They held their meeting in a tent, away from most of the khalasar. After returning to the camp Daenerys graciously offered her guests food but upon smelling the unidentified meat all the Northmen refused.

Jorah, Daenerys, Missandei and Arya sat on one side of the table, with Robb and two of his men on the other. Around them, the rest of Robb's guard stood on edge, expecting trouble as they eyed the handful of Dothraki mixed in among them.

"Did your King send you?"

"Robert?" Robb asked in surprise. "Why would he…" his words trailed off. "Arya father sent me."

Daenerys responded with a startled hum, but Arya's focus was on her brother and nowhere else. "But you serve the Realm? You're loyal to your King?" she verified, her tone making her contempt for the title obvious.

"Of course I am," he told her quickly and with feeling. "I'm the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. We have always been loyal to the Crown, you know that."

"Congratulations," she said, her praise empty. "Did you know then that your precious King Robert sent assassins to murder Daenerys?"

She looked sideways as she said the woman's name and gave her a slight smile. Under the table a hand found hers and gripped it tightly. "I didn't know that," Robb confessed as he looked to the men flanking him. They were equally oblivious. "I might not agree with all the things he does, but Robert is my King, just as he is yours."

"That swine is no King of mine."

Clearly surprised by her outburst, no one spoke for several long seconds. "Robert didn't send me Arya, father did. I didn't come to assassinate anyone, only to bring you home."

"Westeros is not my home and I was exiled if you recall. I know you weren't there that day, but I was told that if I returned I would be hung for my crimes."

Daenerys's grip on her hand tightened at this news. "Westeros is your home, Winterfell is your home and you belong there, with family. Father wouldn't have sent me if he didn't believe he could keep you safe."

"No!" she answered forcefully. No matter what her father wanted, no matter why Robb had come, she wouldn't be going to Winterfell. Her place was in Essos with Daenerys and her people and nothing Robb or her father could say or do would change that.

"No?" he repeated back. "Does that word mean something different over here?"

She scoffed, unamused by his attempt at humor. "I suspect it still means the same as it did the day I left."

"You're being offered a second chance Arya, a pardon. Don't be a fool, take it. Return home with me and see our family again."

Silent, Daenerys had allowed the siblings to discuss the matter privately but apparently, she could hold her tongue no longer. "Home?" she ridiculed. "Family? You mean the people who sent a scared child across the sea alone? That family?"

Robb's eyes darted to the Targaryen and he lashed out. "Don't presume to know about matters that don't involve you." When he looked to his sister his eyes didn't soften. "How can you sit next to her? After all she's done? After all her family has done to ours? Her father murdered our grandfather, burned our uncle alive too."

Daenerys blanched at the mention of her father's sins. Under the table, she tried to pull her hand back, but Arya refused to release it. "Tread carefully Stark," Jorah warned.

"Speak to Daenerys that way again," Arya threatened "and not all of you will make it back onto the boat for the return voyage."

At her dangerous words, two of the Stark men drew their swords. Arya remained unmoved at the table, but around the tent the tempted warriors reached for their arakhs. Speaking first in Dothraki, she instructed the men to be ready, but to hold. "I strongly suggest you order your men to sheath their blades, or I'll have my friends do it for them."

She watched as Robb looked around the tent, taking stock of the situation. He held up his hand to still his men and slowly all swords were put away. "No need for that," Robb said as forced a smile in Arya's direction. "As I said I mean the Targaryen no harm. I didn't come here for her, I came here to escort you home."

"And I told you, no. I'm not leaving. Westeros is no longer my home. I belong here with my people."

He scoffed at her, as he so often did when they were growing up. She heard the same sound every time she did something he didn't approve of. "Your people? These aren't your people Arya. I don't know what's happened since you left but whatever it is, it doesn't need to continue. You can come home, see mother, father, Bran and Rickon. They miss you. They want you to return."

"These are my people, which is why if I give the order none of you will leave this tent alive."

"Arya," Daenerys reprimanded quietly.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I was forced from my home and sent alone to cross the sea with little more than the clothes on my back," she reminded him.

"You must be tired after your journey," Daenerys said as she fought to keep the siblings from violence. "You and your men are welcome to eat and move about the camp freely. We'll have some tents raised for you."

In an attempt to be diplomatic Robb pulled his eyes off Arya and met Daenerys's violet stare. "That is very kind. Thank you." When he addressed his sister, his voice was once again hard. "I trust you'll reconsider after you've given it some thought."

