Daenerys had just come from checking on the women and children. She had them removed from the dungeon and given new accommodations. She expected to find Arya where she'd left her, sleeping in bed. It might have been a naive hope but she hadn't been gone that long. Instead she found the room empty of both the Maester and the Stark.

Frantically she rushed through the castle in search of someone who could tell her where Arya was. Apart from the guards who were watching over the newly released prisoners, and the women who were hard at work on their next meal, Daenerys found almost every room deserted.

Hurrying outside, she was met by Jorah and Missandei, who were watching as Arya led a rigorous training session. She struck at a dummy, while all around her small groups and pairs sparred. Steel clashed, echoed by grunts before cries of triumph and defeat. "Why didn't you stop her?!" Daenerys shouted at both of the advisors.

"We tried Khaleesi," Missandei swore. "She insisted she rested long enough and that it was time for things to return to normal."

"She nearly died," Daenerys reminded them. "She isn't ready."

"When I tried to stop her, she threatened to use me as her first victim," Jorah remarked coldly.

On her walk to where Arya was, she noticed that the typically fluid woman wasn't quite as graceful as she had been. Also, Daenerys couldn't shake the feeling that something else was different, something she couldn't put her finger on.

Standing ten feet away she finally noted the way one arm hung loose at her side. Daenerys knew Arya's strength was returning slowly, but as she watched Arya's arm look lifeless, she feared she reaggravated the injury in her rush to return to battle. "What are you doing?"

She took one final swing and left her arakh lodged in the dummy's neck before she turned with sweat streaking her face and coloring her clothes. "Training, how are the captives?"

"Don't change the subject!" she demanded. "What's wrong with your arm, why does it look worse?" She took hold of Arya's shirt and pulled her down so Daenerys could assess her back and shoulder more easily. "Did you tear your stitches?" she asked, pleased that there wasn't any fresh blood she could see.

"No, I didn't even use that arm."

She found that hard to believe. "Then why was it dead at your side when I walked up?"

"Because," Arya said, looking amused, "I need practice using my other arm, it's weaker and it needs the exercise."

Relief. "So, you aren't hurt?" she verified.

"No, I was just using the dummy, nothing else."

"It's too soon," she announced, repeating what she'd said to Jorah and Missandei. "You should still be resting. There will be time for training later."

"Robert could send his armies after us any day. I'm tired, I'm slow and I'm forced to use my weaker arm. I need all the practice I can get."

She might hate to admit it, but all of Arya's points were valid. The war was coming, sooner or later and they needed to be ready. Since she had no hope of getting Arya to agree not to fight when that time came, her only viable option was to ensure she was as finely trained as she could be. Still, she didn't like it. "Three days," she bartered. "Please, rest for three more days and then you can train as much as you want."

"I'm…"

"I know you're fine," Daenerys said. She'd heard that before, whether it was true or not. "Do it for me," she pleaded, fighting dirty. "Three days and then you can train day and night and I won't even try to stop you."

Grey eyes lit up, understanding the concession that was being offered. "Three days?"

"Three very short days."

"Deal."

"Good," Daenerys said, taking Arya's weaker arm and guiding it over her shoulder. "Now take me back inside."

R-C

He knew it wasn't going to be good when Robert found him in his tower. He'd been reviewing documents regarding a shipment of gold and other goods from the Tyrell's when Robert burst in and nearly knocked the door off the hinge with the force of his rage. He slammed it behind him to emphasize his point.

"Finally, word from Dragonstone. Your daughter sacked one of my castles!" he screamed. "She has hundreds of hostages." He breathed heavily through his nose as he leaned forward, his sweaty hands messing up the items lining Ned's desk. "Tell me you didn't know they were going to take Dragonstone. Tell me Ned!"

"I didn't," he said, standing in front of his chair. "In all the time I spent with Arya and the Targaryen they never once mentioned Dragonstone to me."

"We're alone now, I need the truth. I know she's your daughter and I promise I'll try to spare her if I can, but I need to know what she's planning."

"Your Grace…"

"Cut the shit Ned. Just tell me the truth."

