43 Parlay

Low candlelight cast a dark orange glow over the inner chamber. Rough stone walls surrounded the large room, adorned with ceremonial crossbows, golden ornaments, and the finest tapestries depicting bloody battles from eons past - directly across from the massive canopy bed was the newest piece in the palace collection. A gory and idealized depiction of the Battle of Blackwater Bay, the King himself the center of the action in his noble quest to destroy his evil uncle. Decoration was lush, but had a dark, dusky hue that invited a foreboding sense to wash over any visitor. However rare one would be.

Truth be told, this windowless cell of a room was not supposed to house the official ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. It had once been a storage facility, housing various arms and weapons during the Targaryen dynasty and thereafter repurposed for Robert Baratheon to be the trophy room - a place where he could marvel at all his victories and gallant actions in his old age and corpulent frame. Those trophies were cleared out, shuttled off to Storm's End for Lord Tommen's use. And it was here that Joffrey moved, parts of his mind not shot with a megalomaniacal lust for power nor a deluded sense of godhead were hopelessly lost in paranoia. Fearing assassination. Fearing demons. Fearing the wrath of the divine if any speck of sunlight touched his bare flesh, he retreated from the airy quarters of the King to here.

A perfect inner sanctum for this particular King.

Standing beside the King, the blind servant kept her head low while holding the gold plate with his Grace's dinner. Thin fingers lifting the greasy drumstick to his lips, Joffrey slowly nibbled on the flesh of the gamehen. Unlike himself a mere fifth of a lifetime ago, the years of self imposed solitude had left only a hunger for power within him. Food didn't interest him much, the potions and concoctions whipped up by Qyburn keeping him steady and mind driven to the end goal.

'They are all scum,' Joffrey thought. Closing his eyes, the pale lids exposed the true size of the bags underneath them - a dark black ring not usually seen in persons under fifty years of age. His servants usually covered it up with the face paint of capital nobility, but not in the inner sanctum. 'All swine, leeching off me to get to the top.' He had secluded himself since his grandfather arrived, showed him his folly. No more. 'I am their god. I shall be a proper god.' A proper god did not show himself to mortals.

Half eaten, he snarled and dumped the remainder on the plate. "I'm finished with this!" Smacking the blind girl upside the head, Joffrey noticed a figure in the corner and smirked. "Here, fool, enjoy your dinner!" With a weak pitch of the arm, he tossed the bone halfway to where his plaything sat.

Scrambling, Dontos Hollard grabbed the scraps in his hands. He was aware of the animal-like degradation he allowed himself to engage in, but at this point only survival mattered. "All thanks, all highest," he choked, devouring whatever was left.

Laughing weakly, Joffrey watched as someone entered the room. He stood, the gauze shielding him from the outside world only slightly obscuring Tywin Lannister from view. The older man keeled, covering his hands with his face. "All Highest, I grace thee for a word."

Shroud covering his bare face, Joffrey nodded. "Please, grandfather. Say your piece." Watching the former knight scavenge like a dog had put the King into a good mood.

"Everything is prepared to expand your domains in Essos, all Highest." If Tywin bore any anger at having to act like a supplicating hermit, it was being hidden well. He learned quickly how to mask one's true feelings - it had to be done in such a manner in the court of the Mad King Aerys.

"Wonderful." Joffrey laughed merrily. "More men to build my Empire. Not the dragon bitch and her bastard lover! My empire. Mine!"

Tywin ignored the outburst. Muttering a curse from behind his fingers, the Hand to the King suppressed the urge to reach forth and strangle his grandson. "Your Master of Whisperers relayed information that may be of some interest to you, all Highest." Remembering the events of the first year of Joffrey's reign, amusement filled him at the future outburst. "Gendry Waters is alive and in the camp of Jon Snow."

"Gendry Waters? Why would someone with a cunt name as that interest me?"

"He is the bastard son of Robert Baratheon." Great pleasure coursed through him at seeing the youthful form tense up from behind the curtains. "One that slipped through Janos Slynt's fingers all those years ago when you ordered his bastards killed."

Staggering back to his chair, an unseen vice clenching his chest, Joffrey felt the foreboding chill fill the room. 'The Lord of Light, the previous son.' The spectral image of Robert Baratheon pulled aside the gauzy fabric, eyes a haunting blue. Blue as ice. 'His rule will win, his time soon come.'

