NOTE: In this chapter we finally get to see little princess Daenerys meet King Ned. How sweet a moment and encounter! :) 3 King Ned is very concerned with Dany's safety after the attack on Riverrun, just as he cares about her in the original canon series. We also see the further progression of Dany's slight conflict with her lady-in-waiting, "red" Rohanne Ryger. And then... Dany meets with another character from the King's party? ... Hope you all enjoy! Please leave a review if you like it! =)

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DAENERYS II

"Riverrun was stirring like a castroll of hopping fish. The entire castle was overrun with servants, chambermaids, cooks, kitchenmaids and kitchen boys, washerwomen, knights of two dozen different banners and many more, all of them doing their best to get the castle ready for the King's arrival on his stop on his long way along the Kingsroad to Winterfell.

Daenerys stood in the northeastern hall, watching it all in fascination mixed with nervousness. Was this all somehow secretly for her? It was the King's arrival, of course, as anyone well understood, and the King would be the one to praise the keep and its many caretakers if and when it was all squeaky clean for his and the royal family's arrival, but the king in turn, she knew, had come for her.

She stood planted with her sandals on the cold hard stone of the floor, trying to avoid the slippery parts that were all around, and had found herself somehow stranded in the process, standing on a small island of dryness as washerwomen swept with their mops all around, covering the floor in water and suds until it looked about the same in the hallways inside the windows as in the river outside. They were all running around her, lowering their heads in respect when they got a look of her, and mumbling "my lady", or, as some few of them even still before the King's arrival said, whether in unwittingness or on purpose, as "princess", but noone stopped to ask her anything nor question why she was standing stuck on her little island of stone in the sea, not even as some of them tripped and fell and swiftly got back up again. All that she got from them was a hasty glance, a shot of the eyes, and "princess", and "'beg your pardon, princess" at the most, as they did their best to steer away from her and avoid her with all of their bustling pots and pans, the lethal spearing spit stations carried swayingly on young lithe shoulders and countless pails of even more water, be it hot or cold.

Those were mostly the young children however, of course, that still called her "princess", the kitchen boys and girls who had only heard of the Targaryens of old, and their silver hair, told from the mouths of their mothers or wetnurses, and understood that she was one of them, although stuck here somehow. Perhaps they even expected the King to be like her in appearance, a Targaryen, some distant uncle of hers perhaps, like his old foster brother Lord Robert, the Demon of the Trident, who had killed her brother Rhaegar on the Trident and ended his line as crown prince to the throne right there and then.

But no, she must not let herself think such thoughts now. And she must certainly not think that Edmure would not have tried his best to inform the keep about the king. Most everyone who was old enough to rise above her knew about the war, the rebellion, as it was still called, either because they were old enough so that they had lived through it themselves or because they had heard about it many times before. The King now was Eddard Stark, and noone else. But she soon found herself wondering whether she would have to wait for the King himself to come and scoop her up from her island, or else stop the madness of the cleaning all around her. Lord Hoster would surely have agreed in that it was overdoing it, had he been well enough to descend the steps during these past three days.

As it just so happened, Septa Merielle passed by in the hall and got a look of her.

"There you are, you unruly child!" she said.

Dany was not particularly content with being called a child anymore, particularly as she had recently been betrothed to marry, but nonetheless she was glad for having been found.

"What are you doing?" the septa continued, asking her in a confunded gaze, eyes wide.

"I'm only standing here", Dany replied. "There are more things happening around me, however, and so I did not move from my spot, from fear of falling."

Septa Merielle simply tussed with her tongue and shook her head. "And they do say that Targaryens are born mad...", she said. Daenerys said a quiet farewell to her poor dry island as Septa Merielle pulled her up by her elbows and armpits, scooping her up towards the sky and carrying her over the crucial couple of steps to the nearest dry sliver along the edge of the corridor beside the tall glass windows.

"Lord Edmure has been looking for you, and Ser Marq as well, and I have too, most of all", she said. "And here you have been standing for the better part of half an hour". She sighed again.

"What am I to do more? I am already dressed as I shall be", Dany said, eyes uncertainly querying up at the septa.

"You are to stay with your other ladies, naturally, and not run around the castle out of sight", Septa Merielle said.

"I beg your pardon, dear septa. I did not mean to anger you. It is only that... Rohanne said that she was going to go and have a look at the stables", Daenerys said quietly. "And so I thought that I might as well go away on my own for a short while."

And then came the flood shooting up towards me from all angles, she thought to herself. If she ever truly became the lady of Pinkmaiden, like Ser Marq seemed to mean for her to, she would make sure that the servants all washed the floors in stern moderation, she cemented in her mind. She did not like feeling trapped inside the motley chaos of it all.

