Ned threw his hands up in complete frustration. "What were you thinking, letting her bring that horde of Dothraki with her?"
Robb recoiled under the harsh criticism but his answer was clear and straight forward. "It is as I said, she wouldn't have come otherwise." He folded his hands behind his back but kept his eyes on Ned. "Your scroll said to do whatever it took to bring Arya back. I did. What it took was bringing them with her."
"Fine, I don't like it, but that I can at least understand. How do you explain the Targaryen girl? What about her? How can Arya stand to be in the same room with her?" His tone grew more furious with every word. "How dare she bring her into this house, into my house! She's betrayed every one of her ancestors. It's disgraceful."
He took time to gather his thoughts before he replied. "She's not her father," Robb stated simply. "She's not mad. In fact, I think it's quite the opposite."
"What do you mean by that?" He was not in the mood for riddles. He had a Targaryen under his roof and Cat was upset at him for ruining their reunion with Arya.
"She saves people, random people, people she doesn't know, and asks nothing in return."
"The Mad King was known to be generous, right up until he had his subjects burned," Ned recounted, still unwilling to even entertain the notion that Daenerys was anything other than her father's daughter.
As soon as he could, Robb tried again. "She's smart and she cares for Arya. I spent time with her and her people. I talked to some of them. The story I heard is that Arya would have died without Daenerys's help."
He didn't know how to feel. His enemy was in his house, near his family. He could end the Targaryen bloodline with one swing of his sword. For years he tolerated Daenerys's existence when they were separated by the Narrow Sea, but now she was only upstairs. In all the years since, he'd never managed to forgive her for her parentage. Right or wrong, Ned held Daenerys just as responsible as every other Targaryen for what happened to those he loved. He had once defended her when Robert wanted to kill the newborn but now that baby had grown into a powerful young woman with a substantial army at her command. "The Arya who left us would never have talked to me that way."
"She's not that little girl anymore," Robb said, sounding almost pained by his own words. "When we first met, I had all the same reactions you're having, but in time I came to see Daenerys does care for Arya. Beyond that her army is unlike anything I've ever seen and every one of them appears loyal to her. I think we need to tread carefully."
"Does she really have one hundred thousand men?" he asked, unable to hide his skepticism.
"At least," Robb confirmed. "Other groups join them and they grow by hundreds or thousands overnight. According to Arya hers is the biggest horde in all of Essos."
Even with Robb to confirm what he'd heard, Ned still had his doubts. The Dothraki were savages. If only half the tales he'd been told about them were accurate, he couldn't imagine his daughter mixed among them. From a young age, he knew she craved the excitement of battle. Still, it was a long road between honorable warfare and the aimless murder and theft the Dothraki carried out.
"Someone taught her the sword. She fights with that curved blade she wears. The way she fights, I've never seen anything like it."
He struggled to image it. "You saw her in combat?"
"Yes, and everyday she spent hours training her warriors. Their methods are very unique."
As his son spoke, Ned struggled to hear what he was not saying. It was obvious Robb was trying to tiptoe around something and it made him nervous. His heir had always been straightforward. If he was being purposely vague, it couldn't be good. "Just tell me," he ordered.
"Tell you what?"
"Whatever it is you're afraid to say."
The delay was long. At first. he thought Robb was thinking but as time went on, Ned knew it was more than that. "Vern," he finally said in a low voice.
Ned's mind immediately brought an image of the brash commander to the forefront. "Where is he?" He tried to think back to when Robb rejoined him. He had his guard with him, but Ned didn't remember seeing Vern there. Then again, his focus had been mostly on his children.
"He's dead. Arya killed him."
Surely, he misheard that. Arya wouldn't kill one of his men, would she? Being different, and Ned did not dispute that she was very different, didn't make her capable of murder. The words didn't make sense. He repeated them in his mind, and still couldn't understand. "She killed him? Why would she do that?!"
"It was complicated. Vern…" Robb tried to explain.
Ned waved off the words. "She killed him," he repeated. "I should have left her in exile." Enraged he marched past Robb, bumping into him in his urgency. His feet carried him quickly to Arya's old bedchamber. When he pushed open the door he was struck by what he saw. Talisa sat on the edge of the bed, facing Arya. They'd been strangers that morning but to his surprise Talisa was slowly unwinding Arya's long hair as they spoke together. Under the window, Daenerys held little Robb in her arms, lifting him up off her lap and making faces at him, to illicit a giggle. If he hadn't been so furious he might have taken a moment to appreciate having his daughter home but he needed answers and he wanted them now. He heard Robb coming up behind him but didn't wait. He was Lord Stark, Hand of the King and Arya's father. He felt that entitled him to the truth.