"Don't hold your breath. Daenerys might be willing to tolerate your presence but I'm far less generous. I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't care who your father is."

R-C

"Do you never dream of going home?" Daenerys asked as they laid side by side in bed. "You have memories of your homeland, I have only ideas and still I think of it."

This was surprising to Arya who rolled over and propped herself on an elbow to look at her lover. "You wish to return to Westeros?"

Daenerys reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair away from her face. "I'm not sure. Sometimes I yearn for home, but I have no desire to deal with the chaos I'd find there. Getting back what was stolen from us, taking the throne, that was Viserys's sickness, not mine. I have no will to sit on that bladed chair, but sometimes I think I'd like to visit Dragonstone, to see the place where I was born, where so many of my ancestors lived."

"I didn't know you felt that way."

Lifting herself up she stole a quick kiss before she continued on. "I have nothing and no one to go back to, no real reason to return but things are different for you. You have memories, friends, family and now you've got a chance to go back and see them all again. Don't you want that?"

"No," she answered honestly. She paused for a kiss, one that started brief and grew in duration and intensity. "My home is here," she said as they separated. "My family is here."

"Are you worried about me? Is that why you won't go?"

"I will always worry about you," she admitted. "If you wish it I will go to Westeros. I will kill Robert Baratheon and his heirs, but once it is finished, I'd return as quickly as possible, to you and to our people." As she finished her speech an unpleasant thought occurred to her. "Do… do you want me to go?"

"What? No!" she shouted, too loud for the early morning hour. "Of course not. I would love nothing more than for you to stay here with me forever, but I can't be selfish. You have a family. I know you must miss them, even if you never speak of it. I want you here with me, but I want you to be happy more. I don't want you to resent me one day, because you missed the opportunity to get your life back."

"You are many things Daenerys, but selfish is not one of them." The two shared another kiss before Arya finished her point. "I don't want a new life or my old one. I'm quite content with the life I have. I belong here, with you and I'll stay until you send me away."

"And what of your family? Your father sent your brother and Robb came all this way for you."

"They'll need to get over their disappointment, but luckily Robb will have the long journey back to Winterfell to come to terms with it."

R-C

"Grow up," Robb complained as he addressed his sister. He'd been in the camp for six days and during that time he never stopped trying to sway her. Like the Khal she was, Arya refused to bend.

"I did grow up," she retorted. "Which is why I no longer feel obligated to simply obey our father's wishes without question. When are you going to grow up?"

From where she both watched and listened Daenerys felt the need to act as a mediator. "Arya, I don't think your brother meant that. He only wishes…"

"Stay out of this," Robb demanded. "This is a family matter."

Right before her eyes Arya's annoyance shifted to murderous fury. "Don't make me repeat myself. If you wish to stay in this camp and remain healthy, I would advise you to treat Daenerys with respect."

Robb remained unrepentant. "Her?" he asked as he pointed her out. "Next you'll be defending some of your savages or maybe the slave girl?"

Daenerys, Robb and Arya all looked toward the woman in question. Missandei seemed uncomfortable, but stoic. Daenerys rushed to her defense. "Say what you will about me, but Missandei…"

"She is more family to me than you," Arya argued. "If you keep pushing, I'll send you back to mother and father on a funeral pyre."

It didn't escape Daenerys's notice that Arya's hand was hovering near her arakh. She extended her arm and touched her wrist in hopes of keeping things civil. Seeing the same thing she did, Robb's hand went toward his sword. Arya grinned deviously. "If you draw that steel big brother, you better mean it because I will."

Desperate to defuse the situation Daenerys tried a little manipulation. "Arya it's nearly midday, didn't you want to train with the men?"

A wordless conversation happened between them. Arya saying she didn't want to leave Daenerys alone with her brother and Daenerys guaranteeing that she'd be fine. "Mind your manners," she insisted before she left.

"You need to start respecting your sister's choices," Daenerys said after Arya was gone. "She's not the child you remember, she's a grown woman and she can make up her own mind."

"I didn't ask you."

"No, you didn't. You'd never lower yourself to ask a Targaryen anything but that doesn't mean you don't need to hear what I have to say. Arya is strong and brave and she doesn't need you or anyone else telling her what to do."

He laughed humorlessly right in her face. "Don't make me laugh. From what I can tell you use my sister to kill for you and you say I don't respect her choices."