He swallowed and tried again. "I didn't know a thing about it. Neither of them ever mentioned Dragonstone to me, Robb or Cat, I've checked. When I even hinted at the idea that they'd come to put the girl on the throne, they were both offended. They told me neither of them had any desire to rule and I believed them."

"If that's true then why do I have bags and bags of human heads downstairs?" the King questioned.

Ned was sure he'd heard that wrong. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't fuckin' stutter. Your girl sent the heads of every man they killed at Dragonstone back by courier along with any and everything marked by a Stag. She says she'll keep killing people until I agree to meet with her."

"She has to know you'll never agree to that," Ned said lightly.

"Does she?" he pressured as he threw up his hands in frustration. "Maybe her time in Essos drove her as mad as the Targaryen."

"What of Stannis?"

Looking toward the ceiling Robert said, "Another courier brought his armor and sword. Says that unless I agree to meet within the month, the next courier will deliver a part of his body."

"By the Gods…"

"Fuck the Gods," Robert complained. "I want to know how to fix this. She's your daughter, you're my Hand. Fix this damn it."

"How would you suggest I do that?" he asked, unclear about what his King had in mind.

"If she wanted you dead, she could have killed you in Winterfell, right?" After Ned nodded, Robert got to the heart of it, "You're going to go to Dragonstone and hear her demands. Whatever she wants, she can have it, I just want her and those horsefuckers back across the sea as soon as possible."

"She'll want a guarantee that there will be no other attempts on the Targaryen," Ned said, knowing no negotiation could begin without that.

"Fine," he roared. "She can have it. The Targaryen can die of old age in her bed for all I care, it doesn't matter. They just have to go."

"I'll pass along the message."

"See that she accepts it. If not, I'll have no choice but to send the King Slayer and a large portion of our Southern forces against her. Your heir is leading the Northern army, ensure she's on her way back to Essos before he arrives or I'll put him on the front line."

Ned was repulsed by the threat, but said nothing. Robert disappeared as abruptly as he arrived, slamming the door for a second time as he went. He was up to his neck in it now, trapped between his family and his duty. Once before he'd chosen his loyalty to Robert and the Realm over Arya and that played no small part in who she'd become. He had no idea what he'd do this time and that scared him more than he wanted to confess. The potential of two of his children fighting on opposite sides when the battle started turned his stomach.

He had no desire to ever see Dragonstone again, but it seemed he had little say in the matter. If there was an upside it was that he'd get out of King's Landing and away from the snide whispers about his daughter, the glares of contempt and the cries of betrayal that were now coming from noble and commoner alike whenever he left the Hand's Tower.

R-C

True to her word Daenerys never resisted after Arya suffered her three days of additional rest. Not a word was spoken when she was in the yard with the training dummies from sunup to sundown and beyond. When Daenerys found her sparring with two Blood Riders with her injured arm tied behind her back, she said nothing. Instead she was thoughtful and considerate. When the sky opened up and soaked Arya to the bone she'd enter the castle to find Daenerys waiting with dry clothes, a kiss and a mug of something warm to drink. When she tore her stitches, they were repaired without complaint and when she missed meals entirely Daenerys always ensured something was set aside for her.

As Robert's deadline drew closer, she was pleased with her progress. Her leg was fully healed and she could move just as she had before they took Dragonstone. The wound on her back was largely healed, no longer needing thread to remain closed. The only real concern was the limited motion in the arm. She'd made significant strides, each day better than the last, but she was nowhere near as sure as she'd once been. Overhand swings were stalled and clumsy, while any strokes that crossed her whole body, caused pain. To compensate she worked tirelessly to strengthen her other arm and hand, practicing killing with it to ensure she could defend herself and others.

The Dothraki who hadn't enjoyed the journey from Essos or the weather in the North, were comfortable at Dragonstone. They trained with her daily and were itching for the great fight she promised them. Mirak, Mali's son was a quick study. He was shorter and thinner than most of the warriors, but he proved to be an intelligent and skilled strategist. As he grew competent in battle she knew an increase in rank would accompany it.

While she was training, Daenerys kept herself busy in the castle, tending to the needs of their captives, aiding the women with what needed to be done and wandering the halls her parents once had. Each time Arya saw her, she was carrying or reading a different book from the library. The Northern woman made a mental note to steal the ones her lover might want to read before they left for the final time.

