ARYA

Quicksilver tossed his head as the sun shone brightly down on them, making his silver-grey mane shine, as Ser Robar Royce struggled to keep up with them, as his horse snorted nervously as the two direwolves ran by her side.

The Targaryen army slithered like a giant snake through the Riverlands, heading straight for the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, coming for the false queen's throat.

The time was coming ever closer, when Cersei Lannister would have to answer for her crimes. Arya wasn't sure that she could contain herself from shoving Needle through her hateful green eyes, yet she would do her best.

Jon wanted to hold a trial for her. So that she might answer for her crimes in front of the lords of Westeros.

Arya felt a bit miffed at that, yet she would do as Jon asked. Jon was right. Jon was always right. More people that her had suffered at Cersei Lannister's hands, and they needed closure as well.

Arya and Ser Robar reached the head of the army, where lord Royce and Ser Brynden were waiting for them. "That was fast." Her uncle remarked with half a grin on his weathered face. "We had not thought to expect you for a few hours."

"Lady Arya rides like the wind, Ser." Robar noted with a huff as he trailed behind her. "I swear she must be half a horse."

"Ha," Lady Mormont bellowed out a laugh. "She rides like her aunt, the late lady Lyanna. That one could out ride even the greatest riders in the North."

"Likely not just the North my lady." Ser Robar shook his head and patted his destrier on the neck. "Likely the Vale too."

"Everything is in order my lord." Arya said to lord Royce, who turned to face her. "Lord Banefort and Ser Addam Marbrand are moving their men closer to lord Redfort's and lord Flint's men."

"Do you think that they will trouble us?" The lord of Runestone asked.

"No, they won't." Arya assured the man. "It is lord Crakehall that I would worry about."

"I think you are right." Lord Royce nodded.

"What do we do about it, father?" Ser Robar asked his brows pulled in a quizzical furrow.

"We separate him away from all those who might try and ally with him against us." Arya nodded, as they continued to ride to the Crownlands, she would have to continue to keep an eye on lord Crakehall. The man might not be powerful now, but it was best to make sure that he did not start up trouble. Perhaps it would be wise to rope lord Varys into keeping an eye on the man.

The spymaster had been telling the truth back in Riverrun, yet men changed their alliances all the time in war, and lord Varys was more slippery than most, of that, she was sure. But that did not mean that he could not be of use, and he already possessed a spy network that she would rather was working for Jon than his enemies.

"My lords, my lady." A man wearing the leaping trout of house Tully rode forth, holding the banner of her mother's house in a firm grip as he bowed at the waist, still mounted on his bay courser. "Lord Tully would like to inform you that lords Mooton, Rykker and Velaryon have arrived."

Ser Brynden raised his brushy brows and let out a huff, before he insisted on riding along with the messenger to meet the three lords and escort them. "Should we raise the tents?" Ser Robar asked his father.

"No, it is not even midday." Lord Royce shook his head. "We need to ride as far as we can while daylight is still good. The nearer to the capital we are when his grace returns, the better."

They continued to lead the army towards Kings Landing, yet they did not get far before her grand uncle managed to catch up with them, the three arriving lords in tow, along with Lord Edmure.

"My lords." A tall man wearing the blue and white of house Rykker called with a merry smile on his face called and gave them a wave. "It is good to see you once again, and this time under the banner of the one true King."

"Indeed." Lord Royce nodded with and grinned. "It is good to see you as well lord Renfred. I have not seen you since the Tourney of the Hand."

At the very mention of the tourney that Fat Robert had held in honour of her father, Arya felt her belly churn.

"Ser Brynden tells us that the king flew to Oldtown. To put the threat of the Ironborn down? Have you heard from him since?"

"No we have not. However, he has not been gone for long."

Lord Rykker nodded before his eyes travelled to the two direwolves that flanked Arya and her horse. "You must be lord Edmure's niece, lady Arya."

"Indeed." Her uncle puffed up his chest like a proud rooster. "My lords allow me to introduce my beloved niece lady Arya Stark of Winterfell."

Arya nodded and allowed Ser Brynden to be the one to sigh at the unnecessary announcement, as the man had already made it clear who she was. "Honour to meet you, my lords."

