20 To the South and to the North

A vast grassland, from the horizon to the bottom of the battlements. It seemed familiar to Dany, but also different. Unlike the vibrant green or golden tan of high stalks that carpeted the lands of the Great Grass Sea, this was a more muted grass. Drab yet no less alive. Eyes gazing about, a serene comfort cloaked Daenerys, as if she was home. She had never once seen this land, never once graced the unfamiliar battlements and walls of the rather functional castle - yet there was a familiarity to it that she couldn't place.

"Where… where am I?"

"You're where Jon was raised, my lady." Startled, swiveling her head around, Dany was taken aback at the sight of Lord Eddard Stark - a small smile on his lips and a calm expression on his face. He was dead, so this couldn't be real. "You're in the north."

"Winterfell." It wasn't a question, she knew.

"Aye. It ain't much, but it's home." The two of them trained their eyes downward, at the courtyard. A group of boys were milling about, wrestling together. "My brothers and I, thick as thieves," Ned laughed.

Dany felt a longing, a tug deep down inside her. With her childhood on the run, and the nature of her brother, she had never had the image of family harmony before her. Never really had a family. But at least she had the twins, who were as rambunctious as the Stark children before her. Their grandfather and great-uncles. "Was Jon like this? With his siblings?"

A merry laugh left Ned's lips. "Oh yes, he, Robb, Bran, even Arya would scuffle every chance they got. Joined at the hip… whenever my wife wasn't around." A great sorrow crossed over his features. "My second greatest regret. I failed, and as a result Jon suffered."

Tears welled in Dany's eyes, remembering how Jon described the situation to her. How Catelyn Stark shunned him - causing many in Winterfell to do the same. How in an attempt to please her mother, Sansa would ignore Jon even though brother and sister did truly love and care for each other. It broke her heart - and apparently it broke Lord Stark's as well.

"I told her. Told her the truth," he mused cryptically. "But it was too late to help Jon in that way."

Dany looked at him. "Told her about what?"

Ned's emotional smile returned as a girl rode into the castle astride a horse - face fair, figure slender, features stunning, and hair wild and fierce. A veritable she-wolf. Dany stared at her. Her features were so much like Jon, a feminine version. "About her. About her son."

Before Dany could reply, Ned turned to her. "Do not be sad, sweet Daenerys. You aren't as alone as you think." Whiteness enveloped everything around her...

Eyes flying open, Daenerys attempted to shoot upright but was stopped by a stinging pain in her abdomen. "Ahhhh," she winced.

A comforting hand was placed on her shoulder. "Calm down, your Grace." Dany looked up to see Missandei sitting next to the bed, watching over her. "You have to take it easy."

"Where…" both the vivid dream and a general fatigue was dulling her senses. "What happened?"

"You're in your chambers, your Grace. The Sons of the Harpy launched a revolt, killing many and burning parts of the city, but it was put down by General Theodosius and his auxiliaries." Missandei placed a wet rag on her forehead. It felt amazing to the touch.

Dany swallowed, trying to eliminate the foul taste in her throat. "Who was injured?"

A flash of… hurt passed across Missandei's eyes. "Grey Worm was badly wounded, and is bedridden. Daario's head was bashed on a wall, and he hasn't awoken - you took several gashes to the limbs and torso, but the maesters haven't seen any sign of internal bleeding or infection." She brought the silver-haired queen a goblet of water, which Dany gladly drank.

It was at that moment that she noticed a tight weight on her sides. Pulling back the covers, she saw two little forms curled up on either side of her.

"They couldn't sleep without knowing their mother was alright," Missandei told her with a small smile. "As soon as the maester said you were stable, I brought them to see you."

"Thank you, Missandei." With love in her eyes, she gently stroked Arya's silver hair. Her children, all five of them, were what mattered most to her - along with Jon and the throne. They were the closest things she could have to her love, and she loved and treasured them more than anything.

