#could she have done more to shore up her claim? sure. could viserys have done more to shore up her claim? hell fucking yeah

[cassatine]

Rhaenyra getting more shit for staying on Dragonstone instead of in King's Landing to play the political game or whatever than Viserys gets for recalling Otto as Hand, thus pretty much handing power to the faction he knows to be his heir's political opponents and metaphorically shooting Rhaenyra in the political kneecaps, is one of the most Takes in a fandom full of Takes

[razieltwelve]

An Offer (Final Rose x Game of Thrones)

Daenerys paused. There was a musician with a harp in her room. She couldn’t remember asking for a musician, and she doubted her brother would have sent one. Her brother had not been kind to her in a very long time, and she doubted he ever would be again. People often whispered of the madness that lurked in Targaryen blood, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had ruled over Viserys.

Was the kind brother she could only vaguely remember nothing more than a figment of her imagination, or had time truly changed him for the worse?

“Who are you?” Daenerys asked. She backed toward the door only to find her path blocked by a pair of men. Their appearances were so ordinary that she couldn’t help but be afraid. Ordinary men were dangerous, for they could strike with impunity and melt back into the crowd. “If I scream, the guards will come for me.”

“The guards,” the musician replied. “Have already been dealt with.” She flicked her wrist, and a knife appeared. She twirled it around with the sort of skill and ease a master craftsman might have used to carve a block of wood. The weapon was a blur of steel, flicking up and around her fingers before settling into her palm. Another flick of her wrist lodged the knife in the door frame, a single lock of Daenery’s hair pinned against the wood. “And if I had wanted you dead, Daenerys, you would be. So sit, and let us have this conversation like civilised women, and perhaps you might even find yourself enjoying the music.”

Daenerys sat.

The young woman - a girl, really, for she could not be that much older than Daenerys herself - began to strum the harp. Despite the situation, Daenerys couldn’t help but appreciate her skill. It was... lovely, a cultured, measured song that called to mind days spent in quiet contemplation by bubbling brooks or whispering shores.

“You have a choice before you, Daenerys,” the girl said. “And depending on what you choose, it may be the last choice you have in a long time.”

“What choice?” Daenerys asked bitterly. “If you are here then you know what my brother wants me to do.” The mere thought of it made her shudder in disgust. The things her brother had said to her... that he would let all forty thousands of the Khal’s men have their way with her if it would secure him an army...

“There is always a choice.” The girl smiled. “Why, you could take that knife in the doorframe there and cut your own throat. If that is a little too difficult, then perhaps you could slit your wrists instead although I recommend going up and following the vein rather than simply cutting across. It tends to work far more quickly, and the last thing you want is someone stopping you.”

Daenerys stared. “What kind of choice is that? I... I don’t want to die! I want to live! I...” Daenerys knew what she wanted, but she had never quite dared to voice the words. Viserys would have beaten her or worse. “I... I want to be free.”

“Free,” the girl replied. “It’s an interesting word. Is anyone truly free? Take your friend the magister. He has wealth and power, yes, but he has obligations. He has things he must do if he wishes to retain his wealth and power. Is he free? More than a slave, perhaps, but truly free? I doubt it.”

“A king is free,” Daenerys retorted. 

“Are you sure?” The girl’s lips twitched. “You brother calls himself a king, and by blood, he may very well be. But does he act free to you?”

Daenerys shook her head. “No.”

“In fact, I’d say that being a king is the precise reason he isn’t free.” The girl chuckled and continued to strum her harp. There was something vaguely disconcerting about the melody now, something that made Daenerys shiver. She thought of turbulent seas and dark waters too deep for anyone to see the bottom. “You’re not stupid, Daenerys. I’m sure you and your bother got offers from wealthy magisters and nobles eager to add your royal blood to theirs. You could have lived a life of comfort and luxury. Your brother wouldn’t be a king, but he wouldn’t need to marry you off to a Dothraki warlord either.”

