46 Arrivals

"We need to attack now!" Arms splayed on the massive map table, Theodosius Caryn stared straight at the Hand of the Empress. "We do nothing sitting around here like toy soldiers waiting for some child's hand to move us."

"Now where would you suggest we attack, General?" Tyrion replied, flippance in his voice. At the head of the table, looking out the window at the massive encampment spread out across the snow, the Empress said nothing - not a word had left her since the war council started nearly an hour ago. Daenerys had merely listened while her commanders yelled at each other.

Theodosius pointed directly at King's Landing. "Have the Empress take her dragon directly at King's Landing. Hit it hard and fast before the enemy has a chance to react." Nods of agreement came from across the table.

Tyrion frowned. "If you attack King's Landing with the dragons, hundreds of thousands will die in the firestorms."

"As you can see, she only has one dragon now, General," added Sansa. Hand in the North, so far she had joined Daenerys in keeping removed from the arguments between the military minds. "With His Majesty in Essos with the other two grown dragons, the defenses of King's Landing could overwhelm even Balerion."

"Fortune favors the bold, Lady Stark." Firmly in Theodosius' camp, Tyene Martell leaned forward. Alluring and seductive in a fearsome way, she looked the part of the sand snake she had once been. "Fortune certainly favored Jaime Lannister when he assaulted Sunspear and killed my father. Your brother, no, Lord Tyrion?" The Imp merely glowered, knowing his family owed hers a great debt. Scowl both dangerous and striking on her Dornish features, she turned back to Sansa. "Let us dispense of the fiction that those we seek to attack are innocent."

It was Sansa's turn to scowl. "Not the slaves. Not the people." She remembered the riot she had been thrust in the middle of prior to Renly's attack. The desperate starvation endured by the smallfolk and their deep, passionate anger at the nobility that put them through such hell. Much as she hated those that attacked her, Sansa pitied and sympathized with the fate of the larger grouping. "What honor do we have if we kill those innocent of Joffrey's crimes?"

Tyene was not convinced, thoroughly cynical. "In war, one must seek to win. Honor has no place. Your father should have realized this, as should you after all you've been through."

"Lady Martell." One could hear a pin drop in the room after the Empress voiced herself for the first time. Turning, her face was set in suppressed annoyance. "Lady Stark is the Hand to my Husband in his capacity as King in the North - and to me in my capacity as Queen in the North. You will treat her with all the respect such title affords." She narrowed her eyes. "Are we clear?"

Backing up slightly, Tyene shifted her gaze to the floor in supplication. "Yes, your Majesty."

Nodding, Dany looked at Theodosius. "General. Why do you believe I should risk my dragon and the lives of many innocents?"

"Beg your pardon, your Majesty, but this is not what I am suggesting." He encircled the capitol with his finger. "The main Lannister army is encamped here. There are other forces in the Reach and Crownlands, along with a garrison at Lannisport, but Tywin's main host is holding strong in the capitol or fortress towns around it. A limited strike by Balerion on military installations will push them out into the open ground, where a pincer move - one led by me and one led by Lord Stark - will meet them on the field from both sides and crush them."

"If that's the case, why don't we just wait here," suggested Lord Royce. "Get behind defenses and have Tywin attack us. If he loses the capitol as a base, he'll want to attack us to regain the initiative"

"Or just attack King's Landing." Margaery Tyrell's comment seemed to be well received by the other lords. "Capture it while Tywin is out in the open, then have him attack the walls. It would fail just as Renly's attack did."

Rolling his eyes, Theodosius ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair in frustration. "You're thinking too linearly, my Lords. Geographic goals will only lead us to ruin. It's the Lannister armies that must be the main target. Search," he jabbed his finger at the marker representing Tywin's army. "And destroy them one by one. Without armies, Joffrey could nominally control all the cities in Westeros and it wouldn't mean fucking anything."

"And how do you know Tywin would fall for this sort of maneuver?" Edmure Tully asked.