"You aren't as alone as you think."

Laying back, Dany pondered what Ned Stark meant by that. 'Did he mean the children? And who was that girl's son?' She knew Lord Stark had a sister, but he was the one her brother kidnapped, so that couldn't be her. Fatigue overcoming her, Dany closed her eyes. The pondering could come later...

"You do drive a hard bargain, Lord Commander Snow," the old woman remarked, cane clacking against the worn wood of the battlements.

Jon couldn't help but give a modest ghost of a smirk. "It wasn't easy, going up against the Queen of Thorns after all, but I'm glad that you see fit to assist in this important venture for the entire realm."

Olenna Tyrell huffed. "Bringing wildlings south of the Wall. Armies of corpses led by genocidal ice monsters. Personally, I think you are insane, Jon Snow. But I am in no position to judge what you will use my fleet for, just bring it back." She turned and jabbed a sharp nail in his chest.

"I plan to," Jon replied. He looked behind the elder matriarch to the young rose, bowing slightly. "Lady Margaery. I am sure you are quite tired from your long journey. Allow Lord Stark to escort you to your quarters. They aren't up to your standards, I'm sure, but it's the best we could do."

Smiling at Jon, Margaery shook her head. "It isn't a problem." Her eyes flickered to Robb, and then to the floor. "Are you sure you don't need to rest, grandmother?"

"Nonsense. This one here still needs to show me the Tarly boy. No one is conducting any naval planning session with Ser Davos without me being there." The determined scowl of a woman 40 years junior, Jon found himself nearly being dragged towards the meeting hall.

Now, it was only the two of them. The fallen Young Wolf and the wilting Rose of Highgarden, close to falling. "I guess I'll bring you to your quarters," Robb finally said quietly, exhaling deeply. This wasn't like the famed Young Wolf, terror on the battlefield - but with all that had happened, especially between the two of them, he couldn't help it. 'You're your father's son.'

"Yes, that would be best." The two walked side by side, not a word shared between them for interminable seconds. "I'm sorry about your wife," Margaery offered. "The Freys should pay for what they did."

"Aye," Robb ground out, suppressing his grief. His time to mourn her had been in the days following his arrival at Castle Black. Both on his journey north and in the coming months, Robb knew he couldn't afford to. 'And now she is here.' The Tyrell Rose had only gotten more beautiful in the years that passed, and the night they spent together was one of the few good memories of the years since his father left for King's Landing.

Despite his brooding exterior - in ways worse and in ways better than Jon Snow, brothers but so different - and general gloom, Robb had only grown more handsome to the southern beauty. Reaching an unremarkable wooden door, Margaery gathered these was her quarters. "Thank you for the escort, Lord Stark." She looked him in the eye. "If you need to talk, a widower to a widow, I'm always here." Leaning up on her tiptoes, she pecked his rough cheek and disappeared inside.

Rubbing the spot with his fingers, Robb felt that unfamiliar spark - the one even Talisa couldn't arouse in him.

To say that Cersei Lannister had been enraged that both Tyrion and Catelyn Stark had vanished would have been an understatement. Jamie cringed at the memory of her piercing shriek, one that broke glass and was joined with the near destruction of her furniture - the bedroom Cersei slept in had once been the Mad King's study, and her brother could only speculate that the Targaryen Madness might have spiritually rubbed on his sister and lover. Tywin was just as mad, but he was more… self-controlled about it.

However, the only true madness ripping through King's Landing was that of the King. His most Holy Highness. Joffrey, Jamie's own son, though no one left alive besides he, Cersei, and perhaps Tyrion knew that. Ever since the Red Woman had disappeared - hells if Jamie knew what she mattered to either Joffrey or his father, the only two that really dealt with her - Joffrey had been distant, sequestered in his suite of rooms for most of the time. More and more young, female servants were forced into his employ, and he had spent much of his private discussions with a disgraced Maester named Qyburn and a former aristocrat turned proselytizer that called himself the High Sparrow. Qyburn was also chummy with Cersei, but the "High Sparrow" often spent hours talking with Joffrey. About what, Jamie didn't know, but he had an inkling that certain edicts such as having everyone not within the Sovereignguard or Small Council to prostrate themselves to the King were ideas of the High Sparrow.