Daenerys’s fists clenched, and for a moment, she felt a stab of anger so hot and heavy it made it hard for her to think. Viserys liked to talk of sacrifice, but it was she who was always being asked to sacrifice. If his plan worked out, he would be a king, but where would she be? She would be stuck with the Dothraki, treated as little more than a broodmare by some savage warlord. “Then what? What am I supposed to do? You sound like someone who thinks they have all the answers! Well, what is my answer? How can I be free?”

The girl smiled beatifically. “Oh, Daenerys, I thought you’d never ask.” She stopped playing the harp and stood. She was tall for a woman, Daenerys thought, but there was something about her that made her loom larger still. It was the knowing gleam in her eyes. It was the absolutely certainty in her gaze. This was a woman with power. This was a woman who did as she pleased. “Your answer is very simple.”

“What?” Daenerys whispered. She shook herself. “Who are you?”

The woman gestured, and the room around them darkened. For a moment, they were bathed in utter darkness, and the only thing Daenerys could see were the shining eyes of the other woman. Was this magic? She had heard that there were those who used magic in Essos, but she had never met them before.

“I am the person who can set you free, Daenerys. All you have to do is come with me, here and now.”

Daenerys recoiled. “Stop this.” She swallowed thickly. The darkness seemed to be closing in on her. “Please.”

“There is magic in your blood, Daenerys,” the girl said. “I can feel it.” She took a step closer, and Daenerys tried to retreat only to find her feet rooted to the floor. “Your brother calls himself a dragon, but the fire in his blood is weak, little more than embers. There is an inferno raging inside you. I wasn’t sure until I met you, but I can feel it.”

The darkness retreated, and Daenerys looked around frantically. If the men standing behind her had noticed anything odd, neither of them gave any sign of it.

“I...”

“You have a choice, Daenerys, you can come with me, or you can stay here. If you stay, you will wed the Khal, and what happens next... well, I’m sure you’ve had nightmares about what that might be.”

“And if I go with you?”

“If you go with me, I will see you educated. I will see you trained. I will see you made into a woman worthy of the great name you bear. Daenerys Targaryen... the Stormborn, some call you. By the time I’m done with you, they will call you Storm Queen.”

“You offer much,” Daenerys murmured. “But what would you ask in return?”

“Valar morghulis... all men must die.” The girl chuckled. “And all women too. But when I die, I wish to leave a legacy that shall live long after I am gone. You see, I am from Braavos.”

“Braavos?”

“Yes. And if there is a dream we Braavosi have had, it is to wipe out slavery in Essos. You wish to be free? We Braavosi wish for everyone to be free. If you go with me, then you must swear on your life and all that you hold dear that you will do everything in your power to aid me in this quest.”

“What could I possibly do to help you?” Daenerys asked.

“You’d be surprised.” The woman flicked her wrist, and the space beside her shimmered. There, settled upon a trio of velvet cushions, were three dragons eggs. “The dragons are dead, or so I’ve heard, but magic has returned... and perhaps, just perhaps, the dragons might not be dead forever.”

Daenerys stared at the dragon eggs. Something called out to her, a tug on her very soul. “I...”

“If you wish to be free, Daenerys, then you must be willing to make the choices that come with that freedom. A free woman chooses her fate, so you must choose yours.” The girl extended her hand. “Come with me, Daenerys. They call your brother the Beggar King. One day, perhaps, with the right training and support, they will call you the Breaker of Chains, the one who brought fire and ruin... but not to enslave, no, to free.”

“Did you see that with your magic?” Daenerys whispered. “Have you seen my future?”

“There is no future but the one we make,” the girl replied. “So... stay or go, Daenerys?”

“I...” Daenerys reached out and took the girl’s hand. “I will go with you.”

The girl smiled. “I’m so glad you chose wisely.”

X     X     X

Alera, the girl who had once been Jahne, was not surprised that Daenerys had practically collapsed after being smuggled onto her ship. The poor girl was utterly exhausted emotionally, and Alera had no doubt that she would have to spend the next several months at least dealing with all of the various problems that Daenerys had developed over the years. There had long been rumours about the madness of the Targaryen bloodline, but after closely studying their history, Alera was willing to bet that it had more to do with the absolutely horrific way most of them were raised.