She was horrified by the implication. "If you believe anyone can make your sister do anything she doesn't want to do, you don't know her as well as you pretend to." She was more offended by this idea than any of Robb's other attempts to belittle her. She would never keep Arya somewhere against her will, the thought was abhorrent. "It's true that Arya has killed but she does so because she chooses to, not because I command it. I ask you, isn't that better than swearing fealty to a King and bending the knee, whether you agree with him or not?"

"You know nothing of our world," Robb interjected. "You have been in exile your whole life. Your knowledge of the Seven Kingdoms comes from those dusty books I've seen you reading."

"I know more about the Seven Kingdoms than you do about the Dothraki. Seeing as how you're here, perhaps you might want to learn, for Arya's sake."

"I know enough," he resisted. "I know you were married to a Horse-Lord in exchange for his army. I know that when he died you got your claws in my sister and used her to keep your power."

"That is not what happened!" Daenerys protested. "My husband didn't die, he was assassinated, poisoned by your beloved King Robert. The drink was meant for me. Maybe that is why Arya wants no part of Westeros or her politics."

This admission melted the anger from Robb's face. For several minutes neither spoke. Finally, Robb asked, "Does she speak of us? Of her family, of home?"

She considered lying, if only to spare him pain, but in the end, she told the truth. "She rarely speaks of the past."

"So, she's never mentioned me?"

"I was aware she had a brother named Robb, but beyond that no, she never has."

The pained expression he wore almost made her feel sympathy for the man, almost. He was still part of the family that exiled Arya and for that Daenerys could find no forgiveness.

"She trusts you," he said lowering his quiet voice even further. "I can see that she does. She has a home waiting for her, a family that loves and misses her. Don't let her stubbornness take away her chance to gain all of that back."

"I already told you, no one can make Arya do anything she doesn't want to. Not even me."

"Try," he begged.

R-C

It was later that night, after both her and Arya's needs had been satisfied, repeatedly, that she broached the subject. They were a mess of tangled arms and legs, but Robb's words kept echoing in her mind.

"I think you should consider returning to Westeros," she whispered tentatively. "Your brother isn't going to leave until you agree, you do know that."

"Then he's welcome to stay. I'm not going back. My place is here," she said echoing their earlier conversations on the matter.

"I'm not saying you should go and stay forever," Daenerys expanded, "but it's not the worst thing in the world for you to reconnect with your family."

"The Dothraki are my family, I won't abandon them." She reached for and took a sip from the glass of water on her side of the bed. "I won't abandon you. Where is this coming from?" Recognition passed over her face almost as soon as the question was out of her mouth. "He asked you to convince me," she said confidently, "how pathetic."

"He might not be wrong," she mentioned carefully.

"If I return to Westeros you know I'll be going to King's Landing."

"I assumed you would.," Daenerys said with an indulgent smile.

"And you still think I should go?"

"It's your home." Immediately she knew her mistake and worked to set it right. "It was your home, I mean," she corrected.

"It was your home as well. Will you be joining me?"

"I'm an exile."

"As am I. Where I go, you go right?" she asked, playing on the words Daenerys had said to her days before.

She couldn't hold back her smile, she didn't even try. "That's right."

R-C

At sunrise, she stood in her brother's tent, looking down on his sleeping form. She felt no remorse for waking him. With a swift kick, she knocked him off the bed and onto the ground. "I'll return with you."

She left without waiting for a reply, going out into the camp and convening a meeting of her advisors. "We are going to need a fleet," she told them as she paced.

"It would take years and a small fortune to craft a fleet the size we'd require," Jorah informed them all. "We don't have the gold."

"We don't need gold," she interjected, "and we don't need years. The ships are already built, all we have to do is take them."

"No one in all of Essos has enough ships to ferry our army."

Arya stopped wandering about and looked to the end of the table where Missandei sat. "The Masters of Astapor do."

Popping up from his seat Jorah crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't be serious. The Masters are some of the most well-protected people on this continent. We can't simply take something from them. They have an army of Unsullied to fight for them."

"And what our army should be frightened?" Arya questioned. She gave Missandei a slight smile. "I have some unfinished business with the so-called 'Masters.' It's about time I settled it."

"Don't let your pride get in the way," Jorah moaned. When it was clear he wasn't getting the response he wanted, he turned to Daenerys, his favorite target, "Khaleesi please, talk some sense into her."

All eyes shifted to the Queen. "I agree with Arya. If we wish to go to Westeros, we'll need a fleet and the Masters have one."

