Author's Note: Hey everyone! Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, both those of you who have been here since the beginning and those that are stumbling across my story for the first time! I cannot believe I'm almost at 600 reviews, over 900 follows and 700 favorites. You are all amazing :)

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 23: Unexpected Loss

"That direwolf of yours is quite a magnificent beast," Prince Oberyn complimented as he walked up to where the King was overseeing the deconstruction of the camp. "Maliya mentioned that there was one pup for each of the Stark children. It sort of makes you believe in fate, does it not?"

"It certainly felt like fate," Robb responded, turning to watch the older man approach, envious of his fluid, tiger-like grace. Robb put a hand on Grey Wind's head and petted him fondly. "He's incredibly intelligent and loyal and he's saved my life on more than one occasion. Even now, he hasn't left my side since the poisoning attempt."

"How are you handling all that?" Prince Oberyn asked, hands clasped behind his back. Robb was slightly surprised to hear the note of concern in his voice. "That's two unsuccessful attempts on your life now, Your Grace, and it probably won't be the last."

"I'm alright," Robb reassured him, straightening his shoulders to prove his point. "I'd rather have someone try to kill me out in the open, of course, so I wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder." He glanced over at Prince Oberyn. "I've noticed the Dornish guards that have been patrolling the camp and our tent and I just wanted to thank you for your guidance and your assistance since you've been here. It means a lot to me – to us," he amended, his eyebrows creasing as he thought of his wife. She had still been sleeping when he had risen this morning, but it hadn't looked like a restful sleep. There had been a frown tugging at her lips and he could see her eyes flickering restlessly underneath her eyelids.

"What is it, Your Grace?" Prince Oberyn prodded quietly, picking up on his change of mood.

Robb glanced around at his men hustling around him, folding up the tents and packing up the supplies back into the wagons. Then he glanced over his shoulder to where his guards were standing, never too far away. "Come," Robb said, putting one hand on Oberyn's back and gesturing with the other. "Let us talk somewhere more privately. The command tent is still standing, I believe."

"Now, what is bothering you?" Prince Oberyn asked when they were safely seated at the table and away from prying eyes and ears. "We may not know each other very well, Your Grace, but I've always believed that you learn a lot about someone by fighting alongside them. We are family through your marriage to Maliya, and I want you to know that you can speak with me about anything that you wish."

"I appreciate that," Robb nodded, falling silent and softly drumming his fingers on the table. Should he share his concerns with the Dornish Prince? While it was true the man was slightly unstable and unpredicatable, he was also Maliya's uncle and might be able to offer some insight and advice. "It's Maliya," he began after a moment. He remembered her terrified, tear stricken face last night as she practically broke in front of him. "She's been acting strange lately and I'm beginning to worry about her. Have you noticed anything different about her since you've been here?"

Prince Oberyn gave him a small smile. "It's been a little over a year since I've seen my niece. In some aspects she's the same girl I've always known but in other ways she's completely different. She's a wife now, a queen of a kingdom and she's found herself in the middle of a war. Maliya… she's always taken a lot of responsibility on her thin shoulders, even when she was no more than a child." His smile faded and there was a lost, faraway look in the Red Viper's dark eyes. "Heavy lies the crown," he murmured, before his expression cleared. "If something's bothering Maliya, I'm sure she will tell you in her own time. She's stubborn and hard-headed, that girl, but she'll get there eventually."

Robb nodded slowly, still frowning. Was something bothering Maliya? If so, then why was she keeping it from him? Didn't she know that she could tell him anything? A horrible thought struck him. What if she didn't trust him enough to share what was on her mind?

Prince Oberyn leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he watched the emotions play across Robb's face. "If it makes you feel any better, Your Grace, I know that my niece loves you. I can practically feel her worry for you and when she speaks of you, she gets this look in her eye that I've never seen before. She's even seems to have given up fighting, which I know she considers a large part of her identity. I never believed she would do that for anyone…. Until you."

Robb's frown deepened. Prince Oberyn didn't approve of or agree with Maliya's decision to stop fighting, that much was painfully clear. Robb felt his stomach twist unpleasantly as uncertainty and confusion flickered through him yet again. He didn't know what the right decision was in regards to Maliya going into battle. All he knew was that he didn't want to fight with his wife anymore. "You don't agree?" He asked lightly, trying to appear casual.

"Maliya has been and always will be a fighter, it's ingrained into her personality. And I don't just mean with a sword, either. She'll stand up for what she believes is right, like that situation with your bastard brother around the time of your wedding. Maliya is a survivor," he announced, smirking proudly. "As for this situation about fighting in the war, that is none of my business. Although I'm sure you can guess what my opinion would be."

"Your Grace," Smalljon Umber called gruffly from outside the tent. "There's a rider here from the main camp. He says he has urgent news and will only speak with you."

Suddenly filled with a strong sense of trepidation, Robb rose to his feet as a young man entered the tent, his hair windblown and his cheeks red from exhaustion. "Your Grace," he bowed. His eyes flickered over to Prince Oberyn, who hadn't moved from where he was seated and he hesitated.

"Speak freely," Robb instructed him. From his expression he knew no one would be able to tell that just moments ago he had been terribly worried about his wife. They wouldn't see Robb Stark the husband, they would see Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King in the North. "What news do you have?"

The rider swallowed harshly, looking back at Robb. "It's the Kingslayer, Your Grace. He's escaped."

"What?" Robb's voice echoed sharply throughout the tent. His expression was thunderous as he felt the fury rushing through him and he had to resist the urge to slam his fist down on the table. Conscious of Prince Oberyn's gaze on him, Robb restrained himself, every muscle in his body taut and tensed. "How did this happen?" The rider paled considerably, glancing away from Robb and looking like he would rather be anywhere else but here. "How?" Robb repeated, his voice loud and commanding.

"It – it was your mother."