Good grief. Targaryen parenting was awful.

Still, with the city in a state of disarray as the magisters searched frantically for Daenerys, Alera still had one last loose end to tie up. After all, having the second-last Targaryen wouldn’t be nearly as good as having the very last Targaryen.

She had brought her more... gentle associates to the meeting with Daenerys, men who radiated quiet menace rather than the sort of pure, undiluted malice some of her other associates were capable of. However, those were the ones she’d brought to this particular meeting.

“You know,” she drawled as one of her men drove a meaty fist into Viserys’s gut. “If you’d been any less stupid this wouldn’t have worked. Honestly, what sort of fool gets an anonymous message claiming to have found Daenerys and then charges off to the meeting point without bringing any backup.”

“A fool, my lady,” Tereno replied. Despite his towering size, the man was sharp and cunning. She’d saved him from the hangman’s noose, and he’d sworn his life to her. Naturally, she made sure to keep him well rewarded. Amongst his many, many skills, Tereno was a master of beating a man until he wished he was dead without actually killing him. 

“Indeed.” Alera waited until Viserys had dragged in some air before nodding at Tereno. Another punch folded him over again, and Alera shook her head. “Such a waste. Now, if I had been born an exiled Targaryen prince, you can be sure that nobody would be calling me a Beggar King.”

“I am no Beggar King!” Viserys growled, somehow finding the air to speak. It was almost admirable. “I am the rightful King of Westeros! The people clamour for my return!”

“The only thing they clamour for,” Alera replied. “Is Robert Baratheon’s favour. After your family’s disastrous rule, Robert has proven to be quite a good king, or so I’ve heard. The small folk praise his name, and revel in the prosperity his reign has brought. Besides...” Her lips curled. “What sort of king finds himself being beaten along the docks in the middle of the night?”

Viserys reared back to spit, and she calmly nodded at Tereno. Another punch folded him over again, and she heard him curse as the sudden impact had him biting his tongue.

“I do hope you didn’t bite your tongue too badly. It would be shame for you to go that way. I mean... your end isn’t exactly going to be the stuff of legends, but it will still be a good deal less ignominious that simply biting your tongue off.”

“What?” Viserys groaned. “You can’t! You can’t kill me! I am the rightful King of Westeros! I am a dragon! I will -”

“You know,” Alera said as another nod brought another punch. “You’re not very bright. Most people would have learned that speaking out of turn gets them a punch in the gut.” She glanced at Tereno. “I’m making you work quite hard tonight, it seems, old friend.”

The brawny man chuckled. “You also pay me very well. I’m not afraid to earn my keep.” The others laughed. Behind her, and slightly to her right, Velena gave a throaty chuckle. The assassin was an absolute master of using her looks to her advantage, and there were few who could match her expertise in stealth, poisons, and daggers. It was Velena who had lingered here, catching Viserys’s eye just enough that he never noticed Tereno closing in on him until it was too late. “Shall I keep hitting him?”

“No.” Alera smiled. “Now, do you think you can keep quiet?”

Viserys looked as if he wanted to say something, but a scowl from Tereno had him nodding quickly.

“Ah, very good. It seems you are capable of learning.” Alera rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “You see, Viserys, you’re something of a problem for me. For all that you’ve treated her horribly, there is a part of Daenerys that still loves you as her brother. It would be most inconvenient for me to spend so much time and effort training her only for you to return and mess everything up. Moreover... are you familiar with the concept of supply and demand?”

Viserys shook his head.

“In simple terms, Viserys, if people want something, then they’ve got to pay for it. But the more of that something there is, the less they have to pay. All things being equal greater supply lowers the value of something. But if everyone wants something and there is hardly any of it, well, in that case, the value of that something increases dramatically.” Alera’s warm smile turned cold. “Targaryens are in high demand, Viserys. Every city and noble in Essos would like to have one. That’s the only reason you’re not out on the street like the beggar you are. But supply... now that’s a tricky one. If there are two Targaryens left, then the one I’ve got - and yes, I’ve got your sister - is less valuable.”