Jorah wasn't prepared to surrender quite yet. "There is still the matter of Robert to discuss. If we take the khalasar to his shores he will see it as an invasion."

"Good, that's exactly what I want him to think. It will be an invasion."

"The Dothraki have never crossed the sea, and for good reason. They won't go and they shouldn't. Challenging Robert in Westeros is madness."

"If you don't want to come, you can stay here."

"That is not what I sa…"

"The Dothraki will cross the Narrow Sea," Daenerys predicted confidently. "For Arya, they will."

Just then one of the men poked a head through the tents opening. "Your brother wishes to speak to you," he told her.

She nodded her agreement and then looked to the table. "Take what gold we have and distribute it to the men. Then get them moving toward Vaes Dothrak. I'll go and deal with the Stark."

R-C

"Finally come to your senses eh?"

"More like I've finally lost my mind," she retorted.

He smiled warmly and held out a hand. "I'm glad you're coming home Arya and the family will be thrilled as well. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

"There is going to be a slight delay," she said, downplaying the truth.

"What kind of delay?"

"We need more ships," she stated bluntly.

"I told you, I have a ship waiting but it's quite a ride."

"I doubt your single ship will be enough to move the entire khalasar."

"What are you talking about?" Robb asked, reaching out again and this time grasping Arya's upper arm. "We haven't time for this."

She yanked her arm free. "Make time. If you want me to return with you to Winterfell, I will, but only if you agree to bring the whole of my army with us."

"That's insane!"

"Perhaps," Arya allowed with a shrug, "perhaps not, but if you want me on that boat, those are my terms."

"And what of the Targaryen? You'd leave her here unprotected?" She knew he was trying to manipulate her, but this was non-negotiable.

"Where I go, Daenerys goes."

"Arya, you can't do this. She's an exile. Robert wants her dead. Seven Hells, why are you so difficult?"

"I'm an exile. If father can think of a way to get a pardon for me, he can think of a way to pardon Daenerys as well."

"That will never happen," Robb screamed. "She has a claim on the Iron Throne. Robert could never let her live."

"You're right. One of them will need to die."

Sensing that he was nearing victory, he tried again. "So, we agree then. Leave Daenerys here, with the army to protect her and you and I can return to Winterfell."

"This isn't up for debate. We aren't setting sail until we have the ships to move the whole khalasar." She let her words sink in and then she added, "Of course, you are free to leave at anytime."

"Oh no," he said, annoyed by the suggestion. "I promised father I wouldn't leave here without you and I won't."

"Very well, get your horse then. We need to get moving."

R-C

On the third morning of their trip to Vaes Dothrak Arya noticed that her brother wasn't riding along side his men as he typically did. Instead she found him next to Missandei, in the midst of a serious conversation. She honed her ears and tried to pick out the common tongue among all the Dothraki but couldn't. Giving an order to Kelo to guard Daenerys, she turned her horse and went to the middle of the pack.

When she got close enough to hear, Robb was asking, "And where are we going exactly? My sister wasn't particularly clear."

"The Dothraki city."

She watched his eyes roll. "They have a city? Then why have I been sleeping in a tent?"

"The Dothraki are a nomadic people," she told him to explain. "They all travel to the city, but few remain there."

"They might be nomadic but you aren't. Where are you from? You remind me of my wife. She's from Volantis."

This was news to Arya. She hadn't known Robb was married and she couldn't believe he'd married a foreigner. She smiled as she imagined her parent's reaction to that.

"I'm from the island of Naath, very far from your home."

"And how did you come to be here?" he wondered.

"Your sister's kindness."

He scoffed at the notion. "I don't see much kindness in Arya these days. Why are you so willing to blindly follow her? What has she done to earn such loyalty?"

It was Missandei's turn to roll her eyes. "I am not blind. I follow because I believe." She paused for a moment, as if to collect her thoughts. "Your religion has seven Hells as I understand it." After he nodded she proceeded. "I would follow Arya and the Khaleesi to the doors of all seven."

The disbelief was clear on his face. "Why would you do that? What has she done for you? All I see is a selfish savage."

"She…"

Arya had let the conversation go far enough. She didn't want Missandei to have to relive their shared history. Picking up where Missandei left off, Arya spoke clearly and with an edge. "She wants you to leave her friend alone."

"We're just talking," he whined. "I thought I should get to know your new family." The last word was full of sarcasm.

"Speaking of family, I didn't know you were married."

