Dothraki will be in bold.

I own nothing but my characters.

Enjoy.

It was a long journey from the North until the royal entourage returned to King's Landing. The summer heat was in the air as all took off their fur coats for regular ones. Entering the grand gates of the Red Keep, all went inside their home to go to their room. Cass came to her room while taking off her cloak, setting it on a sofa she had, and laid back on it as she breathed a tired sigh as she was finally home. King's Landing was a large city port made by the Targaryens before they were overthrown, but the one thing Cass complained about was the smell. Since it was one of the largest cities in Westeros, there was a stench of pollution along with all the noise of the people going around, but in the Red Keep, there was none. It was quiet and peaceful, with maids and servants all around to make a good smell for everyone to breathe in. Although there was all the politicking and backstabbing in the court, Cass tried to keep her distance as she wanted no part in it.

"I take it the journey up North was successful," a voice said as Cass got up to see her Aunt Hellen was in her room. A woman of grace with a slender figure and thick black hair elegantly swept up into an updo. Her piercing blue eyes, inherited from the House Baratheon, sparkle with a few laugh lines etched around them. She wears a black dress with white trims featuring sea dragon designs, a nod to her husband's house sigil. Hellen Baratheon, now known as Longwaters, is a poised and graceful woman, warm to her friends but cold towards those she considers enemies. Despite having the Baratheon temper, she is more temperate than others in her family.

Cass tells her aunt, "Lord Eddard Stark is here, so yes."

"I'm still surprised that he would say yes," Hellen said as she sat down next to her niece, "Ned was always the type of person to avoid politics."

"I suppose he changed his mind," Cass shrugs.

"Where are your ladies," Hellen asked while looking around the room, "And Jarred?"

"All in their rooms resting," Cass answered, "It was a long journey."

"Ah," Hellen acknowledged, "So how was your time in the North?"

"Great," Cass tells her, "My ladies and I even got to venture into the Wolfswood."

"The Wolfswood," Hellen raised her brows in surprise, "That's quite dangerous."

"Jarred was there to protect us," Cass assures her, "Him along with Robb Stark and his father's bastard and ward."

"Robb Stark," Hellen repeated jokingly, "And how was he?"

Cass giggles a bit before saying, "He was nice."

"Oh, was he," Hellen teased as she sat down next to her niece, "Was he handsome."

"Yes," Cass admits, rolling her eyes, "He was very kind and enjoyable to be around."

"Was there a kiss," Hellen jokingly questions.

"Hellen," Cass chuckles before admitting, "Just one on the cheek before we left."

Hellen chuckles at this, "I wonder if there would be a marriage between you two very soon."

"I don't think so," Cass said as she got up from the sofa to her vanity mirror before taking off her lion necklace and antler ring, gifts from her parents, "Mother would never let me get hold up in the North, despite how much I liked it. And I have no intention of marrying someone I just met."

Hellen follows her, "Cass, it's not the end of the world for you to marry."

Cass turns to her aunt, "It's not that I don't want to marry. I just,"

"You want to marry for love," Hellen finished the sentence, "Cass, you know, as a princess, that's not the case."

"It was for you," Cass counters, "When Uncle Jonathor asked for your hand in marriage, you said yes."

Hellen paused momentarily to come up with an answer as if this was true. She was indeed infatuated with Lord Jonathor Longwaters when they were younger. So much so that she accepted the marriage before her father answered, "Well, we just happened to be the right people at the right time."

"I want to talk about something else. How are things at court," Cass deflects, looking at her vanity mirror, "How was everything when we were gone?"

"Well, your uncle Stannis left the capital for Dragonstone," Hellen decides to go with Cass's question, "Most likely furious about not being the Hand."

"So, he just left," Cass turns to her aunt.

"Yes," Hellen answered, "Not only him, but Lysa Arryn took her son back to the Vale."

Cass rolls her eyes turning back to her vanity, "Well, I'm glad about that."

"Cassana," Hellen warns her.

"What," Cass says to her aunt, "She was a mad woman who smelt like sour milk."

"She had multiple failed pregnancies before Robin's birth," Hellen reminded, "try to be understanding."

"I know, I know," Cass waves off, "I'm just saying she would not be missed. She was so paranoid about Robin. You know she still breastfed him before we left?"

"Yes, I am aware," Hellen said before changing the subject, "It might be for the best. At least there, he might have counselors to teach him how to be an effective lord."

"If Lysa lets them," Cass remarked.

Hellen sighed as she did not want to get into this further and said, "I'm just glad you got home ok."

"Well, not all was good," Cass admits, "I'm not sure you heard, but Joffrey got into an incident with the Stark girls."

