"Another set of maids," Dany muttered as the servants collected her and Sansa's dinners. She never even bothered to learn the names of the servants who tended to them anymore. When they had them for a fornight, it seemed worthwhile, but now they were changed at least once a week, ever since Sansa's mutilation. Still, this lot had been kind enough to cut Sansa's dinner up into smaller chunks so that she didn't have to suffer the indignity of having to ask someone to do it, or to rip her food into chunks with her teeth while leaving brown food marks all over her chin. The next lot may or may not.

When they had gathered everything, the maids left and Dany and Sansa got into their nightclothes. Sansa reached up to brush her hair back, but realised that she had done it with her missing hand. She slammed her stump onto the bed in anger and hissed at the pain.

"Sansa," Dany whispered crawling over to the other side of the bed and wrapping her arms around the Stark girl from behind. "Don't do this to yourself." She kissed Sansa's head softly, stroking her. "Don't."

"I want them to die," she whispered. Her voice was quiet as a ripple passing over a lake, as though she was still unable to voice her true thoughts.

"They will die," Dany replied into her ear. She would be the voice that Sansa could not be, the hand that she no longer had. "I promise Sansa, they will die."

How, she didn't know, but they would die, they had to.

She couldn't sleep that night. She tossed one way, then another, but still sleep wouldn't overcome her. Sansa seemed to have no trouble escaping to the land of her dreams. Dany hoped that there she had both hands and a lifetime of happiness. Not her, she was trapped here, no red doors, no brothers, no parents, and one friend, one friend she couldn't help.

She got to her feet, careful not to wake Sansa and padded around the room, trying to walk herself into tiredness. On the third lap of the room the chill started to get to her so she made her way to the wardrobe to pull out a fur coat. Wrapping it around herself she continued pacing. Her upper body was warming up, but her feet and legs were still chilly. She stamped her feet against the carpeted floor, trying to work a little warmth into them. Wait. She stamped her feet again, then traced them softly. Then she took three steps to the right and did the same. Why was the carpet slightly warmer here than there?

She hurried over to the bedside table and lit her candle, bringing it back with her to the carpet. Crouching down she traced her fingers over the carpet until she found the two patches of warm and cold. Feeling her way around the carpet, it was definitely the cold that stood out, just a little different to the rest of the carpet. Why?

Peeling back the carpet, she didn't see anything leaping out at her as different, the stones looked the same, but beneath the carpet, the difference was even more noticeable. She traced her fingers along the cracks between the stones, one of them rand deeper than the others. Curious, she tugged and felt the stone shift ever so slightly. She froze, looking up to make sure Sansa was still asleep, she pulled again, harder. The stone lifted. Scrabbling to get a hold, Dany lifted the heavy stone which swung up on a hinge to reveal a hidden hole, like an oubliette. Iron rungs were hammered into the wall and it led down into the darkness.

Her heart beat a rhythm of war in her chest. She let her breathing steady. What was this, a hidey hole? A passageway? She hurried to pull on her boots, if the cold air was coming from there, best to be prepared, then paused. Should she wake Sansa, should she put the stone back and forget all about this? What if someone came? They wouldn't come, no one ever came to them at night, despite Joffrey's threats. She took the candle and started climbing down the ladder. The shaft of the hole was small enough that she could barely fit herself, so she was able to prop her back against the other side and pull the stone cover back over the hole, leaving her in only the light of the candle and she descended. It seemed to just be a hidey hole. It went down barely six feet before her feet hit the bottom of the neatly cut passage. Something chinked and she lowered the candle to see a small pile of treasures, coins mostly, gold and silver mixed together, there was a necklace as well that was silver studded with emeralds and rubies and... She reached down tentatively an grasped the object, half submerged in the pile. Lifting it up she gasped. It was a dagger, the sheath made of black lacquered wood, embossed with silver, the handle was twisted iron wrapped in leather, the pommel shaped into a dragon's head with two small silver drops for eyes while the small crossguard was fashioned into wings. It was all covered in dust and as she brushed it off she saw more of the beautiful craftsmanship. Who had left this here, why had they not come back from it. Could it be from the Sack? Someone hiding their things here to prevent them being stolen, why hide a dagger though, you could surely defend yourself with it. She half drew the blade, the steel glinted and when she traced her thumb across it, it sliced her open neatly, allowing the blood to bead out.