He smiled, clearly thinking of his wife. "I am. We have a son."

"Congratulations," she said sincerely. "I'm sure mother and father were pleased. Even if you did marry a foreigner."

"It took some getting used to," he admitted, "but mother has grown to like her in recent years, especially since Little Robb was born."

All too easily Arya could picture Catelyn Stark in the role of doting grandmother. "I'm happy for you. I'll try to see you returned to them in one piece."

He gave his sister an easy smile. "I'd certainly appreciate that." They rode side by side for a few minutes of quiet before he made another point. "You haven't asked about them, not once, not about mother and father or any of our siblings."

This was surprising, but as she thought back she realized he was right. She hadn't asked and he hadn't offered. She imagined it was because she'd gotten so good at not thinking about home that it had become second nature. Now that the topic was broached however, she couldn't deny the questions on the tip of her tongue. "How are they?"

Robb was visibly pleased by her curiosity. "They are well. Father is worried about you. He says King Robert knows you're leading an army and he's afraid he might act rashly."

"He's welcome to try." She could only hope Robert, the fat, lazy King she remembered was willing to face her in combat. She'd dreamt of little else since he tried to kill Daenerys.

Not taking the bait, Robb moved on to their mother. "Mother is also well, although she misses father. She remains in Winterfell most of the time, but I suspect she'll be going to King's Landing soon."

"Sansa, Bran, Jon, and Rickon?"

"Rickon is growing up quickly," he said with a fond smile. My son adores him more than he does me I think. I hope they grow to be best friends. Bran has recovered well, but it's been a struggle. You remember how he was right? Always climbing something, or running, now that he can't I think it's hard for him. Jon," he paused for a moment, "Jon is still on the Wall. Word reached us that he'd been promoted."

"That's good," Arya said with a smile. Despite the fact that they didn't share a mother, she'd always felt a deep connection to Jon. It pleased her that he'd found his place in the world, just as she had hers. "Maybe I'll visit the Wall before I return home."

For the second time Robb let her statement pass without comment. "Sansa," he began, "she's in King' s Landing with father. Her wedding to Joffery was postponed until every influential person in the Realm could be in attendance. They should be wed any day if it hasn't happened already. Mother was planning on taking Rickon to see it."

The idea of Sansa being married to that pig turned her stomach. "I can't believe they are letting her marry him."

"He's a prince and they've been together for years. It's long overdue if you ask me."

Although she said nothing, Arya couldn't disagree more.

R-C

Walking through the camp, she found Robb and his men huddled around a small fire. "Fetch me more wine," one of the men yelled.

Missandei being the closest to them looked up from where she was cleaning clothes and met his eye. "Excuse me?"

"Can't you hear? I said more wine."

When Missandei made a move to actually do as the bastard asked, Arya knew she needed to intervene. She marched straight over to where he was sitting and kicked him in the side, knocking him over. "Get off your fat ass and get it yourself. She's not your slave nor your servant."

He laughed unrepentantly. "My mistake, it's a little hard to tell around here."

She turned to Robb since she knew if she kept speaking to this man, she'd cut his throat. "I told you to leave her be."

"I didn't…" he started to defend his actions, or lack thereof but she had no interest in hearing it.

"We were just talking. I didn't know that was against the rules."

"She's got enough going on, without you adding to it with your horse shit."

"She's an interesting woman, your friend. How did you meet her?"

"We met in Astapor," Arya said vaguely.

"How?" the soldier who started this prodded. "How did a slave become your advisor? She's certainly loyal. Did you buy yourself a friend?"

Arya growled in response. "Missandei is no one's slave and if you wish to see your homeland again I advise you keep that in mind."

"These savages are all talk," he said to Robb as he stood and dusted himself off. "Give me five minutes with them and I'll prove it."

Robb looked to her for approval and she shook her head. "Come on, we've been riding for days. A little sparring wouldn't hurt."

"The Dothraki don't train with outsiders," she informed him. "If we fight one of you, it'll be a fight to the death."

"I'm fine with that," the smug soldier said proudly.

"You're an idiot," she replied in the same tone he used. Expecting Robb to be the voice of reason she suggested, "Put an end to this and save your man's life."

To her shock Robb was either unwilling or unable to reign in his guard. He only shrugged casually. "It's his choice."

"You're an even bigger idiot than he is," she told her brother.

"What's the matter Khal?" the man mocked, using her title as sarcastically as he could. "Afraid of a little fight?"