"Rohanne did not go anywhere", the septa said. "She is still in the drawing room."

Daenerys became confunded at that, and then, if ever she could be such a thing, she felt a tinge of annoyance at her so-called lady-in-waiting. Rohanne had never waited for her, not since they were eight years old, thought Dany, and yet she was supposed to be her subordinate, just as she herself was the subordinate of Edmure and old Lord Hoster who was at the moment lying sleeping up in his bed. And all of the people running around the keep like chickens with their heads taken off were doing it because they believed that it would best please him, and not stir his wroth at them. How foolish and wrong they all were...

She confronted Rohanne in the [drawing/common] room.

"You said you were going to the stables."

"Did I? Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I changed my mind", she said, quite clearly pretending not to remember.

"You told me very clearly", Dany said. "You said you were going to go to Jake and Simbass and see the horses."

Rohanne sat with her needlework, barely looking up at Daenerys to give her a reply. Saera Paege sat next to her, looking anxious as ever, as the tension stood in the air between Dany and Rohanne.

"Did you ever get a chance to meet with the prince?" asked Rohanne suddenly, angling her face up at the ceiling with her voice distantly remeniscing. "I remember last time they were here. You did not go up and talk to them then, did you?"

Daenerys was flustered. What was she asking that for now?

"No, I did not", she admitted. "Why do you ask me that?"

"Only that I hope the prince will come and see us all tomorrow. And I would not like to miss an opportunity to speak with him."

Rohanne's upjumped pride knew no boundaries, it seemed, neither before nor after her father had protected the castle from the attack. She hoped to speak with the prince on equal fotting. It was quite absurd, in truth, Daenerys thought to herself in a moment of rare clarity. House Ryger was no more than a minor knightly house, admittedly sworn to the Tullys for hundreds of years, yes, but no more than that. The Starks of Winterfell, the King and Crown Prince Robb, were an ancient house stretching back thousands of years, and now ruling over all Seven Kingdoms. Yet Rohanne Ryger felt as if it was her place to somehow indirectly ask for an audience with Prince Robb, and from her, who she had just tricked into going away from the heart of the keep for half the day.

Daenerys said nothing, though, and only sat down quietly at her chair to tend to her own needlework. And so they sat in silence, all knitting at their own work and minding themselves, while Dany did her best to forget about Rohanne's rudeness and making her look foolish in front of the septa.

"Do you know how many children the king and queen have?" asked Rohanne.

"Five", said Dany.

"Yes", Rohanne confirmed. "I hear the Princess Sansa is very beautiful."

"I had heard the same", said Dany, trying her best not to let her voice indicate any sort of emotion. This was Rohanne's way of testing her, she knew.

"She has red auburn hair, just like me", said Rohanne.

"And like the queen", Dany said. "And like Lord Hoster and Lord Edmure."

Rohanne became cross at that.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, Rohanne", said Daenerys. "I only meant that many people have the same color hair as the princess."

"What, and you don't? You think you are so special because you have that silvery hair?" Rohanne said. "You could at least try and show some decency, you know. Septa Merielle says it is rude to point out people's flaws."

Daenerys said nothing back, but she felt a red anger rising within her once again, as she had before. She tried knitting for a while, then stopped, put the work aside and excused herself.

She went up to her chamber to get prepared and dressed. If I had not left, I would have gotten agry with her, Dany reflected. She did not know what she might say, but it had been enough to sense that Rohanne was prodding her for something. She was not going to stoop to her level, nor do something inappropraite by behaving badly towards her so-called friend.

She opened the door to her chambers, feeling quite fatigued from the day already. Trea and Servetta were there and eager to help, asking her if she wanted a bath or only to clean her hair or something similar. Daenerys bid them to wash her and help her on with her white dress.

After that, she came out and ate quickly of the supper before begging leave to excuse herself, which Septa Merielle allowed. Her other ladies talked much and more at the table, but Daenerys simply sat stirring her food round and round on her plate, feeling her mind becoming dangerously red with anger for every word. The dragon from her dream was in her again, threatening to leap out, and she had to control herself all the best she could to remain silent at their talk and chattering. Even Marla, whom she considered her closest friend among them all, gave in slightly to the empty-headed talk of Rohanne and the others, all of them clearly so excited before the arrival of the King and the royal family as to not know what to do with themselves, but none of them mentioning that it was probably due to her, due to Dany herself, that he came and visited them most of all.

