night with you."

She didn't need a mirror to know the grin on her face was ridiculous. She couldn't be held accountable when Arya was being so damned sweet. "As you wish," she agreed.

They'd just crossed the unofficial halfway point between the Kingswood camp and the keep when without warning a woman stepped out into the road. It was instantly clear she'd done it intentionally, to block their path. From atop her horse Arya reached out as if to try and keep Daenerys from falling as the horses came to an abrupt halt. This woman, whoever she was stepped back, gesturing for the mounted woman to climb down. Was this person in need? Why would they be out here? Daenerys paid careful attention to her movements, hoping to recognize something about the stranger, but nothing felt familiar. She didn't appear injured, although it was hard to see much of anything, except for the thick, red, hooded robe she wore. "Who are you?"

Again, the silent woman gestured for Daenerys to abandon her horse. She looked to Arya and could see the soldier was wary. Although she could understand that Daenerys was intrigued. That more than anything else, compelled her to do as this woman was asking. "Who are you?" she tried again, once she was standing next to Arya, less than five feet from the woman in red.

"Princess Daenerys, may I have a moment of your time." Her voice was clear and smooth, like there was nothing unusual about approaching them like this.

Suddenly, she wished she was back in the saddle, so she wouldn't need her legs to hold her up. How did this woman know who she was? She and Arya had snuck out to see the troops. The only ones who knew where she was going were Arya, Sansa, Margaery, Grey Worm and Missandei and none of them would confide in a stranger about their plans. "And you are?" she asked, glancing sideways at Arya. While Daenerys was perplexed, Arya was cautious. She had moved forward, placing herself distinctly between this woman and the Targaryen. If that wasn't telling enough, her left hand rested on the hilt of her sword in an unmistakable warning.

"My name while unimportant is Melisandre," she explained. "I serve the Lord of Light." Pushing her hood back this priestess exposed a head full of fire-colored locks.

What the priestess believed was not the most prominent faith in the Seven Kingdoms, but Daenerys was reasonably acquainted with the Lord of Light, nonetheless. It wasn't unusual for those who believed as this woman did to visit the capital on occasion. That said, Daenerys didn't recall seeing her before.

"How did you know we would be here?" Arya asked, while Daenerys searched through her memory to try and place Melisandre's face.

She gave Arya only the briefest of considerations before she dismissed her outright. "The Lord of Light told me where to find you."

Arya scoffed. "You expect us to believe that your Lord told you our plans when barely anyone knew?"

This time Melisandre studied Arya carefully for a moment before she replied. "You are required to believe nothing," she clarified. "You are unimportant. I need speak with the Princess, not a foster."

With every word spoken, this priestess proved she had some level of secret knowledge. She had known where they would be and was also aware of Arya's status as a foster. Daenerys wanted more, she wanted to know if she knew the guard thought to be Arya Sand was truly Arya Stark but wasn't quite courageous enough to ask. Instead, she focused her energy on Melisandre's lack of manners. If she had come to see Daenerys on some issue of import, she was going about it all wrong. "If you wish my assistance, disrespecting Arya will win you no favor."

Without delay, the messenger appeared repentant and contrite. Daenerys would have thought her sincere if not for the slight smirk curling the corner of her lips. "Many apologies Princess, I meant no disrespect."

Daenerys didn't think that was true. She got the distinct impression that offending Arya was very much intentional. Still, she tried to negotiate a peace. "If you are sincere, please be brief. We have another appointment," she lied.

By expression alone, Daenerys suspected Melisandre knew she was overstating things, but she chose not to comment on it. "Very well."

"What can I do to help you?"

Melisandre's smile became more pronounced. "You misunderstand Princess, it is not I who need your aid, bur rather the Lord of Light who wishes to assist you.

Daenerys wasn't sure what to make of that and apparently Arya agreed because she looked back at Daenerys before she returned her eyes to the potential threat. She waited just a second to see if Arya would ask the obvious question, but the soldier held her tongue in favor of letting Daenerys seize control. "What exactly can your Lord do for me?" she inquired, barely keeping the skepticism from her voice.

"The Lord of Light knows of your plan and wants you to succeed," she proclaimed. "I was sent with a warning."

This time Arya was the one who asked. "A warning about what?" Grey eyes swept left to right across the treeline, just in case the danger was immediate. It wasn't.

"The Spider can not be trusted."

Well, that was unexpected. Varys had passed her loyalty test and she decided he was too valuable to disregard even if she didn't especially like him. The truth was, Daenerys would always hold Varys partially responsible for the crimes committed against Arya and her family. Like some others, he was there that day and did nothing to dissuade Aerys from acting. That said, their undertaking would be markedly more difficult without his assistance.

"You're saying Varys intends to betray us?" Arya checked.

"I am not saying anything to you. As I said, I am here to speak with the Princess."

Daenerys was rapidly tiring of the disrespect. "And I told you," she retorted, "that mistreating Arya would benefit you none. Another comment like that and you and your Lord can forget whatever it is you are trying to achieve."