"Because he had fallen for it once before, during the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion. An infiltration force burned down the military barracks in Lannisport to force him out to attack us." His fists clenched. "Problem was we didn't expect him to go straight for Tarbeck Hall and the rest…" Trailing off, no one from Westeros needed for him to continue. The Rains of Castamere was a tune known by all. "He won't go out willingly though, no matter how much of our army we parade in front of the city walls. The only way to force Tywin out of King's Landing is Balerion, your Majesty."

The room was silent, taking it all in. "I agree with Caryn's plan." Heads turned to the Queen of Thorns. "Your Majesty, I know you seek the adoration of the common people. For peacetime, it would be an admirable trait. Your brother Rhaegar sought the same, and he got it. But he ended up embroiled in a war - not his fault, mind you." With what they all knew it changed the blame completely. "But all his adoration got him nothing in the end. Nobles, smallfolk." She waved her hand dismissively. "All children. They must fear you before they are to obey you."

Sighing, Daenerys wished for Jon. He completed her, was the calm to her passion - except in the bedroom, she thought, fighting a grin. But he wasn't here. The Emperor was flying to Meereen, to defend the Empire she had forged through her own determination. Part of her wanted to follow Caryn's plan and ride Balerion to bring fire and blood upon her enemies. Part of her also knew that she would be breaking her own pledge to do away with the wheel. Daenerys knew where Jon would stand. "I will not consign innocent people to death, General Caryn. That is the kind of needless savagery that we are fighting to end."

Crossing his arms, Caryn took the defeat of his plan with stoic silence. "So then how do you plan on taking the Iron Throne then?" Olenna Tyrell, blunt as always. "By asking nicely?"

It was the Hand to the Empress that answered. "It is simple really, and we must start by looking at the very nature of our enemy." Due to his deformity, Tyrion was unable to well enough reach across the map table, so he stepped down from his stool and moved towards the other side. "There are two different realms in Joffrey's hands. The first is centered in the capitol itself." Reaching the side directly facing the Crownlands, he nudged aside Lord Glover and Grey Worm to make room for himself. "Within he is a god, an ultimate sovereign that secures himself through a mystic following among the battered populace. They see him as omnipotent."

Snorts and scoffs filled the room. "Send in the dragons and that omnipotence will literally go up in smoke," quipped Tyene Martell, drawing laughs and whoops all around. Only a raised hand from the Empress quieted the room down.

Tyrion waited for silence. "Quite, but first." He gestured to the rest of the realm. "Outside the capitol Joffrey isn't the prime mover. That is rather my father in the beloved King's stead." Sarcasm dripped from his voice at the last characterization. "Lord Tywin Lannister is a great commander under any objective measure, but his true greatness comes from the political side. Joffrey only rules the lands he does and counts on the support of the allies he has because of my father's wheeling and dealing - all enabled by leveraging the assets of House Lannister."

"All this well and good, Hand Tyrion," Grey Worm stated, deepness of his accent lessening the more time he spent in Westeros. "But please make your point."

"I've fucking skinned mammoths in less time than this speech," grumbled Tormund.

Even Tyrion grinned at that. "I'm sure you have, Lord Giantsbane of Hardhome." Noticing the still impassive Empress slightly amused, he continued. "It is from these lands outside the capitol that my father manages to get the food and resources to keep the millions within it from going hungry - to keep Joffrey's projects running on schedule. Take those away, and his little fief collapses.

"House Lannister has done this and dominated the political sphere of Westeros by leveraging the riches of the Westerlands. Gold, ore, men, all of it is at the disposal of the crown. And the center of this…" Walking back to where he had been, Tyrion smacked his hand upon a particular spot on the map. "Casterly Rock."

"Casterly Rock is a fortress. It doesn't need a massive defending force," Theodosius shot back. "You're proposing we sacrifice undoubted numbers of men to defeat… what? Five hundred troops? A thousand?"

"And what troops do you seek to send on this assault, Lord Tyrion?" Having plotted - and lost before it even began - an assault on the Rock during the war of the Four Kings, Robb was equally skeptical of this. "Denying them the gold of the Westerlands is important, yes, but as the general said, their armies and food preserves are concentrated in the Reach and the Crownlands. Sending too large a force there would leave us open to assault."