Less than a week before King Robert's deadline, the couple made passionate love in their bedchambers, despite the fact that Arya was exhausted from sparring all day. Lying together afterward she laid out her entire plan in whispers. Telling Daenerys exactly how she intended to get Robert to meet her.

When she was done the Targaryen looked at her in awe. "Do you think that'll work?"

"It might," she said truthfully. "Stannis was never important enough to bring Robert out, and regardless of my bravado and threats, a direct assault on King's Landing is suicide. I need him angry and I need him trapped."

"Does it have to be you?" she asked, brushing her fingers lazily through the long dark hair that hung down her back loose.

"I'm the only one who knows the tunnels. For this to work they can't see me coming." She paused and then added as an afterthought. "I need to see Sansa too."

"Your sister is promised to the Baratheon Prince, isn't she?"

"I can't leave her there. I need to at least talk to her. You don't know Joffrey, but I do. I need to check on her."

"You don't have to go alone," Daenerys said with authority. "Take some of the men, take the best men, they can keep the guards busy while you work."

She had considered that, but rejected the idea in the end. "A thousand Dothraki would be rather obvious in the Red Keep. I'll be better off alone."

"I don't like it."

"I know," Arya said before she kissed her deeply. When she pulled back their eyes remained locked together. "I'll be back in the sewers before anyone knows what happened."

"How did you learn about the sewers anyway. That seems a little beneath a girl of your station."

Her lips quirked into a smile as she thought back on one of her few pleasant memories from King's Landing. "While I lived here I begged my father to let me learn the sword. He finally agreed and got me a teacher from Braavos, Syrio."

"This Syrio took you into the sewers?" she guessed.

"No," she said after a chuckle. "Before he let me pick up a blade I first had to pass his tests. He made me stand on one toe at the top of a staircase, and try not to fall." Her laugh grew more intense as the story progressed. "I wasn't very good. I think that's how I got my first scars."

In her arms Daenerys was hanging on every word. "What else?"

"After I passed that test he sent me to catch wild cats," she explained, grinning widely.

"Cats?"

"Strays, they are all over the city. He said until I could catch one he wouldn't teach me anything else. It took days, and I followed those mangy things through every disgusting alley, into every decrepit house and eventually into the sewers that ran under the keep. They're a maze, layered one over the other, each added at different times, some connected to the rest, others completely cut off."

"Do the guards patrol them?" she asked, with clear concern.

"A few do, but it's dark and damp and they don't like it, so they don't try too hard. Besides, there are a ton of shadows to hide in."

"Be safe," Daenerys begged. "I need you to come back to me."

Rather than answer with words she kissed her as hard and fiercely as she could, pinning the smaller woman under body. Hopefully she could show her just how deeply she was loved.

R-C

The next morning Arya assembled her war council. In addition to the Blood Riders and her usual guests she invited Mirak, the strategist. Unlike Daenerys, she gave them only the first piece of the puzzle. Telling them of how she intended to go to King's Landing alone and sneak into the Red Keep.

Not unexpectedly Jorah's voice was the first to show discontent. "That's insane. Even if you could get in, and I don't think you could, the castle is bound to be crawling with guards. How do you plan to walk past them without drawing their attention?"

"They'll be busy," she answered calmly. "The Dothraki I left on the mainland, more than forty thousand men, they are still there. They've been killing scouts and soldiers since we left and stopping any merchant who gets close. I'll round them up and use them as a distraction."

After her words were translated for him Kelo asked, "Will they recognize you. You lived inside once."

"That was a long time ago," she assured him. "I do not look the same."

Satisfied it was Mirak who brought up the one chink in her armor. "Why not they shoot the boat when they see?" he asked in the common tongue.

That was the one area she was yet to perfect. Even in darkness the lookouts and patrols would eventually see her approach. Once they did, an alarm would be raised and everyone inside the keep and out would be on high alert. Still, she decided it was a risk she had to take.

For almost six hours, they broke it down and discussed every aspect of the plan Arya devised. "Shouldn't you wait?" Missandei inquired. "It hasn't been a month quite yet."

Arya shook her head. "Robert hasn't sent a raven, a courier or an emissary to speak with me. He won't. He doesn't care enough about Stannis, so waiting is pointless. If he was going to contact us, he would have done it by now."