"Oh," was all Hellen could say, knowing Joffrey's nature, "What did he do now?"

"Honestly, no one knows. People found his arm bloodied from getting mauled by a direwolf," Cass explains, "Arya Stark said he was hurting a friend of hers, while Joffrey said they beat with clubs. Regardless of what happened, Mother demanded the direwolf be killed."

"Hm. Of course, she would," Hellen said, as she never had a high opinion of her sister-by-law.

"But the thing is, Arya's direwolf ran off afterward," Cass continues, "The one they killed was Sansa's direwolf, even though that one didn't do anything."

Hellen ponders at this, "What did your father do?"

"Nothing," Cass admits, "Just let Mother do whatever she wants."

Hellen sighs from what she hears, "I'll speak to him about it."

"I feel bad for Sansa and guilty for what Joffrey and Mother did," Cass said, "Maybe I can make it up to her. Make her one of my ladies."

"That would be a thoughtful thing," Hellen commented, "It'll help her adjust to the South. I must go to the small council meeting to greet Lord Stark."

"All right then," Cass said while taking off her earrings.

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Hellen entered the Red Keep until she arrived at the throne room. From there, she walked through a doorway that led to the Small Council meeting. As the Mistress of Trade, she held a seat on the council, which was a relatively new seat. During the Targaryen reign, Lord Jonathor was recognized for his success in trade agreements by King Aerys II before succumbing to his madness, who offered him a place on the Small Council and created a new seat for him. With the support of the Hand at the time, Tywin Lannister, Lord Jonathor became the first Master of Trade and oversaw all trade agreements that the Crown had with foreign allies in Essos. After Lord Jonathor, no one else held the seat until Robert's Rebellion. Despite being married to Hellen Baratheon, Lord Jonathor sided with the Targaryens due to his position on King Aerys's Small Council due to King Aerys, during his madness, making Hellen Baratheon a political prisoner since she was a lady in waiting to Queen Rhaella Targaryen at the time, who protected her from her mad husband. When Robert Baratheon took the throne, he dismissed Lord Jonathor from the council for siding with the Mad King and gave Hellen the seat, much to the Sea Dragon's displeasure, resulting in Jonathor rarely visiting court since then.

Hellen enters the small council room where Lord Stark meets the small council members, Lord Varys, Master of Whispers; her younger brother Renly, Master of Laws; Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin; and Grand Master Pycelle. "And you served another king," she heard him say to Pycelle.

"We all did," Hellen made herself known, walking to the Stark Lord at the long table, "Until a new King came to the throne."

Ned smiled to see another familiar face, "Lady Hellen. You look as lovely as you did years before."

"Ned," Hellen smiles as she kisses Ned's cheek, "I see being Lord of Winterfell did you well. I hope my son behaved well."

"He has," Ned smiles back, "How is your husband and Steffon?"

"They're both doing well, thank you," Hellen answered, "I hope your son is doing well." Ned looks down before looking back to Hellen, who says, "I'll be praying for his return to health."

"I thank you, Hellen," Ned thanked her.

Hellen nods before walking to her seat at the table, "I was surprised that you accepted being Hand of the King. I never thought you would want to leave the comforts of Winterfell."

"The King requested, and I obeyed," Ned said.

"Speaking of which," the old Pycelle exclaimed, taking a hand-shaped pin from his pocket, "This belongs to you, now," Pycelle handed the pin over to Ned, who accepted it.

"Should we begin," Baelish announced.

"Without the King," Ned asked since Robert was not there.

"Winter may be long," Renly said as all took their seats, "But I'm afraid the same cannot be said for my brother."

"His Grace has many cares. He entrusts some small matters to us that we might lighten the load," Varys explains.

"We are the lords and lady of small matters here," Baelish concurs.

"What about Stannis," Ned asked since he was the Master of Ships, "Is he not joining us."

"He's at Dragonstone," Hellen tells him, "Feeling a bit slighted that he was not considered to be Hand."

"Brooding more like it," Renly commented before giving Ned a scroll, "Anyways, my brother instructs us to stage a tournament in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King."

"Another one," Hellen sighs, "That's the fourth one this year."

"Robert does like his tourneys," Renly commented.

"How much," Baelish asked for the rewards.

Ned reads, "Forty thousand gold dragons to the champion, twenty thousand to the runner-up, and twenty thousand to the winning archer."

The council members look at each other with worry as Pycelle asks, "Can the treasury bear such expense?"

"What treasury," Hellen asked sarcastically.

"I'll have to borrow it," Baelish said, "The Lannisters will accommodate, I expect."

"Is that necessary," Hellen questions, "We already owe Tywin Lannister so much."