"Give the baby back to her mother!" Ned commanded.
Daenerys stood instantly to comply, but Arya was quicker. With her hair hanging loose she stood toe to toe with him before Ned could recognize that she was moving. He looked down at the young woman and without the thick cloaks and furs she'd worn earlier he could see both her coiled muscles, and a few scars that peeked out from the edges of her clothes. "Don't speak to Daenerys that way. She's your guest and she's important to me."
"In this house, I will speak to anyone I please in any manner I choose." He stared over Arya's shoulder to Daenerys. "Give the boy to his mother," Ned said again. "And you," he continued, looking to his daughter. "I should have you hung for murdering one of my men. Have you forgotten how we deal with murderers in the North?"
"I remember fondly," she assured him. "And if you hate murderers so much, you should be thanking me. I only killed him after he murdered an unarmed man in Vaes Dothrak. He knew the laws and he violated them, so I gave him the same justice you were just recommending for me."
Ned couldn't help it, his eyes averted on their own as Arya's words sunk in. He wanted to object, to continue to defend his soldier but he knew he couldn't. Arya's position had the benefits of being sound, logical and clear. Before he responded he glanced at his eldest child and got confirmation in the form of a look that Arya's words were true. "You still shouldn't have killed a Stark loyalist, no matter what he'd done."
"He was lucky," she retorted, entirely unrepentant. As the tension continued to build the baby chose to shatter it by letting out a high-pitched cry. Robb moved around Ned to enter the room and joined his wife as she got off the bed and took their child from Daenerys. Arya went with them. "Robb, I have to admit when you told me you'd been married I thought you'd been paired off to some noble or other. I expected your wife would be boring and stuffy but she's not." Robb who was tickling his son, looked lovingly at his wife. Arya clapped him on the shoulder. "You did well big brother."
Robb and Talisa shared a kiss before Robb responded. "Yes, I did, didn't I."
Ned had seen enough. Turning on his heel he left as unexpectedly as he arrived, not bothering to pull the door closed behind him.
R-C
The next morning as his wife was dressing Ned Stark stepped out onto the balcony and looked down at the movement below. He and Cat had stayed in bed far longer than was typical, taking the time to get reacquainted after their long separation. No matter how badly he wished it, they couldn't avoid the world forever, so she was getting ready and he would be right behind her.
When he saw Bran, on his horse, strapped into the saddle he knew what his son was doing. As he aged, his injury weighed heavier on him. He wanted to be able to protect himself and his people and since using a sword to do that in his condition seemed unlikely, he took to learning the bow. Ned could see that Bran had made great progress in the time he'd been away. When he was last in Winterfell, he only hit his target with one out of every five arrows. Now likely under lessons from Rodrick and Robb more than half went directly where Bran wanted them to.
He looked prepared to release another arrow when he lowered the bow and rested it in front of him in the special saddle. Curious as to what caused him to stop, Ned took a step to his right, to get a better angle on what was happening below. Arya was there, soothing the horse and tugging at the saddle firmly. Turning away from his children Ned hurriedly pulled on a shirt, in a rush to go see what was taking place in his yard.
R-C
Arya put her foot behind the wheel of Bran's chair so it wouldn't roll away, then she held out her arms for her brother. Bran had unstrapped himself from the saddle, but was less certain than Arya about her ability to lift him. "Are you positive you can do this?"
"I am," she vowed. Reluctantly Bran wrapped his arms around his sister's neck and allowed himself to be carried. She raised him out of his saddle and then rotated to set him down carefully in the chair. "See," she told him once it was done, "no problem."
With Bran safe, she went to work adjusting his saddle. She watched him shoot arrows for an hour, while they talked about their lives. She offered occasional tips and suggestions but they weren't often required. Bran was quite proficient. Over time though, she could see that his errors weren't due to a lack of skill, but rather an effect of the way he sat on horseback. It happened when he tried to hit a target far off to either side. Bran turned as best as he could, but strapped in place to keep from falling, there was little mobility he could manage. These unnatural positions had an adverse effect on his aim. She'd seen the Dothraki bowmen fight and even tried to learn the skill for herself. Arya knew how difficult it could be to shoot properly when you weren't in exactly the right position atop the horse.