His eyes widened in sudden horror as he put the pieces together. 

“Ah, yes. You see. Oh well. If only you’d used that brain of yours earlier, we might not be standing here.” She grinned. “Imagine how valuable your sister will be if she truly is the last Targaryen.”

“You can’t do this!” he blurted. “I... I’ll pay you!”

“With what?”

“I... when I become king!”

“The only thing you’ll be ruling will be the bottom of the harbour.” She nodded at the others. “Help our friend here put on his new shoes.”

As Viserys writhed against Tereno’s steely grip. The others attached thick, weighty metal shackles onto his legs. The moment they released him, the chains clanked onto the ground with a heavy, ominous thud. Combined with the block of stone they were attached to, Viserys was looking at an extra hundred pounds or more of weight.

“They say that fire cannot kill a dragon,” Alera said as Tereno dragged him toward the water’s edge. “But it was also said that in days long gone, the water wizards of the Rhoyne drowned the dragons in its waters.” She smirked. “I’m not water wizard and this isn’t the Rhoyne, but I’m sure you can see the similarities.”

“No!” Viserys screamed. “No -”

Whatever else he might have said was drowned out by the splash he made when Alera kicked him into the water, the shackles dragging the block of stone in after him. She leaned over the edge and watched him sink toward the bottom, flailing and screaming, before she slowly counted to a hundred just to make sure. When he failed to miraculously return to the surface, she shrugged.

“I don’t know if fire can kill a dragon, but it seems like water can.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Good, old Alera (Jahne) turning that charisma stat up to eleven. This Daenerys is still young and relatively easily influenced. That’s why Alera tells her the truth, more or less, about what she wants to do with her. As she will later say to Daenerys: ‘I may not tell you everything and I may even twist things a little, but I will never outright lie to you.’

Being capable of ‘magic’, Alera can sense the growing strength of magic, and she has done enough research to know what that might mean. Once she heard about the dragon eggs, she knew that she could no longer simply observe (she had travelled to Pentos in disguise to get a better idea of what was going on). This was her best chance to secure both the eggs and Daenerys’s loyalty.

Of course, she also had to deal with Viserys. No loose ends, and all that. If Danaerys ever asks, she’ll simply tell her that Viserys drowned while searching for her. It’s the truth, albeit not the whole truth. 

And to everyone else, it will seem as though Daenerys has simply vanished. By the time she arrives in Braavos, she will have a disguise and a backstory, so that Alera can continue to teach her without anyone asking any unneeded questions.

As for the people Alera brought, you’ll see more of them. She does need minions to help carry out her plans, so she’s been very careful to choose only the best, brightest, and most loyal.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[coffereadsasoiaf]

Thoughts on ACoK Dany II and III

ACoK Dany III actually reminded me about the passage in ACoK Dany II that I wanted to talk about ages ago. So, she has just arrived to Qarth and while taking a bath, she has the following thoughts:

“The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would have led his khalasar across the poison water and swept away her enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father. But before she could do that she must conquer. (…)

How could she hope to overthrow such men? When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king… but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

Her doubts made her shiver. (…) As the handmaids toweled her dry and wrapped her in a sandsilk robe, Dany’s thoughts went to the three who had sought her out in the City of Bones. The Bleeding Star led me to Qarth for a purpose. Here I will find what I need, if I have the strength to take what is offered, and the wisdom to avoid the traps and snares. If the gods mean for me to conquer, they will provide, they will send me a sign, and if not… if not…”

A Clash of Kings, Daenerys II

When I first read this I was intrigued because (as far as I remembered on the spot) this is one of the first time Dany explicitly:

states her goal as the future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms (which no other contender to the throne has done yet - of course the thing is we have a pov for her and not for the others but still)

acknowledges what getting to the Iron Throne could (and, as a consequence, what she is willing to do to get there)

gives her reasoning as to why she thinks she should sit on it in the first place

I had some things I wanted to make note of about these three points, I’ll put them under a read more because I tend to ramble a lot. (Please keep in mind that I have not read further than ACoK Dany III so everything I’ll say is strictly based on what I’ve read so far).