"No, it's not true!" Joffrey flailed, tossing goblets and plates - priceless gold inlaid with rubies and emeralds - at the specter. They passed through him like a shroud of smoke. "The son of my predecessor will never take me!" His predecessor as King… Robert Baratheon.

Blood trickled down the ghostly Robert's mouth. 'Woman born of storm, fair of eye. The golden face she sees, a realm divide.' He gripped Joffrey's hand. It burned from the cold. "I will kill her! She will never come!"

'The mark of the warrior, branded by one employed. One god she crowns, one god destroyed.'

Exiting the room to the sounds of his grandson's angry screams - undoubtedly venting his terror and frustration on his servants or that drunkard of his - Tywin sighed. If his existence didn't serve a purpose, the man that made Dorne howl would have killed the vicious idiot. 'Useless scum that Tyrion is, he always had a way with words.' He felt no guilt about not divulging the entirety of Qyburn's report. There was no need for him to know that tidbit as of now.

All was a mere means to an end - an end where he would be the actual ruler of the known world.

The sun was bright that day. A cloudless sky unobstructed the warming rays upon the white-blanketed landscape surrounding Riverrun castle. Burnt-out husks of massive siege engines and piles of corpses - wearing the sigils of the Combined Army and Army of the Divine Chimera alike - that marred the flood plains following the great clash here had been removed. Idyllic. Serene. Ominous.

Gently stroking Lyanarys' head, Dany exhaled to steady herself. She wished that Jon were here by her side - as she always longed for her husband whenever they were apart - but the regal nobility that draped over her like a shroud shone for all to see. Clad with crown on her silver locks and in the black leather battledress, emblazoned in front with the combined dragon/direwolf of the Imperial House, the Dragon Empress remained as intimidating as ever. Only on dragonback could the effect be magnified further.

"Remember children," she heard Sansa tell Arya and Rhaegar. "Do not speak unless addressed, and if you are, do not say anything but the bare minimum. We cannot give the Lannisters any information in which to hurt us."

"You can trust me, Aunt Sansa," replied Arya. Glancing over, Daenerys felt her heart warm at seeing her twins. Rhaegar wore a miniature version of Jon's leather armor, red-lined black cloak modeled after those worn by the Night's Watch draped over his shoulders. Next to him, the taller forms of Sansa and her namesake behind to steady them, Arya wore an ice blue northern dress - combined with her fair Valyrian features, she looked like ice manifested. Every inch the future of the Imperial line. Pride surged through Dany at their regal bearing.

"Tyrion?" Rhaegar asked, poking around to catch a glimpse of the Imp on Dany's other side.

Her Hand met the Crown Prince's gaze. "Yes, my Prince?" He smiled - the Imperial children couldn't help but cause joy in the ranks of their parents. Several different regiments among the North, Dothraki, and Free Folk had already 'adopted' them among their ranks.

"You are a Lannister, right?"

Tyrion cast a sad smile to Daenerys. "Yes, my Prince. I am of Lion birth, raised in Casterly Rock."

Looking at each other, the twins pondered it. "Since Cersei is as smart as you, I believe she'd see reason," Arya finally said.

"I sure hope so, dear Princess." Tyrion sighed, a feeling shared by Dany and her sisters. "I'm afraid she and I never had as close a relationship as you and the Crown Prince." Smart as they were, the twins were still quite innocent. Hence why Jon, Robb, and Arya were training them in arms and why she was including them in meetings of state such as these. Childlike innocence was a priceless treasure, but those of high blood such as they tragically could not afford it.

Before either twin could respond, a troop of horsemen galloped along the rutted road - bearing Stark banners. Robb was at the van. Quickly dismounting, he hurried up to the raised platform. "Your Majesty," he said formally, given the public nature of the event. "The Lannisters are approaching."

Daenerys nodded. Standing, she turned to the men behind her. "Dovaogēdy, hēnkirī!" At the bellowed command, the entirety of ten thousand Unsullied clicked their heels to attention. Masks on and special winter uniforms giving them an almost beetle-like appearance, the lines and lines of them presented an utterly terrifying aura around the Targaryen Empress. Their Mhysa.

Jolt nearly knocking her out of her seat, Cersei Lannister let out a curse. Part of her reasoned she should be used to the pitfalls of travel overland, but the knowledge of being so close to the destination and an innate curiosity of the Dragon Queen and White Wolf of the North caused her impatience to return. "Damn you father," she muttered. Of course she didn't want Daenerys Targaryen to win, but being used as a pawn/bait for her father's schemes only fueled the bitterness in her.