She went from the table, hurrying to her chambers as fast as she could without seeming discourteous, and locked herself in her bedchamber before the dormant rage welled up higher inside her chest. That's all right. We are safe inside here now, she told herself. We are safe here inside. Down, my red dragon, please, do not come out in your fire just as of yet... There are many years left before you may show yourself, she thought. First we must make sure that we are out of here, that you are safe to break out, and then you may fly, and show your red fire to them all, she thought. Her brother would no doubt tell her to let it run free, but he did not know what it was like to be stuck a ward here amongst her ladies. From what she knew of the world, a Targaryen angry was not what anyone would have wanted as of now. Dany and her brother were both fortunate to have even been spared by the King and Lord Stannis during the end of the Rebellion, by the crimes of their father, and she would not seem ungrateful or show any fiery or raging red side of herself to anyone if she could help it. Not until she was safely married and in the arms of Ser Marq, at any rate. Either that, or at Dragonstone with her brother, she thought, if that wonderful dream would ever be fulfilled...

She sat reading in her books for the remaining part of the night, recounting the family histories of House Tully in 'As the Rivers Run Red: The Family History of the Blood-lines and Happenings of House Tully of Riverrun from The Reign of Lord Edmyn Tully to The Reign of Lord Kermit Tully.

She examined the family trees carefully, savouring the enjoyment of seeing the different branches of siblings, brothers and sisters, three sons and two sisters here, two sons in the next generation who were unalike eachother yet loved eachother all the same, the marriages of the young daughters to high lords from other kingdoms, of loves both anguished and fulfilled, legal and forbidden, and looked after seeing if any of them had married into her own house. As it turned out, there were precious few Targaryens in the family tree, but she found them.

Lord Medgar Tully had had a son who married a Targaryen, and got a daughter who had violet eyes.

Lord Endiger Tully's daughter had married a Robert Penrose whose mother was a Targaryen, princess Elaena Targaryen, and their daughter had in turn married back into House Tully, surely bringing some small drop of dragon's blood with it, thought Dany.

After a while of reading through the lists and family trees, however, she realised that she might had better begin to read up on the family histories of House Piper instead, if she was indeed to marry Ser Marq. They had not spoken much since their last encounter, but he smiled and bowed more courteously than before whenever he saw her, and had given her a beautiful flower bouquet of daisies, sunflippers and forget-me-nots, all bound together by four ribbons the colors of House Targaryen and Piper, black and red and pink and blue, as well as asking her if she needed anything when she had been sick with heatstroke again while out in the courtyard. She was, in truth, flattered, and felt a slight tingling inside her chest at times, but it still felt strange and she was not anywhere near prepared to be married as of yet. If she were to marry him, she would have to wait for at least a year until she could be ready. She hoped that he might leave soon so that she could think it over without his presence, but it seemed that he was intent on remaining for as long as he possibly could, hanging about the castle with Edmure as usual.

The lights on the candlestake beside her bed was waning, but Trea lighted them up again, giving Dany a little more time to read before finally going to sleep. Trea sat close by, waiting patiently for her. After an hour or more, Dany finally put down the book and crept down under her coverlets as Trea bid her a good night.

She fell asleep thinking of her own prospects at marriage, as she felt the softly dull embrace of her grey white cushion beneath her head, dreaming somber dreams of ancient Tullys and Targaryen Penroses.

The King arrived the next day, along with his family and all his party in the royal host. There was the King himself, and the Queen, Catelyn Tully, the crown prince Robb, princess Sansa and Arya and the younger princes Bran and Rickon. Edmure had reminded her of their names and told her most of what he knew beforehand. They were all lined up and standing at the castle entrance by the drawbridge, but Lord Hoster had said that she and the other young ladies needed not go and meet them, and so she had stayed inside, only watching the arrival from afar inside the windows. They were all coming up to greet Lord Hoster and Edmure, and the Queen kissed her brother on his cheek, and Edmure knelt before the king, and all of the royal children were lined up to introduce themselves to Lord Hoster, Edmure, and of course, once they would go inside the castle, to her.

As usual, she saw the King himself first, however. He made it immediately into the [drawing room/common hall/common room/[ ]] where Daenerys sat sewing, stepping over the corner of the room with his tall boots and peering down on her as if a distant father looking down on a child playing with her dolls. She had seldom felt so young or so small as she did in that moment, but she also felt safe by his presence coming into the room. He looked hesitant, as his magnificent cloak with the grey direwolf of Stark was streaming down from his back behind him, the cloak stopping and hanging heavily in solemn anticipation towards the ground, the wind of hasty travel subsiding, as he waited at the entrance of the room. But then he saw her, and smiled at last.