For a long moment, there was silence in the tent as Robb struggled to make sense of the words. His mother. When the words finally registered, it came with an overwhelming sense of betrayal and confusion and Robb felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His mother. "Smalljon," Robb barked, blue eyes flashing. "Spread the word," he ordered when the other man stepped inside the tent. "I want this camp packed up and ready to go within the hour. We need to get back as soon as possible."

Maliya shifted uncomfortably in Shadow's saddle, shifting her grip on the reins. She felt absolutely terrible – her body ached from exhaustion, her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep and her stomach felt absolutely hollow and empty. Robb had barged into their tent earlier this morning while she was dressing, practically radiating fury. He barely looked at her as he informed her that his mother had released the Kingslayer and they were leaving immediately.

The camp had been in organized chaos when she finished packing her things and she found Robb at the center of it all, directing his men. The news about his mother appeared to have hit him hard. His expression was completely closed off and his icy blue eyes held none of the love and warmth that she was accustomed to. She worried from afar, however, giving Robb some space to work through or avoid his feelings until they returned to talk to his mother.

She herself was dealing with two very strong emotions of her own. The first included anger and the second bitter disappointment – anger on behalf of Lady Stark's betrayal and disappointment that she hadn't gotten a chance to further talk with the Kingslayer. He was one of the few people who knew her when she was Rhaenys Targaryen and who knew what her grandfather was really like. And now she had lost her chance. Would she ever learn the truth?

"Are you alright, Maliya?" Tyene asked in concern as she rode up next to her, her blue eyes scanning her face carefully. "No offense meant, cousin, but you look terrible."

"I… don't know," Maliya answered her truthfully, looking away from Robb's back, where he was riding several yards in front of her. "I just can't believe that Lady Stark could do something so reckless."

"Can't you?" Tyene asked, shrugging. "Mothers will do crazy things because of their children. I mean, yours -" She broke off immediately, sending Maliya a horrified look. "Gods, Maliya, I didn't mean – "

"It's alright," Maliya reassured her quickly. She barely remembered Mellario – she wasn't her real mother and she didn't mean anything to her at all. The only feeling she had towards Mellario was anger at the pain that she caused Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane by leaving. "You can say it. My mother was furious at my father because he sent Quentyn to be fostered at the Yronwoods and she ended up abandoning the rest of us for it. If Lady Stark released the Kingslayer because of Arya and Sansa, at least she was attempting to save her children, no matter how misguided and potentially damaging her actions were."

"I suppose we will find out her reasons soon enough," Tyene muttered, nodding ahead of them. "There's the camp now."

Riders from the camp came out to meet them, spotting the Stark banners and calling out to their King. Maliya couldn't help but notice how grim their faces were as their force stopped at the edge of the large camp. Still atop his horse, Robb looked back, searching, and Maliya knew that he was looking for her. She murmured a goodbye to Tyene and pressed her heels into Shadow's side, trotting forward until she was next to him.

He looked away from her, his face still a blank mask and dismounted from his horse, his hand held out to help her down from hers.

Rickard Karstark approached them, a hand on his sword and his entire being radiating his extreme displeasure. Staring up into the older man's face, Maliya reminded herself that he had lost two sons because of Jaime Lannister, so he had every reason to be upset with his disappearance. "Your Grace. My Queen," he greeted gruffly, bowing to them both.

"Where is she?" Robb asked in a cold voice, wasting no time.

"In her tent," Karstark growled. "I'll bring you to her."

Robb followed after Karstark and Maliya trailed by his side, glancing up at her husband as she tried to gauge his mood. She was becoming increasingly worried about how distant he seemed, though she couldn't fault him for it. She couldn't even imagine what it must feel like to know that your mother betrayed not only you but everything you've been working for.

Guards were posted outside Lady Stark's tent when they stepped inside, Karstark staying back by the entrance of the tent. "Tell me this isn't true," Robb began, clenching his fists by his sides. "Tell me that you didn't release Jaime Lannister, our most valuable hostage in this war." Lady Stark looked up at him from where she was seated at her desk. Her eyes were red and her face was almost ashen – she looked several years older than the last time Maliya had seen her and it was more than apparent that Lady Stark was guilty. "Why?" Robb asked in a heavy voice.

"For the girls," she explained, eyes wide and pleading when she saw the look on Robb's face. "Robb, please, you must understand – "

"What I understand is that you betrayed me!" Robb snapped, causing his mother to shrink back slightly at the fury in his voice. "I know that you did what you did for love of Arya and Sansa, but did you even, for one second, think about the position that you have put me in? We are in the middle of a war, mother, and your actions have weakened us! Not to mention the uproar this is going to cause with my bannermen."

"I know we are in the middle of a war," Lady Stark retorted, her own blue eyes growing angry. "Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, held by our very own ward. Arya and Sansa are captives in King's Landing, surrounded by people who want our family dead. I have five children," Lady Stark's voice broke at these words and Maliya actually felt a pang of sympathy for what she was going through. "Only one of them is free."

Lord Karstark stepped forward, his tall presence causing a darkness in the tent. "I lost one son fighting by your son's side. I lose another to the Kingslayer, strangled with a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners?" He asked, obviously struggling to retain his temper and keep his voice level. "I would carve out my heart and offer it to the Father, if he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell."

Lady Stark's eyes flickered with guilt. "I grieve for your sons, my lord – "

"I don't want your grief," he spat. "I want my vengeance and you stole it from me."

She took a deep breath. "Killing Jaime Lannister would not buy life for your children, but returning

him to King's Landing may buy life for mine."

Lord Karstark was practically vibrating with rage and Robb seemed to sense this as well. "I'll take it from here, my lord," Robb said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Meet me at the command tent shortly." He stormed out of the tent without another word and Lady Stark resumed speaking almost at once.

"After the Kingslayers escape attempt, there was no way that he would have lived through the night. If he had died, then any chance at seeing my girls again would have died along with him."