"I am lord Renfred Rykker, my lady." The tall man bowed deeply even though he was still on his horse. "And my companions are lord Willam Mooton and Ser Aurane Waters, lord Velaryon's most beloved uncle."

"Honour to meet you as well my lords." Arya spoke, already tired of the niceties. She longed for moment Jon returned so he could be the one to suffer the lords and their constant courtly manners. That would show him, for leaving her without even taking her on a dragon ride.

The youngest of the three, was silver haired and young, and his eyes raked up her body that made her raise a brow at him, daring him to say something. She sat straight in the saddle, pushing away the uncomfortable feeling that the young man made her feel.

Nymeria bared her teeth as she stood close to her and her horse as Ghost glared at the young man. "What news from the Crownlands?" She asked lord Rykker, who seemed happy to answer.

"Ser Davos is sending more and more dragonglass North, as the king commanded." There was a curious look in the man's eyes as he glanced at her and then at lord Royce, as if hoping for an answer. Ser Davos had clearly not told the man about the dead beyond the Wall. "And we have been making sure that King's Landing is blocked from the Narrow Sea."

"Arya nodded. "I am sure that his grace is most grateful for all your efforts, my lords."

"Is that Darksister?" The young, pale haired man, Ser Aurane Waters asked suddenly, derailing the conversation.

"Aye."

The pale blue eyes of the bastard of Driftmark glanced at the hilt of the sword, his face seemingly twisted in thought. "King Jon must trust you a lot, to allow you to wield his ancestral sword."

"He does." Arya gripped the reins harder as they continued to ride towards the capital. "I have heard that you used to sit on Cersei Lannister's council, is that true Ser?"

"It is." There was a pride that seemed to fill Ser Aurane as he guided his own horse closer. "And I must say that I have never seen a woman who was madder than Cersei Lannister." He offered her a grin that he must have thought was charming. "Yet my sacrifice was not in vain. Now his grace has even more ships under his command and sieging the city of his ancestors. All paid for by the Lannister's."

"I am sure that his grace can think of a fitting reward for your suffering, Ser." The gravelly voice of Ser Brynden reached them as the man rode up to them, sending the other knight a hard look, that the younger man seemed content with ignoring.

"And what suffering it was." Aurane Waters let out a laugh. "That woman looked at me as if I were a slice of bacon and she was dying of hunger." A few of the lords laughed at his words, only leaving Arya, Brynden and lord Royce silent. "I feared for my very life that at any moment, the lioness would come for me as she did Robert Baratheon."

More laughter echoed thought line of nobles that surrounded them. "So, you think that Cersei Lannister killed her husband?" Arya asked not allowing her curiosity to slip through.

"Who else could it be my lady?" The knight grew slightly more animated at the laughter of the lords, yet he remined very dignified in his manner of movement, just as any highborn lords ought to. "The boar might have struck the killing blow, but it was the squire that his now conveniently dead, burnt in wildfire that supplied the Usurper with drink for days on end."

Arya said nothing, yet she did feel a sliver of satisfaction hearing Aurane Waters echo what lord Varys had sworn to be what he believed was the truth. It did make sense that Cersei Lannister had been the one to order the Usurper's squire, who was her cousin that she was sleeping with to get Robert Baratheon drunk enough on a hunt so that he might be killed.

After all, it had been her who had benefited the most from it.

They rode throughout the day, and until the sun started its descent, when lord Royce and Ser Brynden agreed that it would be best to camp for the night.

Arya was glad to see the tents rise and campfire's lit. After such a long and hard march, it was good to dismount and rest, she was sure that Quicksilver appreciated it as well.

Dismounting and handing Quicksilver of to a squire, Arya walked through the encampment with Nymeria and Ghost on her heels. Her feet carried her to where the command tent had been raised beside Jon's own personal tent.

Every day, lord Royce ordered the servants to raise the king's tent, just in case he might return. Arya just hoped that they might see him soon.

As she was about to enter the command tent to meet with the lords, she could hear a familiar roar reach her ears. Her heart leapt into her throat from excitement as she whirled around.

The encampment when deadly silent as every eye turned to the skies, hoping to catch a glimpse of the king and his dragons returning.