Around the large, elaborate table several smaller conversations were taking place. All of them stopped when Mirak jumped to his feet. "I know!" he said before he turned to Dothraki to explain in detail. "I know how we will keep them from sinking the boat."

Minutes later a raven was flying from Dragonstone and heading for King's Landing. On a lower level, Daenerys and Missandei were going through the captives, gathering the children and a small collection of women. Mirak's plan was as simple as it was ingenious. They would load the boat with innocents, and send word they were being released. While not without risk it did decrease the chances that they attacked the boat on sight. They'd surely greet it with a sizeable force, but Arya thought she had a solve for that riddle as well.

R-C

It was well after dark, when they loaded the chosen onto the boat. A handful of Dothraki came to control the group for the trip, but were going to remain on the ship and return to deeper waters as soon as the people were off loaded. It was a dangerous task since it was likely Robert's soldiers would refuse to let them return to Dragonstone, but there was no shortage of volunteers when she explained what they would be doing.

She left the Blood Riders with explicit instructions to watch over Daenerys and then said a quick goodbye to Missandei. Daenerys threw herself into Arya's arms so suddenly she barely caught her. She mashed their lips together and mumbled against them incoherently as the kiss deepened. "Come back" she said, separating the words with a pant as she tried to regain her breath. "Just promise me you'll come back."

"I promise," she said with conviction. They kissed again while a pair of Dothraki carried a bloodied, bound and gagged Stannis onboard as the last passenger.

"Be careful."

Arya winked at her lover playfully. She was working hard to help Daenerys relax and to keep her mind at ease. It wasn't much but given all that was happening, it was the extent of her abilities. On the deck she stood facing Dragonstone and yelled in Daenerys's direction. "Always. You know me."

"Exactly!" she retorted. "Which is why I'm begging you please be careful."

R-C

About five hundred yards from the shore, Arya sought out Stannis. He'd been kept separate from the others. Where they were free to move about the boat, he remained bound and gagged. Reaching down she pulled the cloth from his mouth. "Your brother doesn't care about you," she told him bluntly. He worked to hide it, but she could see he'd come to the same conclusion. Stannis had heard the message she gave the couriers and knew the date was nearly passed. "I need to get his attention and since simply holding you prisoner won't do it. I'll have to think of something else."

Like the soldier he was, he barely flinched. Even fully aware of what she was capable of, he showed little worry. If she didn't know what to look for she would have missed the slight tension in his body and the two drops of sweat shining off his temple in the moonlight. "Just kill me and get it over with."

"I told you before," she said after a private chuckle, "killing you benefits no one. That's even truer today. No, your worth to me isn't in your death Baratheon."

"Then why am I here?"

She stuffed the gag back into his mouth and gripped his hair. "Nod if you can swim." For a moment nothing, so she cranked his neck violently to the right, straining the muscles. He tried to speak against the gag, so she jerked his head to the left with all her strength. "Nod if you can swim."

Finally, he nodded, and Arya was ready. Using a dagger, the only weapon she was carrying, she cut the binds holding his legs and lifted him to his feet. They stood side by side as the boat inched closer to the place she hated most of all. Without warning she pushed him over the side and then dove in after him.

In the water, Stannis was frantically trying to stay afloat with his arms tied behind his back and a gag stuffed in his mouth. Lying on her back, Arya grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to her. Lacing her arm under both of his she towed him toward the dark shore, while the boat continued on to a different destination.

As they got closer, she could see the welcoming committee. No fewer than five hundred heavily armored soldiers on horseback waiting for their arrival. At least she knew Robert got her raven. She swam to the shore, moving slow and deliberate to avoid detection. Knowing what to look for it took her only minutes to find the Dothraki. She was nearly attacked when she strayed too close without warning them first. After a brief conversation she issued her orders and watched as her warriors went to do her bidding.

Stannis fought her almost the entire way to the secret passage. Starting on the beach, less than five miles from where she sent the boat of hostages, she dragged him to a tunnel she hadn't thought of since she was a girl. If her memory was sound it would take her under the wall and straight into the keep. Exactly where she needed to be.