"Well, we could always go to your lord husband, dear sister," Renly suggested, "Lord Jonathor has contributed until he stopped sending aid."

"Because he didn't see any reason to give more money to those who cannot pay back," Hellen reasoned, "Especially with the amount of debt we have."

"If we are not going to Lord Jonathor, then we must go to Lord Tywin.," Baelish concluded, "We already owe him three million gold. What's another eighty thousand?"

Ned looks to Baelish in shock, "Are you telling me the crown is three million in debt?"

Baelish answers, "The crown is six million in debt."

"How could you let this happen," Ned asked the council member with shock and confusion as to why the crown owes so much.

"The Master of Coin find the money," Baelish stated, "The King and the Hand spend it."

"I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm," Ned said.

"Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice," Pycelle explains gently, "But I fear His grace doesn't always listen."

"Robert never listens. He couldn't care less about gold and finances," Hellen admits, "All he cares about is spending it all on feasts, tourneys, and whatever else he could enjoy himself in. Uninterested in how much he spends."

"Counting coppers, he calls it," Renly conures.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow," Ned said to the council, "This tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford."

"As you will, but still, we'd best make our plans," Baelish begins to say.

"There will be no plans until I speak to Robert," Ned orders firmly, causing all to go silent. Ned, seeing the council, quickly apologizes while giving out a tired sigh, "Forgive me, my lords. My lady. I had a long ride."

"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark," Varys said, "We serve at your pleasure."

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After the Small Council meeting, Hellen went to her chambers, where a desk with a pile of papers awaited her. Ever since she received her husband's position as Mistress of Trade, she has been drowning in forms of trade agreements and contracts to keep trading a float in the city while Robert does nothing but party his days away. But she never backed from a challenge, did well in her work, and was always eager to seek her husband's help even if he was back at Dawn Isle. As she was going through papers, her eldest son was with her as he told her everything that happened on the journey North.

"I'm not surprised that Cersei ordered to have the wolf killed," Hellen sighed, "She was always vindictive."

"But it wasn't the wolf who bit Joffrey," Jarred urges, "It was Arya's. And they couldn't find it."

Hellen looks at her son, "You and I both know that doesn't matter to them," Jarred sighs as his mother continues, "Just be glad that's all that happened."

"Other than that, it was fine," Jarred tells her, "Any message from Steffon?"

"Yes," Hellen grabs a scroll from a drawer in her desk and gives it to her son, "It came days before your return."

Jarred takes the scroll and reads over the content, saying that he's been doing well and learning many things, "I still don't understand why Father sent him to Qarth of all places."

"Qarth is one of the many trade port cities that we do business with," Hellen said while going over papers, "Besides, your father has a sister there, so he's not with strangers."

Jarred continues, "But it's so far away. Why couldn't he be in one of the Free Cities?"

"We Soar the Skies and Swim the Seas," Hellen quotes the words of House Longwaters, "We have to go take any opportunity we have." Jarred gives the scroll back to his mother; she then says, "Did you talk with any of the Stark children while you were there?"

"A little," Jarred tells her.

Hellen said, "Maybe you could try talking with Ned's daughters. Make them feel welcome."

"Do I have to," Jarred cringes as he likes to keep to himself.

"The Starks and Baratheons have always been close to each other, even before the Rebellion," Hellen looks to her son, "It wouldn't hurt to make a few friends, even if you are to be in the Kingsguard. Besides, considering what happened, it's good to help them adjust to the South."

Before Jarred could say anything, there was a knock at the door as Hellen exclaimed, "Come."

The door opens, revealing it to be Ned Stark, "Forgive me, My Lady, but I was hoping we could speak."

"Of course," Hellen tells him, "Jarred, we'll talk more later."

Jarred bowed before leaving the room so the two adults could talk.

"He's a strong lad," Ned commented, "I can see the Baratheon in him."

"Thank you, Ned," Hellen said while sitting on her chair, "He's grown much over the years."

"I heard your youngest son, Steffon, was in Essos," Ned questions.

Hellen answers, "Yes, he's being fostered in the trade city Qarth."

"I heard that's a long way down in Essos," Ned remarked while sitting in front of the desk.

"He's meeting important and influential people," Hellen explains, "His father wants to give him the best experience when he takes Lordship of Dawn Isle."

"And how is your husband," Ned asked, "I haven't heard a word of him since the Greyjoy Rebellion."

"He's doing well," Hellen said, "Enjoying the comforts of home."

"I assume Lord Jonathor rarely comes to court because of Robert," Ned said, "For dismissing him of his position as Master of Trade."