Another roar broke through the silence, and then the men erupted into cheers as Ser Brynden and the newly arrived lords rushed out of the tent from behind her.

Then she saw them.

She spotted Rhaegal first, as he sailed through the air gracefully, closely followed by his pale and golden brother.

The emerald dragon turned and landed just behind Jon's tent, where Ser Brynden always ordered space to be left for the two dragons to rest during the night, just in case the king would return.

Arya almost ran between the two tents, Nymeria on her heels as Ghost bolted past them, happy wagging his tail as Rhaegal lowered himself to the ground, allowing his rider to dismount. Viserion landed beside his brother, shrieking and shaking his horned head, looking awfully smug with himself.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Jon greeted Ghost, who shoved his head against his chest. A laugh escaped Jon as he greeted his direwolf. She wanted nothing more than to run to her brother and hug him so tightly that her arms would ache.

Her uncle Brynden and Ser Edric both march forth and waited patiently until Jon had given both the dragons their well-deserved pats.

"My lords," Jon greeted the men as he walked towards them, Ghost beside him and the two kingsguard at his heels.

"Your grace," Lord Umber bowed deeply. "How did you fare in the Reach?"

"Let us talk in the tent, I am sure you have all had a hard day's march. You deserve some rest." Jon gestured for the command tent. "You have travelled much further than I had expected, I had not thought to look for you this far past the Stoney Sept."

Arya watched the pride flood every lord's and knight's faces at the well-deserved praise from Jon. They had in fact almost reached the Crownlands, and likely in a day they would cross the borders.

Entering the tent, servants rushed around to pour ale and wine into cups and carry in huge pots of warm stew.

As most of the lords took their seats, Jon turned his gaze toward the new lords. "You must be lords Rykker, Mooton and Ser Waters of Driftmark, I presume."

Arya wanted to shake her head at Jon's strange recollection of every and all sigils that have ever existed. She was sure that if she showed him one from a house that had been dead and gone for more than a millennium and had only been for around a hundred years, he would recognize it instantly.

"Indeed, your grace." Lord Rykker was followed by the two other men to the middle of the tent before Jon and quickly bent the knee. "We have come to swear our swords and our houses to your cause, your grace.

"I trust you had a safe and an uneventful journey."

"We did indeed, you grace." Lord Mooton spoke for the first time, as he bowed deeply again.

As the lords were shown into their seats, lord Royce spoke up. "What news from the Reach?" Lord Royce inquiry was followed by a tense silence as they waited for Jon to speak.

"Lord Willas and his brother, Ser Garlan have sworn themselves to our cause, as have the lords that followed them to Oldtown along with Ser Baelor Hightower."

Jon's response was met with hearty cheers which echoed through the tent, the Northern lords banging their cups on the tables, spilling their contents onto the wood at their celebration.

"And the Reavers? Your grace?" Ser Lyn Corbray asked, as Arya's mouth was filled with distaste at seeing him. "What of them?" Like lord Crakehall Ser Lyn Corbray seemed to have little love for Jon, and while the knight of the Vale seemed to hide it much better, he was the sort to go wherever the wind blew him.

"We managed to capture some of the lords, but most of Euron's Reavers died in their attack on Oldtown and the Arbour."

"The Arbour, your grace?" Lord Rykker asked leaning forward as Ser Aurane Waters stared hard at Jon, his eyes not wavering of Arya's brother.

"Aye, Lord Willas never received words form lord Redwyne. So, I decided to fly to the Arbor to see what was going on, only to find more Reaver sieging the castle."

"It did not end well for those fuckers, I am guessing." Tormund Giantsbane asked, waving a cup of ale in the air and laughing.

"It did not." Jon responded, causing the lords to cheer even more. It was such a strange thing, to see lords from the Westerlands celebrate with the lords of the North and the Riverlands.

Having a common enemy seemed to be doing wonders for unity.

"Will Euron Greyjoy be sent to the Wall your grace?" Ser Lyn asked with a raised brow. "More good men are need to fight the Dead after all."

"Euron Greyjoy has already received his punishment." Jon said, his eyes cold and hard as he looked on ahead. "I took of his head, and it is now mounted before harbour of Oldtown."