Motioning to one of the guards, Tyrion watched as several markers were moved towards the Rock. "I don't intend to send everyone. Grey Worm and the Unsullied, backed up by Edmure Tully and the Riverlands forces, will march on the Rock and Lannisport. Threatening the Iron Islands and blocking the Westerlands gold will force Tywin to move his forces to retaliate - after which General Caryn attacks into the Reach and Lord Stark attacks into the Crownlands." Finishing, Tyrion knocked over the icon representing King Joffrey, most of the lords clapping with approval.

"General." Meeting dismissed, Tyene bounded up to Theodosius outside of the map room. "Lord Tyrion's plan is… quite interesting though."

The general muttered an unflattering word under his breath. "I have no doubt he knows his father's political and personal thinking, but as a military mind the Imp is out of his depth."

Frowning internally as her suspicions were confirmed, Tyene kept her face impassive. The general was smart and competent but she didn't trust him - seemed to have the same demons that engulfed her mother and sisters. Blinding them from reason. "How so?"

Glancing around, Theodosius pulled Tyene into an alcove. "You have as little love for the Lannisters as I do, Lady Martell." This woman was as much of a snake as the family's history suggested, but he felt she could be of use. "Tywin won't be stupid enough to act desperately from a predictable move such as this, but I cannot prove it."

"And you think I could?" she asked, annoyed.

"Why not? You seemed oftly familiar with that sellsword during the parlay." He smirked at the flash of shock on her face. "Try double checking when you want to be alone in a dark hallway."

Crossing her arms, Tyene gave him her best death glare. "What is it that you want, General Caryn?"

Doors shutting behind her by the two Stark bannermen, Daenerys let out an exhausted breath that she had been holding. Quickly finding a chair, she quite unregally plopped into it. "Gods," breathed Sansa, equally splayed out on her chair adjacent to her. "For just standing around and listening to people argue, this sucks the life out of you."

Chuckling, Catelyn Stark leaned on the lip of the table. "Oh, the travails of youth. A highborn woman gets used to it, believe me." Grief from the loss of her uncle fading since they had held his funeral several days before, she thrust herself back into the life she knew best - that of the elder advisor to her Empress. "Casterly Rock will not fall as easily as Lord Tyrion thinks."

"The Unsullied are the best troops in the world. I have full confidence in Grey Worm to complete his objective." He and Missandei were likely saying their goodbyes at this point… 'Good for her.' A flicker of melancholy crossed her. While happy for the translator as she found the man she was meant to be with, hers was away from her. Away from their family. 'Love is the death of duty,' as Uncle Aemon had told her once back at Winterfell. 'And duty is the death of love,' she finished in her mind.

But her duty would not take away her love - her family. Even if they had to depart for now. "Sister?" she asked. "Do you leave for the North tomorrow?"

Her sister by marriage glanced at her. "I'm leaving tonight, avoid any unwanted attention." Winterfell had to be readied, and she had spoken to Ser Jorah, Lord Glover, and Lady Mormont - the latter of which was traveling with her - about how best to fortify it against the dead. All the southerners but Robb, Margaery, and Davos looked upon their Emperor's proclamations of the Long Night with incredulity, while she doubted the Dothraki or Ghiscari understood the legends of Westeros' past. But the Northerners knew they weren't myths, Wildlings first hand. It was up to them to hold the line. "My offer still stands, Daenerys. The children will be safe in Winterfell…"

"My children stay with me." Dany's firm tone left no wiggle room. Sansa's points were valid - more than valid - but her heart could only take so much. "I've had to bid farewell to Jon. I will not let them leave as well." The love for her family weakened her, but Daenerys couldn't bother to care. They all came first, their entire wolfpack as Arya called it.

Sharing a look with her daughter, Catelyn interjected. "Daenerys, if the Lannisters decide to march on Riverrun, wouldn't it be imperative for them to be safe from such harm?"

An excellent point. "The twins are safest with me," Daenerys replied, half to herself. "They have their guards, my dragons, and Ghost to protect them." Her eyes darted to the marker for King's Landing. "If Tywin decides to march, and only then, I will consider it."