"Better get ready, Lady Cersei." Her head turned to see Jaime's battle companion, the boorish sellsword that Tyrion brought to King's Landing from the Vale, on his horse outside the window. "We're here." He cast an appreciative glance ahead of him. "I think you should come and see this, my Lady."

Rolling her eyes, Cersei wanted to shoot back an insult, but the earnestness in the sellsword's voice intrigued her. Shimmying over to the other end of the carriage, she looked out and felt her mouth drop. Cersei had seen massive formations of men before, but never one as maddeningly sinister as the wall of Unsullied before her. Rows and rows of them waited on the plains overlooked by Riverrun castle. Behind them were a line of cavalry, Targaryen and Stark banners fluttering in the gentle wind, and behind them were further formations of unfamiliar troops that had to be Essosi levvies…

A large shadow blanketed them and Cersei almost fell back into the carriage as the black shape shot past with a loud roar. As soon as it was gone a second made a mock attack run, diving down before leveling out and roaring past. 'The Dragon Queen's beasts,' Cersei thought. 'Legend and rumor doesn't do them justice.' Even the menacing deadliness of the scorpions she saw seared into her brain, what Jamie told her of the sheer destructive power those dragons brought to bare now all made sense to her.

"Giants too, my Lady." Sure enough, Bronn was right. A massive giant stood right next to the platform that awaited to welcome their opposites for the parlay, ugly face in a permanent snarl. Suppressing the fear welling inside her, Cersei breathed deeply and adopted her normal haughty mask. She was a Lion of Casterly Rock, of the highestborn blood in the Seven Kingdoms. Such was the last thought before the carriage halted.

Sensing her hand discretely fidgeting as the Lannister host approached the dias, Daenerys lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Nervous?"

Forcing himself to stay still, Tyrion shrugged. "Last time I was with my family, I betrayed them. Let's just say I am not looking forward to this." Gazing out at the various soldiers and servants accompanying his sister, he spotted Bronn. At the sellsword's half smirk, the Imp at least had the satisfaction of knowing at least one of his old comrades didn't despise him.

Goldcloak hopping down from the carriage, once he opened the door Daenerys caught a glimpse of Cersei Lannister at last. Reputation did not do her justice, as she was greatly beautiful - golden hair glinting in the sun and the top half of her thick dress fitting her body like a sieve. Perhaps a far more insecure woman would have been jealous, but Dany only felt a sort of disgusted pity. A barely disguised arrogance marred her features, a woman cloistered among the highborn for her entire life. Beneath it, there existed a girl left bitter and angry at the world. No reason for her to be jealous, none at all.

"Presenting," the Lannister bannerman stated, "Lady Cersei Lannister, Queen Mother to His Divine Majesty."

"Honored diplomats," Missandei began, voice steady and firm. "You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen and Stark, First of her Name." Daenerys sat upright as her bodyservant and translator recited her titles, still as stone. Her amethyst eyes were hard and piercing upon the golden lion before her. "Empress of the Targaryen Empire, Rightful Queen of Westeros. Mother of Dragons. Queen in the North and of Meereen. The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains. Protector of the Realm and Valyria Reborn."

Nodding, Dany forced a smile on her face. "Lady Cersei. Welcome to Riverrun castle. I trust the weather is not causing you undue discomfort." She could feel the radiating contempt from the Starks directed at their guest. She had it too, but sacrifices had to be made.

"The weather is bearable, thank you," Cersei replied, another diplomatic smile on her face. Sansa immediately recognized it - the same smile as worn at the feast at Winterfell so long ago. The same bitter woman as then, humiliated and hurt by her husband the King. 'Does Joffrey not have her in his inner circle?' She filed it into her mind for later analysis. Blue eyes fell upon the twins. "Are these the little dragons that the entire Seven Kingdoms have been hearing about?"

Daenerys fought an urge to claw her eyes out, protecting her children. Instead, she nodded. "Yes, this is Crown Prince Rhaegar and Princess Arya."

"It is nice to meet you two. I shall say that you look like true highborn."

"We get that from our mother and father," Arya replied, face as icy as Dany's was. She felt her Aunt Arya stealthily pat her on the back.

"I have no doubt." Cersei turned to Tyrion. "Dearest brother, I gather you had a hand in this…" She glanced up at Wun Wun with a raised eyebrow. "Magnificent set up." Wun Wun sneered, letting out a booming snort.