"Good day, Daenerys. How are you faring?"

"I'm well, Your Grace", she replied, in a neutral tone, still looking down half to the floor in a demure tone.

The King made his way over to her, bent down to her and kissed her on her hand, her small pale one in his large, rough coarse ones covered by the black of leather gloves. He towered over her, where she sat on her small whicker-knitted sewing chair in the middle of the room, with her hands planted in her knees, in her dainty white flower dress. The king spoke to Daenerys with a voice of great relief.

"I am much glad to see that you are safe and whole. I am sorry that I was not here to protect you, Princess. I heard much and more terrible things about the assault on the castle."

He stood still above her, waiting as a statue far above for her reply.

"It was nothing too frightful", said Dany, "they barely got in. Ser Desmond and Ser Robin fended them off, I'm told."

"Are you troubled by it? I am told you have had trouble sleeping at night. It is a heinous thing, and one which I would never have thought to be possible."

"It is of no trouble to me, Your Grace", she assured him. "I do enjoy the early waking hours. I have found that it is good of sorts to be up so soon, far long before the later heat of day, when I can still hear the river flowing in peace, and I have found that I do not need much sleep if I merely go to bed a little earlier in the evening. Septa Merielle says so as well, when I ask her."

The King looked surprised, his long, bearded, kingly face for a moment perplexed and seeming to think on that. Then he smiled again, though this time somewhat affectatiously, as if smiling for her sake, and continued.

"Well that is all good then. But if you should feel ever so more troubled by it, I want you to tell me immediately and have Maester Vyman send me a raven. It is my most important task, more important than any others I might have in the capital. I am tasked with protecting you, keeping you safe for as long as I live, and I have failed you. I have prayed to the gods to keep you safe and watch over you, and I trust in the care of Lord Hoster, but I can see clearly now that it has not been enough."

The King was remorseful, his tone a deeply remorseful clanging note, and his watchful grey eyes sad and somber.

"I shall not ever let something like this happen to you again. We shall put in extra guards and make sure that no forces will reach in along the Trident in the future, nor from any other place either, for that matter. I have already given the orders for the first part of that."

She wondered at his resolve, all for the sake of little her, who no one else seemed to care much about from day to day. If they all had known how the king cared for her, if they had seen her just now, if anyone had seen, they would never have nonchalanted her, nor looked down on her. And yet as ever, her visits from the king, just like those from her brother, were few and far in between, and if she even so much as spoke of them, it seemed to somehow not be allowed, nor was she sure that anyone would have believed her. The king was simply her secret guardian. He always had been, and he always would be. She was forever grateful in her heart for him for that. Now what should she say to him? She must assure him that she was all right and that she had not been harmed. She took to word as soon as she had the chance.

"It is all right, Your Grace. I am hale and well now, by the safe protection of all of Riverrun. Your Grace could not have known that there was to be an assault, if Lord Hoster himself did not hear of it. Edmure said that they had been taking themselves up river, travelling by night and making their camps in the forest. Noone could have known that they were coming towards us, only the fish of the river, if not the deer in the forest or the birds in the trees."

The King seemed to consider it, sighed to himself, and then did his best to try and forgive himself, trusting at last in her assurances. He relaxed a little, only now looking down to see her in truth, and noticing what she had in her lap.

"Well then. I suppose I shall have to be content with that. What are you making?" He asked, and looked down at her handwork.

"It is the tale of Jenny of Oldstones", said Dany. "Have you heard of it? It is about one of my ancestors, Prince Duncan, and a commongirl of the smallfolk that he loved. She was from Oldstones here in the Riverlands."

The King seemed to suddenly become lost in his own mind for a moment, considering the tale.

"Aye, I've heard about it one or two times", he assured. "That is certainly beautiful stitching."

"Thankyou, Your Grace."

The King did not know the ins and outs of woman's work, as most men, and so she almost felt as if she had to laugh a little, but one did not laugh at kings, never, and least of all she would never like to laugh at King Eddard, who was ever so kind and good to her, and protecting her as if he were her own father. But a father far more kind and honourable than her own, Mad King Aerys, had been. King Eddard was kind, and seemed to care so deeply about all his realm, never once putting himself before the efforts or concerns of his people. Least of all regarding her. She loved him for it, even though she could never tell it to him directly. She took up one of the pieces of the embroiderment, [ ], showing it to His Grace.

"This one is of when Prince Duncan and Jenny first met. She had the most beautiful eyes, it is said, to be able to capture the heart of a Targaryen prince, and they grew only ever more haunting with age, as she grew older, into the shape of a dear old crone, and stayed at her precious Oldstones. In the end, they say, she became much like a ghost."