Before either could respond, one of the bannermen standing outside opened the door. "Your Majesty." He bowed. "The Crown Prince and the Princess wish to see you."

Her expression immediately brightened. "Send them in."

Stepping out of the way, soon the twins rushed passed the guard. "Muhna!" Before even a few seconds passed, their arms were wrapped around the comforting form of their mother.

Few could bring Daenerys the pure joy that her children brought her. "Sweetlings, have you finished your lessons?"

"Yes, Muhna," Little Arya replied. "The Maester here isn't as smart or fun as Uncle Aemon."

Oh how carefree they were, it warmed Daenerys' heart. Her children - imperials though they were - deserved as much of their childhood as they could. Denied to her and Jon, but she would be damned if Arya and Rhaegar had to suffer. "Now now, your lessons aren't supposed to be fun. They are to teach you how to be better rulers."

"Just like their grandmother," Catelyn observed, grinning softly. "I remember she never liked sitting still one moment."

"Can't Aunt Sansa teach us?" Rhaegar asked. "She's far smarter than the stuffy old Maester."

Appreciating the vote of confidence, Sansa stood and pulled Rhaegar to her, kissing her nephew on the forehead. "Much as I would love to, little dragon, your aunt is bidding you farewell for a little while. I'm journeying to Winterfell tonight."

Rhaegar's face fell. "But I'll miss you."

Arya walked over to hug her aunt. "First poppa and now you? We haven't seen Uncle Bran in ages." Her face was sad. "I thought the pack had to stick together."

At that moment, none of the women knew what to tell them. Unless one was mad like Joffrey or vain like Robert Baratheon, the seat of power only brought sorrow.

Over the roar of the winds and currents high above the ground, Jon could hear Ollie's gasp behind him. The young squire had spent the first eleven years of his life in the same village in the Gift - now he was journeying across the world on dragonback following Jon picking him up. Below stretched the vast expanse of Meereen, a city whose only match in size was King's Landing and Braavos, Great Pyramid dwarfing all before it. Jon couldn't blame Ollie's excitement and awe. The Emperor felt awe over the breadth and majesty of his domain as well, and had no doubt a younger version of Barristan would have as well.

He could already sense Rhaegal - and Edderon off his right wing - perking up at the sight of his childhood home. It caused a grin to form on Jon's face. "Alright boy, down we go." Hooting, Rhaegal beat his wings and angled down through one of the puffy clouds dotting the sky.

Daenerys had often told him while they were intertwined in bed that she often felt the freest in her life while on dragonback - in more ways than one, he had deliciously found out. Impure thoughts aside, the young, carefree dragon within him emerged on those uneventful days astride Rhaegal. Wind whipping through his hair, the majesty of the earth below him, he allowed it to overwhelm the brooding, haggard Emperor. Joyous laughs left him at the exhilaration. "Whooooo!" Raising a fist in the air as he cheered, an excited Rhaegal looped in the - both rider and dragon enjoying immensely. Barristan laughed as well, seeing so much of the boy's father in him.

Arms wrapped tight around a single spine, Ollie had a rather different thought. 'The Emperor has gone mad.'

After long months of quiet skies, men glanced up from their jobs, citizens darting their heads out of windows, and children in the streets pointing with wonder as dragons returned to Meereen. Rhaegal banked wide, passing the great Targaryen banner. Eyes scanning the city, he found a large group of soldiers in tight formation in the city square. "Looks like they rolled out the welcoming committee for us," he shouted back to Ollie. Further laughs left him at seeing the young squire pure white in terror. "Hang in there. Almost landing." Jon smacked Rhaegal's side. 'Boy, land right there.'

Wings spreading wide to break his speed, Rhaegal began beating rapidly as he descended. With a thud, he landed on the hard stone, letting out a loud bellow to herald his return to the great city of Slaver's Bay. Slipping down his neck - offering a hand to Ser Barristan and the trembling Ollie as he did the same - Jon then moved to pat his snout. "Welcome back, Rhaegal. Now go enjoy your time with your brother." Rhaegal hooted and lept into the air, racing after Edderon towards their favorite hunting and fishing grounds.