Cold and wet she ached for the warm sun of Essos or better yet the heat of Daenerys's Dragon blood. She nudged Stannis as they began to walk, letting him lead and controlling him with a strong hold on the back of his shirt. It was filthy and smelled horrible, but it was a minor detail.

The opening was right where she remembered it. Before she reached it, she heard the first shriek of a Dothraki war cry, then another, then the horns. It was faint, but growing louder. She smiled against the chill that soaked her entire body. Her men were doing their part to distract the guards and the people of King's Landing. In her years away, it looked as if the entrance had been repaired at least once and then broken again, likely by smugglers who could benefit from a secret route in and out of the city. They crept slowly, Arya choosing caution over speed. As they crawled deeper into the tunnel she listened to Stannis mumbling while he repeatedly tried to face her. Annoyed she stopped and spun him around. The dagger to his throat proved she was in control. Tentatively she pulled the gag free. "What?"

Before he answered he coughed and sputtered, spitting onto the ground and desperately trying to wet his lips with hard licks. "Leave the gag out, you don't need it. I'll be quiet."

She didn't even need to think about it. "No, you won't. You'll scream for the guards the first chance you get, just as I would in your place."

Stannis opened his mouth wide and pulled in a deep breath. Arya understood what was happening. Keeping her blade at his neck she pressed it in slightly while she drove an elbow into his stomach. He folded over, cutting himself in the process. It wasn't quiet, but at least it wasn't a scream.

R-C

Ned stood on the bow of the ship and slowly made his way toward Dragonstone. He was following his King's command and going to try and arrange peace. He knew what Robert didn't, that his chances were slim at best. Arya was determined and furious. He would do his duty and try, not only for Robert, but also for Arya's sake.

Daenerys was no longer in danger from Robert. She'd won. An exile has received concessions from the King, now he just had to convince her to accept them. Earlier in the day a raven came from Dragonstone advising that the children and some of the women were being returned to the Realm. He recognized Arya's messy handwriting when he saw it. It gave him hope. If his daughter was in a state of releasing prisoners without compensation, maybe he could get her to take Robert's offer.

He was close enough to the mainland to see the boat arrive. Robert sent Jaime Lannister and a contingent of the best soldiers in the Realm to meet it, in case it was an ambush. It wasn't. He squinted and saw the women waving, as they rushed for dry land. Some were carrying children in their arms, others held personal belongings. Their release was a kind gesture and although he didn't say so to Robert, calling it unexpected would be a kindness.

Ten men, that's all he was bringing with him. Three would stay with the ship and the rest would join him. He wanted to come alone, but Robert refused to allow it, saying he needed to be careful, even if she was his daughter. Ned pointed out, as Robert had previously that she had ample opportunities to kill him, but still Robert insisted.

Ten men wouldn't do more than die if the Dothraki attacked. They had tens of thousands of men. Most were garrisoned at Dragonstone, but others were roaming the area around King's Landing. Since she took the Dragon's Island, no scouts reported in, the majority of patrols vanished and no merchants arrived at the closed gates seeking entry. Robert called it 'indiscriminate killing' but Ned knew better. The Dothraki weren't killing everyone. In recent weeks, a group of Silent Sisters had passed unbothered, likewise for a handful of wandering vagrants. The Dothraki were killing, but only those associated to Robert.

R-C

It was early morning when she pushed Stannis through the end of the last tunnel. He tumbled forward onto his face and she stepped over him calmly before pulling him up. She recognized where she was immediately. She'd chased more than a few cats through these passage ways a lifetime ago.

Up ahead a guard walked down a long hall. He didn't even glance in their direction, but Stannis saw his moment and tried to act. Screaming against his gag he tried to pry himself free. She kicked the back of his knee and then delivered an elbow to his throat. She let him suffer for a moment and then pulled the gag so he could actually breathe. "Don't be stupid. Behave for one more night and I'll be going back to Dragonstone without you."

"What?" he choked out, clearly doubting her. "You mean to release me?"

"You're a message, nothing more. I want Robert to know I can get to him if I choose. Bringing you here proves that, but the message works whether you're dead or alive. If you yell, if you struggle, if you don't do everything and anything I say, I will cut your throat and let your body tell the story instead."