She settled back against the wall and felt it shift. Awkwardly turning and pushing against it with her still bleeding hand, it swung open, leaving an opening that she could crouch through. Squatting down she looked on. This was more than a hidey hole, this was a passage, a passage leading where? Pausing for only a second, she set off down the passage, back hunched and thumb still stinging. The passage angled down ever so slightly and continued for who knew how long. Eventually she reached a fork. Looking back and knowing she didn't want to get lost, she smeared a patch of blood from her thumb on the wall of the passage heading back to her rooms. Then she smeared another blotch on the passageway leading right and made her way down it cautiously. This one angled down sharper than before and then evened out before reaching another fork. Here she used her bloody thumb to mark her path again before carrying on. Not far down this passage she paused. There was an opening, a small grate on the floor. Laying flat she peered out and saw she was looking down into a corridor. This must be one of those decorative fixtures that were placed throughout the keep. But where exactly was she? She pushed on the grate and it lifted. It wasn't enough to get out of, not nearly, but she could reach a hand in or out if she had to.

She couldn't tell and she dare not linger, if someone came by and saw the light from her candle coming from the ceiling. She got back up. This was too much, she'd be risking too much to carry on. She headed back, following the smears of blood back to the hidey hole and then she caught sight of the jewelled necklace. Looking back down the passage she paused. Snatching up the necklace she retraced her steps again and let the necklace poke out of the grate ever so slightly, before heading back to her room. Tucking the dagger into her robe, she scrambled up the ladder and pushed on the stone, lifting it up. She peeked around, all was clear. Hurriedly she got out of the hole, lowered the stone door and pulled the carpet back over it. Steadying her breathing, Dany removed her cloak and boots, hid the dagger in her drawer and got back into bed.

The next day was the Smith's Day, and for such a holy day, the court was due for prayers in the great sept, and she and Sansa were expected. They both got into their long, flowing robes, Sansa to hide her mutilation, Dany in solidarity with her only friend. The bulky, flowing dress also had another advantage, she took the dagger she had recovered from the hidey hole and hid it in the folds.

The court went in a two large processions through the streets. The first and largest consisted of the notables of the court. Joffrey led the way in full royal regalia, his crown glinting, but even from where she was further back, she could see that he clearly didn't want to be there. Behind Joffrey was Tywin Lannister, sitting tall and proud on a great white stallion, flanked by Lannister knights and retainers including every member of the Small Council who could ride a horse, while the rest followed in a carriage with Cersei behind them. Lord Mace Tyrell rode at Tywin's side, she noted, chest puffed out and trying to engage the Hand of the King in conversation. Behind them came Margaery and her attendants, they had brought a wagon of food, with squires standing in it ready to toss the food to the crowd. It was much smaller than had normally been the case. Ever since the Roseroad had been cut, the Tyrells had been forced to cut back on their donatives. Behind them came the rest of the court, the guests, the hangers on, those of no worth and the hostages. Dany looked out of her carriage at the crowd. They weren't as jubilant as normal, again, the Roseroad closure had them asking questions, questions that most of the procession would rather they didn't.

Dany settled back and closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifting back to the hidden passage beneath her room. Had it all been staged, the deposit of coins and trinkets were covered in dust, but could that have been faked. No, they couldn't have known she would ever find it beneath the carpet would they? She only found it because she was standing on it barefoot. Most would walk over it in shoes, they wouldn't notice the slight temperature difference. It couldn't have been a plant, no, she'd found it. She should use it, surely. What good would come from hiding it, maybe she could find a way out, then she and Sansa could leave.

The carriage rumbled to a halt outside the sept and she followed the crowd of nobles and attendants into the great building. The High Septon stood at the altar of the Smith, as the king and the most important nobles settled near him, the rest spilling backwards in a wave. Sansa and Dany found themselves sitting on the end of an aisle of seats, thank the gods, next to two lordlings from the Reach. The High Septon was too far away for them to listen to his sermon, and many around them were having hushed conversation. Dany and Sansa stayed silent and she contented herself to listen in to the lordlings' conversation.

"We must be moving soon, how long can Lord Tyrell delay?"

"Until his daughter is married if he wants," the other one replied. Both were speaking darkly. "Nothing I've heard suggests that the Starks are moving on Highgarden."

"Fuck Highgarden, my family's lands are astride the Roseroad, I haven't heard anything from them."

"I'm sorry friend, has your brother spoken with Lord Tyrell?"

"When he has the time, but it's hard when he's so busy with 'affairs of state'."

"How is this not an affair of state?"

"Because it doesn't involve his precious little rose."

The lordling gritted his teeth. "Bloody performance all of it. I was with the army, Renly was very open about his bedding ceremony. We don't need a pure day, just be married and march."