It all was eerily like the last days of the Mad King, though Jamie doubted he could raise a sword against his own son. Cersei would never forgive him.

A hand then gripped his shoulder, causing him to jerk back and half draw his sword. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ser Jamie," growled Meryn Trant, sword already menacingly out. 'Damn it!' thought Jamie with a scowl. He would have to double his retraining with Bronn.

"What do you want, slug?"

The sadistic freak only grunted. "The Queen Mother wishes you to come to her chambers, alone." Narrowing his eyes, Jamie only nodded and pushed past the guard. He could damn well find his way to his sister's chambers - he was intimately aware of it and its location after all.

Closing the door to the room behind him, making sure it was latched tight, Jamie found Cersei tucked in a rocking chair near the window. The same chair that she used to rock her children - their children - when they were mere babes. A forlorn look had planted itself on her face, blank eyes staring at the window. "Sister? Sweet?" Jamie was by her side, kneeling so that he could meet her face to face.

"We need to secure ourselves, brother," she said, voice flat and distant. Her fair, well-defined features now directed itself at him. "Our son is a great man, Jamie. You have to know that."

He had his doubts, but he would never voice them. "Of course he is, Cersei."

"All of this, it's caused by the advisors." Her voice morphed into vitriol, something Jamie had seen slowly consuming her even before her marriage to Robert Baratheon. Only when they were together was she her old, vibrant self - but that was even rarer since that day in the Winterfell tower. "Baelish, the High Sparrow, our own deformed beast of a brother," she spat. "Qyburn is decent, but Joffrey will only be safe from his own mind if he has his family. You, me, father, his siblings…"

She was clinging onto hope, something Jamie didn't really have when it came to their son - containing the damage seemed the best avenue, but if Cersei could be right, he was willing to take the chance. "You're right, dear. Lannisters stick together, and fuck everyone who isn't us."

The words bringing a triumphant grin to her face, Cersei smashed their lips together in a hungry kiss.

Nearly thirty minutes later, a sated blonde rolled off her lover, both naked and relaxed. "Gods," Jamie gasped, trying to catch his breath.

"I tired my lion out, didn't I?" Cersei purred with a grin, manicured finger tracing Jamie's pec. "I summoned you here for something else, but you had to be so irresistible, didn't you brother?"

"Not my intention, believe you me," he laughed.

Suddenly growing serious, Cersei hugged him tight. "Bring our daughter back to us, Jamie. Make our family whole again." The Kingslayer used his good arm to match her embrace, losing himself in the woman he loved more than anything. Whatever it took - just for a little while - to forget that she had just asked him to declare war on Dorne.

And this was more like it. The entire brotherhood not on sentry duty along the wall had been gathered in a great hall, making the raucous northern feasts looking like a garden party in the Reach. All that was missing were whores and drunken bars. "Brothers…" He attempted, but the yelling and shouting was too loud. Jon turned to Ollie and nodded. As his father's pages had done during meetings in Winterfell, the young boy smacked the stone time with a long stick, cracks echoing through the hall. It got quiet very fast.

"Good," Jon grinned, "Now I have your attention." He brought his hands together, looking over all of the men. Like both his father and his predecessor, Jeor Mormont, he sought to be the fair leader but with a spine of steel. "Let's bring this meeting to order."

Almost immediately, Janos Slynt shot up. "Lord Commander," he spat, as if hating referring to Jon in that manner. "I must demand that you cast out the defeated pretender from Castle Black." He pointed directly at Robb, who sat next to Sam Tarly. "And the women traitors!" Neither Margaery nor Olenna were present at this meeting, but were new residents of the castle. "They do not belong here!"