"My lady," Maliya spoke up for the first time, gentling her voice slightly, a sharp contrast to both Robb and Lord Karstark's. "You can't possibly believe the Lannisters will honor this deal. A prisoner exhange isn't typically one sided, you have no guarantee that they won't back out. You just sent the Kingslayer back to King's Landing and now they have him, Arya and Sansa."

"Brienne is with the Kingslayer, she will make sure – "

"The Lannisters could kill her the moment she steps foot in King's Landing," Robb pointed out. "It would be her against the entire city."

"Tyrion Lannister gave me his word at the Vale," Catelyn told them. "And the Kingslayer gave me his word as well – don't give me that look, I am very well aware of the risk that I took in freeing him, but I had to do something."

Robb shook his head, the fight leaving him with a sigh. Now he just looked tired and disappointed. "Well, you've done something, mother. And now I'm not sure if I can ever trust you again." Clenching his jaw, he turned away from her as if he couldn't stand the sight of her anymore. "I want her guarded day and night," they heard Robb order the guards as he left. "She doesn't leave here without my permission."

"Robb!" Lady Stark cried in despair, lurching off her chair, but he was already gone. Maliya shifted uncomfortably at the absolute devastation on her good-mother's face. Wrapping her arms around her middle, Lady Stark turned away from her. She didn't say anything for a long moment and Maliya was just about to leave when she spoke. "Until you have spent nine moons creating your children and painful hours birthing them you cannot possibly understand. Until you have wiped every tear, sat by their sick bed and celebrated every triumph, no matter how big or small, you cannot possibly understand what it is to be a mother. I would do anything, absolutely anything to protect my children. You couldn't possibly understand," she whispered again.

Lady Stark was absolutely right. Maliya wasn't a mother. A frown crossed her face and doubt entered her mind once more. Did she want to be a mother if it meant making reckless decisions like this one?

Maliya didn't know what to say. Nothing she said could make the older woman feel better and Maliya couldn't condone her actions. So, feeling conflicted and confused, Maliya silently left the tent, leaving Lady Stark to her thoughts.

She found Dacey Mormont waiting for her outside. There was a conflicted expression on the tall, pretty woman's face as Maliya approached her. "Where has he gone?" Maliya asked her quietly.

"He was headed towards the command tent," Lady Dacey said, trailing after her when Maliya started in that direction. "Is Lady Stark alright?"

"Physically, she's fine," Maliya answered over her shoulder. "For now, at least. There are a lot of people who are very angry with what she did."

Lady Dacey gave an unlady-like snort. "That's an understatement. The enire camp is in an uproar! Although…" She paused for a moment. "When my lady mother found out what happened, she told me that she would have done the same thing if her children were the ones in danger."

"Yes," Maliya murmured. "I've been told that most mothers would do anything to protect their children." My mother was never given the chance to protect my brother and I. "If you'll excuse me, my lady," she said, nodding to the guards who stood outside the command tent and slipping inside.

Robb was in the tent with Grey Wind, hunched over the map of Westeros, both hands braced on the table. "Robb?" His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and her heart dropped in her chest at the hurt, lost expression in his blue eyes.

"She betrayed me," Robb choked out, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Grey Wind must have felt Robb's agitation because he let out a low growl and began pacing back and forth. "My own mother went behind my back and committed treason." Maliya approached him slowly, reaching out to put a hand on his arm in some small form of comfort. He twitched at her touch, but didn't shrug her off. "Does she really believe that I don't want Sansa and Arya back? They're my family, my sister's, of course I want them returned to us safe and unharmed. But the Lannisters can't be trusted – why can't she see that?"

"Your mother knows how much you love your sisters, Robb," Maliya told him fiercely, grabbing his arms and spinning him around to face her. "Look at me," she urged, putting her hands on either side of his face and forcing their gazes to meet. "Your mother was doing just doing what she thought was right. She's made a mistake, Robb, but we will find the Kingslayer, he can't have gotten that far. We can fix this, we just have to stay strong."

Robb's eyes closed at her words and he let out a shaky sigh. "You're right," he whispered, holding onto her wrists and opening his eyes once more. "I've already sent forty of our best men in addition to the forty that they sent earlier. We'll find him." The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes softened, looking more like the husband that she knew and loved. "Thank you, Maliya. I am so grateful to have you here by my side – at least I know that I can always count on you no matter what. You might be the only person I can trust anymore," he said, smiling softly, rubbing his thumbs along the back of her hands.

Maliya looked up into his twinkling blue eyes, and bit the inside of her cheek so hard that she drew blood as the ever present guilt slammed into her once more. She glanced away from his trusting face, feeling like she was going to hurl. The "only person he could trust" was keeping more secrets from him than the rest combined. Seven hells. Robb deserved better than this, deserved better than her.

Speaking quickly, before she could come to her senses and think about what she was doing, Maliya pulled her hands away from him and took a step back. "Robb, there's something that I have to tell – "

At that moment, one of the guards pulled the tent flap aside. "Your Grace? Lord Karstark is here to see you."

Robb sent her an inquisitive look, but she just shook her head, both relieved and disappointed that she was interrupted. "It's alright, we'll speak later. You have a bannerman to placate." Still barely able to look him in the eye, she reached up to press a kiss to his cheek before sweeping out of the tent. She was a terrible person. The Stranger was going to take her to a special kind of hell.

Having finished dressing for the morning, Maliya pulled her hair over one shoulder and began absentmindedly braiding it. Over the past fortnight or so, hostile tensions within the camp have diminished since Lady Stark released the Kingslayer, but now Robb was dealing with a whole new problem. The morale of the northern army was almost nonexistent of late and poor Robb was worrying that they were losing faith in their cause. He stayed up late with his advisors and rose early the next morning to personally make an appearance to his men as he worked to come up with a solution.