"There was no need for much involvement of my part, sister. The field commanders know how to form well-disciplined units. And it is nice to see you too, Cersei." No love was lost between them.

Lips curling into a strained smile that did not reach her eyes, Daenerys gestured to the castle. "You must be tired after your long journey. There are temporary accommodations prepared within the castle, so we will continue this on the morrow."

Hands far from his sword to avoid any… unfortunate assaults upon his person, Bronn's eyes discreetly swept the battlements and positions surrounding the Lannister party. Two of those infernal siege pieces - cannon as he had heard them called from scout reports - were pointed directly at them. Archers covered the walls of Riverrun, rows of Unsullied unnerving him. And this was without the ugly-faced giant and two massive dragons flying overhead… two dragons? The sellsword turned knight turned wannabe highborn pondered this. 'There were supposed to be three grown dragons.' One was missing, and he had gotten a good look at the one that nearly immolated him and Jaime alive. 'Where could the green fucker be?'

Shifting his eyes, they suddenly picked up another figure - one he surprisingly hadn't noticed before. A mottled gold/brown cloak draped over her body, hood wrapped around neck and hair. But he recognized the pretty face. Bronn could have never forgotten that face. As her eyes met his, he formed a ghost of a grin. 'Well I'll be damned, the spunky lass made it out after all.' Didn't feel bad at all.

As the Lannister host passed towards the gates, Tyene Martell felt a shiver pass through her at the sellsword's stare. A brute. A lowborn. An enemy fighting for the family that raped her homeland and murdered her father and sisters… A man that saved her life when he hadn't had any reason to.

His tiny grin sent another shiver through her.

Arms crossed, Daenerys glared at her two advisors. "I do not find it wise to have my husband's status lowered to that of a legitimized bastard… nor to have him insulted in such a way"

"Nor do I, Daenerys," Sansa replied, equally stubborn and frustrated at the situation. "But that isn't something to bring up at this point. If - as unlikely as it would be - Cersei has a legitimate offer, we shouldn't inform them of anything that could jeopardize it."

"Lady Sansa is correct. If I know my sister," Tyrion remarked, walking over to her side. "And I do, she'd simply fly into a rage. She was in love… more like infatuated with your brother, Rhaegar. I remember the breakdowns when he married Elia Martell and gave the crown of beauty to Lyanna Stark." Lips curling in amusement, Dany shared it with Sansa and Margaery - the third woman already seated. Imagining Cersei Lannister in a rage over the Crown Prince had for Jon's late mother was quite hilarious. "Better to keep our cards close to the chest, that's all we're saying."

Nodding, figuring they had a point, Dany turned as the door to the solar opened. "My Empress," Grey Worm's face - as minute the expression was - conveyed disgust. "Cersei Lannister is here."

"Good, let her in." She had deliberately made her wait half an hour, and enjoyed the level of annoyance on the blonde's face as she and the man clad in a dirty burlap shift of a monk - Ansel Lannister - enter.

Towering nearly half a head taller than the petite Targaryen, Cersei nevertheless treated her as one would an equal. "Queen Daenerys." Much as she was an enemy to her, Tywin Lannister had drilled in his children a healthy respect for highborn blood. Pureborn Valyrian, Daenerys held the highest born blood of any in the solar. "You made us wait for quite a while."

"My apologies." Her face remained blank, not conceding anything to this woman. "And it is Empress."

"Perhaps." Sitting across from the Dragon Empress, Cersei only then acknowledged the others in the room. "Brother." He hadn't changed, still cavorting with his whore, Cersei figured to herself - she had seen the woman near him at the welcoming committee.

"Dear sister." Tyrion tipped his head slightly in greeting. "I trust you rested from your journey."

Cersei ignored him, eyes falling on the redhead. "Ah, Lady Sansa. It delights me to see you grown into a dignified young woman." The sarcasm was obvious to the point of lampoon, but diplomatic niceties had to be seen through. "I am so sorry to hear about your marriage troubles."

Face cold, Sansa kept her voice low and relaxed. "It is quite alright, Lady Lannister. I have moved on from my loss, though I haven't forgotten the persons and circumstances that brought about such a tragedy." The message was simple. Sansa Stark was no longer a girl who could be manipulated so easily.