While she fussed with the saddle, his bow taunted her. She'd always loved early mornings in Winterfell, the air was so crisp and clean, the day yet to be corrupted. She held out a hand in request and Bran passed over the remaining arrows from his quiver. With eyes watching her from all around, Arya looked to Daenerys and Missandei. They were sitting next to the building quietly talking as they watched Arya interact with Bran. "A new horse says I can put these…" she stopped talking and looked down at the arrows in her hand, counting them up, "these seven arrows into those targets."
When Missandei who was barely resisting the urge to laugh at her bold statement caught her eye Arya winked playfully. Next to her Daenerys smiled widely. "Deal."
"Prepare to be impressed Khaleesi."
With the wager made, she looked out at the targets. One by one she created a line of arrows, sticking the tips down into the snow and ice until they were standing up straight. When everything was ready she went back to the first arrow, which was coincidentally next to Bran's chair. "Don't miss," he teased. "She's watching."
She glared at him but couldn't hold her lips even. They curled up in an unwilling smile as she tried to appear angry. Her brother was even more observant than she remembered. He saw everything. Judging by Bran's expression, he didn't believe her fury was real, and he was right. "Just watch."
Pulling the first arrow back taut, she let it go and was immediately running for the second firing position. On one knee, she pulled an arrow from the snow and took aim without standing, sending it hundreds of yards away in a deadly arc. When it was over, all seven arrows were in the centers of the targets. Applause from Missandei and Daenerys had Arya bowing while Bran scoffed from the chair. "Show off," he complained half heartedly. "You learned to shoot a bow."
"Had to," Arya said as she stole a final glance at Daenerys, who was walking over with Missandei in tow.
"Why?" Bran questioned.
"If I didn't learn, we would've starved."
"You hunt your dinner?"
"Sometimes she hunts for the whole khalasar," Daenerys informed him.
"What's a khalasar?" Bran asked.
"It means our people, our horde, our tribe, whatever you want to call it. The army, the women, everybody all together is a khalasar," Arya explained.
"You know what I was just thinking, while I was watching you?" Daenerys asked looking up at her lover.
For the second time that morning Arya had to fight to keep her smirk under a mask. "I have no idea," she said before she coughed into her hand to try and hide her grin.
Daenerys shook her head and slapped Arya across her upper chest. "Behave."
She knelt in the snow, crunching it under her as she did. "My apologies, Khaleesi. What were you thinking?"
"Kelo is one of the best bowmen we have," Daenerys began, "I bet he'd have tips for Bran about shooting a bow from the saddle."
She stood and dusted the snow from her knees. "That's not a bad idea," she agreed, looking to the horse. "If my father is willing to let him enter the walls, I'm sure he'd have ideas."
Bran's excitement at the news was palpable and it made Arya feel good. "Really? That'd be great. Thank you," he said first to Arya and then again to Daenerys and Missandei in turn.
As a conversation sparked between Daenerys and Bran, Arya went to task, adjusting the saddle, sliding it back ever so slightly to give Bran a bit more room. She noticed her father approaching as she lifted him out of his chair and set him back on his horse. Bran used his hands to angle his feet into the stirrups and Arya could tell he'd done this so many times it had become second nature. When he began strapping his legs in place, her hand flashed out to stop him. "Wait," she said. Gently she took Bran's leg and pulled it back slowly, toward the horse's hind quarter. "Try angling your hips as if you intended to strike the left-most target." He complied and wobbled slightly as he shifted. Arya's strong hand steadied him as soon as she noticed it was necessary. Without the straps in place, she could see how easily it would be for Bran to fall. Keeping her hand on his back to support him she gave the next instruction to Daenerys who stood on the opposite side of the horse. "Daenerys, stand behind the saddle and pull his foot back gently about an inch."
"It's done," she announced as she knelt in the snow without concern for her clothes.
"Okay Bran, now the right-most target." He wobbled again as he turned, but Arya wouldn't let him slip. When he was centered again she released her hold on him and walked in front of the horse. "How was that?" she asked.
"What's going on?" Ned asked, as he arrived.
"Just trying to help Bran," she said.
Looking to the targets Ned reached out and petted the horse, touching his son's arm with his opposite hand. "Doesn't look like Bran needs it. You've gotten much better since last I was home."
Bran was visibly uncomfortable with the praise. "Most of the bulls-eyes were Arya."