After a few hours of the lords peppering her brother with questions about what had happened in Oldtown, which Jon answered with more patience than Arya could have, he decided to take his leave and head to his own tent, gesturing for both of his kingsguard and Arya to follow.

Entering the tent, Jon poured her a cup of ale and handed it to her. "How have things been going, truly? I cannot imagine that relations have been easy between the lords of the West and the others."

Arya nodded. "They have mostly been behaving themselves, but it is only lord Crakehall that is truly dissatisfied. And I do not trust Ser Lyn Corbray."

Ser Brynden snorted. "No one in their right mind trusts Ser Lyn. He was one of Littlefinger's lackies, and now without a master, he will be looking for another."

Arya would have to keep a close eye on the knight and get lord Varys to do so as well. The spymaster would be all too willing to help, not only to get into Jon's good graces, but also with their…understanding.

Studying her brother's face as Arya lifted her cup to her lips, she could see the exhaustion linger in his dark grey eyes.

"It will not be long until we reach the capital." Arya said slowly, her eyes fixed on her brother feeling the urge to speak up. "I have an idea if you are interested." Arya grinned at her brother, and she could see him try and fail to keep the smirk off his face.

"Does it involve pies?" Jon teased her, the exhausted glint in his eyes retreating. "I cannot agree to any plans from you that involve pies."

"No stupid." Ser Brynden sighed heavily while Ser Edric seemed to be fighting against swallowing his tongue. "Of course not. I don't want to repeat myself."

Jon shook his head and gestured for her to continue. Grinning happily, Arya rose to her feet and grabbed a map of the Crownlands and flattened it out in front of her brother and his kingsguard, starting her explanation.

DAENERYS

Smoke still rose from the city and one of the smaller pyramids was now half a ruin after the wrath of Drogon. Anger burned in her gut as she watched the desolation that Victarion Greyjoy had done to her city.

It had been his fault. He had done something to Drogon.

Staring out from her balcony, Dany watched as the huge black scars littered the landscape of Meereen, as another flare of pain stabbed at her head. Smoke still rose from the ruins that had been left in the wake of Drogon's fury, even though the fires had been put out by the Unsullied.

Dany could hear her child roar and cry from beneath the pyramid, where Rhaegal and Viserion had been kept before their escape.

It was for the best. She tried to convince herself. While her child calmed down from the rage that had been awoken in him by Victarion Greyjoy, he was safest in the Dragonpit.

Yet, the thought of Drogon, chained in the dark, alone but for her most faithful and trusted of Unsullied burned at her like the black fires that her mount unleased upon her enemies.

Dany turned her eyes to the pyramid of house Pahl, who were one of her many foes in the city. The pink and white stone seemed to mock her as it shone in the sunlight.

The champion of Meereen had been a son of that house, and many of those guilty of murdering the children had been executed by her when she took Meereen.

Had the mothers of their house allied themselves with Victarion Greyjoy? To try and steal Drogon away from her?

They would pay.

Turning to look where the pyramid of Loraq stood proudly, glinting lilac and indigo, Dany felt the anger churn in her again. Had Hizdahr's family been a part of the plot against her? Her betrothed had been killed in the fighting when Drogon had returned to her, slain in the Son's of the Harpies attempts to murder her.

Her enemies were everywhere. Why not the Loraq family? They had thought that their son would be a king, and now he was only a corpse in their crypts.

As Drogon let out another roar, Dany gripped the barrister on the balcony so hard that her knuckles turned white, and a stab of pain flared in her heart at the very thought that he now languished in the Pit.

Drogon is safe there. Dany tried to assure herself. With a contingent of Unsullied and well fed, her child would come to no harm.

She would not make the mistake of leaving him unattended after Rhaegal and Viserion had broken out of the pyramid as they fled the Harpy and her sons.

"Your grace." Jhairri's voice echoed of the stones of her chambers. "Lord Daario Naharis is here to see you."

"Show him in." Dany commanded as she continued to stare ahead, the buildings below her starting to blend together in one multicoloured blob.