In an instant Robb was on his feet, standing between the two of them. It was only then that Arya truly understood his attitude. He didn't think his man would lose, so he didn't see the harm in a fight, even to the death. Now that he realized that Arya intended to fight him herself, he was frantically trying to salvage the situation. "W…wait. You're going to fight him?"

"This isn't Westeros. Khal's don't hide behind their armies. If I can't defeat him, I'm not fit to lead."

At this, he turned to his man. "Vern, stop this."

It was too late. His hand was already on his sword. "I thought it was his choice," Arya said with a snickering laugh.

"It's a matter of honor," Vern said as he stepped forward, all too eager for a fight. "For days, I've had to sit here and listen to her threaten us and belittle our home. It ends now."

"I'm not going to let you fight my sister to the death!" Robb decided.

"I don't think it's up to you, big brother."

Sensing the promise of violence, many of the Dothraki had taken notice of their heated exchange. From the corner of her eye she noticed Missandei was no longer washing her clothes and Arya suspected she knew where she'd gone and who she was talking to. Her instincts were proven right when Daenerys came jogging over, with Missandei several steps behind. As he so often was, Jorah lingered near the Targaryen too.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," Arya replied as she tried to keep the Khaleesi from needless worry.

"We were just going to have a little fun. Want to watch?"

"Can you talk some sense into her please," Robb implored.

"No," she answered quickly, addressing Vern's question and not Robb's. She gripped Arya's arm and pulled her two feet away for some measure of privacy. "Don't do this, please."

The laughter from the Stark men verified they hadn't gone far enough. "Hiding behind your wife eh? Some big, tough warrior you are."

Robb had apparently decided he'd tolerated enough. "Vern shut your mouth or I'll fucking kill you myself!" he roared.

"Please," Daenerys said again. "No good can come from this. It doesn't help anyone."

More than a little annoyed, not only at Vern and her brother, but at Daenerys for ending her quest for blood she pulled herself free of Daenerys's touch and marched straight toward Vern. As she bumped him with her shoulder, she made her thoughts on the matter perfectly clear. "Say thank you. She just saved your life."

R-C

Still enraged Arya went to her tent with plans of having a bath. After a day spent in the saddle, she was filthy and she wanted to feel clean. She also hoped it might calm her rage.

Removing the ties from her braid she let her hair loose and combed it out with her fingers. While she removed her clothes, she heard the flap of the tent move and she guessed Daenerys had come to check on her. "I'm fine," she lied.

"I just came to say thank you," Robb said as he moved deeper into the tent. She turned to face him without shame, completely unbothered by the fact that she was naked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

"It's fine," she said as she went back to smoothing her hair. "You can say what you need to say."

"You're naked," he pointed out, as if she didn't realize. "I shouldn't see you like that. You're my sister."

She chuckled at his misplaced Westerosi chivalry. "You're married and not at all my type. I think we're safe."

"Still, can you put some pants on at least?" When she turned back to find some clothes, he gasped. "Gods Arya what happened to you?"

She knew at once what he was seeing. Her back had been scarred by painful strikes from a whip during a fight with a rival just days after Drogo's death. He wanted Daenerys and the khalasar for himself. That battle was the first one Arya fought to keep Daenerys alive. She was less skilled then and he was unquestionably the best whip-fighter she'd ever seen. She got the upper hand eventually, but only after he'd lashed her so thoroughly that she had to sleep on her stomach for months. "It's nothing. Those are old."

"Still." He was quiet for a moment and she couldn't help but look over her shoulder at him as she picked up her discarded shirt. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

"No more than anyone else," she assured him, before she slipped the shirt back over her head. She was immediately uncomfortable, with her long hair trapped under the fabric, so she worked to free it with both hands.

"Looks like you need a haircut," Robb teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not if I can help it." She thought about what it would mean if her hair was cut. It would mean she lost a battle, shamed herself, Daenerys and the whole of their khalasar. It gave her some comfort that if that happened, she'd likely be dead. At least that way she wouldn't have to live with the knowledge that she'd failed them.

"Is that a Dothraki thing? All of them have long hair too."

"We cut it after we're defeated in combat," she explained, adjusting her top.

Dressed again she rotated and found Robb watching her closely. "When was the last time they cut yours?"

She smiled proudly as she thought about it. Her hair hadn't been cut since before the night Drogo called her a Dothraki and gave her an arakh. "Not since before the Khal began training me." When she realized he didn't know when that was she clarified. "I began training with him not long after I arrived in Essos."