"That's not true," Arya and Daenerys said together from different sides of the horse's wide body.
Arya smiled at her brother. "I'll modify your saddle and see if we can't make it easier for you to turn and aim."
"Thanks Arya. Thanks Daenerys."
She patted the horse one final time and then slipped away. "You ladies coming with me?" Arya wondered, looking at Missandei and Daenerys with a question burning in her eyes.
"Where are you going?" Ned asked. "Your mother was hoping to spend some time with you and Rickon too."
"Tell mother I'll join her for lunch. For now, I need to go train with the Blood Riders." Without giving him time to comment she led the trio toward the gates of Winterfell and out into the North where the Dothraki had made camp.
R-C
Arya wasn't thinking when she pushed the sleeves of her shirt up over her elbows. The raging fires warmed the room and she acted without proper consideration. In the center of a casual conversation with her mother Arya watched her eyes widen in horror as her hand extended. Her palm floated above the scars, afraid to touch them while being unable to look away. "Arya!?" she gasped. "Are you hurt?"
She extended the sleeves to their full length. "Those are all very old." When Catelyn wasn't convinced she made another attempt. "Most of those were likely done in training," she exaggerated. She wasn't ashamed of the woman she'd become but she could still wish to spare her mother some grief. "They're old, from the first few years I was in exile."
Catelyn finally pulled her hand back and peeled her eyes off Arya's wounds. "So, you've been with the Dothraki the whole time?" she deciphered.
"Most of it. Daenerys and Drogo saved my life," she stated factually. "I wouldn't have survived my first year in exile if not for them. After that I had no cause to leave."
The mother was startled by Arya's blunt assessment of her past. With tears shining in her eyes she looked to Daenerys with a sad smile. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."
Daenerys smiled warmly. "You're welcome. I have never regretting helping Arya, but she makes too much of the assistance. I have no doubt that she would have survived just fine, even if we hadn't intervened. And if Drogo were here, he'd tell you the same thing."
"What happened to him?" Talisa asked in between bites of her lunch. The young mother was oblivious to the fact that she'd just dropped a barrel of Wildfire onto their marginally successful meal.
Setting down her fork Arya turned to glare at the head of the table. "Ask him," she said coldly.
"Excuse me?!" Ned yelled as he stood, knocking his chair backward in the process.
Arya stood with him, while Daenerys tried to control her Wolf's temper. "Arya, don't…"
"Don't what?" Catelyn inquired.
"She doesn't want me to tell you what happened to her husband and my friend Drogo. She doesn't think it'll help for everyone to know that your honorable King Robert poisoned him." All around the table every eye found Ned. "Did you know about the assassins? That time, or the time after?"
"I'm the Hand of the King, not his conscience," Ned said in his defense. "I advised him against sending assassins but he did what he wished anyway."
Catelyn shook her head and offered condolences. "Daenerys, I'm sorry for your loss." She looked to her husband and continued, "I can't imagine the pain."
"Thank you, Lady Stark," Daenerys replied politely.
"So, you knew Robert wanted to kill an innocent woman, a pregnant woman no less? You knew he intended to send assassins to Essos to poison her? Would it have made any difference if you'd known I was just as likely to drink from that bottle as Drogo or Daenerys?"
"Robert feared she would lead her horde to Westeros and attempt to retake the Iron Throne. Given how many Dothraki are camped on my lands, I'd say his concerns were valid," Ned objected.
She scoffed at the notion that the assassins who had come to kill her were somehow Daenerys's fault. "Strangely enough," she informed him, "if he hadn't dispatched those men to kill her, we wouldn't be here now. He brought this on himself."
"What does that mean?"
"Enough!" Catelyn shouted. "Arya, Ned, sit down and finish your meals."
Arya was so pleased with her mother that she relented and sat first. She thought back to her childhood and couldn't recall many times when her mother addressed her father so harshly in public. She was glad that her mother had learned to stand up for herself more openly in the years they'd been apart.
To steer the conversation to safety, Catelyn addressed Missandei. "Forgive me Missandei but you are not Dothraki either are you?"
"No," she answered. "I come from the Ilse of Naath."
"How did you come to join Arya and the Dothraki?" she inquired innocently, unaware of how volatile the subject was.
"Mother," Robb said, hoping to convince her to change course.
Further down the table Arya had the same idea. "That's not really an interesting story."
With a shy smirk Missandei was less worried. "It's alright," she said. "I don't mind."
