The bells had sounded across the city that very morning. Even before she saw the guardsmen and goldcloaks storming out of the Red Keep, before she saw carts full of arrows and spears and food and fodder rattle along the cobbled streets underneath the portcullis of the keep she knew what it meant. The enemy had been sighted. Not the enemy army, the army that had become a common sight on the southern shore of the Rush, they drilled in the daytime and feasted in the morning and evening in full view of the starving and beleaguered city the enemy army would fill it's stomachs. No, for the bells to be ringing, the Kingsguard to be deployed and the Hand of the King to be seen everywhere from the docks and the walls to the Throne Room meant that the enemy fleet had come.

She tucked back into an alcove so that she wasn't bowled over as a unit of lion crested men at arms quick marched down the corridor towards the courtyard. Even the Hand's guards from the tower had been called down, giving her relatively free reign of the castle, but she hadn't been able to enjoy it since she'd been immediately called to the sept to offer her prayers for the city's defenders.

She emerged as another trio of wagons trundled out of the keep under heavy escort by the gold cloaks. All around there was a flurry of activity. Archers took one last opportunity to practice at the butts before they were gathered to be taken to one of the walls. Squires and stablehands struggled to reign in great snorting destriers while men at arms gave practice swings with their swords and half a dozen smiths repaired and sharpened damaged blades and armour for the battle to come. Next to them fletchers were still readying arrows in their thousands and bowyers strung spare longbows.

"Move!" She barely made it out the way as yet more soldiers emerged from the keep, met at the base of the steps descending from the keep by a heavily armoured knight with orange thunderbolts on his shield. They stopped before him.

"There's a commotion on the Street of Sisters, we need the street cleared to get supplies through, see to it!" Without another word the soldiers marched towards the entrance to the keep to carry out the orders.

"Make way for the Hand of the King!" Boomed another voice.

Loren Lannister marched across the courtyard surrounded by knights, sellswords, sea captains and other men of war, his heavy scarlet armour glinting like fresh blood in the sun and the jewels in his scabbard gleaming like the eyes of predators. He looked haggard, like he hadn't sat down properly in over a week. He didn't so much as cast a look in her direction even though he passed within feet of her. "-eed men on all gates, double in the south and make sure that-" she barely caught him saying to his attendants as he passed. When they reached their horses they mounted neatly, Loren the first in the saddle. He glanced behind him to the array of horses standing behind him and his guard. This must be the convoy to the sept. She approached and was helped onto a horse by a Lannister squire. Beside her rode some young noble, probably a hostage, dressed in a fine silken shirt. She would have been with Sansa, but she'd already gone ahead in the previous convoy. In order to keep their most valuable prisoners secure, they'd been kept apart for the journey to the sept.

The streets were a whirlwind of activity as the people prepared for the siege. Shopkeepers boarded up their windows with whatever spare wood they could find, the hungry and desperate slunk back into holes or dark sidestreets at the passing of the Hand's retinue. She saw the first body just before they turned onto the street of sisters. An old man lay naked in a gutter, bloody wounds hacked into his torso and the scraps of his clothing remaining around his person. Lord Loren ordered two of his men to dismount and make him respectable enough for burial. He wasn't the first victim of murderous robbery they encountered, and every one of them was made respectable by the Lannister men. As they passed a stall that was empty, four armed men accosting the owner, Lord Loren had them arrested and had the gold cloaks help the stall owner board up his house. He brought calmness and surety to the streets as he passed. She didn't look behind her to see what happened when the lion had passed.

As they entered the sept the party divided. Yesterday they had all stood together, singing the hymns of the seven. Viserys had taught her a few of them, and Sansa others so she kept up as best she could, she sang with the grizzled cooks and innocent children, she sang for mercy for those around her, for Lady Sansa, and for herself. But when the prayers turned to the king, she twisted them. When the Septon called out for the Warrior to give him strength, she prayed that his sword arm failed him in the melee, when he asked the Smith to lend strength to his sword and shield, she prayed that they shattered and sundered beneath the blades of his foes, and when he called on the Father to give him courage to stand against his foe, she prayed that he fled like a coward and everyone of his men deserted him.

Today was the time for private prayers. Lord Loren led the soldiers to the altar of the Warrior to pray for the strength they would need and Sansa followed the tittering noblewomen of the court to the altar of the Mother, to beg for her mercy for themselves, their sons and brothers.

