Daenerys and Sansa were busy gambling that afternoon. There were going to be seventy-seven courses in the upcoming wedding feast and that gave them a lot of possibilities to wager on. They had already placed their bets on how long it would take Lord Tyrion to get drunk, Daenerys thought he would be drunk by the end of the first seven courses while Sansa thought he would last to ten, how far into the proceeding Joffrey would make it before he needed to be taken in hand by one of his councillors, Sansa thought it would be in the wedding ceremony, while Daenerys suspected it would happen in the feast, and whether lord Mace or lord Loren would be wearing more gold, Daenerys thought Loren, while Sansa believed it would be lord Mace. Those wagers and many more had taken all morning and they still weren't done.

Of course, neither Daenerys nor Sansa had much to gamble with. Sansa had proffered some of her dresses, while Daenerys had rendered her few coins and items of jewellery liable. When Daenerys refused to put up her dagger, it looked like she had ruined the day, but instead Sansa said that Daenerys would have to praise lord Mace for his battle talents in front of the court. From there, they risked more and more. Daenerys was risking kissing lord Varys and the fool Dontos, asking the Hound for a dance and dunking a chicken leg into her wine before eating it and didn't know which wager she would rather loose.

Sansa's wolf lay with her head in Sansa's lap, and Sansa stroked the fur with her hand, running her fingers through it lovingly. Lady sat docile as a trained hound, her nostrils flaring with deep breaths that rattled in her chest. She would be locked in this room for the wedding at the King's command. Daenerys wasn't surprised, although she would have loved to see Lady rip out Joffrey's throat for all that he had done to her.

At least when Sansa left she would be safe with Lady looking over her.

Prince Tristan's wolf lay prostrate before the fire, his eyes staring at Sansa and Lady.

A commotion from the courtyard below drew their attention and Sansa and Daenerys paused to look at the window. Shield aslo padded to his feet, though he made no sound. "Shall I go and see what's happening?"

"It'll be easier for you than me," Sansa said, gesturing to Lady's head.

Daenerys headed to the window and peered down. Two horses stood in the courtyard, one mounted, one saddled. The saddled one was being led away by a squire in blue and grey while servants and guardsmen were looking into the open castle doors, where someone had just entered the castle, but Daenerys didn't catch them. The mounted figure wasn't known to her. "It looks like a northman, by his dress," she said. Sansa carefully set Lady's head on the floor and came to join her.

"It's Cley!" She said, smiling.

"A friend?"

"My brother's friend more than mine, but I knew him well. Castle Cerwyn is half a day's journey from Winterfell, so we met often. You'd like him."

"I would?"

"Yes, he's kind, noble. Always admired Tristan too much for my liking, but never took on his worse aspects, and Tristan is different now." She raised her eyebrows. "He's also a lord and, as far as I know, unwedded."

"Good for him," Daenerys said. Sansa didn't reply. "Wait, you mean me?"

"Why not? You could do far worse than Lord Cerwyn. You would be a fine lady of a fine castle, with a good husband I could trust to look after you."

"Sansa, he's a northern lord, how am I supposed to marry him?"

"There are scores of septs in King's Landing, and a godswood, we could go now if you wanted."

"Now I know you jest."

"A little," Sansa admitted. "But think about it. You escape the city, make it to the north, I'll persuade Cley to marry you, then we hide you until the wedding."

"The Lannisters would object."

"They can object, but they can't unmarry you. Even Robb couldn't unmarry you once the deed is done and you are wed. You might have to send a letter legally surrendering your claim to King's Landing for you and your heirs."

"Fire and Blood can have King's Landing for all I care. One day I hope to leave this place and never return." Could a marriage to Lord Cerwyn allow that? She knew she had a desirable hand, but would he want it if it went without her claim? But to be free of this place and still close to Sansa in the North that she had never seen. She would give anything for that.

"What about your dagger?" Sansa asked, concern on her features again.

"What about it?"

"I don't think Cley would want to marry a woman who keeps a dagger so close. I don't think I would want Cley to marry a woman who keeps a dagger of vengeance so close."

"Sansa, once you leave this place, if I can be free and join you, I'll toss that dagger into the tunnels and forget all about it." She said the words, but even from half a castle over she felt the weight of that dagger on her heart, and mourned that it wasn't at her hip.

The sound of trumpets drew their attention back into the courtyard. Cley Cerwyn had passed off his horse to the same squire and entered the castle, but those horses were not missed as dozens more spurred their way into the keep. These weren't Lannister or Tyrell knights.

"I don't recognise these banners."

Sansa started to list the noble houses of those banners, the Blackmonts, the Dalts and the Manwoodys, when she saw one she recognised. "House Martell," she breathed. Her brother had told tales of House Martell and how it had remained loyal to her family. The man under the Martell banner was tall, lithe and handsome, wearing a shirt of red silk and a dark cloak and boots.

"They're late," Sansa whispered. "I heard some of the servants complaining about it."

"Is that the Prince of Dorne?" She asked, nodding at the leader.

"It must be," Sansa said.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Sansa, are you decent?" Prince Tristan called through the door.

"Yes," Sansa replied. Without waiting for any more information, the door opened and Tristan came in, his arm wrapped around a young woman who wore his cloak which was too big for her, with the fur dragging on the floor.

"Jeyne!" Sansa gasped and ran over sweeping the woman into her arms with such fierceness and swiftness that Daenerys barely got a glimpse of Jeyne's face.

Instead she turned to Prince Tristan, who had stepped back to give them space. "You found her quickly," she said.