Even the golden lion was slightly impressed, but she hid it well. "Lady Tyrell, Lady Tyrell," she said with the same overly deferential smile. "It is…"

"Spare the horseshit," Olenna Tyrell grumbled, having entered just prior to Cersei. "Get on with the actual parlay before I fall asleep." Corner of her lip twitching in good humor, Daenerys silently thanked the Queen of Thorns for ending this excruciating charade. She now understood why Jon avoided these things like greyscale.

Silence proceeding for a moment, Daenerys seized the initiative by breaking it first. "Your father asked for this meeting between us, yet neither he nor the King you purport to serve dared come. Normally I wouldn't seek to even grace my presence with them, but for them to refuse a diplomatic audience they requested is rather insulting to someone of my blood. If the Emperor were here, he'd agree."

Knitting her hands together, Cersei pursed her lips. "No true king would deign to treat with a would-be usurper or her bastard lover, but considering what has happened when a noble comes to treat with those of your House, simple life and limb also are of concern."

Setting down her goblet, one of simple glass rather than the elaborate jewel-encrusted one in Cersei's hands, Daenerys clasped her hands together. "My dear Lady Lannister, if we are to talk of the past, then let me tell you a story. After watching his army burn in the Field of Fire alongside that of the Reach, one Loren I Lannister - your ancestor and that of your father and son - bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen. Surrendered the Kingdom of the Rock and pledged his House's fealty. In. Perpetuity." The last two words received emphasis. Dany followed with a sweet smile. One dripping with silent venom. "Need I have Lady Sansa or your brother instruct you as to what 'In Perpetuity' means?"

'She is quite full of herself,' Cersei thought. Someone that was no more than a little upstart queen hatched dragons and took a city of Ghiscari foreigners with slave soldiers and expected to act like a ruler experienced by decades or hardship. The prospect made her chuckle inwardly. "You do not. Need I have brother Ansel inform you of the crimes of your family on the Seven Kingdoms? Such would invalidate any oath sworn centuries ago."

"That is undoubtedly grounded in fact. My father was an evil man" Daenerys fluidly took the goblet off the table to her side back into her hand, sipping the chilled water within. "Also grounded in fact are the crimes committed on my family and on the family of my husband by your father, not to mention the atrocities brought on the people of Westeros by your son."

A bored look crossed the Queen Mother's face. "The actions of renegade soldiers doesn't concern me, and the lives of…" A mocking laugh left her lips. "Peasants shouldn't concern any highborn. For most of them, steady work and a steady hand manning the whip is an improvement over their idle squalor."

This same mindset was what drove Daenerys - and Jon, she knew - so strongly to break the wheel of oppression that so crushed the lands of their fathers. "They are the people of this nation, and if the gods grant the Emperor and I the right to rule then they command us to husband all our subjects as shepherds would a flock." Her lips curled into a telling smile. "And if necessary, to fight off the wolves… or lions." She could feel her sister and soon to be sister smiling in approval.

"We have armies," Cersei proclaimed haughtily.

"We have dragons," Daenerys replied nonchalantly.

Nails digging into the skin of her hands, Cersei willed herself to remain calm and collected. Her son may have had zero control, but she would in his stead. "I see needless threats are not going to get us anywhere. I come bearing a proposal." Motioning to Ansel, the stoic Faith Militant handed her a scroll. "From my father the Hand," Cersei said, handing the scroll to Daenerys. "Under authority of His Divine Majesty. We are willing to agree to a large scale truce, followed by a permanent peace along the current lines of control."

"You talk of this 'truce,' if it is something that your son or father has an intention of upholding. What would prevent Tywin Lannister of using it to move troops to attack us at our most vulnerable?" Glancing to either side of her, nods from Tyrion and Sansa each fortified Dany's resolve. "Nevertheless, I will accede your request for a truce." It amused her further to see the flicker of shock cross Cersei's face.

"Do you," Cersei managed to say once she recovered her faculties. "Do you really?"

"Yes, a temporary freeze of the current situation, nothing more. In exchange, I wish to form a temporary military alliance to combat a greater threat." Truth be told, she did not have certainty about this, but Jon did. Daenerys trusted him with her life, and if she could get Tywin to agree then the sectarian hate could be extinguished upon sight of the 'Army of the Dead.'

A laugh escaped Cersei's lips before she could stop herself. "An alliance against what, exactly."

"The army of the dead," replied Sansa. "The Long Night approaches, and we need all the forces we can to stop them."

"Pish, there's no such thing."