A small delegation of dignitaries waited for Jon. The first one to step forward was a familiar face. "Sire," Podrick Payne said, bowing. Stripped of his Westerosi armor, he still looked alien in Meereen with his red tunic, light brown leather cuirass, and grey trousers. "Welcome to the Great City of Meereen."

Impassive, Jon nodded. "Podrick." The thin line soon gave way to a small smile as he wrapped an arm around the young man in a light hug. "It is good to see you again, my friend. The sun has been kind to you."

"Only burned me the first week or so," he replied nonchalantly, skin now sporting a muted bronzed hue.

Breaking apart, Jon took in the troops assembled before him. Most sported the pointed helmets and unshielded broadswords of freedman auxiliaries, recruited by Theodosius Caryn and pledged to Dany - the woman that had freed them from bondage. They, as did the tens of thousands of civilians that watched their Emperor arrive from all around the courtyard, knew not what to make of him.

However, a smaller group began to cheer for him. "White Wolf! White Wolf!"

"We stand behind you, sire!" shouted the knight commanding them. Five hundred knights of the vale and a thousand of the former Bolton hoplites, flayed men shields painted over by an angry direwolf - mouth agape in a vicious snarl. They showered their northern Emperor with the adoration of a comrade in battle, attitudes picked up by the Ghiscari onlookers.

"They wonder about their Emperor," a bald man in simple freedman garb stated, stepping forward. "Mhysa is revered by all of us, the woman that brought us our freedom. Any man that won her heart will win the heart of the people."

Jon nodded. "I hope so." He extended his hand, to which the other took. "And you might be?"

"Mossador, sire. Member of the grand council of Meereen, representing the freedmen." His accent was as heavy as Grey Worm's - if higher pitched - but his common tongue was close to fluent. "These… fine gentlemen," he said with great reservation that piqued Jon's interest. "Are Hizdahr zo Loraq the Elder and Hizdahr zo Loraq the Younger."

Taking in the two men in the full gold/turquoise flowing garb of Meereenese masters, one in the prime of youth while the other was portly and wrinkled with experience, Jon nodded. 'Masters, of course.' He didn't trust them much, but they did back Daenerys. "It is an honor to meet the men of the most ancient family in Meereen. One that kept its honor." The story of the elder's unsuccessful fight against crucifying the slave children was one Dany told him before he left.

"Our honor is our pride, your Majesty," said Hizdahr the Elder. "As it is for what we've heard about you and your ancestry."

Whether it was a compliment or a means to size him up, Jon did not yet know. He'd file it for later - it would be wise for him to meet with all the noble families… as well as the influential freedmen. But for now… "Daenerys told me there would be another man present. The sellsword captain." Daenerys had been, rather cryptic about him. Apparently a real piece of work.

Mossador's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Didn't Mhysa tell you? She ordered him to Westeros."

Now it was Jon's turn to be puzzled. 'Why didn't she tell me?'

A quiet day in the solar - such a rarity bordering on legend in the life of Empress Daenerys Targaryen. In between war councils, going over dispatch after dispatch, and training with her dragons or Saracen, the times where she could sit alone and read were few and far between. Now though, a slight uninterrupted moment gave her that luxury. Along with Margaery Tyrell, soon to be sister in law and her close companion since Sansa had left for Winterfell, Daenerys was determined to enjoy the tranquility as much as possible.

Unfortunately, the reality of the situation before them reared its ugly head. The door swung open as Ser Jorah let in Robb to the room. Taking in the frustrated set of her brother-in-law's jaw, Daenerys' brow knit in confusion. "What is it, Robb?"

"What's wrong?" asked Margaery, standing to go by her betrothed's side.

"Daenerys, did you request any additional forces be ferried from Meereen?"

If she had been confused before, Robb's words left her flabbergasted. "Of course not. I brought the bulk of my army with me, but I left enough forces there to keep the masters in check." Dany searched her mind for anything that this could possibly be. "No, all forces that I didn't bring with me had explicit orders to stay in Essos."