"Oh shut it, coward!" heckled Grenn, smacking his cup on the table. "I wasn't the one who hid in the woods when we took down the deserters."

"Say that to my face, swine!" Slynt shouted, having to be held back by Thorne. Jon rolled his eyes. The moron probably counted on someone to stop the fight so he wouldn't have to.

More banging on the stone by Ollie ended the shouting back and forth once more. "Enough! No one is being forced out as long as I am Lord Commander. Not at the behest of the unlawful Warden of the North or when the Tyrells have given us use of their fleet." He and Robb shared a nod.

"For what reason do we need a fleet?" asked Thorne. Unlike his allies, he had some sense of civility. Hence why Jon appointed him First Ranger - that and his experience at fighting. With the old Bear dead, he was literally the best out of all of them. He was obedient and respectful… for now at least.

'After this…?' Leaning forward, Jon looked across the entire room. Only a few knew of what he planned - Ollie had been the hardest to convince, and while he was still loyal, he still was skeptical - and Jon knew what would happen.

As he finished, the chaos began. Over half of the Night's Watch were enraged. "We let them through our gates? The gates we've defended for thousands of years?" asked one incredulously. Jon recognized him as one of his supporters. That just set out another back and forth among the men.

"Listen to me!" Up rose the Young Wolf, resolute in support of his brother. "There is no more honorable man than Jon Snow. If he says this is a threat to the world, then we must believe him."

"For thousands of years," opined Thorne. "We have fought the wildlings. They have killed us, burned our villages…"

"And we have burned thiers."

Finn stood up. "I will follow you to the death, you know that. But is there another way?"

Sighing, Jon looked his friend in the eye. "We can either live with the Wildlings, or add them to the Army of the Dead." More murmurs broke out, some starting to come around - the Night's Watch had seen so many miraculous things north of the Wall. Couldn't the white walkers be among them? "There is no argument here. Those are my orders." He turned to Slynt. "Ser Janos, I want you to take over the grounds of Eastwatch."

The bald visage of the former garrison commander visibly balked. "But that place is deserted! No one's bothered to exist there until the Southerners set anchor."

"Aye, best patch it up the best you can. If we're to use it as an anchorage, it has to be as well fortified as Castle Black is. Take the chief builder and ten of his men with you..."

A sneer formed on his face. "I was charged with the defense of King's Landing since before you soiled your swaddling clothes, bastard," he spat. "Keep your damn Eastwatch. Send one of the mad fools who cast a stone for you."

Grumbles and jeers came from the others. "Rumor has it," Robb stated glibly. "That while Renly Baratheon attacked from Blackwater Bay, you were hidden in the wine cellar of the Red Keep." Another round of jeers were sent at Janos Slynt's expense, while he got as red as a ripe tomato, enraged.

Wishing he could laugh, Jon had to remain aloof at a time like this. "That is enough, Lord Stark." His eyes narrowed, centering on Slynt. "That was not a request, that was - and is - an order. Gather your belongings and ride for Eastwatch. Now."

Face contorted in revulsion, Slynt shot out from his bench. "Fuck you, bastard!" A defiant finger stabbed at him again and again. "I'm not going off to freeze my balls off for you, your defeated shit of a brother, or the damn Tyrell bitches, all so you can betray us all to bring wildling scum south of the wall! I will not have it!"

"So you refuse to obey my order?"

"Take. Your. Order," Slynt hissed slowly. "And shove it up your bastard son of a traitor's ass."

Sensing Robb's hands balling into fists, Jon felt his own wave of anger build up. A deathly, icy calm descended over Jon Snow. He knew what he had to do. "Pyp, Robb, Finn, take Janos outside. Ollie, fetch my sword." The boy nodded as Jon stood. 'Come to me,' he shouted in his mind. While Sam had his theories, Jon still had no clue about why he had such a connection. But if he was going to ask his men to do what had been unthinkable for the Night's Watch, he would show them that he was no ordinary Lord Commander and this was no ordinary time. 'Come to me, and do not hurt anyone.' He couldn't help but smirk for a split second. 'Just act scary.'