"Maybe these falsehoods are why the gods have let the northmen invade."

"Or maybe it's the fact that our entire army is here."

"Or that."

"We can't keep it up forever anyway, we'll have to march soon, if only for lack of food."

"Are your men fed?"

"They are for now. Thankfully we took our lead from Lord Florent, started rationing as soon as we heard."

"Lord Tarly did as well, but I heard Lady Oakheart was slow and her stores are running low."

"Foolish woman."

They paused as they all made the sign of the star over their breasts upon the direction of the High Septon. When the first exultation was done, the men carried on.

"Did you see the people out there?"

"Yes, not so keen on us now we've stopped the food again."

"Well when we get it started we'll have that back."

"That's one benefit, let them starve a little then they'll be even more grateful when we bring them more food."

The two broke down into muffled laughter.

Silence fell upon them as a white armoured figure marched up the aisle towards them. He stopped and looked down on them. "The king wants you with him," ser Meryn Trant said.

Dany held back a snarl at the knight who had held Sansa's hand as the King's Justice hacked it off. Instead, she stood. She made to take Sansa's arm, but Sansa politely refused, holding herself up. They followed ser Meryn down the aisle towards two seats made for them near the king.

Joffrey flashed them an evil grin and Dany wondered what fresh torment he wanted to put them through to relieve his boredom. This close to the front, everyone had to listen to the sermon intently, there was no whispering here. What did Joff think he could achieve?

Perhaps he just wanted to bore them. The sermons and prayers went on for hours. And at the end of it, everyone was expected to go and place a candle upon the altar of the smith. Dany followed on after Lord Gyles Rosby. She lit her candle, took it over to the altar and placed it in an open space. Then a voice from behind her jeered. "Lady Sansa, it is expected that someone carries their candle in their left hand."

Dany spun around and saw Joffrey teasingly holding out a candle towards Sansa. He pulled it back when she held out her hand. "Your left hand, Lady Sansa." Almost everyone around the two shuffled back as subtly as they could, Cersei looked on imperiously, Tywin couldn't care at all and the Tyrells, for the first time, were trying to make their presence silent. She saw the High Septon swallow nervously, and several other guests nervously switched their candles from their right hands to their left. Dany made to step forward, the dagger hidden in her dress digging into her side, but Sansa caught her gaze and rapidly moved her eyes from left to right. Dany backed down.

Sansa brought her candle over to the sleeve covering her left arm, which was held up as if to take the candle. She let go and the handle fell to the ground, the brass holder clattering on the stone and the soft wax rolling away, the flame snuffing out. "I'm sorry, your grace," Sansa said, bowing, "I'll get another candle."

"And don't drop it this time, we don't want to upset the gods."

Sansa paused. "You're right, your grace, I'm sorry, perhaps you could light my candle for me, I know you would never be so foolish as to drop a candle on this holy day."

Joffrey scoffed. "You don't get to make me hold a candle for you."

"Then I will do my best." Sansa picked up another candle with her right hand, passed it over to her other arm and dropped it.

"Oh dear, Ser Meryn, show the Lady Sansa the punishment for dishonouring the gods." Joffrey was snarling as Meryn approached, Sansa merely closed her eyes.

"No, this is a house of the gods, not violence." The High Septon found his voice at that. "Your Grace, let us allow the Lady Sansa to place her candle with her right hand. The gods will forgive her that given her... circumstances."

Joffrey looked about to protest, but Cersei placed a hand gently on his arm and Tywin fixed him with a stare.

"Very well, in my generosity, I will allow it."

The High Septon didn't look pleased that Joffrey was claiming authority in the sept, but didn't dare speak against him.

After lighting her candle Sansa caught up to her and nodded that she was okay, so the two of them sat back down and waited for the end of the ceremony. Thankfully, Joffrey seemed to have had all the fun he could get away with but Dany only breathed in relief when they were back in their carriage. "How has it gotten so cold?" She muttered, pulling her dress tight around herself and cursing that there were no cloaks in the carriage. The ceremonies had taken most of the day and now the court was eager to get back to the castle. Dany was as well.

The two arrived at their rooms and Sansa sat down, calling a maid to do her hair. Dany was about to ask the same, when she had another thought. She wasn't ready to prepare for bed, and the cold might well drive people into their rooms early. So she fetched a cloak from her wardrobe. "I just need to clear my head, I'll be back soon she said."

"Be back in time for supper won't you."

"Of course," she smiled back, opening the door and stepping outside. Checking both ways, she headed for the stairs, making for the floor below her.