The King seemed truly haunted himself at her words of that, staring at some invisible corner at the far edge of the room, far above her head. She felt sorry for him, but did not understand. But he shook it off himself, seemingly clearing his mind from it all as best as he could.

"Aye, it's... truly a great tale", he finished. Then he harkled himself, looked around in the room and asked her something which she had hoped that he might ask.

"I heard about your betrothal to Ser Marq Piper", the King said. "Are you happy with it?"

She thought about her answer carefully, and then put down her stitching in her lap.

"I suppose so", Daenerys said. "I do not know who else I would have been like to be betrothed to."

If not my brother, she thought, the notion only a mere joke to her echoing mind by this time.

"I had heard from Lord Stannis that you had wished to come to Dragonstone some time again", the King said, clearly hearing her inner prayers. "Or either, barring that, to Driftmark perhaps. Prince Viserys had told Stannis how greatly you enjoyed seeing it all."

"I did", she confirmed, her voice quiet and unassuming, as she tended to her needlework once again, eyes focused on the task.

"Well... I can not say that I can help you much with that now, of course, but I am sure that Ser Marq will be a great and caring husband to you. Perhaps you can come and pay a visit to your brother from time to time, if you should like. I will see to it that he knows it is of importance to you."

She felt a sudden flurry arise deeply inside her chest. "I will see to it that he knows it is of importance to you." King Eddard Stark, her eternal guardian and saviour from a distance, though a man, and an old one at that, with four grown children of his own, just like the Father Above, had somehow managed to read her inner thoughts without her having to say anything about it. For those words, coming from His Grace, Daenerys was ever grateful to the King.

"Thankyou, Your Grace", she said, angling her face up to look up at him smiling with her deep violet eyes.

She was glad, ever so glad and elated in her heart for it, although the King himself seemed to sense sadness somewhere inside his frosty northern heart, hidden beneath all those layers of clothing and the fearsome direwolf of Stark on his silver and white doublet.

"It is no trouble", the King promised. "I would not want you to be sad about such things. It is important for a girl... for a wife to feel as if she can still have a touch to her own family, even after she is wed, be it by sending letters with raven or simply being allowed to talk of the place. Not all are so lucky, unfortunately, but I have seen it through my own marriage, and many others, that it is often of consequence to the happiness of the match."

With that, the King held quiet, and Daenerys did not respond, as he simply stood watching her for a few minutes as she made her way forward with the embroidery/[ ]. She spied a glance from the mirror hanging to the right on the far end of the wall behind him. They seemed so different, the tall King, with his rough dark hair and beard, clad in a magnificent cloak and doublet, standing tall above her in his boots weary and caked with dried mud from miles of travelling, and her, the silvery little princess, with her pale skin and silvery hair hanging down like a waterfall of sadness down to her shoulders and beyond, her dainty little feet covered by her lilac sandals only just reaching down to the clean-washed stone of the floor. And yet, they seemed happy together, she thought. Perhaps, if only she had been brought up with the King himself, at court, they might have been more happy for it, but that could never have worked. She belonged to the house and dynasty which he had dispossessed and driven from the throne, and he was the new King, with his own children and heirs to protect. She had still never even met them, or not greeted them properly and talked to them at least, as she was too shy to do so last time, but she knew and remembered all about the gallant Prince Robb, the beautiful auburn-haired Princess Sansa, said to look much like her mother and uncle in appearance, and the others as well. She would no doubt meet them today.

The King's foremost guard, a long-haired northman whom she vaguely recalled as being named Yoren or something similar, stepped inside the room and made his way carefully to the king.

"Your Grace. The queen and the others are waiting for you outside. Lord Hoster has made his way down to come and greet us, it seems."

The king nodded, bracing himself to once again take his leave.

"Very well. I will leave you here, then, Daenerys, if you are indeed safe as you say," the King said quietly to her, and pressed her hand with his large one. She wished secretly that he would stay a little while longer, but she also knew that he would have to take his tour of the rest of the keep, and officially greet Lord Hoster and Edmure and all of the others for all the royal procession to see. They would see eachother later in the evening, and the next day again, no doubt. As far as she had understood, he meant to stay for a good three or four days before embarking again on their journey north.

As it turned out, she was right about meeting with the children. Later in the evening Lord Hoster held a large feast to celebrate the arrival of the King and the royal family. For a rare occasion, they would eat outside in the gardens. Maester Vyman claimed that it would be good for Lord Hoster's blood pressure if he had access to fresh air amongst the clamour and commotion of the many guests. He arrived in his stretcher and was then carried over to an elaborately carved wooden throne with huge leaping trouts adorning each side, and did his best to stay awake and put the coughing to a minimum.