Another uncomfortable cramp went through Maliya's stomach after she had finished tying a ribbon around her hair. Making a disgruntled face, one hand dropped to rub her stomach with a sigh. She had gotten her moon's blood several days ago, some spotting in the beginning and now it was heavier with some cramping, but her body seemed determined to make sure she felt the pain before the week was over.

"Prince Oberyn is here to see you, Your Grace," the guard called from outside the tent.

"Send him in! Tyene Sand will be coming as well, so you can send her in when she arrives," Maliya told the guards, dropping her hand from her stomach and turning to face her uncle.

"Morning, my beautiful niece," her uncle greeted as he entered the tent, heading towards her to press a kiss to her cheek.

"You're early," she stated with a smile, heading for the table where breakfast was already set up. "Where's Tyene?" With Robb so busy of late, she had been breaking her fast with her uncle and her cousin, wanting to spend as much time with them as possible to make up for the past year when they had all been separated.

"She will be along shortly." He picked up an apple from the table and tossed it back and forth between his hands for a moment, studying her. "Are you alright, Maliya? You haven't seemed like yourself these past couple of days."

"I haven't been sleeping well," Maliya admitted wearily, plopping into a chair and reaching over to pop a cherry into her mouth. "I've been having this strange dream every night."

Uncle Oberyn frowned at her. "What kind of dream?"

Maliya shrugged. "It's odd, really, one of those dreams where I'm aware that I'm dreaming. I get these weird flashes that always happen in the same order. A large ship with a black sail, an ear piercing with a tooth hanging from it, and a black dragon drawn across someone's skin. Then at the end there's some weird creature. She has a woman's upper body, wings for arms, a tail and an eagles legs."

There was an odd expression on her uncle's face. "Was she by any chance sitting on top of a gate?"

"How did you know that?" Maliya asked with wide eyes, completely taken aback.

"The creature that you described is called a harpy. It's the emblem of Astapor and one sits atop the gate to enter the city. I saw it with my own eyes during my travels across the seas."

"Why would I be dreaming of the gate to Astapor?" Maliya asked, bewildered, shaking her head. Her uncle shrugged. "What else can you tell about it?"

Maliya watched and listened carefully as his expression darkened. "Astapor is one of the old Slaver Cities, also called the Red City for the red dust that is always blowing up and down the streets. The first thing you see when you enter the city is the Plaza of Punishment, where they display the slaves that have been punished or executed. The main entertainment is the fighting pits, where they sometimes put girls against bulls or roll boys in honey and bet to see which one the bear will eat first. The worst part, however, is their army of slaves called the Unsullied. At a young age the boys are taken, made into eunuchs, and brutally trained. It is said that they feel no pain and their obedience is unquestionable."

"That's practically barbaric," she gasped, feeling absolutely sickened on behalf of those poor slaves. "Why in the name of the Seven am I having dreams about such a place?"

"I couldn't say," her uncle answered, taking a large bit of his apple. "But it isn't something I would forget about. It might be that you're having these dreams for a reason, one that won't be made apparent to you until the time is right." He looked over at her again, giving her a look that made her stomach turn in apprehension. "Speaking of which," he began lightly. "Have you given any more thought about telling Robb who you really are?"

"I have," Maliya answered just as casually, busying herself with taking a sip of water, hiding another wince as a sharp cramp went through her. "I'm not sure it's the right time, uncle. Robb is so busy fighting this war, making sure his own men don't turn on each other, managing his mother and now trying to keep everyone positive and on task. I'm afraid if he hears one more piece of bad news that he's just going to crumble under the pressure."

Uncle Oberyn gave her a pointed look. "Robb is a King, Maliya, he's always going to have an abnormal amount of pressure on his young shoulders. And you're going to be waiting until you're old and gray if you're looking for a good time to tell him the truth. I'm not so sure there is a good time to tell him something like this."

"I almost told him once, when we returned from the Crag," Maliya admitted, rolling a berry between her fingers. "I was just going to blurt it all out like a moron, but luckily we were interrupted." She looked up at him, a lost expression in her brown eyes. "How do I even begin to start a conversation like that?"

"Why don't you practice?" Her uncle suggested. "You can tell Tyene first – "

Maliya's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "Tell Tyene?" She repeated as if the words were foreign to her. "I can't tell Tyene – "

"Tell Tyene what?" The blonde asked, a wide smile on her face as she entered the tent, her blue eyes looking between the two of them. Both Maliya and her uncle froze, completely caught off guard and immediately alerting the other girl that whatever they had been talking about was incredibly important. Maliya's heart broke out into an anxious sprint as she watched her cousin's smile fade and a suspicious frown cross her face, her eyes narrowing into a glare that reminded her so much of her uncle. "Tell me what?"

Maliya shot a look full of fury and frustration to her uncle as Tyene put her hands on her hips. She knew that look on her cousins' face – she was not going to let this go until she had the truth. Her uncle had just unknowingly backed her into a corner and now Maliya was going to be forced to tell Tyene the truth about who she really was, something Maliya was completely unprepared for. Her body broke out into a cold sweat, complete with clammy hands and a rapidly beating heart as Maliya forced herself to take a deep breath. Rising from her chair, putting one hand on the table to hide how off balance she felt, Maliya looked at her uncle, her face blank as she desperately tried to hide her terror. "Uncle, would you please leave Tyene and I to talk?"

Guilt twisted her uncle's handsome features. "Maliya, I – "

She held up a hand, stopping him. "We'll speak about this later."

Nodding in defeat, her uncle stood and looked at both his daughter and his niece one more time before he left. "What is going on, Maliya?" Tyene asked, worry now appearing in her eyes. "What does my father know that I do not?"

"You should sit," Maliya said, gesturing to the bed on her right. Tyene hesitated, but did as she was told. Her blue eyes were larger than usual and with her blonde hair, Tyene looked several years younger than she really was. "Now, I need you to give me your word that you will not share what I am about to tell you with anyone. It's a matter of life and death and I don't want anyone to find out unless I am the one telling them."