Pyp and Finn hauled Slynt out of his seat, who writhed and yelled in protest. When he almost escaped, Robb slammed his fist into Slynt's side, not stopping the yelling or the writhing but lessening it. Thorne stood menacingly in the way of the door as Robb, Pyp, and Finn followed with a still squirming Slynt. A tense standoff ensued, the Young Wolf locking eyes with the Lead Ranger. Unluckily for Slynt, Thorne stood aside and allowed them to pass.

"He won't dare touch me! I'm not afraid…" Slynt screamed but Jon ignored him, eyes flickering across the grounds of the castle. Men were milling about, his loyal soldiers setting up the chopping block for the coming punishment. Above on the bannister stood Olenna Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell, Tormund, and Ser Davos Seaworth - a capable man, Davos. Jon could tell. And there was the Red Witch. She gave him chills, the way she could see directly through him. But Jon couldn't think about that, his connection growing stronger and stronger by the second.

What was a low murmuring among the milling crowd of Night's Watchmen turned into stunned silence as a loud screech was heard. A dark green shape passed overhead, bat-like wings spread far across. Jon smiled as Rhaegal landed in the middle of the castle grounds, letting out his high-pierced adolescent shriek to the heavens. Hardened brothers of the black found fear etched into their faces, the tough-minded Tyrells and Ser Davos gaping. Even those that knew about him were knocked back, Robb and Sam flinching automatically. Only Jon stood firm - and the Red Witch. Walking up to Rhaegal to the shocked men, the dragon merely snorted and lowered his head submissively.

Putting his hand on the scaly snout, Jon rubbed up and down. 'Rhaegal, stand down.' The green dragon roared, but drew back, menacingly waiting right next to the platform. 'Good boy.' Running up the steps, as satisfactory as it would be to burn Slynt alive he couldn't. 'He who passes the sentence must swing the sword.' Jon was his father's son. As he passed Robb, he knew that his brother understood.

Grabbing Longclaw from Ollie, he drew it from his scabbard and handed it back to the boy. Now, Janos was shaking. Jon could smell piss from his direction. He was even more pitiful. "If you have any last words, say them now."

Fear all over his face, Slynt began begging. "I'll do what you will, you are my commander. I was wrong." Jon raised the sword but then he cried, "MERCY!" The blade halted in midair. "I'm afraid. Please, I've always been afraid." Barely a moment passed before Longclaw claimed yet another kill. Rhaegal raised his neck in an ear-splitting roar. Wings billowing, he ascended into the sky, leaving a stunned courtyard in his wake.

Watching as Janos Slynt's head rolled away, Jon turned to the rest of his command. "Anyone else not willing to obey my orders?" There was silence. "Good, then let's get the operation going." Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Jon faced Robb.

His brother offered a small smile. "You made father proud, Jon." Nodding, Jon turned slightly to the bannister, and could swear that Melisandre had a triumphant expression.

Looking away, Aemon Targaryen had a tear in his eye. There wasn't a day that went by where the old Maester didn't marvel at the fact that someone so dear to him was so close - a comfort to his aging soul, driving his will to live. But… what use was it? Did he deserve to know the truth? He was certainly old enough, and could be counted on to keep it a secret. With what news was dripping in about Essos, the Targaryen name was being established once more.

Most of all, he wanted to have his family back. A sigh leaving his lips, Aemon ducked back into his room.

"A dragon, a fucking dragon."

"Snow could have burned poor Janos. He will burn us all!"

"What the fuck do we do? What the fuck do we do?!"