Daenerys stood waiting by the fencing to the northern gardens with the others. Her ladies were more than curious to see the royal family, and they all scuffled to get the best look. Rohanne was practically swooning over Prince Robb, as he had been the only thing she could talk about for the last two days while they had waited for the arrival. As it turned out, now the crown prince was sitting at the table and awaiting them to come forth, but not before all the others, of course. Since they were also celebrating Daenerys' having been rescued from harm, they brought up her rescuers to present themselves before the king first. Ser Desmond, Utherydes Wayn and Ser Robin Ryger all stood dressed in their best armor and with three servant boys holding up the flags of their houses. Lady Rohanne was looking on in admiration.

"Look! Look, just now! Prince Robb is nodding to my father! He is nodding at my lord father!" She exclaimed, balancing up on the fencing to get a better look.

Saera Paege and Joyce Frey both chimed in, seemingly just as excited as Rohanne was. M seemed as if she was more calm, but still curious nonetheless, staring solemnly as if in trance and looking away at Prince Robb and the others with her hand absentmindedly brushing against the fencing in front of her. The septa was stood to the right of them, even her ancient frame arched forward in something which Dany could only have described as the utmost adoration and concentration.

Daenerys was standing to the left, to be introduced first, before her ladies, and therefore saw the old gnarled apple tree first. It was the same old tree as when they had all been young, she realised. And then, without warning, an old memory suddenly came back to her.

They had not spent much time in the northern gardens since they were little, preferring the woods to the far north, the eastern courtyard and the gardens closer to the castle, but now the memory came back, unbidden. She had tried to climb it once when they were little and she was new at Riverrun, only five or six years, and had been stopped from entering up higher throug the branches by Rohanne. Rohanne, who was a full year younger than her, and with a glimmer in her mally eyes, as she said "No, Daenerys, don't come up yet. Stay there."

The memory was still as bitter and enraging as it had been there; it had been her first true taste of injustice in the world, and the more unjust since she was new at the place, but still older than Rohanne. But Rohanne had something else, something which Daenerys did not possess, and was unsure if she even possessed now still... Popularity. She had known all of the other girls and every detail about them, inside out, while Daenerys was only a shy and quiet girl who tried to join in but was stopped. Rohanne the rude, she had thought to herself then, in some sort of absurdly ridiculous attempt of creating justice within her own mind with a nickname such as that, but it had been a try, at least. She never called her the name either, only ever thought it inside her mind, and after that they had all become friends. But not after Daenerys had been nagged and aggressively threatened down from the tree, as rude Rohanne Ryger sat in the way, blocking the way up to join all the rest. She had ran to old Septa Celbara and told her about it, and Rohanne had gotten herself quite the scolding indeed, as Daenerys held a yellow toy spade in her hand listening with scathing glee, but Rohanne was so furiously dull, tough and evil that she barely cared about the telling off at all. She seemed rather to become even more steer-headed from it. Dany grew angry from the memory, and looked away from the tree, her eyes sulking on the inside. Edmure had told her that her late mother, Lady Ebba Glimney, had been much the same in their youth. Dany supposed that Edmure had similar memories of her when they had been little.

Rohanne was still [ ], and as Lord Edmure was describing all the events of the attack on the castle, and the brave deeds of Ser Robin and the others, she started climbing up the fencing to get a better look at the crown prince.

"There he is! I can see him still! And he is wearing his direwolf sigil on his doublet! Oh, he looks so handsome! He is much more handsome than Lord Edmure, I dare say! And far younger!"

"What about Ser Emeryck?" Daenerys asked.

"What? I don't care about that poor lowly hedge knight!" Rohanne shot back, clearly irritated.

"Are you not to marry him, then?" Daenerys asked.

"Certainly not!" Rohanne practically shouted, dangerously close for the royal table to overhear, as they were only some hundred feet or more away. "The day I marry that poor excuse for a fighter is the day that my father disinherits me! My father fought well, to defend Riverrun against the attackers. Lord Edmure will see to tell that to Prince Robb, and perhaps he will want someone of his blood to give him strong warrior sons to defend the Red Keep. Oh, I wish I could go there some day and see it all!"

"I hear it's more than three times the height of Riverrun at the tallest tower!" said Saera Paege.

"Four times! Five times, at least!" Rohanne insisted. "The towers are so high as dragons can fly, just as they did in the olden days of King Aegon!"