"I have seen it for myself," Margaery said, the carefree beauty making the decisiveness of her words all the more clear. "This is a serious threat, or why else would we bring something this fantastical up?"

"You are right, Lady Tyrell." Cersei poured herself some more wine. "That is fantastical." She looked at Daenerys. "Such a bad joke. For a moment there I thought you close to an actual, intelligent queen - yet to now fall victim to myth and superstition. Honestly…" An evil glint formed in her expression while pivoting to Sansa. "This is what you get for cavorting with a Northerner, since they are all addled with superstition. Perhaps that's what drove Rhaegar over the edge."

Before either Daenerys or Sansa could unleash dragonfire at their guest, the Hand intervened. "Sister," Tyrion pleaded, hoping against all hope that she had even a speck of filial loyalty in her soul. "Listen to reason. Father and Joffrey can resume their protectorship at the Rock, and Tommen will be allowed to keep Storm's End. Peace, and life, will be at hand for Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella…"

Cersei's facade broke, face flushing with anger. "Don't you dare mention her name in my presence!" Watching him wince at knowing exactly why she was furious, the Queen Mother remembered the words she had told him as her daughter's boat rowed out of King's Landing all those years ago. Their meaning had not dulled with age. "Thanks to you she almost died in Dorne," she hissed.

"Considering what Lord Tywin did to Dorne, I would think the debt has been repaid with interest." Cersei looked behind the Dragon Empress to lock eyes with Sansa, meeting an icy crystal blue. Gone was the scared, immature girl filled with girlish dreams and a blind terror. In that girl's stead was a woman not unlike… herself?

Taking stock of the tension filling the room, Daenerys broke it. "So, I am to be certain that Joffrey Baratheon will not be giving up the throne of my family?"

Leaning forward, Cersei looked upon the Targaryen usurper with barely disguised loathing. "Go back to Meereen, back to Essos with your foreign hordes. This land belongs to its children, and they will fight to defend it from interlopers and bastards."

Intimidation wasted on her, Daenerys mimicked Cersei - leaning forward with a fiery glint in her dark violet eyes. "Your son has chosen war, Lady Lannister, not I. It is a war we do not want nor did we start, but rest assured that we will finish it." Standing, ice-blue dress accentuating a fierce Valyrian beauty, she looked down on Cersei. The Lannister woman saw the same look that Rhaegar had given her the only time they met - contempt.

The old proverb, that when a Targaryen is born the gods flipped a coin. There was no doubt where said coin landed on the day of Daenerys Targaryen's birth.

"I may not have been raised of the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys finally said. "But his Majesty the Emperor has. Believe me when I say that we will turn King's Landing into your tomb before the year is done."

Having cordoned off an entire wing of the castle to house the Lannister delegation, Bronn of the Blackwater was glad that the Dragon Queen departed from the demonic monster persona that filled propaganda back in King's Landing to include a latrine among the quarters. Being escorted by a stone-faced eunuch everytime he needed to take a shit would get someone killed - and he was in no mood to cause an incident.

Halls dark as he walked to the row of stone seats to void the two mugs of mead consumed earlier, the normally alert sellsword was abruptly pulled into an empty storage room. A hand clamped over Bronn's mouth before he could say anything. "Shhhh." A flickering candle exposed the slim, powerful form of Tyene Martell. She shut the door, leaving them alone.

"Well this is a surprise." Looking her over, instead of the barely disguised lust for her sensual body - or sheer terror when finding out what her hidden talent was - Tyene could only sense a puzzled curiosity in the sellsword's glances. "Why are you here, little lady?"

"Perhaps I came to recruit a spy?" she said back… a little too quickly.

Bronn shook his head. "Nah, too open. If you wanted that you'd seek me out somewhere less… conspicuous." He cocked his head at her. "While normally I wouldn't mind a pretty lass alone with me - a Dornish lass at that - why are you here?"

Sighing softly to herself, Tyene propped her back on the wall, crossing her arms. "I've seen many men, enjoyed many men both decent and malignant pricks. None would do something so… flippantly selfless for anyone not their family." Bronn could have killed her that day in Sunspear - as easy as snapping a twig. But he didn't. "I want to know why."

"I told ya' then." Bronn chuckled, remembering the moment quite vividly even though the rest of the fighting that day had long since turned into a blur. "I have a thing for Dornish girls. Like to fight and fuck… my mottos."