"I'll admit, Jonathor did not take that well," Hellen confessed, "But I don't think you are here to talk about my husband and sons. It's about Robert, isn't it?"

"I tried to speak with him, but the servants said he's unavailable," Ned tells her.

"Hm. To talk to him about the tourney," Hellen guessed as she took some papers and walked to the other side of the room to a cabinet full of them, "It's going to happen regardless of your misgivings of it, Ned."

"But to give a large amount of gold despite the crown in a large debt," Ned urges, "Who exactly are we in debt to?"

"Well, three million to the Lannisters, and the Crown owes almost one million to Jonathor. It would have been more if he hadn't decided to stop giving money once he realized he wasn't getting paid back anytime soon. So we started to borrow money from the Tyrells, several Tyroshi trading cartels, the Iron Bank of Braavos," Hellen informs him, "Recently, we've been borrowing from the Faith, which is quite unsettling when the High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish fishmonger."

"And no one could stop Robert from borrowing so much," Ned asked, still confused about how this happened, "Aerys Targaryen left a treasury overflowing with gold."

"He did, but Robert always gave in to his indulgences. And considering his feelings for Targaryens, he wasn't hesitant to wipe out any trace of them when he could," Hellen said while returning to her seat, "I assure you, I've tried to stop him. Still, unfortunately, the council is filled with vipers and lickspittles who tell Robert what he wants to hear. I try to give my council what he needs to hear, but I am a woman in a council filled with men. You can see how it will go for me to raise a voice."

Ned nods in understanding, knowing that men could occasionally look down on women. Hellen Longwaters is the first and only woman to have an official seat as Mistress of Trade on the small council, which has not been pleasing to some lords, especially when the previous holder of that seat lost it to his wife, who so happens to be the sister of the new King at the time.

"But what of Renly or Stannis," Ned asked her, "Surely they can make Robert see sense."

Hellen shakes her head, "I'm afraid not. Stannis is not a man for easy courtesies and will tell the truth, he has a strong sense of duty but is also unyielding, and when it comes to politics, such as doing favors or making deals with powerful lords, he wouldn't be able to do. He doesn't inspire friends, and Robert doesn't take him seriously. And Renly is no help at all, spending most of his time flittering with his squire, Loras Tyrell."

"Is that right," Ned asked, surprised by the Baratheon brothers' behavior in governing the realm.

"If you ask me, I don't see any of my brothers fit to govern. If we were all on the same page, yes, but it seems we can't unite when necessary." Hellen admits. She doesn't hold her brothers in high regard. Robert, her oldest brother, isn't fit to be King because he spends his time drinking, hunting, and sleeping with random women instead of fulfilling his duties. Stannis, her other older brother, is a hard and unforgiving man who isn't loved by the people or nobles. Her younger brother, Renly, doesn't have much involvement in politics and spends most of his time with Loras Tyrell, which makes her suspicious. It's a miracle that the Seven Kingdoms are still united.

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Jarred has lunch with Sansa, Arya, and Septa Mordane at his mother's request, as the Starks and Baratheons have always been close friends. However, Arya is still furious about what has happened on the King's Road and is stabbing the table with her knife.

Confused, Jarred asks her, "What exactly are you doing?"

"I'm practicing," Arya said.

Sansa, eating her food like a lady, asked, "For what?"

"The prince," Arya answered angrily, causing Sansa to look at her with surprise.

"Arya, stop," the Septa Mordane demands.

Arya looks at her, "He's a liar and a coward, and he killed my friend."

"Arya, Joffrey didn't kill him," Jarred reasoned, "It was the Hound."

"The Hound does whatever the prince tells him to do," Arya said, still stabbing her knife to the table.

"You're an idiot," Sansa insulted.

"You're a liar," Arya said, "and if you told the truth, Mycah would be alive."

"Arya," Jarred gets up to take the knife from her, "I know you're upset, but just saying you are practicing to stab the prince will send you to the executioner. So, I suggest finding a better way to channel your anger." Arya, irritated by Jarred, walks away from the table as her father and Hellen enters the room.

"What's going on here," Hellen asked.

"It's nothing, Mother, really," Jarred says.

"Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady," Sept Mordane tells the girl's father.

Seeing his daughter looking around to avoid his gaze, Ned said, "Go to your room. We'll speak later."

Arya walks off as Ned sits beside Sansa, giving her a present, "That's for you, love."

Jarred senses tension between the father and daughter. Most likely upset that her father had to kill her direwolf, Lady, by the Queen's order. Then he gets up, "Well, I'm done with my dinner, so I'm going to go."

"Now, already," Hellen asked with an arched brow.