With his gag in place she slowly escorted him through the corridors, looking for just the right place. Off the kitchen she found a servant quarters. Six women sleeping, each one with a small table next to her bed and a chest at the foot. She used the sharp point of her dagger to keep Stannis in line and quiet as she searched the chests for something to wear.

Upon seeing the dress Arya wanted to rebel, just as she did when she was a girl. She hadn't worn a dress since before she left Westeros the first time. The one dress father had packed for her, she traded for a warm meal less than a week after she made landfall in Essos. The Dothraki had no cause to wear dresses and Arya had been glad to be rid of them. Now though, it was a necessity. She'd avoided roaming patrols so far but there would be more the higher she went.

She snuck from the room with the dress over her shoulder and Stannis in front of her. She could have changed before moving on, but every second with Stannis made her uneasy. He wouldn't hesitate to ruin everything if she gave him the chance. He'd outlived his usefulness. On her way out, she noticed the rooms only desk and scooped up a piece of scroll paper and a quill.

Arya crossed the kitchen for the second time in search of a storage room. Inside she stole herself an apple and enjoyed a bite before she shoved Stannis down against some crates. She whispered, but the words felt loud in the enclosed space. "Stannis, thank you for your help. Make sure to give Robert my regards. We'll be waiting for him at Dragonstone."

His protest, which was muffled by the gag was short. The first punch silenced him but she gave him three more just to be sure. Squatting down Arya used an unopened crate as a desk to write her note. She left it on the body and then began stripping out of her clothes. She wished she didn't have to, but her riding clothes wouldn't blend in well. She needed to look like she belonged.

The dress was a pale purple color, with silver accents. She hated it, but put it on anyway. It fit fairly well, but that didn't help much. With her lips turned down she mimicked familiar moves, testing the limitations. How could she fight in this?

Keeping her head down she did her best to avoid the guards. Even deep within the keep she could hear the Dothraki cries though the stone. The closer she got to the throne room the busier people appeared. She noticed more than few scurrying about with fear on their faces. Arya did her best to mimic their actions. The guards stationed near the stairs weren't stopping any of the others, so if they thought she was of their number, they wouldn't stop her either.

When Robert came rushing through a door, she turned away to avoid being seen. A trio of Lannisters were right behind. "What do you mean they aren't doing anything?"

"They aren't," Jaime said, sounding slightly amused. "Just yelling."

"Why would they just sit there?" Robert wondered. "What are they waiting for?" She let them move ahead of her and followed at a safe distance, taking one step for every three of theirs. Robert's anger made the conversation easy to overhear. "They've been hiding for weeks and now they show up right outside the gate?"

The dwarf took a guess. "Perhaps its because you didn't respond to her last message."

Robert turned to look at the small man and for the first time noticed her. She pivoted and did her best to look innocent as she fussed with one of the flowers lining the hall.

"What of the prisoners?" he asked, turning his focus to Jaime and allowing Arya to exhale the breath she'd been holding.

"All seem fine. They say the Stark girl was on board when they left but she's unaccounted for."

"Fucking useless, the lot of them!" Robert shouted, causing all nearby eyes to turn on him. "It's a fucking boat, tell them to search it until they find her."

"What of the Dothraki?" Tyrion prompted as they all stopped talking to listen to the faint war horns.

He thought for a few moments and then answered. "If they have a message best go hear what it is. Take the men you used to meet the boat."

It was Cersei's turn. Her calm, clear voice sounded exactly how Arya remembered it. It chilled her through to the bone. "My love, Jaime is better suited here, guarding us and dealing with the savage."

"You captured one?" the King questioned, surprise coloring his words. Arya was equally shocked. Dothraki didn't typically stop until they died, no matter the odds.

"Only one," the Lannister said, and Arya detected a fair amount of admiration in his voice. "We had hundreds of men out there, they had a handful. We asked for their surrender and they attacked."

"They're mindless barbarians," the Queen commented.

"Mindless or not, they killed almost two dozen men, before they died," Tyrion proclaimed.

"Is he talking?" Robert wondered.

"No, and even if he did, I don't speak Dothraki. I cut the man myself. He's going to die long before we can get a translator."

"Talking to them is pointless," Cersei added to her brother's comment.