"Maliya – "

"Promise me, Tyene," Maliya interrupted in a cold voice, brown eyes flashing. "Swear it on the old gods and the new."

"I swear it," Tyene promised quickly, now looking thoroughly alarmed.

"Good," Maliya nodded, beginning to pace now as she quickly tried to figure out what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. "Don't interrupt me either, I've never actually said this out loud to anyone before." She waited until Tyene nodded again before taking a deep breath. "Maliya Martell isn't my real name and Doran Martell is not my father." A smile actually began to cross Tyene's face, as if she figured that Maliya was joking. Maliya continued on before she could speak. "My real parents were Elia Martell… and Rhaegar Targaryen."

Tyene froze, her mouth parting in disbelief. "That's not possible…."

"My true name is Rhaenys," Maliya went on, ignoring Tyene and needing to get it all out before she stopped and lost her nerve. The speed of her pacing increased now, as the words kept coming faster and faster. "I was three when the Usurper and the Lannisters took King's Landing. Someone saved me, someone smuggled me out of the city and brought me to Dorne. Father – Doran – he came up with the story about how I was kept away from everyone because of a sickness and he took me into his family, raised me as one of his children." Her eyes now had a faraway look to them. "Both Doran and Uncle Oberyn told me to keep Rhaenys Targaryen hidden away ever since I could talk. I was now Maliya Martell and it had to stay that way, because if anyone ever found out who I really was, they would be in terrible danger." She stopped pacing and finally looked at Tyene. "I've never told anyone before. Only myself, Doran, Uncle Oberyn, Lord Stark and whoever smuggled me out of King's Landing know who I really am."

Tyene was frowning down at her clasped hands in her lap, her brow furrowed. Long, dragging seconds went by as Maliya anxiously waited for Tyene to say something – anything. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she looked up at her, and Maliya's breath whooshed out of her at the look of absolute hurt and betrayal in her cousin's eyes.

No, no, no, no, no, a voice in Maliya's head began to chant.

"You've… lied to us?" Tyene asked in a small voice, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand it. "For six and ten years?"

"For my survival and your protection," Maliya explained in a slightly shaky voice, wanting – no needing her to understand. "If Robert Baratheon ever learned that there was a Targaryen still out there, he would have killed me and whoever else was trying to hide me."

Maliya felt like Tyene's blue eyes could see straight through her. "If I hadn't walked in on that conversation between you and my father, would you have told me the truth?" Maliya's mouth open and closed several times, completely at a loss for words. For Tyene, however, her silence seemed to be answer enough. "Right," Tyene murmured, nodding absently. "Right. I need some air."

"Tyene," Maliya blurted quickly, stepping forward as she stood. "Please try to understand – "

"Oh, I understand completely," Tyene snapped, some life coming back into her voice. "I understand your reasons for keeping your secret, Maliya – Rhaenys – whoever you are, but that doesn't change the fact that you still lied."

Maliya's anxiety levels increased at the anger in her voice, and her heart fluttered in panic. No, no, no. This was why I told Uncle Oberyn I didn't want to reveal the truth, now I'm going to lose her. "Tyene, please. I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I just – " She broke off with a small cry as a piercing pain shot through her stomach, causing her to hunch over.

Tyene was at her side in an instant, one hand supporting her elbow and the other on her back. "What is it?" She demanded, eyes moving frantically over Maliya's face. "What's wrong?"

Holding her breath, Maliya cautiously straightened, one hand still resting lightly on her stomach. She waited for a moment or two but the cramps had faded to a dull ache. "Nothing, I think I'm alright," Maliya reassured her. "It's just my moon's blood, the cramps seem to be stronger this month, that's all."

"Why don't you lie down?" Tyene suggested, though she didn't look convinced. "That always seems to help me."

Maliya did as she said, curling up on her side and tucking her legs up to her chest. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping that these multiple, day long cramps were not going to become a regular occurrence. Feeling the bed dip a little, her eyes shot open to see Tyene sitting next to her. "You're not leaving?" Maliya asked without thinking, not wanting her to leave.

"I may be furious with you, Maliya, but I'm not going to leave you when you're in pain," Tyene responded, sounding slightly offended that Maliya would even think such a thing. They both fell silent again and Maliya winced as another pain shot through her. "Do you…. Do you remember anything from when you were Rhaenys? From before you came to Dorne?"

Maliya rolled over onto her back, staring up at the top of the tent. "Not really anything substantial," Maliya told her slowly, frowning as she tried to think back. "The smell of my mother's perfume, the feel of my father's hand in mine and the color of Aegon's purple eyes." She swallowed the lump of sadness in her throat. "I don't remember who smuggled me out of King's Landing, but I can still remember the rocking of the boat and the smell of the sea. I wish… " She trailed off, a small furrow appearing between her brows as the cramps grew in intensity once more.

"Maliya?" Tyene questioned, leaning forward slightly.

Groaning, Maliya's hand unconsciously shot out to grip Tyene's arm, fingernails digging in as the pain grew tenfold. "Oh Gods," she choked out, eyes squeezed tightly shut, curling into the fetal position once more. "Something's wrong."

A pale looking Tyene was kneeling over her, one arm firmly in Maliya's grip but the other was frantically pushing Maliya's hair away from her face, trying to figure out what was wrong. "C'mon, Maliya, talk to me – what's happening? Should I get Robb or a healer?" Maliya went to answer but was slammed again by another round of pain. It was the most intense, sharpest cramp yet and Maliya held her breath through the whole thing, biting back another cry of pain. It was over after a long moment, and her body relaxed, panting. "Maliya?"

Maliya's brown eyes slowly met hers, wide and horrified. Sitting up, Maliya threw back the sheets and Tyene let out an impressive string of curses. Blood was soaking through her dress and onto the sheets. Maliya just stared at it for a long moment, her brain not registering what she was seeing.