They stared at one another for a long time. Daenerys guessed that Melisandre was attempting to assess whether or not she was serious about her threat. Wisely, she concluded it was best not to push any further. "I apologize."

Unimpressed Daenerys crossed her arms over her chest. "We shall see. Now what is this business about Varys."

"He may be known as the Spider, but perhaps Snake would be a more appropriate moniker."

Was she vague and cryptic on purpose or was it random? "Say what you mean," Daenerys demanded, "clearly."

"Although he is pledged to you, the alliance will not last."

"How do you know?"

It appeared as if a snide comment was on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed it down. "I saw it in the flames," she justified. "The Lord of Light showed me."

"Showed you what?" Daenerys snapped. This was serious. If Melisandre wanted to be treated accordingly, she needed to provide proof, some source more trustworthy than her God.

"The Spymaster will betray you," the priestess predicted calmly. As if she knew the natural next question, she addressed it. "Not today or tomorrow, not for more than a year, but he will betray you eventually."

"How can you be sure?" Arya challenged.

"I've seen it," Melisandre stated simply. Her tone made it clear she did not approve of the question.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh."

Sensing they'd need more, Melisandre served up more details. "From the day you take the throne the Spider will be seeking out someone to replace you. Someone he feels is more suitable to lead."

She couldn't help it, Daenerys was furious. Varys had claimed to support her and now if Melisandre was to be believed, he didn't mean it. Just who did he plan to place on the Iron Throne if not her? Once she was finished with her business, few Targaryens would remain, and none would be situated to rule. "Who does he truly support?"

"That is unclear," Melisandre added unhelpfully. "He hadn't chosen a successor yet, but he will, once the right man presents himself."

Her anger at Varys and the situation bled over and she barked at the priestess. "Why would you come here and tell me this? Why does your Lord care if I'm Queen?"

"He wishes to see you succeed, not just in the short-term but for many years to come."

"Why?"

She shrugged, exaggerating the gesture somewhat. "I am only a messenger. I interpret the signs and share His wisdom, but I only know what He allows me to see. His motives are hidden unless He decides to reveal them."

"That's convenient," Arya remarked under her breath. Based on the immediate increase in tension in Melisandre's shoulders, she heard as clearly as Daenerys did.

"Be cautious around the Spider," she said repeating her point. "He will betray you when it serves his interests, but that is not all the Lord of Light wishes for you to know."

"What else could there possibly be?"

"Only death pays for life Princess, it is true in the world of man and the world of Dragons. Do you understand?"

She didn't but refused to admit that to this strange woman. "There will be death," she countered, hoping she was just as confusing to the priestess as Melisandre was to her.

"The flames will spark rebirth, three long dead, returned to the living in the warm embrace of the Lord of Light, but only if they burn beside three that will pay the toll."

This time, Daenerys was beginning to understand. She had read that book so many times, those same pages so many times, that it was the first place her busy mind went to. 'Three long dead' that could only mean the dragon eggs. She was speaking about the dragon eggs. She knew what Daenerys was planning to do with them. If she knew of Daenerys's plan to replace her father, and she knew about the eggs, did that mean all her words were accurate, did it make her claims against Varys more or less credible? Daenerys didn't believe in the Lord of Light, she didn't pray to Him, or honor Him or sacrifice for Him, and yet if Melisandre was to be trusted, He cared enough to aid her. God or not, whether there was a logical, non-mystical reason for Melisandre to know the things she did or not, Daenerys knew better than to turn away any potential ally.

Daenerys nodded to confirm that she understood. "Thank you for the advice."

"Many great successes Princess." While the Targaryen watched Melisandre raised her hood back to its original place and then backed away. Seconds later, midway through a step backward, she abruptly changed direction, surging forward and reaching out to grasp Arya's forearm. Daenerys's objections fell away when she heard the priestess speak. "I see a darkness in you," she said to the Stark, "and in that darkness eyes staring back at me. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Violet eyes. Eyes you will shut forever."

Arya snatched her arm back. By the time she gave Melisandre an order, she was already out from under her grip. "Don't touch me."

"We will meet again."

This time when Melisandre backed away, nothing stopped her. She retreated to the treeline before turning and disappearing in the sea of green.

Daenerys had no shortage of questions, but each one fought in her mind for the right to be uttered first. By the time she'd settled on one, the red woman was already too far away to engage in conversation. That left only her, Arya and their horses. Effortlessly, Daenerys's lover asked the exact inquiry the Dragon was struggling with. "What the fuck was that?"

She could only shake her head. What was that indeed?

"Come on," she said seizing Arya's hand, "I was promised your undivided attention and Lord of Light and his magical prophecy or not, I intend to collect."

R-C

Author's Note: I hope the sheer size of this chapter makes up for any complaints about the wait. I just couldn't find a good spot to stop, so I kept going, so in the end it's a chapter and a half.

Forgive me if I missed any obvious errors, one round of edits didn't save so I had to go back and do it again. I think I got everything, but apologies if I missed a couple.

See you all next time.