Incredible. She speaks of the dragons and King Aegon, but she sends not a single look towards me, even though I am standing right here beside her. It was as if she did not exist at times. In Rohanne's world only she was important, and all she did was to try and push Dany down. She had supposed that it was because of jealousy, but no. Rohanne did not wish to become like her, could not ever become like her. They were simply too different to ever mix, she realized now for the first time. And just as if something was coming over her, she felt her brother's voice inside her, and saw the red color of the dragon from her dream... I will test her first, she decided.

"Rohanne, perhaps you should not be speaking so loudly, and stand on the fencing up there. You might accidentally let those at the table hear you, and interrupt your father and the others. You would not want that, would you?"

She had said it all with a neutral voice, just like the dragon's smooth scales forming the line of a reptilian back slowly transitioning into a tail.

"Are you jealous?" Rohanne said. "What is the matter, Daenerys? Can't you climb up in your dress? Or is it because you are so short, princess?" She laughed, her horrible, disgusting red freakish laugh right at the face of Saera Paege, turning her face away from Daenerys with the nonchalance that only those who could not read hearts would do.

Daenerys made her choice. And hereby and forth I change my fate, my dear, vile, rude Rohanne...

She immediately stepped right forth with two quick steps and pushed Rohanne down from the fencing, making her tip backwards and land on her back in the green grass and leaves on the ground. It was an extatic feeling of power. Daenerys felt something which she had never felt before.

"Aaaahh! You bitch!" Rohanne cried out, but then swiftly got up to stand on her two feet again.

Daenerys was overwhelmed. She was clearly her father's daughter, after all. A fighter. Perhaps Daenerys was her fahter's daughter too, for having been so mad as to push her without a plan for what came next. Come now, Dany, think... Red Rohanne Ryger will not spare you if you stay.

She made a run for the old apple tree. Rohanne did not seem to remember the situation, for if she did, she surely would have said something about it, but all the same she followed after her and climbed up in wild pursuit, roaring in rage as the others stood still somewhere behind, shocked into silence and inaction.

"Stop right there, you bloody jealous bitch!" Rohanne cried out again, grasping after her leg.

This is my chance. I will step right down and trample her in her ugly red hair with my clack, Daenerys thought. It was perfect.

...Just until she realised that she was still wearing her sandals from before. Well, a pair of shoes is a pair of shoes, I suppose... She stamped her right foot down, first missing completely and stepping into thin air, but then Rohanne laughed high in mockery and she heard clearly where her target stood. Daenerys truck her sandal down hard on Rohanne's head, stomping at her one time, two times, three times, and then a fourth as she tried jumping down and run away from the place at the same time. Rohanne caught her mid-leap, however, and turned her over to land hard on her side before she could react.

Daenerys felt the breath go out of her, as the hard ground pressed itself against her chest where she lay, in the brown mud and hard green grass beneath the trees. She had even managed to land slightly on the roots, as it seemed. If I ever get out of this alive, I will have you thrown out of Riverrun by a single word to Edmure, you evil red demon, she thought. I am not afraid of you anymore. And I shall not be so anymore ever again. I hate you. I hate you, and I will cleanse and pluck you from my court like the fire burns a flower petal which stands out unjustly in foul excellent mockery.

But she had no time to hate her old nemesis; only time to fear for her own life, as Rohanne stood towering above her, and started kicking her with her own shoes, which were far more sharp and dangerous to the touch. Her sharp clacks speared themselves into Dany's side, and then into her back once, bringing a terrible searing pain, and then she felt the hard tugging at her hair, and screaming, wild screaming from Rohanne's red savage throat before she heard the stomach-sickening churning of armour close by. Had Ser Robin come to take his daughter in defence, and to finish her off? Is this how it all ends? Daenerys thought. Lord Hoster was half asleep in his wooden chair at the table, Edmure was surely far off as well. Noone was there to save her, apart from her other friends, who were all little girls. She flinched, and curled herself down and together into a little ball, trying her best to cover her back with one of her legs for the fear of another kick to her backside. As it happened, however, Rohanne was the one to keep screaming, and to get taken out of the situation.

"Aaaaaaaah! Stop it! Let go of me! She is a jealous stinking bitch! She pushed me!"

"Quiet!" Ser Robin shouted at his daughter and pulled her up and away from the scene. Daenerys reacted instinctively, standing up as soon as she felt that she could, and running right up the tree again. She would have nowhere else to go, especially no way to run from a knight in full armour. The tree was her only possible refuge at the moment. She scrambled her way up, almost falling by the clumsy grace of her dirty slippery fingers blunted by mud, but then somehow got her back towards a branch, feeling the terrible pain go through her all over again, and then she hurried up to the next branch, and then the next, tightening her grip around the branch in front of her and doing everything she could to not let go of it.