"This is not a normal amount of blood," Tyene said in a hushed whisper, her voice sounding strange. "Maliya…. when was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

Maliya frowned, looking at her blankly. "I – it was – " Realization dawned on her a moment later, bringing with it a terrifying combination of shame, guilt, horror and fear. "I need to get out of this dress," she told Tyene, sounding calm despite the storm raging on inside of her. "Help me change these sheets, and please don't argue with me right now, Tyene," she said quickly, when her cousin opened her mouth to interject.

Tyene did as she was told as Maliya slipped out of the bed, grabbing the necessary clothes and heading behind the changing screen. She tried not to acknowledge her trembling hands as her fingers unlaced the ties of her dress. She tried not to notice the aching in her chest as she pulled it off or her shallow breathing when she reached her small clothes. But then it was impossible to ignore the tears streaming steadily down her face when she looked down and saw the bean sized, white-ish gray tissue amongst the blood. Wrapping it carefully, she safely disposed of it before washing herself and her legs with a pitcher of water and a clean rag, getting rid of all evidence of what happened and dressing herself once more.

"Maliya?" She heard Tyene call as she entered the tent again. "I found some new sheets for the bed. Are you doing alright back there?" She waited a moment, but when she didn't hear an answer, Maliya heard Tyene's steps approaching. "Maliya?" She asked, peering around the corner.

By now there was nothing in all the Seven Kingdoms that could stop what Maliya was currently feeling. Her breathing started out really shallow, trying to ease the intense pain around her heart and then she couldn't hold back the sobs. Tyene rushed forward and caught Maliya as she crumpled to her knees, crying harder than she ever had before.

Maliya had spent the past six and ten years mourning her Targaryen family, but now she was mourning something else. She was mourning someone that she never met, someone that should have taken its first breath or its first step. Someone that she should have been able to hold, to cherish and to love. Someone that she had been creating and someone that died without her even realizing it.

"This is my fault," Maliya weeped, gasping and hiccupping and hating herself in this moment. "I killed it. I killed my baby!"

Tyene looked bewildered at Maliya's reaction, but was doing her best to comfort an inconsolable Maliya. "Don't be ridiculous," Tyene murmured gently, wiping her tears with one hand and holding her close with the other. "This isn't your fault, it happens to many women – "

"I've been taking the Moon Tea for too long. I stopped a little over a moon ago, but I should have stopped sooner!" She gave Tyene a desperate look, shaking her head. Now there was even more guilt to add to the already crushing burden on her shoulders. "What if I can never have children again? What if I destroyed a part of myself, the one thing that a wife is supposed to do when she marries her husband? Robb needs an heir and if I can't provide him with one – "

"Stop," Tyene said firmly, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "This is not your fault. You did not cause this, do you understand me? I'm not sure why you were taking the Moon Tea, but both Arianne and I have taken it occasionally for years now with no adverse side affects. I've never heard of anyone who's taken it being unable to have children." Tyene glanced towards the front of the tent. "Let me go get Robb – "

"No!" Maliya interrupted desperately, yanking Tyene back down as she began to rise. "No, don't tell Robb, he has enough to deal with right now. There's no point anyway. I would have to tell him I was with child, he would get his hopes up, and then I would have to tell him I lost it – it would just cause him unnecessary pain and sadness, and he can't be worrying about me right now."

"Alright," Tyene said quickly as Maliya's voice rose in pitch. "I don't agree with lying again, but the decision is yours to make." Maliya heard what Tyene was saying, but she knew the truth. The loss of her child was her fault, her punishment for keeping her secrets and for lying to the people that she cared about most. "I'm sorry," Maliya blubbered as Tyene drew her close again. "I'm sorry for lying to you Tyene. Everything's my fault. I'm sorry."

"I know," Tyene murmured soothingly, smoothing down her hair. "I know."

Maliya pretended not to notice how her cousin's hand had stilled for a moment before she spoke or the odd tone to her voice. Deep down she realized that things between her and Tyene were different now, but it just wasn't something that she could worry about in this moment. She could only focus on one heartbreak at a time.

Cersei swept down the hallways of the Red Keep, a small smile playing around the edges of her lips as she laced her fingers in front of her. She barely noticed the servants hurriedly bowing and scurrying out of her way or the two guards that were constantly trailing behind her. The impending doom that had been hanging over the castle had dissipated since her father's resounding defeat against Stannis Baratheon. Cersei herself felt lighter than she had in days – her children were safe, they had now acquired the alliance of Tyrells and her father was back in the capital.

The one thing that hadn't gone quite according to plan was Rhaenys Targaryen. She had hoped that she would have that problem taken care by the time her father returned, but the little bitch was proving annoyingly difficult to kill.

Cersei's thoughts were interrupted as the door to the Hand's chambers suddenly burst open and her imp of a brother came storming out. She caught a glimpse of the absolutely furious look on her little brother's face before he turned the corner and found that her good mood increased tenfold. Apparently his meeting with their father hadn't gone as well as he had hoped and he most likely did not get whatever it was that he was after.

Trying to rearrange the smirk on her face, Cersei approached the Hand's chambers and knocked. "Enter," her father drawled. Gesturing for her guards to stay where they were, Cersei entered the chambers and approached her father, who was sitting at his desk, writing. "Sit," he ordered without looking up. She did as she was told, fighting the irritation as her father ignored her and continued to write. She had just opened her mouth to say something when he finally spoke, looking up at her with those calculating green eyes.

"Would you like to explain to me exsctly what you have been doing while I've been away fighting a war that your son started?"

Cersei froze at the displeased, accusatory tone in her father's voice, one that immediately put her on the defensive. Resting her elbows on the arm rests of the chair, Cersei tilted her head to the side. "I'm not quite sure what you – "

Her father looked up from his letter once more, sending her an annoyed, yet somehow amused look. "You may think that you have control of this city, Cersei, but you are sorely overestimating your abilities as a mastermind." Cersei flushed in anger and humiliation but her father wasn't finished. "You've been receiving more letters than usual these past few moons, most of which have the Bolton's seal on it. Would you like to explain why you are corresponding with a house that is in open rebellion against your son's throne?"