Tristan nodded. "I promised I would find her, and she's been gone long enough." He looked on with his arms folded as Sansa led Jeyne down to a chair and pouring her a drink of water. "You can stay in the bed with Sansa Jeyne," he said. "I'll sleep on the seat."

"You can't Tristan," Jeyne said, abhorred at the suggestion. Her family had been the stewards of the Starks, the idea of taking the comfort of one for herself likely went against everything she had believed and still believed.

"Not another word," he said. "And you will remain with Sansa myself or someone we trust until we leave. We aren't losing you again."

There was another knock at the door and Cley Cerwyn came in.

Tristan looked out through the window. "It's getting late, Lord Loren is likely finished with his meeting now. I should go and thank him. Cley, could you stay here until I come back?"

"Of course," Cley replied, taking Tristan's place when he left the room. "Do you need anything more, Jeyne?"

Jeyne shook her head. "No I'll be fine," she said. Then she sat back in alarm only just catching sight of Daenerys. "Princess Daenerys?!"

Daenerys smiled and took Jeyne's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Yes, it's me, Sansa has told me a lot about you."

"Daenerys has been looking after me since you were taken away," Sansa said.

Jeyne nodded and squeezed Daenerys' hand back, but clearly didn't know what to say, so Daenerys said she needed a drink and stepped back, allowing her to speak with Sansa alone.

She poured herself a glass of water and took a long sip. She subtly tried to have a look at Cley, after Sansa's ridiculous suggestion. He wasn't unattractive, unlike most of the northmen she had seen, he was clean shaven, with a short, neat cut to his brown hair. There was still a certain youthful softness to his face but it was rapidly of fading, like a snowball under a summer sun, and the chiselled features of a warrior were emerging.

As Sansa and Jeyne were still discussing matters that were clearly deeply personal, with Jeyne on the verge of tears, Dany approached him. "You're Lord Cley Cerwyn?" She asked.

Cley looked surprised she had even spoken to him. "Ah, yes, I am," he said, then coughed. "And you are Daenerys Targaryen," he said, his eyes flicking to her silver hair. "I've never seen a Targaryen before."

"I've never seen a Cerwyn before," Daenerys replied.

"That's… true, I suppose," he said.

She smiled up at him. "Sansa says you knew her growing up."

"I did, but I spent more time with her brothers than her. Thank you for looking after her while she was here."

"It was my pleasure," she said. "Can I ask you to look after her on the journey home? I couldn't bear it if something happened to her after all of this."

"Of course," Cley said, as though it was obvious. Dany wasn't sure. She felt that Cersei would have to be asked to look after Tommen or Myrcella's welfare, and she was their mother.

"Thank you," she said. Then, deciding to test Sansa's idea, she leant up and touched her lips to his cheek.

Cley gaped at her and touched his cheek as though he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.

Thankfully, Sansa called her over to introduce her to Jeyne properly, forestalling any awkwardness, but she would speak with Cley again later, she was sure.

Having spent the entire day sitting down, Daenerys wasn't tired when she returned to her own rooms. Cley escorted her at her request, and he was much more relaxed than he had been after she had kissed him and he was perfectly gracious. But in her rooms she was alone. She sat down on the bed and let her thoughts wander. Despite the bets that she and Sansa had made she was not looking forward to this wedding. It was going to be a celebration of everyone who had demeaned her and Sansa, everyone who had caused them harm. Joffrey would be getting married, his mother would be overseeing the day, and she would be there smiling through it all.

She shook herself. It wouldn't help her sleep to dwell on this, so she changed into her blacks. She should have asked Cley to walk with her, but he was gone now, so instead she would go to her tunnels of solace to walk off her thoughts.

The familiar tunnels were no good, those she could now walk with her eyes closed wouldn't distract her, so she picked a new path, a fork she hadn't followed before and went down it. It was a straight path into the darkness until it came to a small spiral stairway heading down which she took and then carried on down three more turns in the path before she stopped. "What are you doing here?" She asked the brick wall. It was a dead end. But why was it her? It was like a wall had just been placed ten feet down a corridor that didn't lead anywhere else. She ran her fingers against it, the stone was cold, more so than the stone on the walls to either side. It must be a piece of stone on the outside of the wall, made cold by the wind. Still, why the corridor?

She thought back to the stone under her floor, hiding the passage leading into the tunnels, that stone had been cold too. She pressed her hands back against the stone and pushed and the stone moved. Just a fraction, but it moved and then stopped, with some force holding it back. She ran her hands over the stone and found a slight alcove, a handhold carved into the stone. She put her hand in and pulled. Slowly, working on an old hinge, the stone pulled back into the corridor.

Daenerys made to step out and froze, clutching at the door. She was confronted by a sea of dark earth filled with a forest of iron spikes ten feet tall. A look up told her all she needed with a dark silhouette and a familiar tinge of red bricks in the pale moonlight. This was the spiked moat between the Red Keep and Maegor's Holdfast. Why did the secret passages lead to the moat? The only way into the moat was to fall, and if someone did fall and somehow avoided the spikes and needed to be rescued surely a rope would be lowered from the keep or the holdfast to pull them up, or they would be left to starve.

Of course she had come down here to clear her head and only found another mystery worth solving. She would have to examine this further and see whether there would be any use to this.

She drew her dagger and turned to the stone, planning to make a mark on it so she could find it again, but when she ran her fingers over the side of the stone door that faced out to the moat she frowned and slowly traced something else. There was already something carved into the stone, a thin line, so thin it would be invisible from the walls above, but a groove nonetheless, carved into the stone in the shape of the three-headed dragon.

With that to show her the way back, Daenerys stepped into the moat.