"Yes," Jarred said quickly, "I'm going to practice sword fighting."

As he walks away, Sansa unwraps the gift, revealing it to be a doll as her father says, "The same dollmaker makes all of Princess Myrcella's toys."

Hellen, knowing Ned was trying and failing, said, "What a lovely gift, Ned. Isn't it Sansa?"

Sansa gives an empty look, "I have played with dolls since I was eight," she turns to her Septa, "May I be excused."

"You barely ate a thing," Septa Mordane said before her father said it was alright.

Hellen thought, "Why don't I take Sansa to Princess Cassana and her ladies? They do knit circles around this time."

Ned looks up, seeing Hellen trying to help him, and gives a grateful nod to Sansa as she gets up and follows Hellen, who gives her a warm smile, out of the room. As they walked down the hall, Hellen said, "You know your father is trying." Sansa didn't answer, "I spoke with him about what happened at the King's Road, and from what I understand, you have every right to be angry, but I believe you are blaming the wrong person. Your father was doing what the King ordered him to do." Sansa still didn't speak as they went up to the room where the noble ladies normally do their knitting, seeing Cass and Lenora helping Jocelyn with her knitting as Ceryse and Ema did their own. Hellen gently brings Sansa forward to Cass's ladies. "Sansa, these are Cassana's ladies-in-waiting, Ceryse, Lenora, Jocelyn, and Ema," She turns to the ladies, "Girls, Sansa was hoping she would join you for the knitting circle."

"Of course," Cass smiles as Sansa, "She's more than welcome. Come." Sansa came to the circle.

Lenora said, "We were just helping Jocelyn get the techniques right."

"It's so hard," Jocelyn complains.

"Well, it takes a lot of practice," Sansa said as she sat beside her.

"Do you do a lot of knitting," Ceryse asked her.

Sansa said, "Yes, I knit some of my dresses too."

"We haven't done that," Ema replied, "Maybe you could teach us."

Sansa smiled as she began to help Jocelyn, who was having trouble with a certain stitch. Hellen was about to leave, seeing the Stark girls getting along with the other ladies. "Well, I'll leave you all to it."

As the older woman left, Cass looked to Sansa, "Sansa, I would like to apologize for what happened to Lady. I didn't agree with my mother, but she always got her way in everything."

"That's alright," Sansa muttered, "It was my fault."

The ladies looked at her as Ceryse asked, "How was it your fault?"

"I didn't stop Arya from hurting him," Sansa said, "And I didn't…"

"Joffrey did that himself," Jocelyn tells her, "He probably deserved it."

"Jocelyn," Lenora scolds her.

Jocelyn looks at her cousin, "Don't act like it's not true. Everyone knows how he is."

"That's enough," Lenora orders.

"How he is," Sansa repeated with a confused tone, "What does that mean?"

"It means," Jocelyn began to say before being cut off.

"Joffrey can be difficult," Ema interrupts, knowing they need to be careful about what they are saying, "He can get emotional at times."

"You just need to know how to deal with him," Ceryse said, "Like, compliment him when necessary."

"In all honesty," Cass confessed, "You just need to stroke his ego a bit. Whenever he feels embarrassed, he can throw a fit. When that happens, ensure he feels you're on his side."

Sansa listens intently on how to deal with Joffrey as she still does want to marry him and be his queen. Cass and her ladies were still nervous about what they were saying. They know the real Joffrey but can't be completely honest, so they must feed her half-truths. They only worry if their advice will be able to help her.

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Jarred was in an empty room practicing his wordplay. He had his regular sword, which he practiced in the training yard, but in this room, he practiced with a slender sword in a different fighting stance. It was water dancing from Braavos. He continues to practice his graceful poses as Ned walks by and sees the young man practicing.

"That is a peculiar sword to fight with," Ned tells him.

Still in a fighting stance and never wavering, Jarred turns to him, "Yes, it's the type of sword you fight in water dancing."

"Water dancing," Ned questions.

"Yes, my father wanted me to learn different fighting styles in case the time ever came for fighting," Jarred tells him as he releases himself from the stance, "My father put a lot of effort into my education when I was still his heir."

"And now Steffon is his heir," Ned acknowledged.

Jarred smiles, not offended by it, "Steffon is the brains of the family, while I'm just the muscle. No ill feelings on that."

Ned nods, seeing that Jarred is fine with the change of succession of Dawn Isle. "You always practice here."

"This is more of a safe place for me," Jarred tells him, "Whenever I feel alone, I come here. It's quite calming to get away from the noise of politics.

Ned nods as he understands how Jarred enjoys his time alone, "You seem to know much about fighting."