Cersei's jaw clenched. Someone had been sharing her secrets with her father and when she found out who it was, they were going to wish they had never crossed her. She knew, however, that she had no choice but to tell her father the truth. "When Ned Stark was our prisoner, he was kept in the lowest level of our dungeons. Like so many others, he lost part of his mind after a time down there and one of the jailers overheard him talking about Rhaenys Targaryen and a secret that he had kept."

"Rhaenys Targaryen is dead," her father interrupted in a bored voice, sounding as if she was wasting his time. "I saw her body myself."

Her green eyes glinted with the knowledge that she knew something her father didn't. "Apparently not," she said lightly. "I remember Robert mentioning how much Robb Stark's little wife looked so much like Elia Martell and I did some digging. Maliya Martell, is in fact, Rhaenys Targaryen in disguise." The corner of Cersei's lips lifted at her dramatic words, hoping for some sort of reaction from her father, but was disappointed when his face showed no sign of what he was thinking. "Joffrey's rule is threatened by her very existence so I contacted the one house in the north that hates the Starks as much as we do. It was quite easy to turn Roose Bolton to our side once I offered him the role of Lord Paramount of the North."

"And what, pray tell, was your plan once you murdered the wife of the King in the North?" Her father asked, leaning forward. Cersei froze at his question and he correctly interpreted her silence. "Once again, Cersei, your short sightedness astounds me. I am officially taking over your ridiculous operation," he informed her, setting one letter to the side and sliding an empty piece of parchment in front of him. He dipped his quill in the ink bottle and began to write once more. "From here on out you will have no further contact with Roose Bolton and you will forget about Rhaenys Targaryen. I am going to fix yet another one of your failures."

Cersei sat there, seething with anger, hating that her father wouldn't even look up at her. "Father – "

"You are dismissed," he interrupted coldly. Glaring now, Cersei rose, spinning towards the door, her heels clicking against the floor. "Cersei." She stopped at the sound of his voice, but didn't turn around. "Make yourself useful and bring that son of yours to heel. If you don't, then I will."

"Seven hells, what a fucking day," Robb groaned as he sat down heavily on the bed. She was curled up on the opposite side, facing away from him and struggling to feel nothing. "The good news is, I think I've come up with a solution," he continued to chatter, toeing his boots off before shrugging off his shirt and breeches. "We're packing up the camp and heading east, towards Harrenhal. The men are eager for a chance to attack one of the Lannister's forward base's." She felt the bed dip as he slipped beneath the furs and felt the heat of him as he shifted closer to her. Her eyes closed as his arm threaded around her waist, brushing against her stomach and making her stiffen. He brushed her hair to the side and pressed a kiss beneath her ear. "I'm sorry I've been so busy these past few days. I've missed you." Tears filled her eyes as she felt his hardness pressed against her, and when his hand trailed lower she quickly pulled away from him causing him to freeze for a moment before retracting his hand safely to her hip and lifting his head. "Maliya?" He asked.

She understood his confusion – ever since they started being intimate with each other, Maliya had never once rejected his advances. She hated doing it now, but she couldn't feel his hands on her without thinking of her failure and the precious life that she had lost. "Not tonight," Maliya whispered, trying to keep her voice even. "I'm too tired and I have my moon's blood."

He was silent for a long moment. "Alright," he murmured, before removing his hand and sliding back to his side of the bed.

The tears silently slipped down her cheeks, missing his warmth and regretting what seemed like leagues worth of distance that she felt between them.

The echoes of that blasted horn rang through the night once more, and Theon gritted his teeth as the sound only served to increase the pounding in his head. "I swear on the Drowned God, the old gods, the new gods and any other fucking god out there that I will kill that man!" He raged, hurling his cup of wine at the wall and immediately regretting it.

"They want you to know that you're surrounded," the old maester said, making Theon roll his eyes at the obvious comment. He threw a glare in the direction of where he was standing, his hands clasped beneath his sleeves.

"I bloody know that I'm surrounded," Theon growled, glowering into the fire once more. "I stood on the battlements myself." And he had. He had seen the five hundred soldiers that surrounded Winterfell and in that moment, he knew that death was coming for him. He had twenty men against five hundred. His father had sent no word and his sister had offered no help – he was well and truly alone. Theon stared into the fireplace, the flames reflecting off his eyes. "The first time I saw Winterfell, it looked like something that had been here for thousands of years and would be here for thousands of years after I was dead. I saw it and thought, "Of course Ned Stark crushed our rebellion and killed my brothers. We never stood a chance against the man who lives here."

"Lord Stark did his best to make Winterfell your home as well, Theon – "

"Something that everyone always loves to throw in my face," Theon snapped, feeling the injustice of it all welling up inside him once more. "Do you know what it's like to be told how lucky you are to be someone's prisoner? Lord Stark stole me from my home, killed my brothers and used me as pawn to keep my father in line. And then to be able to go back to my real father, returning home as his only surviving son and – " He broke off before his voice could crack, swallowing harshly.

"It's alright to admit that your father was not what you expected him to be," Maester Luwin assured him. His voice was gentle with a slight hint of pity and Theon hated it. "You shouldn't have to prove yourself – "

"Shut up," Theon snarled savagely, leaping to his feet. "What do you want me to say? That my father will give zero shits about whether or not I live or die tonight? That no matter how hard I try, he will always favor my sister ahead of me? I don't know who I am anymore," he shouted at Maester Luwin, spit flying from his mouth. Everything that had been building up inside him was being yelled across the room and Theon couldn't find it in him to stop. "I've been away from the Iron Islands too long to be considered a Greyjoy and I was raised in Winterfell but cannot be considered a Stark. I've betrayed Robb, the entire north thinks that I killed Bran and Rickon and now I have no choice but to die."