Sure enough, as she had suspected, most of the court had retired following the ceremony, only a few courtiers and servants were still walking the halls. Perfect. Not trying to draw attention to herself, she made her way slowly along the corridors, glancing up at every little decorative grate along the ceiling. She tried to think back to what little she had seen, when looking out of it last night, but couldn't recall anything that might help her identify just where she had been. Had she even been only one floor down? Perhaps she'd gone down two and she was in entirely the wrong place. If so, she'd try the next floor down tomorrow.

She turned the corner and saw two courtiers sat on a bench about halfway down the corridor, muttering in low voices. One wore the colours of House Tarly, and another of House Banefort and they visibly stiffened as she passed. She smiled at them and nodded. When she was a distance away she heard them return to their mutterings. Curious, after she turned the corner she flattened herself against the wall and tried to listen, but to no avail, she was too far way. She peeked around again, a slant of narrow sunlight pierced in, painting a strip in the wall right between the two men and made something in the ceiling flash. She tucked behind the corridor, waiting again for a few seconds before looking back, there it was, a ceiling grate with something reflecting the sunlight. A jewelled necklace. She'd found it!

Calm, what to do now. She couldn't well retrieve the necklace with the two courtiers there. Instead, she turned and continued walking the corridor, starting to memorise it. If she could remember what was in the area, then she could always find her way back to that grate. It wouldn't help with escape, but it would be helpful to navigate those passages in her next excursion, perhaps she'd be able to find her way around better than before.

After a circuit of the nearby corridors, she took a seat on a nearby bench to think of the possibilities of her new knowledge, but she'd barely been there when she heard a voice call out to her. "Targaryen!" She jumped and got to her feet. Ser Meryn Trant approached, his white plate gleaming, his visor raised and his face set. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Am I not allowed here?" She demanded in reply. Out of an official setting she didn't have to smother her fires.

Ser Meryn paused. "Careful how you speak to me, Targaryen, I am a knight of the Kingsguard, and you are a little girl."

"Perhaps, I am a girl, but you are a thug who mutilates defenceless girls."

If the insult affected him, he didn't show it. "I do what my king orders, and you should be careful, his grace is most displeased after the events of the sept, it would be my pleasure to follow his orders were he to order me to do the same to you."

"I'm sure it would," she hissed.

"Enough of this," ser Meryn said, "follow me back to your chambers. You have wandered enough tonight."

"I don't have to follow you anywhere," she spat, her hands curling into fists.

"I'm happy to drag you if you wish," Ser Meryn said. He leant in close to her, bending over so his face was mere inches from hers. "But it would be quite undignified."

"More undignified than what your whelp of a king puts me through every day!"

Ser Meryn stood back tall. "You will not speak of the king that way in my presence!" He seized her arm and dragged her away, "he will decide your fate himself."

"Why, do you not have the courage to do it yourself?" She asked, flipping her cloak back with her free hand.

Ser Meryn turned to look back at her and grunted in pain as Dany plunged her dagger into his face. He staggered in alarm, clutching his cheek, cursing. Dany stepped forward and plunged the dagger up under Ser Meryn's chin. Meryn tried to strike at her, one blow catching her cheek and sending her to the floor with a gasp of pain. She scrambled away as Meryn collapsed to his knees with a clatter. He was still reaching for her, one hand trying to staunch the wound in his neck, leaving his mangled and ruined cheek exposed. Through the sliced skin she could see the pink of his tongue and the white of his teeth. He tried to snarl as his armoured fingers snatched at the hem of her dress but she pulled it away. Blood pooled on the floor and flowed down the cracks in the stone like streams through grey fields. Meryn's helmet fell, the straps sliced by Dany's stab under his chin. Dany got to her feet and approached tentatively. Meryn's grasps became twitches and she reached down to grip the dagger. Meryn met her eyes and tried to stop her pulling out the dagger, but as his strength left him, she took the dagger out and leant in close. "You're just the first," she whispered before turning and hurrying away from the dying kingsguard, the thrill of the kill thrumming in her ears.

Others would come, an armoured body collapsing to the ground would be heard and found, she had to run. Stuffing the dagger under her cloak she hurried away, back where she had come. Mercifully, the two courtiers were gone and, not wanting to be caught with the dagger, she checked no one was watching, then stepped onto the bench, reached up, opened the grate and bundled the dagger inside.

Dropping back down she fixed her cloak to cover the blood stain on her dress left by the dagger and hurried to leave the scene of the crime. She would return to Sansa, and sleep, and wake tomorrow to see how the court would react to the death of one of the Kingsguard.