Please don't pull me down, please don't reach up to me. Please don't even see me, she prayed. But Ser Robin was nowhere near her. He was already far off, tassling with his rowdy daughter, pulling her wildly from the fencing with a grip to her hair and almost giving her a smack across the face, until he thought better of it, taking off his glove and shoving her down to the ground instead.

"What is that type of behaviour? Are you some wild forest bitch? You do not attack the Lady Daenerys! Do you hear me? Do you hear me, you ungrateful [ ]"

"But she pushed me off the fencing, father!" Rohanne was crying out.

"What in the Seven Hells were you doing standing on the fencing, then? You were all to stand quietly in line and wait for our presentation to be done with! Were you not? And you ask to be married soon. You cannot even stand still and wait for your turn in this world!"

He seemed close to striking her again, now with his bare hand, as open as the night sky, but instead shook her violently back and forth where she stood, his face flustering red and furious, spit rising from his tightening jaws as Rohanne started crying profoundly, roaring at the sky in shameful disgrace. She seemed little more than a child in that moment. At last... Daenerys would almost have felt sorry for her, if she felt an ounce of sympathy for her, which she found to her gladness she did not.

Just as she stood watching the commotion going down, she noticed how the others at the table had began turning from their matters as well. Several had risen from the table to take a few steps towards the commotion of it all. And the voice she heard now was not of Ser Robin, but of someone else entirely.

"My lady. Shall I help you down?"

Prince Robb looked up at her with deep blue eyes in a concerned look, locks of auburn hair and a kind face. The face of a Tully, or a Stark. At any rate: The face of a crown prince, and clearly the face of good King Eddard's son.

"Yes please", Daenerys murmured, lowering her head in a slight bow to him. "That would be most kind of you, my prince."

He smiled and lent her his hand, which was a silver gloved one underneath the covering of a thick grey woolen sleeve, a black and silver doublet and his great direwolf cloak, lifting her down and planting her to stand once more at peace on the ground.

"I would ask what happened between you, but I dare say I would not get any wiser", he joked.

Daenerys did her best to smile at the prince, but ended up looking more confused.

"I'm sorry, ser... My prince... I know that my behaviour was not particularly becoming of a princess."

She stopped herself. Oh no, what have I said now? Apologize. Take it back. You are a lady here. Prince Robb, remember? Prince Robb Stark. And you are Lady Daenerys.

"I mean... I mean a lady... A lady of my house."

"It is quite all right, my lady", Prince Robb assured. "I know well of your family. You are a house of women fighers, after all", he said with a smile. "Like Aegon's sister, Queen Visenya."

Daenerys only stared at him, feeling as if something had awakened in her at the mention of her ancestor's name. Then she smiled. A true smile, as she felt.

"Yes. … Yes, I suppose you are right, my prince. Though I did not know I had it in me such as that."

"Please. Call me Robb, my lady."

"Robb. Yes. … You may call me Daenerys."

"Thankyou, Daenerys." He smiled again. "Shall we head over to the table now, perhaps? I am not sure if your lady friend has recuperated, but...-"

Robb stretched an eye over to where Ser Robin was carrying the screaming Rohanne off to the castle on his back, murder and festering shame in his darkening eyes. Rohanne had sowered his moment with the king. He would never forgive her for that, surely, Daenerys thought. Ser Robin was a hard man, after all, the only one to match his wild daughter, and Daenerys felt suddenly glad.

"I fear she never will", Daenerys answered. "She has always been like that. Ever since we were little. I had hoped she might grow out if some time, but in truth it has only ever gotten worse over the years, to my detriment."

She felt strangely candid suddenly. She had never felt as keenly as she did now that someone was standing beside her who was listening to her, to what she had to say, and someone most of all who was truly on her side in all of this, and not on Lord Hoster's side or Rohanne's side or something else. She felt it grow inside her, made it fill her up like fire inside. She harkled herself, and then took his outstretched arm and wrapped hers inside it, following his lead as they went towards the tables where the rest of them all sat. Half a hundred faces, from Riverrun and King's Landing alike, watched them from the beautifully clad mountains of food and drink while Robb Stark held her hand, making their way, ever so slowly, gracefully, towards her place. She pressed his hand close.

"Besides", she said as they neared the tables, "I suppose I pity her in a way. The Lady Rohanne. After all... It is not easy constantly living in the shade of one's betters."