So as to point 1, she says she wants her kingdom to be beautiful (since she’s clearly fascinated with Qarth I think she means for it to be prosperous and thriving), with fat men = people who are not starving (might be cause she just risked that in her last chapter), pretty maids (??? she has an aesthetic I guess) and laughing children = kids who are raised happily (unlike herself) and in good conditions. And she wants to be loved by her people, like she thinks her father was (probably not true, but Viserys wasn’t the most trustworthy guy around). So: a flourishing kingdom where the people have enough to eat and the innocents are safe and happy. Which is great on paper but also a pretty idealistic and somewhat childish vision, and I think it comes across especially because of the terms she uses to describe it (fat, pretty, beautiful); this makes a lot of sense to me since she is fourteen and (despite some very adult-like experience she had to endure) very much still a kid. 

The most interesting though is point 2: she seems aware that the Dothraki way of raising funds is based on “sacking cities and plundering kingdoms” and she says she doesn’t want to reduce the Seven Kingdoms to a “blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts”. But a couple of lines later, after thinking of how she would want a beautiful and peaceful kingdom where people loved her, she thinks: “But before she could do that she must conquer.” Then, in the next paragraph, she thinks of how Drogo’s support would help her in defeating her political enemies now (she mentions Robert, Ned, Tywin and Jaime): “When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager”.

So when I first read it I was like: this is the most Machiavellian* thing I’ve ever read, meaning that it’s a very “the end justify the means” type of mindset (*not using the term in a negative way btw). And she seems to lament not having Drogo to help her (which, in her own words, would mean conquering cities, stealing wealth, abusing women). But I was also a little confused because back in AGoT, even though she clearly accepted the support of the Dothraki and the idea of what they would do to help her cause (pillaging and raping and so on), when she was actually confronted with the reality of it she actually acted to stop it, putting herself in somewhat of a politically dangerous position, because she was defying the “rights” of the Dothraki warriors. So she actively used her influence over Drogo to save the girls from raping, despite being told by Ser Jorah (who can choke), her servants and bodyguards that she was offending Drogo’s men, going against their culture, dishonoring them and so on. Now, she was clearly too late and she doesn’t realize that before she stepped in to defend these women, they had already been raped multiple time and lost their families and homes because of a Dothraki attack that was initiated to help her get to the Iron Throne (which is what Mirri Maz Duur then tells her, but Dany doesn’t register because she is traumatized by the miscarriage and Drogo’s state and she quickly focuses on Mirri Maz Duur “betrayal”, by default refusing to properly listen to her point). She then burns Mirri alive and never (as far as I remember) reconsiders her opinion on her, maintaining that she was a traitor who killed Drogo and her child even though Dany tried to help her escape rape. Dany is very much in the wrong here, but I do think this is heavily influenced by 1) the trauma she has just gone through and also 2) her young age. The fact that when faced with the consequences of the attack on innocents she would act to protect them, but then she would fail to see that that is very much the type of support she had accepted from Drogo, reminds me of how some kids don’t have a proper grasp on real life consequences, so they end up doing stupid stuff because they can’t see the problematic aspect in the abstract concept but then when faced with the reality of their behaviour they might actually correct their actions (of course, in this world “stupid stuff” is like “allowing people to get murdered or assaulted” but we gotta work with what we’ve got I guess). In Dany’s case (until now at least) I see it as a sign of immaturity rather than straight up ruthlessness, as it is for Tywin or Bailon (adults who clearly know exactly what they are allowing, but accept it without blinking an eye) or even (big sigh) Theon who in this moment in the story is leading a type of attack on the Stony Shore which is comparable to a Dothraki one, and while Theon is also very young and does indulge in a lot fo self-denial, he doesn’t really do anything to help or stop people being murdered or women being raped (sigh again). Anyway, I’m intrigued to see if/how she will develop her thoughts on this issue.