"Finish up your prayers quickly," Lord Loren's voice sang through the vaulted halls of the sept, "we return to the keep before dark. He'd already finished his prayers and was leaving, followed by his commanders, returned to talking about the battle to come already.

"He'll be back," a voice said in her ear and she spun to see Ser Aron standing behind her, his armour strapped on and a sword at his waist. "Don't fear, you still have his protection."

She nodded, until Ser Aron could get her out, she needed him to protect her from Cersei, or Joffrey. "Do you have news for me?" That had to be why he'd approached her, he'd kept such a distance from her unless he had to, for fear of arousing suspicion.

Ser Aron glanced around. "Not here," he took her arm and lead her towards the shadow of the statue of the Maiden. When they were safely away from prying ears, Ser Aron brought them to a halt, his olive face etched with concern. "The plan's off, I can't get you out during the siege."

"What?"

He shook his head mournfully. "The priest, the one who came to you." How does he know about that? "He was to get you out while the battle raged... no longer, he had been imprisoned by the Hand of the King."

Her breath hitched but he rubbed her arm gently. "A pre-emptive measure, the Hand knows nothing of your escape."

"How do you know?"

"We're both still alive."

"Can't you get me out?" She hissed after a pause. How could he do this, tell her when she was going to escape and then, on the eve of the moment, tell her that it wasn't going to happen.

Again Ser Aron shook his head. "I can't, I need to help defend the city."

"But you promised-"

"I never promised I would put you before the half a million souls that call this city home, and if you thought I would you're a fool, and an undeserving one at that."

She didn't reply.

"I wanted-" he stopped talking as a worshipper stopped by to light a candle at the altar of the Maiden before moving on. "I wanted," he continued, to give you this," he reached behind him and held out a fold of heavy brown cloth. Cautiously she opened it and her eyes widened at the sight of the dagger. It was a simple piece of metal, not like the jewelled ones worn by lords and wealthy soldiers, a simple tool.

"Why?"

He placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. "Because there is a good chance that this city will be taken. If it is you are in danger, in the heat of the night, you may encounter a man seeking to slake his lusts, or who sees a chance for profit by handing you over to the usurper, or who calls you a Lannister follower and seeks to kill you for it. You need to protect yourself. If the city calls, get to the top of the Keep, as high as you can go and hide until the sun rises. It will be in the night of the sack that men's appetites for murder and rape are raised, as soon as morning comes surrender yourself to Stannis Baratheon, him or his son if possible, they are an honourable sort, if not, find some of his men and go to them. If possible, go with the Lady Sansa, Stannis will not want to bring harm to her and her presence may keep you safe. This," he took the dagger from the cloth, "is as a last resort. No doubt the Queen or her people will try to stop you from fleeing, don't let them. But always remember, go up. Others will run for the stairs to try and escape even as the Baratheon army comes towards the keep, they'll be caught in stables or inns or behind tanners' shops. Getting to the top of the keep, away from the other people, the battle and the royal treasury will help keep you safe."

"Ser Aron." She hurriedly tucked the dagger into her long sleeves as Ser Gerold, the Hand's Right Hand approached. "My Lord requires your efforts to be spent on preparing for the siege. The barrels of sour wine, only half of them have reached the siege crews, we need the rest, get some more men on it, we might have need of it as early as tomorrow, if the captains are right about the distance of the enemy fleet, and the horses, they need to be brought to the stables nearer the gates, we don't have the time to bring them back here to rest, you need to get them moving and-" Ser Gerold paused, looking at Daenerys and blinking several times. "What are you doing here?"

"She was looking for Lord Loren," Ser Aron cut in before she could say anything. "But he left when she arrived."

Gerold nodded. "Well, he won't be back before sundown, he needs to inspect the defences on the walls. And he'll be too busy for you then anyway, Lady Daenerys. You'll have to go with the other noble women of the city."

"Others?" She asked.

Ser Gerold nodded. "Lord Loren's sister, the Queen Regent will be hosting them in her private apartments in the keep, yourself and Lady Sansa will accompany them."

A cold dread spread through her. "But... Lord Loren said-"

"Lord Loren will need every man for the coming battle, he cannot spare anyone from the walls to watch over you. He sends his apologies."

No apology can protect me from a knife in the back. "Ser Aron, we really must depart."

Aron nodded. "Of course. I hope your prayers reach the highest heavens and find you safe come the end of the battle Lady Daenerys," he told her before following Ser Gerold out of the sept, leaving her in the company of shadows and flickering candlelight as the hour of battle came rushing to meet them, and now she had no escape.