"I was a squire to King Robert and Barristan the Bold, so that you might pick up a thing or two," Jarred said as he got a rag from a nearby balcony to wipe off the sweat from his brow.

"Do you think you could give lessons," Ned asked, having an idea.

Jarred gives a confused look, "To who exactly?"

Ned looks hopeful as he requests Jarred to teach his daughter Arya how to fight. Jarred was skeptical of a lord having his daughter fighting, but Ned said if she was going to do it, she might as well do it right.

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The Khalasar traveled through bamboo forests as Viserys and Areon were riding on their horses. As they were riding, Areon looked to see some people walking with large loads on their backs while some Dothraki men on their horses were whipping them and cursing in Dothraki. Areon took time to learn Dothraki remembering the word slave in their language, making him realize that these people were slaves. He hates seeing this, but the beatings these people endure remind him of the times Viserys beats him or treats him like a slave. Suddenly the whole caravan stopped. Wanting to know what happened, Viserys asked a Dothraki rider beside him what happened, who tells him that the Khaleesi commanded it. Viserys then went into a fury, telling Areon to stay where he was before riding up the caravan.

No doubt he was going to Dany; Areon felt like he stopped breathing, knowing the look in Viserys's eye that something was about to happen. Not wanting to stay put, Areon urges his horse to follow the trail Viserys went as quickly as possible until he gets to where Viserys and Dany are. Seeing he had her hand on her throat and a sword in her face, Areon quickly got off his horse and ran to Viserys, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him away from Dany, "Stay away from her."

Viserys looks at Areon with wide eyes at the audacity his brother did. "You dare lay your hands on me." He then repeatedly swings his sword at Areon, who tries to dodge the attacks while Dany begs them to stop.

Areon then fell to the ground as Viserys kicked him in the ribs, causing the younger brother to yell in pain before getting on top of him while punching him in the face, "You dare wake the dragon!"

"Stop it; you're hurting him," Dany screams, trying to get Viserys off him. Viserys pushed Dany off until a whip was wrapped around his neck, yanking him off Areon to the ground, choking him.

Dany immediately goes to Areon to see if he is alright. Areon slowly gets up as there were bruises all over his face, wincing from the pain as they both see it was Dany's bloodrider, Rakharo, who held the whip and Ser Jorah, along with Dany's maid, Irri, with them.

"Do you want him dead, Khaleesi," Rakharo asked.

Irri translates, "Rakharo ask if you want him dead, Khaleesi?"

"No!" Dany yelled with worry.

"Maybe cutting off his ear would teach him respect," Rakharo recommends.

"Rakharo say you should take ear, to teach respect." Irri translated again, agreeing with him as she looked at Viserys with disdain.

"Please, please, don't hurt him," Daenerys begs until seeing Areon in pain, then to Ser Jorah. Seeing she had the final say in all of this, Dany gently said. "Tell him I don't want my brother harmed."

"Khaleesi does not want him harmed," Irri told Rakharo, who looked at her confusedly.

Irri shrugs as Rakharo mumbled in Dothraki before loosening his wipe from Viserys's neck, who gasped deeply for air. Viserys orders Jorah, "Mormont! Kill these Dothraki dogs!"

Ser Jorah looked at Rakharo, who made himself ready for an attack, but the old knight looked to Areon, who was still in pain from the beating Viserys gave him.

"I am your King!" Viserys exclaimed when seeing Jorah not doing anything.

Seeing Viserys for what he is, Jorah asks Dany, "Will your brother ride us to the Khalasar, Khaleesi?"

Dany looks to Jorah and then back to Areon, giving him a pleading look to go with them, not wanting him to be with Viserys. As he did not want to see what Viserys would do to him afterward, Areon slowly nodded as he tried to get up as he was still in pain from getting kicked in the ribs. With Dany helping him, Areon slowly gets to his horse. When he did, Dany went to her horse, and the two left Viserys on the ground with Jorah following them.

Viserys picks up his sword before walking over to his horse, only for Rakharo to stop him, "Uh uh uh uh uh. You walk."

After a few hours of riding, the Khalasar made camp. As Areon was in Dany's tent, she put a wet rage on the bruises that were forming on his face, causing him to wince in pain as Irri got another bowl of water ready.

"You didn't have to do that for me," Dany tells him softly.

Areon argues, "He was going to hurt you."

Dany dips the rag in a water bowl before putting it back on his face, "Thank you. You will never go back to him again. From now on, you stay by my side."

"He won't like that," Areon tells her.