"Enough!" Robert bellowed. He started with Tyrion. "Find me someone who speaks Dothraki." His eyes lifted to meet Jaime's. "Go see what the screamers outside have to say. If the Stark wants to send a message, one of them must speak our language."

"Sweetheart…" Cersei began.

"Not now!" He pointed a fat finger at a random servant. "Convene my Small Council. I'll be expecting them in fifteen minutes."

Arya had heard lots, more than she expected. The knowledge only altered her intentions slightly. On the way out, she'd need to stop and check in the dungeons. Maybe she could get the prisoner out, along with her prize.

She was one turn away from the staircase she wanted and her heart was pounding in her chest. Either she was going to be successful and change the course of the war or she was going to be caught and likely killed. There was risk, that was undeniable, but it was worth it, if it protected Daenerys. Arya just had to hope nobody got new chambers since last night she slept in the Red Keep.

At the last minute she got an idea and took a detour. From a closet, she picked up two large boxes at random. They were heavy and she had no idea what was in them, but the contents weren't the point. What mattered was that if she held them up it would be much harder for any observant guard to see her face.

She carried the boxes to the foot of the stairs where a Gold Cloak waited. "Where you going at this hour?"

Doing what she could to soften her voice, she spoke, making a show of adjusting the large boxes in her arms. "N…need to see Lady Sansa. She summoned me."

"At this hour?"

"Wedding jitters I think," she said. "Wants to go over some things," she said tilting her chin to the boxes she held.

"I don't think I've seen you before."

"Likely not Ser. I normally work in the kitchen, but I was brought in to help Lady Sansa prepare the wedding."

He laughed to himself. "That explains it. That wedding really is going to be something to see. Go on up. Third door on the right."

"Thank you Ser," she said as she hurried up the steps.

She knocked by didn't wait to be allowed entry before she barged in. It was the early morning hours, before the sun and instead of finding Sansa in bed sleeping, Arya discovered her across the large room, sitting at the desk scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror.

Arya silently set the boxes just inside the door. She was seeing her sister for the first time since 'that night.' Before she approached the desk, she took time to flip the lock. She couldn't afford for them to be interrupted.

Sansa was completely oblivious to her entry. She'd done this in Winterfell too when they were girls. She felt herself above the servants and staff that helped her, so she pretended they weren't there. Only when one addressed her, would she acknowledge their existence. This gave Arya the opportunity to study her sister.

Naturally, all of her family had changed during her time in exile. Her parents were both beginning to wrinkle, their hair was changing color and they looked constantly exhausted. Robb and Jon aged the best, settling into their new roles and lives. Robb had Winterfell, Talisa and his son while Jon had his duty and his brothers on the Wall. Bran had lost his youth and developed into a man, his face thinning while his arms and upper body were lined with muscle. Rickon had gone from a baby, barely able to do much of anything and now he was running around Winterfell, swinging his wooden arakh.

With all that change in her family, it took only one glance to know that Sansa changed more than any other. They hadn't seen each other in nearly ten years and to Arya it seemed Sansa aged twenty. She was still beautiful in the way their mother and other noble ladies gushed about, still had the bright red hair and clear, soft-looking skin. She sat at the mirror in this fancy, over-sized room wearing her yellow silken nightdress and she looked as if she belonged.

Arya crept closer. From a few feet away, she got a better view of things, while she hid behind a chest of drawers. Sansa was combing her hair, which fell an inch below her shoulders. Upon closer inspection, that smooth skin Arya could never have, looked pale and chalky. She was so thin, Arya couldn't help but wonder how often she ate, or if she ate at all. Sansa put the brush down and then turned her head and watched her reflection do the same. It took a moment for Arya's eye to follow, to see what Sansa was looking at, but when she did and her blood boiled under her skin. Suddenly all her plans and strategies were forgotten and she wanted only blood. On the side of her neck, in thick purple, were obvious bruises in a shape Arya recognized. It was a hand, someone had his hand around Sansa's throat and she knew exactly who would do such a thing.

Standing up straight she made herself known. "I'd ask what happened, but I already know."

Startled, Sansa jumped in her seat, turned her head a bit as if to look back and then thought better of it and used the mirror. "Arya is that you?"