"My Queen." Hearing her faithful servant's voice carry over to her made her heart skip a beat, yet she remained still as a statue.

His footsteps were light and when she felt his warm hand on her back, she felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine. Her Master of War was one of the few she could trust; she could see that now.

"How many?" Dany asked the man. She almost turned to face him, yet she managed to stay still, watching the smoke rise into the air.

"Thirty, this night. But rest assured my Queen that I am doing everything possible to capture the men responsible."

"It was the Sons of the Harpy." Dany told him as she glared hard at the Pyramid of Pahl.

"I do believe you are right, your grace." She could feel the man's hand travel lower on her back, ever so slowly as the heat of his body reached hers. "I have a solution to your problem, if you are willing to hear it."

Dany turned to face Daario. His normally smirk was nowhere to be found on his face as his deep blue eyes looked serious for once. "What is your solution?"

"Round all the masters up and allow them to taste the wrath of your dragon."

Dany stared at him, his height allowing him to tower over her. She remembered in Astapor when she had ordered her new Unsullied to kill ever man that held a whip, only allowing them to spare the boys under thirteen. Yet somehow the masters had still managed to take back the city after the Cleon the Butcher had been killed.

They would never stop.

Not until Dany stopped them.

There were now no slavers in Astapor or Yunkai. And there never would be.

"My queen if your enemies are dead, they cannot hurt you."

"I do not fear for myself." Dany told him and walked back into the room and grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured herself a cup. "The Dragon has no fear."

Filling another cup, Dany handed her lover some wine. "The men who died, were they all Unsullied?"

"No, your grace. Most were Dothraki."

Dany felt the frown grow heavy on her brow as the ache in her head returned. The Dothraki were fierce warriors and her Unsullied were unmatched with a spear in their hands, experts with the short sword and the shield.

It should have been impossible for the Harpy to kill her men.

A knocked on the door brought her out of her thoughts as Jhairri walked in and curtsied clumsily. "Khalessi, lady Missandei says that it is time for court."

Dany breathed a sigh and nodded before walking out, as Daario rushed to walk beside her, as Ser Barristan followed them, a white spectre, silent as the grave. "My Queen," Daario piped up as they strolled through the halls of her pyramid. "I also wanted to speak to you about Mantarys."

"You want to attack it."

"Yes, my Queen. We need supplies for your conquest of the Sunset Kingdoms and with lady Missandei and the Imp wanting to give them all away to the Freed men and the Slavers, we have little choice but to find more."

"The Slavers can find their own food." Dany hissed furiously and sent her Master of War a stern glare.

"As you say, my Queen. Yet the problem is still the same, your armies need supplies, and we need more ships, even with the Greyjoy fleet now in your service." He walked in front of her, forcing her to come to a halt. "My Queen, let us set out to the other cities. Your armies and the fleet can travel to Tolos and when the city is yours, the army can go to Mantarys and the Ironfleet to Elyria. You can have vengeance for the way they disrespected you and the supplies you need for your conquest."

She studied her master of War for a moment. It was a tempting prospect. To take the three cities and their riches, and she would be that much closer to regaining her birth right.

Ser Barristan cleared his throat as he stared at Daario, who only smirked at the man and slowly moved out of her way. Dany continued walking. "You are right. The masters of Elyria, Tolos and Mantarys joined Yunkai in their war against me. They have to pay."

She still remembered the sight of the heads of her three envoys as they had been shown to her in that cedar chest. Their glassy eyes unseeing, staring at her, beseeching her to avenge them. "Gather the Dothraki and have lady Greyjoy rouse the Iron fleet, we shall return the cities of my enemies to the dirt."

The smirk on Daario's comely face widened, showing off his golden teeth. "It shall be done, my Queen."

As the man hurried off, Dany could practically feel the disproval of the knight following her. "You disapprove."

"I don't think that my opinion matter much, your grace."

She came to a sudden halt in the hallway, turning on her heel and staring up at those harsh blue eyes of Ser Barristan. "Those men are my enemies. You surely did not object when my brother Rhaegar fought the Usurper."

"No, I did not. However, Rhaegar did not have a dragon."