Normally she'd laugh at such boorish manners - it wasn't like she and her sisters hadn't been exactly the same iconoclasts among highborn society. But now Tyene pursed her lips in a serious line. "You obviously have no loyalty to anyone. Not the Lannisters and certainly not the Targaryens. And saving me doesn't get you your castle, so why?" He owed her nothing, if anything it was the other way around, but Tyene was now Lady Martell and the Martells took what they wanted.

Perching himself on the wall perpendicular to the noble beauty - he hadn't been lying when he said she was utterly gorgeous - Bronn matched her crossed arms expression. "I don't really know." For once the cocky half-smirk faded, something… deep and pensive in its place. Almost like Jaime Lannister after his amputation. "Your tenacity, spirit… wrap it up with the bad pussy as I like to call it," he laughed as she rolled her eyes, "Fuckin' reminded me of me back when I was some idealistic cunt ready to ascend to knighthood."

Her eyes widened slightly. Tyene had not expected that answer, nor that the sarcastic male version of herself could have been anything but a self-interested cynic. He could have been lying, but as someone trained by Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand, she could tell he was honest - at least about that. Truth be told she felt slightly uncomfortable.

Marshalling her wits, she smiled sultrilly and shashayed towards the door. "Well, you're right about one thing." Leaning back, she craned her neck till her eyes looked into his. "I am bad pussy." Mirth in her eyes, Tyene leaned forward to place a sizzling kiss on his lips. Her tongue darted inside and she felt him responding before pulling back. With a smile Tyene left.

Legs crossed, absentmindedly stroking her thigh with a single finger, Arya admired the snowflakes as they gently fluttered to the rushing waters of the river below. The full blast of winter arriving in the Riverlands, it reminded her so wonderfully of home. Of her childhood - a time before all the shit of the game of thrones descended upon them. She sighed. 'We were so innocent then.'

She certainly was. Back then, the greatest worry that had ever crossed her mind was getting scolded by her father for chucking mud on Sansa's dress. Arya rolled her eyes. If Jon and Robb didn't nearly fall on the ground in violent laughter, and if Sansa hadn't thrown a temper tantrum fit to shake the entire palace, there was no reason to do it. A smirk danced on her lips - the Wild Wolf missed those days - until everything changed. 'The Waif…' It shouldn't have shocked Arya that the Faceless Men would come after her, to finish the mission and end the last chance she had with them. Part of her wanted to tell Jon, to tell Daenerys, even if doing so would cast doubt on her loyalty. But there was just… something. A voice telling her to wait. To see where it went.

So here she was, vigilant and redoubled in her quest to protect her family from harm.

"I thought I'd find you here." Without a peep from her sister, Sansa took a seat next to her, cloak wrapped around her for warmth. "Cersei left."

"Good riddance." Arya spat into the water below. "Wish Daenerys had brought the Targaryen Fire and Blood on her."

"I don't disagree, but it wouldn't have been… diplomatic." In her role as Hand, Sansa had to act with her head. If it meant her revenge would come later, then it would."

Arya nodded. "For the best. Cersei's on my list, you know. The list of people I'm going to kill."

Unsure of what to make of that, Sansa changed the subject. "There's a brewing problem. A quite serious one that I haven't told Daenerys yet." She could feel Arya's gaze boring into her. "Frankly, only I know." Handing Arya a scroll, she closed her eyes and let the cold breeze wash over her.

Dearest Sansa,

The culture shock I have felt since arriving here is immense. The great cities of Westeros have nothing on Meereen. Ours is a stagnant culture since the days of Baelor the Blessed, while theirs has great advancement on nearly every level. Meereen is a generally clean and well designed city, nothing like the cesspit that is King's Landing.

However, there is a tension within the city. Both Astapor and Yunkai are in open revolt, obtaining support from Volantis and Braavos. What forces we have in the region are only enough to prevent Meereen from descending into chaos. It is a close run thing. The free-born are fighting the freedmen, all fighting the Masters. We can't tell who among the latter owes allegiance to Queen Daenerys or to the Sons of the Harpy. Collapse could be imminent.

Only my oath to His Grace and my devotion to you keep me in the needed spirits.

Podrick Payne

Skimming with wide eyes, it was the last line that piqued Arya's interest. "Sansa…" She looked up at her sister with a grin. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Sansa blinked, confused. "What are you talking about. I showed you the letter. It has all the intelligence that's been worrying me."

"Not about that." The Wild Wolf blinked innocently. "You and Podrick, huh?" Arya poked the redhead in the ribs.