Glancing over the dispatch Robb handed to her, Margaery pursed her lips. "Well, either you are mistaken or someone misunderstood your orders." The news was objectively welcome, but the fact that Dany knew nothing about it left her uneasy. "Seems that several thousand mounted sellswords have landed in Gulltown."

Dany stood. "Sellswords? I never authorized any payments. Robb?"

"Don't look at me, sister," he said, as puzzled as she was. "If one of the generals - or even Tyrion or Davos - authorized this then I would have heard about it." There were several large sellsword companies. Most were used by Tywin Lannister to clean up loose ends - the Iron Bank used the Golden Company to settle debts, and they seemed to have allied with Joffrey. "There aren't many sellsword groups that would contract with us."

"Breaking the wheel threatens their business," Daenerys agreed. "Does it say which group?"

Margaery scanned down the line. "Gerold Grafton is skimpy on most details… Ah." She smiled as she found the requested tidbit. "He says that they are the Second Sons." Looking at her soon to be sister, her face fell at the iron stare that had taken over Daenerys' expression. "Do you know of them?"

"Let me see that," Dany commanded, Dragon Queen returning to the forefront. Snatching it from Margaery before the other woman could respond, she took in the information, mouthing the words as she red. By the end she was fuming, dragonfire pulsing through her veins. "Daario, damn him." With a groan she tossed the dispatch into the crackling fire. "I told him explicitly to stay in Meereen."

Robb felt that there was something he was missing. "Who is Daario?" The name sounded as one from the free cities, so perhaps it was one of his sister's allies from before her arrival in Westeros. The dark snarl on Ser Jorah's face belied this theory.

His suspicions proved correct. "Sellsword captain. Took control of the Second Sons by killing his fellow commanders and allied himself to me. They helped me pacify Meereen and Yunkai."

From the slight quiver in her voice, a flicker of apprehension, Margaery felt there was more to this story than she was saying. While Robb was likely clueless about these female subtleties, she could only guess. "Lord Grafton said that he had dispatches from the Second Sons saying that you gave them the order to sail to the Vale."

Dany's fists balled. "I never sent such an order. This has his grandiose glory-seeking all over it." Banging it on the table in frustration, the options available to her running past her. None of them were good. If Daario disobeyed her direct order, the best case was not something she could afford in wartime. "Is he in Gulltown?"

"No, Daenerys. The dispatch said he was in Dragonstone with Lady Greyjoy. The Second Sons are marching for us as we speak."

Sighing, she made her decision. "When they arrive, integrate them in the army. They're good raiders and light cavalry. Jorah, inform Lord Tyrion that I shall be taking Balerion to Dragonstone."

Eyes widening, he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. "Of course, Khaleesi." He bowed and left.

The other man in the room was far less tactful. "Going to Dragonstone? Are you mad?" Robb stared at her incredulously. "You are needed here, not handling some sellsword that the Greyjoys can deal with."

"Do not lecture me on what I must do, Robb," she shot back. "I trust you to lead the army. You have my authority to do anything that needs to be done - but I am going to Dragonstone. Are we clear?" Wishing to argue more, a silencing look from Margaery convinced him not to. With a nod, Robb left the room.

There was silence between the two women, Daenerys gazing out the window at the river while Margaery crossed her arms and gazed at her. "Do not ask," Dany finally said, breaking the silence.

The Rose of Highgarden was having none of it. "Seems to me that there is much more to this Daario person than you were willing to divulge to Robb. What is it?"

"You're asking." Saying it out loud made it real, and without Jon by her side Daenerys felt vulnerable. Just the rumor of impropriety could make it back to him and cause intense headaches - especially since he wasn't here to see for himself.

"Don't pull that bullshit with me, sister. Ser Jorah's anger clearly proves something happened, and with Sansa gone I'm the only one who can understand fully." Watching Daenerys turn, face full Dragon Queen, Margaery did not back down. "Spill."

Daenerys felt her facade crumbling. The Tyrell woman was sweet and charismatic, but was built of Valyrian steel underneath. Sort of like a more subtle and less bitter Cersei Lannister. "Daario Naharis turned on his fellow captains because he found me 'enchanting.' Likely pledged himself for the rest of the conquest of the Ghiscari lands for that reason as well."