Dany's lips were a fine line as she stared up at him. She had grown to hate the name of her brother. Every time the man before her looked at her, all he did was compare her to her perfect brother Rhaegar, the Silver prince. Her brother who had doomed his family to wander around Westeros when he had lost to Usurper at the Green fork.

"Rhaegar died." Dany remembered her conversation with Jorah before she had brought her Unsullied and freed them from slavery.

Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought bravely. And Rhaegar died.

Jorah had been right, Rhaegar might have been all those things, but he had not been her. Rhaegar was not a dragonrider, he had not hatched dragons when everyone had said that it could not be done. And Rhaegar had failed, when she would succeed.

Turning on her heel, Dany spoke over her shoulder. "And you are right. it doesn't matter much."

Holding her head high, Dany entered the great hall, and she felt the anger boil in her as she could see the scars on the stone.

From when Victarion Greyjoy intended to steal her child from her.

Both Missandei and the Imp were already on the steps, talking quietly. As she watched the two of them speak, Dany wondered what they were speaking about. "Missandei, my friend." She called and gestured for her to follow.

Dany sat down on her throne and gestured for the proceedings to start.

As always court was tedious, yet somehow, today was worse. So many came to beg for assistance and reparations for the destruction that Drogon's fires had caused to their homes. And every time, Dany had to repeat that Victarion Greyjoy was the one who was responsible for the tragedy, and he had been punished for his crimes. Then she gave the people a few gold coins, so that they might rebuild their homes.

Dany felt that the line of people begging for help was endless, yet lord Tyrion insisted that it was only a small fraction of those affected.

Yet with every coin she handed out, she knew that soon it would put a rather sizable dent in the coffers. It was coin she needed to conquer Westeros.

How long until it ran dry?

Daario was right, they needed to take the other cities.

As a man begging for help to rebuild his house bowed and left, Missandei leaned over. "Your grace, lord Tyrion and I have good news." Her words were quiet, and she did not take her eyes of her own slippers as she addressed Dany.

Missandei might not have thought Dany would notice, but she could see that the other woman seemed a lot more reserved than before. Ever since Victarion Greyjoy had tried to steal her dragon from the rightful queen.

"Oh?"

"Yes, my Queen. We received words from Hesh. They have agreed to our terms and soon we shall start reserving the supplies we need for the upkeep of the city."

"That is good news."

Turning her attention back to the petitioners, Dany watched as two figures stepped forth. Both were women yet the taller one, and clearly the oldest was mannish in her appearance with her hair tied in a knot. She moved like a warrior, yet there was an uncomfortable air around her, as if she was missing a limb and getting used to it.

The other was younger, and more pleasing to the eye. Slender as a willow with long black hair, the younger woman was a beauty.

The women could not have looked more different from one another, yet they moved as one, both giving her a deep bow.

"Queen Daenerys of house Targaryen." The slender one spoke, her dark eyes shining. "I am Nymeria Sand, the daughter of the late prince Oberyn Martell, the true prince of Dorne. And is Obara Sand, the princess of Sunspear and Dorne."

Dany raised a brow as she watched the women. "Oh, and why have you come to Meereen?"

"To declare for the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, your grace." Obara Sand declared for all to hear. Dany felt a smile appear on her face at the woman's words.

Lord Tyrion Lannister, however, was quick in wiping the smile of her face. "And here I thought that the princess of Dorne was Arianne Martell, the daughter of prince Doran."

Lady Obara snarled as she looked at the little man. "Be silent Imp, if you were not under the protection of the Dragon Queen I would tear of your head and shit on it."

Blinking at the crass language of the woman, Dany found herself amused by her. She could learn to like that one. "Lord Tyrion is my advisor. Disrespecting him, is disrespecting me."

At her declaration, the tall woman looked suitably chased, as the other walked forth. "My sister meant no disrespect to you, your grace. It is just that our family has suffered immensely at the hands of house Lannister. We were rather surprised to see one of them here in your court, acting as if it had not been his father who ordered the death of princess Elia and her children."

"I was a boy of nine when Robert's Rebellion broke out." Lord Tyrion said as he stood at the bottom of the steps. "I can hardly be blamed for what happened when I was only a child, staying in Casterly Rock."