"Shut up, all of you!" Alliser Thorne felt a persistent throbbing in his head. It had appeared ever since Jon Snow was voted Lord Commander over him thanks to the deciding vote of that old bastard Aemon, but this latest development only made it worse. "This changes everything… and yet changes nothing."

"We cannot go forward now that he has a dragon, Alliser."

Thorne wanted to strangle the man for his stupidity. "This only makes it more important, but we will wait. That dragon won't be close by forever." The other men nodded

"Please, Lord Caryn," Dany stated, gritting her teeth from within her closed lips. Despite a dose of milk of the poppy - not enough to make her groggy, but enough to dull the pain - her tightly bandaged wounds still ached, especially when she moved. Daenerys always believed that a throne had to be uncomfortable to remind the ruler that to rule was not for their personal glory. Yet that made sure she had to resist the urge to groan and curl into a ball due to the pain. "Please tell us about this new invention of yours." The one that saved her life and that of Grey Worm and Daario, though the latter was still unconscious.

Bowing in front of his queen, the new Lord Commander of the Targaryen Combined Army - essentially comprised of the Unsullied corps, the Dothraki cavalry, and the Freedmen Auxiliaries - cleared his throat. "In my travels around the world, I came across a particularly useful invention while I explored the eastern lands. They have their own word for it, and translated as best as I can into the common tongue would be 'gunpowder.' It is a powerful, yet controllable, explosive."

"And you use it with your metal tubes?" Dany asked. She normally wasn't a technical person, preferring marital and political arts.

"Oh yes, my Queen. We're using bronze for now, though I am still working on making them both lighter and more powerful." He brought out schematics scribbled on parchment, handing it to Daenerys. "The powder and solid projectile goes in the muzzle here," his fingers pointed out the specifications. "And are rammed down. A match ignites the powder at the breech, and fires the projectile. Far more powerful than a trebuchet, and far lethaler to both men and fortifications." He grinned a cocky smile. "Give me fifty of them and I can take any castle in the known world."

Nodding her head, Dany found that pleasing. While sort of enigmatic, never really socializing and spending all his free time in his quarters or the foundries of the city, she couldn't deny that Theodosius was a brilliant thinker. Her dragons couldn't be everywhere at once. Having a less powerful substitute for their destructive force would prove very beneficial. "How many have you made so far?"

With this, he looked downcast. "With my other projects eating away at my funds, my Queen, I've only made two prototypes."

"You shall provide my army two hundred, General."

Eyes widened, the normally self-assured commander - a trait of confidence shared with his uncle, no one ever doubting they would be ready for a fight - gulping. "Your Grace, I have made great progress in constructing the prototype, but there are still design flaws that need to be corrected before I could even…"

"Your Queen demands two hundred for her army," Dany repeated, steel in her voice. A good plan executed now was better than a perfect plan executed later. She narrowed her eyes. "Or is there a reason as to why you cannot provide them to me?"

Wiping sweat off his brow, he shook his head. "Not at all, um, your Grace. The design does… work. I will get on it at once."

"See that you do, general. You are dismissed."

As Theodosius attempted to leave, he passed the court chamberlin, tasked with managing who would enter the throne room to see the Queen. He was a former master, now loyal to the Targaryen realm. "Your Grace, a group of travellers from Westeros seeks an audience with you."

'A group from Westeros?' Dany shared a raised eyebrow with Missandei, who merely shrugged, and with Ser Barristan, who nodded. "What are their names?"

"One of them is Tyrion Lannister, your Grace. Travelling with Lord Varys of King's Landing." At the name Lannister, Dany tensed up. The same Lannisters that joined Robert the Usurper - that currently ruled Westeros. The ones that killed her niece and nephew. "Lord Varys bears a letter from Illyrio of Pentos, attesting to his harmlessness and trustworthiness."

"Bring me the letter." Taking it from the chamberlin's hands, Dany recognized the writing as Illyrio's. "Is that all of them?"