So about point 3, I read that quote and immediately thought about Dany and Stannis being the only two IT contenders who ground their claim on both birth right (they descend from the only two dynasties that sat on the Iron Throne, although to be fair the Baratheon one was pretty short in comparison) and religion, with the significant difference that while Stannis seems to be strategically using the religion of R’hllor as a political mean to strengthen his claim (without really believing in any of it), Dany actually believes she has been sent on a mission by the gods:

The Bleeding Star led me to Qarth for a purpose. Here I will find what I need, if I have the strength to take what is offered, and the wisdom to avoid the traps and snares. If the gods mean for me to conquer, they will provide, they will send me a sign, and if not... if not...”

This probably comes from what she has experienced so far: on one hand, she believes Targaryens are the rightful rulers of Westeros (something Viserys drilled into her brain since she was a toddler) and, on the other, she has done the impossible and given birth to dragons, magical creatures who were believed to be long dead. What is also really interesting, though, is that she is not entirely sure of it, she has doubts and even admits the possibility of being wrong (if not... if not...). And furthermore, in ACoK Dany III we actually get another little bit:

“Yet even crowned, I am a beggar still, Dany thought. I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper’s knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it. Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.”

A Clash of Kings, Daenerys III

I was surprised to read that she actually seems to prefer the idea of getting back to Vaes Tolorro, with her little following, and abandon the IT quest for good. But then she gets “back on track” thinking “no that is defeat” and that her dragons are gonna make possible for her something that was never possible for Viserys, of whom she has at this point a pretty realistic idea (btw, she calls him mad!!! I feel it’s pretty relevant). This almost feels like she feels obligated to set forth for Westeros because it’s her duty to do so as the last Targaryen who was gifted with real dragons by the gods (which also makes sense with the fact that in the previous paragraph she thinks that the weight of the crown she was gifted made her neck ache), as if she wouldn’t necessarily want it herself and would be content to keep living with her khalasar in a place she could make flourish. Don’t know if that’s like a thing, but it’s a vibe that I never got from the show, so I thought I would make a note of it for the future cause I tend to forget stuff a lot. 

In conclusion, the good thing is that even if the Qarth plot is still kinda boring, at least it’s giving me some food for thought lol.

[henseonos-blog]

Stormborn: Chapter I.

A/N: I'm afraid I've been thinking lately—a dangerous pastime, I know—but I had an idea that I just can't get out of my head. Behold the first chapter of that idea. You might be thinking that this sounds exactly like the beginning of the Season 7 / Episode 2 "Stormborn" of Game of Thrones, and you'd be right. Things will change as the idea develops. By you clicking on this story, you've consented to read a rated "M" fic that will inevitably contain F/F. Oh, and you're also agreeing to be cool with spoilers for Game of Thrones if you haven't already seen it. As a final note, it'd be really awesome if you kept any hate to yourself and only offered praise for what you like and constructive criticism for what you don't.

Disclaimer: I am not in any way associated with George R. R. Martin, HBO, etc. The characters and storylines found within this fic belong to their creator, and no copyright infringement is intended.

It began as any tale of war and love and woe might, on a thunderous night where the gods hailed their fury down upon the world. Dragonstone sat atop its ancient seat in the earth, besieged by the elements on all sides. Waves that might swallow a man grown, would that they could, crashed against its sandy shores. A wicked wind kicked up a thick mist as it howled over the groaning sea. Torrential rains pelted the very stones of the keep, making their own mark upon centuries of erosion. The sky was alight with blue fire, but it mattered little. Come what may, the seat of House Targaryen would yet stand upon the morrow.

"On a night like this, you came into the world," Tyrion Lannister recalled, sliding his hands over the weathered stone of the table before him. Across its surface sat all the great houses in their seven kingdoms. A speared sun, the sigil of House Martell, shone proudly from the south, and the lions of Lannister growled menacingly in the east. Other figurines sat scattered across the board like pockmarks, but his eyes lingered for just a moment too long upon the three golden beasts.