Maester Luwin's eyes were watery when Theon shot him another look and he belatedly realized what he had let slip. "I knew it," Maester Luwin whispered, face shining. "I knew it. The clothes fit, but the muscles in the legs…" Theon looked away from him quickly, jaw working, but it was too late. "Theon, how did Bran and Rickon escape?"

"It matters not," Theon answered dismissively.

Maester Luwin watched him for a moment before walking several paces closer to Theon, his face imploring. "I serve Winterfell Theon, and Winterfell is yours. There are hidden passages, ways out of the castle so the Lord of Winterfell could escape undetected if the need should ever arise. When night falls completely, use the tunnels and head north to Castle Black. Become a man of the Night's Watch; once you have taken the black, you are beyond reach of the law."

The Night's Watch. Why hadn't Theon thought of that before? He would no longer be Theon Greyjoy or Theon Turncloak. He would be a nobody. He would be on an even playing field with the rest of the men. The Night's Watch was an honorable calling, one where he could rise through the ranks quickly. The hope that was bubbling within his chest popped as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "I can't," he said lowly, shaking his head. "Jon Snow will slit my throat because of what I did."

"Once you become a brother, all your past crimes are forgiven, Theon," Maester Luwin reminded him. "You can make amends for the things that you've done."

"I've done a lot, haven't I?" Theon asked, frowning into the flames once more. Robb's face appeared in his mind. Whenever he pictured his friend, the man who considered him a brother, he glared at him with betrayal and hatred shining from his blue eyes, looking at him as if he didn't recognize him. "What if I don't deserve a second chance?"

"Everyone deserves a second chance," the maester disagreed. "The man who you are pretending to be is not the man that I know you are." The man put a hand on his shoulder and Theon found his presence oddly comforting. "Choose to live, Theon. You have the potential for such greatness, don't let it go to waste."

Theon's heart was hammering wildly in his chest as he dared to hope once more. Truthfully, he didn't want to die. And he didn't want to go down in history as Theon Turncloak, the man who took Winterfell from the Starks and killed Bran and Rickon. He could feel his entire life hinging on this one moment, this one decision. "Alright," Theon agreed before he could change his mind, excitement leaping through him. "So how do we do this?"

"When your men realize that you have escaped, they will surrender to the northmen and I will be there to broker a deal to allow the Ironborn to return home. Throw back the rug," the old man ordered as he hobbled towards the fireplace, reaching up to the candlestick holder. "This tunnel was built directly into the Lord's chambers when Winterfell was built, an escape plan in case the castle fell under siege."

Frowning in confusion, Theon did as he was told, pulling back the rug as far as he could until it reached the bed. Maester Luwin then pulled the candlestick holder and Theon's eyes bulged out of his head as a section of the stone floor in front of the fireplace began to slide open. He leaned forward and saw old steps leading down into the darkness. "Where does this lead?"

"North, beyond the castle walls," was the old maester's vague answer. "This won't be an easy road, Theon Greyjoy, but I have faith that you will be able walk it. Pack some things but keep it light. I'll have someone grab you food from the kitchens."

Theon hurried to pack, grabbing his bag and stuffing spare shirts and pants into it. He froze for a moment, looking down at the kraken emblem on his chest before ripping it off. He stared down at the symbol of his father's house for a long moment before tossing it into the fire and turning his back on his family once and for all. He donned a plain black shirt, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and buckling his sword to his hip.

Maester Luwin returned several minutes later, another small bag in his hand. "Take this," he urged, placing the bag over Theon's shoulder. He also had a torch, which he lit using the fire in the fireplace and thrust it into Theon's empty hand. "Good luck and safe travels, Theon Greyjoy."

The words 'thank you' were on the tip of Theon's tongue but he couldn't speak them. Instead, feeling equal parts anxious and afraid, he nodded shakily and took a deep breath before descending down the steps into the darkness. He didn't know where it would lead or what would happen at the end of this journey. But he did know that he was going to do everything in his fucking power to fix what he had done and right the wrongs that he had made.

Author's Note: I borrowed a few lines from show during the Robb/Catelyn/Karstark scene as well as Theon's scene because my heart broke when I heard them and I felt they added a lot to the scenes.

I did a lot of research on miscarriage for this chapter and I'm overwhelmed with sadness for the women, babies and families that have gone through this. If any of you readers have ever gone through this, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I hope that I accurately portrayed Maliya's reaction and that you felt her heartbreak, grief and guilt.

As for Theon… did anyone see that twist coming? How do you feel about him going north the take the black? And now Tywin is taking over for Cersei – shiiiiiit.

Also! A few of you mention in your reviews that you think you know what's coming or you have an idea in your head - and then you don't elaborate! I would love to know what you guys are thinking so please fill me in so I don't go crazy wondering haha. Please don't forget to review!

Next chapter: Season 3 begins! And I'm pretty sure it's what you've all been waiting for :) I've been wanting to write this chapter since I first started this story and I'm so excited that it's finally here! I can't wait for you all to read it. I've already started writing it, so I'll probably post it by next Monday – even sooner depending on how much time I have.

Guest 1: Thanks for reviewing! I hadn't even thought of that, but now that you mention it I can kind of see it. Thanks for making me chuckle!

Guest 2: I figured it was time to get them to stop arguing haha, especially about fighting in the war. I'm so glad you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!

Guest 3: I can definitely see where you're coming from! Unfortunately, Maliya isn't thinking that if she tells Robb the truth that everything would be alright. She thinks that everything will go terribly wrong and she's terrified. She's kept her moon tea a secret as well because this essential form of birth control is not popular throughout Westeros. As for the rest of your review, all I'm going to say is that you're very astute! Thanks for reviewing, I hope you liked the chapter!

Charlie: Thanks for your review! Do you totally hate me after this chapter? I promise that this isn't the end, just a minor bump in the road. Hope you liked the chapter despite everything else.