"How did you come to be with these people Arya? Of all the places I thought you might go in exile, I never expected this."

"I was living on the streets in a small settlement outside Qohor. They came on a raid and I was taken. The Khal brought me back to the camp as a potential slave."

"A slave? Missandei told me you don't keep slaves."

"We don't anymore. Daenerys was already beginning to change things before I arrived. I was one of the last. When I got here, a man intended to rape me."

She was touched by the look of anger on her brother's face, even if it was unnecessary. "Which man?"

Arya ignored his question as if he hadn't spoken. "I killed him before he could. I stabbed him with his own knife. The Khal took a liking to me after that and began training me. I've been with them ever since."

"I'm sorry that that happened to you," he said kindly.

"I'm not. I know you don't understand it, and don't like it but I found a home here. These people are important to me and I don't regret a single thing that's happened. Not being exiled or leaving Westeros, not surviving for months on the streets, eating out of trash and sleeping in alleys. All of it led me here and I don't want to be anywhere else."

In an effort to ease the tension between them, Arya waved him to a small circular table in the corner of the large tent. She searched for and found a bottle of rum and some glasses. As she poured she motioned for him to sit.

"You have a lot of scars," he commented casually, as his eyes lingered over her bare arms. "How many fights have you had, like you were going to have with Vern?"

"Single combat?" she clarified. He nodded and she paused, thinking of the number. "Twenty, I think. I've killed others of course, like when the assassins tried to murder Daenerys in the market or the day we saved Missandei, I've killed my share."

"Twenty?" he asked in wonder.

"At least, I haven't exactly been keeping count. The Dothraki aren't led by bloodlines. They follow the strongest among them. After Drogo died, there was a lot of fighting to see who would rule."

"And you won." This wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

"I never wanted it," she admitted quietly. "I had no desire to be a Khal but Daenerys was in danger. I had to keep her safe, so I killed until there was no one left to challenge us."

Robb sipped his drink before he asked his next question. "And after that? Things don't seem very peaceful, even without people to oppose you."

"Well we aren't as civilized as your fancy Lords and Ladies. Here we deal with threats directly. It's violent and it's bloody but it's a vast improvement over Kings plotting and scheming in the shadows, using poisons and tricks to kill their enemies."

"You've changed so much, sometimes I can hardly see the girl I remember."

"I have changed," she affirmed, "but I'm not the only one. The years have changed you too."

"How so?"

"Hurry up and finish your rum. I still want to have a bath and I'd hate to offend your sensibilities by forcing you to see your sister naked again."

He laughed and she joined him. Perhaps they were making progress after all.

R-C

With the moon high in the sky and darkness all around, Robb Stark found himself unable to sleep. Leaving his tent, he wandered the camp aimlessly until he found another Westerosi enjoying a drink.

"What do you think of all this?" Robb asked Jorah as he settled in across the fire. There were so few people he could speak to in the common tongue that he had to take company where he could find it. "Do you agree with my sister's plan to take the army to the Dothraki city and then to Westeros?"

"I follow the Khaleesi wherever she goes."

Robb didn't fail to notice the distinction. "The Khaleesi, but not the Khal?"

He took a long drink from his glass. "I was here before your sister. I'd pledged my loyalty to Daenerys on her wedding day and I mean to honor that oath."

"Where are you from?"

"The North, like you. Before I was exiled, I was Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island."

Robb worked to keep his face even. He'd heard of the knight turned slaver. His father had told him the tale and he'd learned it as a cautionary lesson, a warning that even the most trusted could betray that faith. "And now you ride with my sister?"

He took another long drink. "As I said, I serve the Khaleesi."

"Yes, and she's married to my sister."

Robb had to wait for the reply because Jorah was so startled by his words he choked on the liquid and had to cough wildly to clear his throat. "Is that what she told you?"

He didn't understand the response. "Well, no not exactly. I just assumed."

"They are not married and Arya serves as little more than a figurehead. Daenerys is and always has been the true leader of her people."

"So, they aren't…"

"Daenerys still mourns her husband. She's improved of late, but I doubt she'll ever recover enough to move on."

Robb decided to try and steer the conversation away from his sister's romantic life. "It sounds like you've all walked a long and bloody road."

"That's only going to get worse now. With what your sister has planned."

"The Masters in Astapor are that powerful?" he questioned. Robb himself disagreed with the strategy but without a suitable method of stopping her, there was little he could do.