Arms still crossed, Margaery was worried for Jon's heart with this development. "Were you lovers?"

"Yes… well no… not as far as that." Shame covered Dany's expression. "He pined for me, flirting and the like. Daario can be called an attractive man you wouldn't kick out of bed, but I loved Jon, pined for him. Do you understand?"

"I do, sister." Looking back, considering that Renly's deep preference for men meant he had never managed to actually consummate their marriage, Robb was the only man she ever gave her body to. Or would ever if the Gods were kind. "So you did spend the night together."

She sighed. "Once. I missed Jon so much that I imbibed too much wine… and I guess I slipped up." Dany covered her face with her palm. "I don't even remember it." Such wasn't the worst part of it. "He proclaimed his love for me in the lead up to the departure from Meereen, and I then ordered him to stay there. He did not take it well."

"Think he's betraying you?" Deliberately breaking Daenerys' order… it made Margaery uneasy. Sellswords changed allegiances like chameleons changed colors, all for the next bag of gold. The fact this Daario was a rejected suitor only made the situation more apprehensive. "Those troops arriving here leave Meereen less defended."

Considering it, Daenerys figured it was possible but unlikely. "No, not Daario. He's slick and manipulative, but seems to have some form of caring for me."

"Be careful. Jilted lovers are the reason that your family was overthrown, after all."

"True." Daenerys slumped in her chair. "I highly doubt it, however. What worries me is that he's going to make an effort to win me back, which would create a schism between Jon and I."

"So you have to go to Dragonstone."

She hung her head. "Yes."

The Night King had performed wonders. Throughout the entirety of Westeros, even normal winter temperatures had plummeted, record books kept by the Maesters at the Citadel showing record lows across the continent. Snow was recorded as far south as Harrenhal, close to an impossibility by normal standards. And yet, staring up at the ceiling with his chest bare and blanket tossed aside, Jon reasoned that even the Night King couldn't yet end the fetid heat that hung over the city of Meereen.

Mossador had informed him that the height of the Great Pyramid brought cooling breezes. Perhaps it was the case for the Ghiscari inhabitants, used to the climate and clad in their flowing robes and dresses. Acclimated to the cool summers and harsh winters of the North and absolutely refusing to dress in anything as emasculating as those gauzy abominations - though the thought of Daenerys dressed in one of those dresses he had seen on the women piqued his interest - the leather tunic and black trousers left him in agony. Even stripped bare brought him no relief. Skin covered in a sheen of sweat, sleep did not come for him.

Turning on his side, Jon brought his hand over the bare patch in the large bed, ghosting his palm over the gossamer sheets. He had been given the royal quarters - Dany's room. The bed in which his wife slept alone all those years. Formerly of small cots that Lady Stark or the Night's Watch had thrown at him, his time with Daenerys had left him uncomfortable to sleep alone. Without the tight, warm body of his dragon to cuddle into. 'You're strength is slipping, Jon,' he scolded himself, though Jon loved Dany too much to care. Pulling one of the pillows into his arms, he closed his eyes and imagined it was his love.

Suddenly the door was thrown open. Shooting upright, Jon rubbed the fatigue from his eyes to find Ollie against the torchlight of the hallway. "Your Majesty, the city is under attack!"

Any trace of tiredness evaporated as Jon was out of the bed, scrambling for his clothes. "Are the masters are at the walls?" he demanded from his squire as he pulled up his trousers.

Ollie quickly gathered Jon's leather cuirass, emblazoned with the Targaryen dragon and Stark direwolf. "No, sire. It's the Sons of the Harpy. They're burning and raping their way through the streets." Fastening the back straps with skilled haste, he moved to grab Longclaw from where it rested.

Lips pursed in an angry line, Jon balled his fists as Ollie tied the belt around his waist. Less than two days in the city that it was, this was his city. His realm. His people, and he was damned if a group of goons beant on enslaving everyone not belonging to them would bring death upon them. Looking every inch the warrior Emperor, he stormed out of the room towards the fight.