Before Dany says something, her husband, Khal Drogo, enters the tent. Areon and Dany saw him join as the large man slowly knelt, grabbing Areon's face to see the bruises. The Targaryen siblings didn't know what he was doing but didn't question it as Drogo let go of Areon's face and sighed while staring at him. He then speaks in Dothraki as Irri translates, "The Khal said Jorah the Andal told him of you protecting the Khaleesi. He thanks you. He said you will have your brother's horse as a gift while the Sorefoot King will be dragged in a cart, showing his shame to the whole Khalasar as only the weak ride in it." Areon and Dany listened to what Irri said, presuming that the Sorefoot King was what the Dothraki call Viserys. Drogo spoke more, as Irri translated, "The Khal will also teach you how to fight as a Dothraki. You start in the morning." And with that, the great Khal leaves the tent as Areon and Dany stay where they are, comprehending what they just heard. It seems Jorah told Drogo how Areon protected Dany from Viserys and sought to reward him. Areon wonders how Viserys will think about it, but if it meant helping him defend himself from him, Areon doesn't care.

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The sun begins to set as the Dothraki beings to make camp again. From their travels, Areon and Jorah go to an open field close to the camp, with Khal Drogo giving Areon a Dothraki curved sword. Areon was still learning Dothraki, so Jorah had to come to translate it. Instead of the normal clothes, Viserys made him wear, Areon was wearing a leather vest and leggings as it would be better for him to fight in.

Drogo spoke in Dothraki as Jorah translated, "A Dothraki must know how to use an arakh before facing his opponent. They are made to deliver deep, slicing cuts from horseback. A murderous blade against half-naked foes on the battlefield."

"So you're going to," Areon said before wanting to speak in Dothraki, "You're going to teach me."

Drogo nodded with an impressed look that Areon had learned to speak his language, "You know our tongue."

"I've been practicing," Areon tells him while they continue their lesson. However, Drogo did not make it easy. There were many times when Drogo pushed Areon to the ground because he was too strong with him. Jorah tried to get Drogo to go easy on him, but Areon insisted to keep doing it as he truly wanted to know how to fight. It was a grueling two-hour lesson, but Areon could pick up quickly as he did get better. Soon the lessons were over as night fell. During the night, Areon was in a large tent with Jorah and Rakharo, sore all over his body.

"Oh. There's pain all over," Areon winced.

Jorah chuckles, "The Dothraki fight as a sport. They don't take training lightly. I might give you some lessons on fighting as a Westerosi knight."

"The Khal is already teaching him how to fight," Rakharo tells him.

"There are different ways of fighting," Jorah holds Rakharo's curved sword, explaining, "For a man on horseback, the curved blade is a good thing, easier to handle. It's a good weapon for a Dothraki. But a man in full plate," he then spoke in Dothraki before translating, "won't get through the steel." He returned Rakharo's blade before unsheathing his sword, "That's where the broadsword has the advantage. Designed for piercing plate."

"Dothraki don't wear steel dresses," Rakharo then said.

"Armor," Jorah corrects him.

"Armor," Rakharo repeats. "Armor make a man...Slow?"

"Slow," Ser Jorah translates so Areon could understand.

"Slow," Rakharo repeats.

"It's true, but it also keeps a man alive," Ser Jorah tells him. He then turns to Areon, "Viserys never taught you any this?"

Areon shakes his head, "Honestly, I never saw him use a sword to fight. Just for appearances."

Jorah scoffs, "I doubt he knows how to use it. Does he even know how to wear full armor?"

Areon shakes his head again, proving that Viserys is not the powerful man he thinks he is.

"My father taught me how to fight," Rakharo tells them, "He taught me that speed defeats size."

"I've heard that your father was a famous rider," Ser Jorah commented.

"He was bloodrider to Khal Bharbo," Rakharo said, "and your father, Jorah the Andal? He was a warrior also?"

"He still is," Jorah said sadly. "A man of great honor, and I betrayed him."

"From selling poachers," Areon asked him, which made Jorah go silent.

Irri suddenly enters the tent seeing the three men sitting together, "The Khaleesi wants to eat something different tonight. Kill some rabbit."

"There are no rabbits," Rakharo tells her.

"Find some ducks," Irri recommends, "she likes ducks."

"Have you seen any ducks, woman," Rakharo waved off, "no rabbits, no ducks. Do you have eyes in your head? Do you?"

"Dog then." Irri said with annoyance, "I have seen many dogs."

"Dany wouldn't want to eat dog," Areon said, "She does prefer duck."

"I doubt there is anything left, I'm afraid," Jorah chuckles, "She might want to eat horse."

"She hates eating horse," Areon gently argues.

"The Khaleesi have baby inside her," Irri said suddenly, shocking the three men.

"She is," Areon asked, standing up a bit, "She's with child."

