A Furious Thing

Here Be Betrayal

After the revelation of Ashara's identity, the Dornishmen had been surprisingly calm. It spoke to the trust they had in him, and it was incredibly encouraging. Jon had told him since he was a boy, that while the people lived in fear of King Aerys, they truly loved Prince Rhaegar. His father was a man capable of inspiring love in his people.

For the first time, he knew the trust of his followers. The Dothraki and the Golden Company fought for him because of his promises of rewards. But these men and their foot soldiers were fighting for him. They wanted to win him his throne back. It was a powerful thing.

As the music was struck up, notes carrying high through the air, the dancing began, giving everyone a chance to step away from their tables and speak to one another. There weren't enough women for everyone to be partnered, but it was no trouble.

Ashara had stood up and moved through the crowd, greeting people and stopping to speak at every turn. Daenerys had struck up a conversation with a mixed group of minor lords and ladies, and the Martell's all mingled easily.

Aegon knew he should be speaking to his men, moving through the room and trying to speak to everyone he could, but Arya sat, stiff in her chair, making no move to rise.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked.

"Feasts look different from up here," she answered simply, voice tight with...with something. He cursed the fact that he didn't know her well enough to understand what might be troubling her. "If I was permitted to feasts..." she trailed off, but he saw a hardness appear in her light eyes, and she pressed on, "If Lady Catelyn allowed me to sit at feasts, I sat at a lower table, with the servants."

He was surprised she would share this with him. Obviously, being a bastard had hurt her. She needn't admit that to him. But he was grateful she had. He placed a light hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She stared at him in shock. "You wandered the free cities as an exile. At least I had a home."

He shook his head, chuckling. "I don't think we should hold a competition on who had it worst, sister. Our Aunt would win, no matter how hard we suffered,"

She quirked her head at him.

"Her brother, our Uncle Viserys was a dreadful man. He... He sold her to a Dothraki chief when she was young. He had no idea she'd be safe with him, but he did it anyway. After he died, Daenerys and the horse lord grew to love each other. And then he died,"

She gasped. He nodded, frowning. "We have the support of the Dothraki for two reasons. One, I have promised them wealth beyond imagining for their help. And two, they fight in Khal Drogo's memory, for his fierce dragon widow."

Arya's eyes sought out their aunt, fascination and wonder apparent, and Aegon smiled proudly. Aunt Daenerys was quite the woman.

"Arya," he said, suddenly forgetting his smile. "You are no bastard. You never were a bastard. You're a princess, and this is where you belong. No one may take that from you."

Not even king Robert.

He spent the rest of the night trying to get his sister to journey from her chair. He managed to get her to travel off of the dais by enticing her with the presence of the Sand Snakes. It hadn't been hard to see the way she'd been looking at them earlier that day.

She met them with a twinkle in her eyes. Aegon was delighted at how she reacted to them.

"Nymeria!' she exclaimed, grinning. "I named my direwolf Nymeria!"

"A direwolf?" Nymeria Sand responded, sounding incredulous. "You have a direwolf?"

"All the Stark children do. Our father... Lord Stark found a litter of them in the forests north of Winterfell. Their mother had died. There was a pup for each of his children. And I received the smallest of the litter. She's a beautiful beast," she said, smiling affectionately.