"I remember that storm," came another soft voice—Lord Varys, the Spider and once-Master of Whisperers. He, too, stood with his soft, powdered hands stretched out across the realm, facing the balcony where the rain pushed a cold breeze into the room. "All the dogs in King's Landing howled through the night."

"I wish I could remember it," spoke the woman there, outlined against the night as the darkness turned her rounded edges hard. Daenerys Targaryen turned then to face them, loose ringlets of silver hair shining in the candlelight about her shoulders. "I always thought this would be a homecoming." Her footsteps echoed around the war room of her ancestral home, bouncing from one stone to another. "Doesn't feel like home…" She came to rest before the great table, eyes downcast to gaze upon the Seven Kingdoms—hers by birthright.

"We won't stay on Dragonstone for long," Tyrion promised, his expression as sympathetic as his words were encouraging.

"Good."

It was a curt reply, to be sure, and spoken in the harsh tone of an impatient ruler in place of a forlorn friend, but what more could he expect? To be so close to victory and, yet, so far… Well, he could only imagine. It was only a moment after his lips had pursed into a hard, thin line that he turned from her and lifted his goblet. A hearty sip of the finest Dornish wine seemed to serve as a far better response than anything he had left to offer.

Daenerys watched his retreating form from the farthest corner of her vision. "Not so many lions," she commented, turning her attention back to the tabletop. Her hands moved to its surface, drawn by the unspoken promise of supremacy it offered.

"Cersei controls fewer than half the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of Westeros despise her." Varys spoke with the confidence not of a eunuch but of a man in greater power and title than he held. His plump fingers dug into the rough stone across from her, but he met the gaze of his queen as evenly as he dared. "Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now—"

A sculpted brow quirked in response, but her expression otherwise remained neutral. "They cry out for their true queen?" A mocking lilt entered her tone. "They drink secret toasts to my health?" She withdrew her hands from the map and wrung them before her. "People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them." Her pace was slow as she rounded the table, inching ever closer to the Spider.

It was in seeming disinterest that she lifted her own sigil off the board and inspected the figurine, a dragon with its wings stretched in flight. "If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back, he'd have invaded King's Landing already."

Tyrion's eyes narrowed upon his queen, watching her as she studied her mark upon the map. "Conquering Westeros would be easy for you, but you're not here to be queen of the ashes," spoke the dwarf, his hands then clasped firmly behind his back. It was a reminder, gentle but firm. Sacking the capitol with three dragons grown and an army of foreigners would only serve to distance her further from the throne she sought and the loyalty that came with it.

At this, she looked up from the carved figure before putting it back in its rightful place and squaring her jaw. "No."

"We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse." Of this, Tyrion was sure. Daenerys possessed the qualities of a true queen, one that the people of the realm deserved and would support, but he could not be sure if patience sat among them. "If the great houses support your claim against Cersei, the game is won."

Her hands resumed their wringing.

"With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south."

As if a memory long forgotten had been sparked by his words, the queen's eyes snapped up from the table, and she turned to face Varys fully. "I never properly thanked you for that."

Taken aback, the eunuch was silent for a moment before withdrawing his hands from the great table and responding. "They joined our side, My Queen, because they believe in you." His words were cool and measured, but a flicker of worry flashed across his features like the sky's blue fire across the horizon.

"You served my father, didn't you, Lord Varys?"

There was yet another pause before he answered. "I did."

"—and then you served the man who overthrew him."

She now had the full attention of everyone in the room. Even Tyrion had sense enough to look worried, his wine long forgotten as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tracked her movement. A dwarf he might be, but blind he was not. Even a fool could guess his queen's intentions, and what might happen next, but an unwitting spider? He would send a silent prayer up for the man to any god that might be willing to listen.

"I had a choice, Your Grace: serve Robert Baratheon or face the headman's axe."

"—but you didn't serve him long." Her eyes remained cold, but a small, knowing smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She had him beneath the heel of her boot. "You turned against him."