"Don't mind what?" Ned asked, annoyed.
"Lord Stark, Lady Stark, I met Arya and Daenerys on what I thought would be my final day," she recalled. "I was due to die a horrible death when they saved me."
"What happened?" Catelyn asked.
"I was a stranger, with no coins to offer and they still stopped what they were doing and intervened to save my life. Doing so placed both of them and many others in grave danger, but they did not hesitate. Afterward rather then abandon me Arya carried me out of the city to their camp, getting struck with an arrow while doing so."
Rickon, who Arya had noticed avoiding her was captivated by Missandei's watered down version of the truth. "Wow! You did all that?"
She nodded and watched as he wiggled his chair closer in youthful excitement. Daenerys must have picked up on Rickon's enthusiasm just as she had, because she added more details. "I had to stitch them both up when we got back," she explained, causing Rickon to chuckle at her grim expression.
Intending to capitalize on the civil exchange, Catelyn kept talking. "Arya, your father told me that you spent the morning training with your…" she trailed off and looked to Ned. "Oh, what did you call them dear?"
"The Blood Riders?" she guessed.
"Yes, yes that was it, thank you. Who are they?"
"Blood Riders are the last line of defense, they are chosen to protect the Khal and Khaleesi," Arya explained.
"So, they're like knights, the best fighters?" she clarified as she struggled to understand the changes in her daughter. Arya didn't mind the questions at all. In fact, she preferred her mother's inquiry over her father's open hostility and contempt. The three women who had come from Essos chuckled together at a private joke. Catelyn blushed when she heard it. "Did I misunderstand?"
"No Lady Stark, you're exactly right," Daenerys assured her. "In most khalasars a Khal chooses Blood Riders who are the best warriors, the strongest and bravest to fight by his side." She looked to Arya and lightly shook her head. "Where others chose the biggest or strongest Blood Riders, Arya chose the smartest."
"You broke the rules," Talisa said in understanding.
"She did more than that," Daenerys continued. "Instead of picking the deadliest men as was tradition, she picked three of the weakest, three of the least skilled. The people thought she was a fool."
"They may have been right," Arya injected.
"Then what?" Rickon asked, once again mesmerized by the tales of his sister's bravery.
"Then she spent hours every day training the men she chose. Rain or shine, whether she went on a raid that day or not, she taught them. In time, she took those three inexperienced, weak fighters and crafted them into the best of our army. It's why more than one hundred thousand men, women and children who feared the water were willing to sail across the Narrow Sea. It's why each and every one of them would die or kill for her. Why they choose to follow her even though she wasn't born Dothraki."
"You always wanted to lead an army, like father," Bran commented. "I guess you got your wish."
R-C
"What happened to her?" Ned asked rhetorically as Catelyn got ready for bed. He sat with his hands resting on his knees. "Who taught her to be so disrespectful? I think the Targaryen…"
"Daenerys is not the problem," she disagreed. "You must see how much Arya cares for her friends. If you continue to push her, to make her choose between us and the new life she's built, she's never going to stay."
"Stay?" he said into his hands as he covered his face. "I'll be lucky if I can talk Robert into letting her return to Essos."
Catelyn was on him quickly, grasping his hands and pulling them away so she could look into his eyes. "You told me Robert agreed to pardon her? You said, she could remain in the North."
He groaned. "That was before she brought the Targaryen girl with her. Robert isn't the most forgiving man, and he holds every Targaryen equally responsible for what happened to Lyanna."
"Daenerys had no part in that," she protested.
"It doesn't matter. The moment one of Varys's little birds tell him about Daenerys being here, he'll send the army North to get her."
"Is it true what Arya said?" Catelyn wondered. "Did Robert really send assassins to kill that poor girl?"
"That poor girl is a Targaryen," Ned reminded her. "Her father killed my brother and father and then there was Lyanna."
"And Daenerys participated in none of it. She wasn't even alive when those things took place."
Ned threw up his hands, frustrated with his wife's unwillingness to see his side of things. "I am tolerating her presence for Arya's sake. Don't ask me for more than that."
She knelt down in front of him and hugged him around the waist awkwardly. "Years ago, you told me exile was the only way to save her. I hated it then, but I took you at your word. Now that she's back I refuse to lose her again. If you don't try harder, she's going to leave and we are never going to see her again."
Pushing his fingers slowly through her hair he spoke the words he'd been thinking since the moment he saw his youngest girl. "Maybe that'd be for the best."