Scarlet flared in Sansa's cheeks. "I… uh… I…" Her mouth opened but the words struggled to form. "No… Nothing is happening. I don't want… that." The last word was soft, almost hesitant.

Arya wasn't fooled. 'Damn, she has it bad,' she thought. Her sister may not have been the immature, swooning maiden of before when Joffrey swept her off her feet, but the dignified, cold Sansa still had her tells. Arya had the duty to tease her to wits end over this. "Oh sweet sister of mine, all your life you dreamed of marrying a handsome prince or dashing knight… and you fall for Podrick Payne."

If looks could kill, Arya would be burned alive. "Arya, I'm serious."

"I'll bet you gave him a send off fit for a proper knight. Didn't think you had it in ya, sister." With a smack on the back, Arya dissolved into laughs.

Folding her arms, Sansa huffed. "There is nothing humorous about this, Arya."

"Oh lighten up, Sansa." Arya smacked her on the shoulder. "After that little Bolton shit, you deserve someone to treat you right. Jon has Daenerys, Robb has Margaery, I - one of the only good things to happen to me since father died - have Gendry. Much as I hate all that sappy stuff… I think he's good for you."

The older Stark sibling cracked a ghost of a smile, irritation slightly fading. "Thank you for that, though… nothing actually happened. After saving my life from an accident, he… asked me for permission to write me." Truth be told, it was so sweet and innocent that there was no worry of him being like Ramsay or Joffrey. Some psychopaths could hide their evil natures well, but it was a safe bet Podrick wasn't one of them.

Arya let out a whistle. "Better plan the wedding." This time it was she that got a thump on the arm. "Owww…"

"Can dish it out but can't take it." Sansa giggled. Her smile faded. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Her face fell, cold mask returning. "Things are falling apart in Meereen. Bastards."

"Not just that. I think Tywin has made alliances with the Masters." Sansa looked out at the river. "Think about it, they already have connections in the Free Cities. It isn't quite as far a leap to get to Volantis, and then to Slaver's Bay. Meanwhile, our attention was to be kept by…" she trailed off.

The smaller girl put it together. "So the entire parlay was bullshit. I figured." Arya leaned back. "Just fucking figures."

Remembering Cersei's words, knowing the duplicity and vicious cunning of the older woman from their close quarters in what felt like a lifetime ago, Sansa let out a sigh - sounding more a hiss than a sigh. "Cersei once told me that a woman's most powerful weapon is what's between her legs." She smiled slightly at Arya's snort. "She was wrong, the most powerful weapon is being a dupe. A mirage, though the power in that benefits others. I had no doubt Tywin would make simultaneous moves without consulting anyone. He's in charge, him and Joffrey."

"I could have told you that... Lady Payne." Arya couldn't help but smirk at her elder sister's glare. Reminded her of the good old days. The pleasant remembrance faded in the current reality. "Did not expect him to have ties to Essos." 'Or should I have?' she thought. The appearance of the Waif turned everything on its head.

"Daenerys is despised by certain elements in Essos, her main forces are here, and Joffrey needs slaves to construct his approximation of the Seventh and deepest Hell. Looking at it, I'd be shocked if Tywin didn't make alliances with the Masters of Slaver's Bay. He already has the Iron Bank."

Arya's eyes hardened - Tycho Nestoris was on her list. She noticed Sansa's eyes were just as hard. Pure Ice, like Jon before he was about to behead someone. "Sansa?" The entire demeanor unnerved her.

"Why must this happen?" Her fists clenched, never as angry - as filled with white hot rage - as she was now. "I understand the game of thrones and all, but Jon and Daenerys are good people. They've stayed good and honorable through all this… this shit! Both of them deserve happiness and joy. Why must these monsters keep doing this to them?!"

"Doing what, sister? What do you mean?"

"One of them will have to go to Essos, Arya." Sansa repeated vile curses upon Tywin and Joffrey over and over again in her mind. None of them were enough to end the eventuality. There was no way around it. "One of them will have to leave."

'Damn it,' Arya thought. Jon was exactly like father, a beacon of light in the dark swamp of deceit and treachery, while Daenerys was that rare breed that actually cared about her subjects and didn't see them as cannon fodder. It would destroy them to be apart after they finally reunited. "Is there any other way?"

The Hand to the King lowered her head in resignation. "If one doesn't go, then the entire continent of Essos is lost to Joffrey."