"You are a Lannister." Lady Nymeria said, a cold smile on her face. "That is enough."

Leaning over to Missandei, Dany whispered to her dearest friend. "I have had enough for today. I will speak with them in the small council chambers."

As Missandei nodded, Dany rose to her feet and walked out of the hall and headed straight for the exit. She reached the council chambers quickly and gestured for the servants to bring her more wine as the ache in her head.

The others followed her in, with the exception of Daario, and the Greyjoys. Likely her master of War was planning their new conquest. Then as quickly as a lightning strike and out of thin air the idea that Daario was with lady Greyjoy to lay with her entered her mind.

No, it could not be.

Daario was devoted to her.

Missandei sat down to her right as Dany watched the women before her. "You have come to declare yourselves to my cause, to aid me to take back my birthright?"

"We have your grace." Lady Obara stood as tall as any knight. "We only ask for two things for you to give us in return."

Dany then felt the anger of the dragon return. How dare they ask for anything in return for what by rights belonged to her. She was their Queen, their felty and loyalty should not come at a price.

"And what is that, pray tell."

Dany could see the doubt in lady Obara's dark eyes as they stared at one another.

"The Martell name, your grace. Only a king or a queen can give those born out of a wedlock the trueborn name of their parents."

"Your grace." Lord Tyrion walked forth, his mismatched eyes on her. "I urge you not to-." Dany silenced him with a hand.

"You can have the Martell name." She did not care what the three girls called themselves, as long as Dorne would be hers. "And the other thing?"

"Vengeance." Nymeria spoke up. Her voice was cutting as a dagger tearing through flesh.

"Cersei Lannister still rules the Red Keep, the home of your ancestors." Lady Nymeria Sand, or now Martell spoke up, holding her head high. "And the Kingslayer was running to the Riverlands the last time we heard, alive and mostly well."

Dany felt a smile tug at her lips at the thought of the man who had murdered her father now missing his hand. Yet she could only wish that it had been her who had taken it. And preferably fed it to Drogon.

"Done." Dany said with a smile. If the other kingdoms would fold as easy, then Dany would be Queen before the year was out. Soon the Iron throne would be hers, and all the lords of the Seven kingdoms would bow before her and her dragons.

Gesturing for the servant to come to them again, she ordered him to pour them cups of wine, so that they could toast to their new alliance.

Regrettably, they could not offer her much in news of her kingdoms, only telling her that now their mother, Ellaria Sand, now ruled Dorne from Sunspear.

As they left, following Missandei to their quarters, lord Tyrion walked forth, looking troubled. "Your grace. May I speak with you?"

Draining her cup gestured for him to speak, not even the Imp of Lannister could dampen her mood now.

"I do not believe it wise for you to support the Sandsnakes, your grace."

"Why not? It was hardly a high price to pay for Dorne, not even Aegon the Conqueror managed to have Dorne on his side when he took the Seven Kingdoms." As she poured herself another cup, she could feel herself grow dizzy from drink, yet as Tyrion spoke again, she felt the throbbing of the pain in her skull.

Ever since Drogon had heard the blasted horn, the headaches had started to grow as fierce once more.

"You are right. King Aegon never managed to bring Dorne into the fold." Dany almost dropped the cup in surprise at hearing lord Tyrion agree with her. "However legitimizing the Sandsnakes when they are trying to usurp their cousin, who is trueborn and next in line for Dorne could affect your own claim to the Iron throne."

A sneer grew on her face as fury bubbled in her belly. "This trueborn heir to Dorne is not here, is she?"

"No your grace."

"Yet these three are. They are here to declare for me and hand me Dorne in the process." She walked slowly towards the little man. "A whole kingdom in the span of an afternoon."

She almost towered over the man, glaring at him with such fierceness that she was surprised that he did not combust. "If this Arianne Martell wanted to continue being the princess of Dorne, then she should have come here, and sworn herself and her house to me. Yet she didn't, and now she has to pay the price."

"As you say your grace." Lord Tyrion bowed and walked out of the room, while a servant rushed in, his cheeks flushed from running.

"Your grace. A Red Priestess, Kinvara has arrived. She wants to speak with you and says that it is urgent."