Catelyn who had been relatively calm was suddenly enraged. "How dare you say that?! Eight years Ned, eight long years I didn't know if my child was alive or dead. Eight years I worried about her, I prayed for her, eight years I made myself sick fretting and finally she's come home. Don't you dare say that her return isn't the best thing to happen to this family since the day Robert sent her away."
"I'm sorry," he quickly said. "I love Arya, you know I do and I'm glad she's returned to us but I can't pretend I'm happy with Daenerys being here. Every time I look at her, all I can see is her father, her brother…"
Cat grasped his hand and held it firmly. "Perhaps you should stop looking at her as the Mad King's daughter and instead see her as the woman who saved Arya's life."
He didn't think it was possible, but one look at his pleading wife and it was clear how important this was to her. "I'll try," he bartered. "I'll try."
R-C
More than half the people of Winterfell had made the trek through the snow nearly two miles to the spot where Arya's people made camp. They came to see the Dothraki train. Some were curious and others had heard from Robb and his men of their brutal methods.
Even the Starks had come to watch, only Ned was missing. Robb was holding his son and kept one arm protectively around Talisa's shoulders as he stood at the front of the crowd. Arya teased him as she passed. "Haven't seen enough yet?"
"I trust this will end better than last time," he answered, clearly referring to Vern.
"If we're lucky." Arya stopped in front of the Khaleesi. "Want to go first?" she proposed.
Daenerys was unamused. "All these people did not walk from Winterfell to see me train Arya Stark."
"I wouldn't be so sure," she said with a shrug, "I'd watch you do just about anything."
In a rush, she was overcome with heat that had nothing to do with her Dragon's blood. Her desire to kiss her lover was only tempered by the knowledge that Arya's family were close enough to see and overhear them. She didn't want to embarrass the woman she adored, so she restrained herself. "Just go," she said giving Arya a one -handed shove. "Can you try not to injure yourself today?"
"As you command Khaleesi."
To begin the lesson, Arya sparred with the Blood Riders, fighting all three of them at the same time and still managing to best them. More than once as Arya carelessly threw herself toward danger Daenerys saw Catelyn Stark openly flinch. Every time a blade neared her daughter she reached out as though she intended to help her. When the warm up was complete, she called Mirak forward. He was the merchant's son, the newest addition to their family. Just as she'd done years earlier with her Blood Riders, Arya painstakingly taught him to wield all manner of deadly weapons.
After she tasked Mirak with practicing, she introduced Bran to Kelo. The language barrier made communication nearly impossible without help. Without needing to even be asked Missandei came forward and translated both sides of the conversation, while they discussed ways to improve riding and archery for the crippled young man.
Daenerys stayed back and watched from a distance, enjoying seeing Arya interacting with her family after so long. "What are they talking about?" Catelyn asked.
"Oh, Lady Stark," Daenerys said as she jumped slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
"Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."
"That's quite alright." After a moment, both of them looked back to the Stark children. Robb had passed off his son to Talisa and was holding Rickon up so he could get a better view of the sparring Dothraki. "I was just wondering what they were doing."
"Arya wants to modify Bran's saddle, to make it easier for him to ride and shoot his bow. Since the Dothraki spend so much of their lives on horseback she thought perhaps Kelo had some suggestions."
"That is very generous," Catelyn said thoughtfully.
"Lady Stark, I know the woman you see now is not the girl who left Westeros, but she missed you, even if she rarely admitted it."
Daenerys could see the tears shining in her eyes. "It hasn't been all bad, has it? Was she ever happy? Ned's told me about the Dothraki, about the way they live. I've seen the scars and heard Robb whispering about what happened in Essos. Please just tell me she is happy."
"I think she is," Daenerys decided. "I hope so at least."
"Thank you for taking care of Arya when she needed it. I know from experience she isn't the easiest one to watch after," Catelyn said with a weak laugh. After, her tone was once again deathly serious. "I also should apologize for my husband. He usually isn't so hostile, but I'm afraid the history between your family and his…"
"I understand," Daenerys promised. "I only wish I knew how to properly apologize for the actions of my father and brother. I've tried several times and all my words seem so inadequate."
Cat put a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. "The fact that you're capable of feeling regret for your ancestor's past proves Arya is right about you. You're nothing like your father at all."
"Thank you," she said, not realizing until just then how badly she needed forgiveness for someone else's sins.