What the chamberlin answered made her tense even more, blood racing through her veins. "They travel with a Lady Catelyn Stark and her son, your Grace."

Immediately, Barristan and Theodosius leaned down to her ear. "You have to kill the Lannister," spat the younger General.

"I know Catelyn Stark, your Grace," Barristan said, taken aback by his nephew's vitriol. "Both she and Tyrion Lannister are the noblest of aristocrats."

"Lies!"

He ignored his nephew's outburst. "They will not harm you if you treat with them."

"No, the Lannisters would only harm innocent children, and Catelyn Stark would only abuse a small boy that did nothing to her. The father of my children," Dany spat.

Barristan blinked, shocked by her vitriol. "I assure you, your Grace, you must be mistaken. I would never imagine she would be a cruel woman." Dany knew he was wrong, even if he didn't know it himself. Her mind raced with ways that she could bring revenge on Jon's childhood tormentor, from throwing her in the dungeons or feeding her to her dragons.

But she could almost see Jon's sad face, the honorable man that she loved silently beseeching her not to give in to her dishonorable instincts. Sighing, she waved Barristan back and straightened her posture - oozing regal bearing. "Send them in."

"You cannot do this!"

A glare cut Theodosius off. "Do not question me, general." Seething, he stormed off, turning the corner as soon as the party entered - Dany resolved to order Barristan to get to the bottom of his rage, but more important things loomed.

"Presenting," the chamberlin announced. "Tyrion Lannister," a shaggy-haired dwarf with an intelligent, mischievous glint in his eye. "Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers," a bald, rotund man with a expressionless mask. "Brandon Stark," a young, crippled boy. "The Lady Meera Reed," a young, pretty girl but in a hardened way. "And the Lady Catelyn Stark of House Tully and House Stark, Lady of Winterfell." An older woman, pretty in a down to earth, tactful manner. Intelligent and spiritually exhausted. Not exactly the monster Dany had imagined. "There are others, but they weren't deemed important…"

A wave of the hand shut him up. "Greetings," Missandei stated. "You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. The Unburnt and Protector of the Realm." The list of titles always wowed the weak minded, and based on their reactions none were such. "State your business."

Catelyn Stark's eyes met Dany's, and both knew at that moment that the younger Queen knew everything. "Your Grace," she said, curtsying. "My son, myself, Lord Tyrion, and Lord Varys request asylum in Meereen…"

"I am well aware of what loyalty Illyrio Mopatis gave to me," the silver-haired Queen allowed after each of the three pleaded their cases, "but that doesn't render my consideration of you any less skeptical, Lannister. Or you, Lord Varys. Both of you served the Usurper and his son with distinction."

Unable to help himself, Tyrion laughed. An eyebrow rose on Dany's forehead as the others looked at him in horror. "If by 'with distinction' your Grace, you mean 'to the point that he was ready to execute us,' then you would be correct." He may have been a Lannister, but she liked his spunk.

"What my companion meant to say, your Grace," interjected Varys, "Is that we are not trusted by Joffrey the Mad because of our actions. None of us want him on the throne, and only ask for the chance to prove ourselves worthy supporters of the Targaryen Dynasty as the esteemed Illyrio believes us to be."

Closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath - much as Balerion or Edderon would do, both calming and menacing - before the violet orbs zeroed in on the guests. "If you do prove yourselves loyal, especially you Lannister, then you will be great assets to me. Therefore, you will be given quarters inside the Pyramid. My Unsullied will show you to your quarters." The gaze softened at the young boy. His features were pure Stark, tugging at her heartstrings. But then she shifted to his mother, and the emotionlessness returned.

As they were led out by the Unsullied guards - mere 'escorts' after all - Dany stood. "Lady Stark." The woman turned, visibly tensing at her voice. The Queen of Meereen may have been the Mother of Dragons, but her voice was like a searing ice. "Come to my solar. I have another matter that I need to discuss with you."