"It is true," Irri confirmed, "She does not bleed for two moons. Her belly starts to swell."

"A blessing from the Great Stallion," Rakharo said.

"She does not want to eat horse," Irri said.

Areon was surprised by this news, but soon he became happy that his sister is pregnant. He was going to be an uncle, although no doubt Viserys would be thrilled at this. Their agreement is sealed now that Khal Drogo and Daenerys will have a child. Areon looks to Jorah, who seems to be shocked by the news. "I'll have the boys butcher a goat for supper," he said.

Irri nodded in appreciation and left.

"I need to ride to Qohor," He said, standing up and sheathing his sword.

"Right now," Areon asked, confused by this abrupt departure.

"Uh, we ride for Vaes Dothrak," Rakharo told him.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you," Jorah promised. "The horse's easy to find."

"Why are you going there now," Areon asked.

"Something I need to get," Jorah excused, "I'll be back soon." He quickly left the tent, causing Areon to be more confused. Why was Ser Jorah going suddenly, and what was he getting?

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Arya enters the room Jarred uses to practice his water dancing. She was confused as to why her father wanted her to see him. As she saw Jarred with two wooden swords in his hand, he said, "You're late."

"For what," Arya said.

"For your training," Jarred said.

"Training," Arya repeats with confusion.

Jarred further explains, "Since you like to fight so much, your father decided you must learn how to do it right. So, he asked me to teach you."

Arya's eyes widened as she was going to learn how to fight. Something she had dreamed of for her whole life. She doesn't want to be a lady like other girls, she wants to fight, and she is going to.

"We're going to practice here tomorrow midday," Jarred tells her, "And since people will talk of me giving fighting lessons to a girl, we'll tell them you're taking dancing lessons. Now the first lesson is learning how to hold a sword." He tossed the sword to Arya, who couldn't catch it and let it fall to the floor. As she picks it up, Jarred says, "You're holding it wrong. Your sword is small and slender, so you must know how to handle it with one hand."

"It's too heavy," Arya complained.

"Yes, all swords are heavy," Jarred tells her while raising his sword by the pummel with one hand, "It's how knights become strong. Using one hand frees your other hand when you use a shield or another weapon against your opponent. So, it would be best if you got used to having a sword. Now, turn your body side face so I can see your fighting stance." Arya went into her fighting stance as Jarred analyzed his stance, "Good. It's also good that your small makes you a harder target to hit. Sometimes size can beat speed. Now for your grip," He inspects her grip on the pummel before saying, "Your thumb needs to be curled over the pummel while having a relaxed grip on it."

"But what if I drop it," Arya asked.

"A sword and its steel need to be part of your arm," Jarred explains, "So think of the sword as a longer arm. A part of you."

Arya then asked him, "You learned this from your teacher?"

"Yes," Jarred puts the sword down, "Syrio Forel. He was the first sword to the Sealord of Braavos for nine years. He taught me everything about water dancing while I was still a squire. So, you must trust me on this." He then grabs his sword, showing his grip to Arya, holding her hand wrong, "This is how you get a grip of your sword. What you're holding isn't a dagger or battle axe; it's a"

"Needle," Arya cuts him off, causing him to chuckle as she did the same.

"Alright then," Jarred chuckles, "I guess you're ready to dance. But remember, we are not fighting like a Westerosi knight where he swings our swords," he swings his sword close to Arya to make his point, "We are learning the Bavo's dance," he moves his sword with precision and grace, "The water dance. Where it's swift but sudden." He suddenly points the sword at her, causing her to flinch, "Where all men are made of water." He points his sword at Arya's stomach, "And when you pierce your opponent, they leak like water and die. So, try to strike me down."

Jarred turns his back at Arya as she rushes to strike him, only to dodge it. "again," he says as he keeps walking away from her as she tries again and again to strike him, but fails as he turns and uses his wooden sword to strike hers and knock it out of her hand. He picks it up before she gets to it. "Now, this would be where you die. Again." He tosses the sword at Arya and rushes up to her. Close enough to touch her abdomen with the tip of the blade but far enough that she couldn't strike him. "You're dead. Again," Arya then rushes up to Jarred, but he slides back to keep his distance. The two continue their training session as Ned and Hellen enter the room and watch their children by the doorway.

"She reminds me so much of Lyanna," Hellen observed, "Even the iron underneath."

Ned didn't say anything as he rarely talked about his sister since her death. Suddenly, as he watches Jarred and Arya fighting, it gives him a flashback of his days fighting Robert's Rebellion. The swords clashed, and the knights screaming in pain came rushing back to him as if he was still in battle.

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