"Defeating the Masters will be no easy task, but it'll be a cool Northern breeze compared to the fight that awaits us in King's Landing."

"King's Landing? Why would Arya want to go there?"

"Your sister isn't taking the khalasar sightseeing in Westeros. She intends to march her army straight to Robert's gate and make him answer for his crimes."

Robb was speechless. What in Seven Hells was Arya thinking? She couldn't defeat Robert's army, no one could. Even worse, if she did this, the whole of their family would be thrust into the middle. Their father, who served as Hand to the King, Sansa who was or would be married to Prince Joffery and of course him, who was sworn to serve the Realm. He was Warden to the North, it wasn't as if he could refuse when the King summoned him and his army.

"That's madness. She can't win. You have to see that."

"You're talking to the wrong man," Jorah said as he stood. "I made my opinion clear and she plans to go ahead with it anyway."

"We need to stop her."

"We can't. Only one person has a chance of saving us now and that's the Khaleesi. She's the only one Arya listens to."

Robb couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd just had one of his best conversations with Arya earlier that evening and now he was learning that the entire time they spoke, she intended to murder his King. "I can't let this happen."

Taking his first step toward his tent, Jorah spoke in a low voice that Robb could barely hear over the wind. "Good luck Lord Stark, you're going to need it."

R-C

Daenerys didn't understand what was happening at first. One moment she'd been engaged in a very pleasant dream, involving her and Arya and the next she was being jostled awake. When her eyes managed to focus she had to wonder if she was in another dream. Robb stood over their bed, with a sword in hand. Next to her, Arya was awake, her grey eyes looking at the sword and nowhere else. "Daenerys," she said softly. "Why don't you leave Robb and I alone for a moment? I think we have some things to discuss."

Suddenly wide awake she felt trapped in her own body, unsure of what to do. She couldn't leave them. What if something happened to Arya while she was gone? She could never survive losing the person she loved most, not again. "I'm not going anywhere." Addressing Robb, she did little to hide her feelings. "If you harm her, I'll have the Blood Riders come in here and disarm you. Then I'll order your men murdered slowly and their heads put on spikes while you watch. You will beg for death before it comes!"

Robb looked over his sister's body to Daenerys. "The Mad King's daughter speaks. Listen to you."

"Leave her out of this," Arya snapped. "If you're going to do it, get on with it. Otherwise kindly leave, so we can go back to sleep."

"You aren't afraid?" he asked incredulously. "Don't you even care why I've come?"

"No and no," she answered. "I'm sure you have your reasons, so either do it or don't, but you need to make up your mind."

"Think carefully," Daenerys warned, her hand feeling around beside the bed for the weapon she knew Arya kept there. If he intended to hurt her, Daenerys would stop him or die trying, regardless of Arya's sudden passiveness.

"You can't kill Robert," Robb said as his sword sank lower. "I should kill you for even thinking of it. Did you consider what it would mean for our family? For father, Sansa and me? What do you think happens if you and your army ride for King's Landing?" His hand began to shake slightly as he waivered in his conviction. "I'm the Warden of the North. It's my duty to battle all threats to the Crown."

"What are you waiting for? I'm a threat to your precious King so kill me, or I'm going to kill him."

"Stop this," he pleaded, looking to Daenerys for help. Where he'd found a willing recipient to his points of view in the past, now he found only distain. "If she rides South they will kill her. Do you want that?"

Lifting the arakh from the ground she laid it across her legs, in full view. "I'd be far more worried about yourself right now Lord Stark."

Arya's hand moved from under the sheet to rest on the curved blade. "If you don't like what I intend to do, you're welcome to leave. Take your men and go, go and warn your King that I'm coming. That, or you can kill me now, but that is the only way you're going to be able to stop me."

"I don't want to kill you damn it!"

"Go," Daenerys commanded. "Before I forget that she loves you."

Wisely coming to the conclusion that he wasn't going to win, Robb lowered his weapon and backed out of the tent. When he was gone, Arya picked up the arakh and set it back on the floor. Without a word, she extended an arm and pulled Daenerys's naked body closer to hers.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes were already closed when she replied. "I'm going back to sleep. It's still early."

As Daenerys worked to calm her racing heart she couldn't help but wonder if Robb would be among them when they woke. Would he stay with his sister and return her home as he promised, or would he run to Robert? She didn't know and she assumed that Arya didn't either.

R-C