Again, taken aback, Varys let out a quiet hiss of air. Spittle dotted his lower lips and his heart thumped painfully in his chest, but still he met her gaze. "Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King." If he had struck a nerve, her countenance did not betray it, nor did it waver from the smirk she wore. "Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had no interest in being king."

He hadn't even had the time to draw a breath before she spoke once more.

"So, you took it upon yourself to find a better one."

The accusation hung in the air for a long moment before Tyrion thought to interject. "Your Grace…" he began, eyes lowered to one jewel or another fixed to the dark material of her garment. When she turned to him, arms crossed at the wrist over her navel almost expectantly, he found that he could not meet her gaze as the Spider had. "When I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a queen in the east who—"

"Before I came to power, you favored my brother." She rounded back on the eunuch like a hound after its bone, fury boiling beneath the surface of her skin now. She had no interest in hearing the rest of her advisor's tale, lest it end in her wrath turned upon those who did not yet deserve it. "All your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid, and weak?" She watched as his eyes dipped down, breaking from her unspoken challenge. "Would those qualities have made for a good king in your learned opinion?"

The Spider seized the opportunity to speak, his brows furrowed and skin creased in a strange mixture of concern and indignation. "Until your marriage to Khal Drogo, Your Grace, I knew nothing about you, save your existence and that you were said to be beautiful."

Daenerys lifted her chin, refusing to relent under the charm of his sweet, panicked words. She had never been fond of flattery. "So, you and your friends traded me like a prized horse to the Dothraki."

"—which you turned to your advantage."

If he had thought that the repetition of what was known would break her, he had judged her poorly. She would not be deterred. Still, the question burned in her throat like the flames of her dragons. It begged to be released into the space between them, to do whatever damage it may. "Who gave the order to kill me?"

Tyrion's eyes darted from his queen to the eunuch and back again. There was a small part of him that trusted Varys, for the things he had done. That part of him yearned to put an end to this mummer's farce. However, there was a far greater part of him that still distrusted the Spider, even more so for the things he had done, and that part of him longed to see the queen get the answers she sought.

"King Robert," Varys answered, having the good sense to look at least nearly ashamed.

Like a prowling lion of Lannister stalking its prey, she moved closer to him. "Who hired the assassins?" Closer, still, she came. "Who sent word to Essos to murder Daenerys Targaryen?"

"Your Grace…" he interrupted, nodding his bald head in equal parts fear and respect. "I did what had to be done to—"

"—to keep yourself alive."

Once more, Tyrion found his voice. For the moment, it seemed as if the soft spot he held for the Spider, his personal savior, had won out. "Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant." As he drew breath to continue on in the other's defense, the queen then rounded on him.

"Proven himself loyal?" she snapped, her glare as sharp as dragonglass as it bore into him. "Quite the opposite." She fixed him under her gaze for only a moment longer, almost as if daring him to again speak out against her, before turning back to her prey. "If he dislikes one monarch, he conspires to crown the next one. What kind of a servant is that?"

Though he held no love for or any likeness to dragons, her words sparked a fire in the Spider's belly. "The kind the realm needs." His words were as firm as he dared, his eyes now narrowed into a glare of his own. His anger, like hers, boiled just beneath the surface, but a cold sweat still prickled across his powdered skin as he spoke. "Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I'll use them."

Daenerys stood still as the stone beneath her feet, studying him as if he was the most curious wonder she had seen in all her years. Blank was her expression, but her silence was permission for him to continue.

"I wasn't born into a great house. I came from nothing. I was sold as a slave and carved up as an offering." He did not break their gaze a second time, as he had found his courage. Eunuchs had often been compared to cravens, some even saying that they belonged to two sides of the same coin or that they had been cut from the same cloth, but none would have dared in that moment. For in that moment, he looked into the eyes of the dragon queen unflinchingly.

"When I was a child, I lived in alleys, gutters, abandoned houses. You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win.

"If you demand blind allegiance, I respect your wishes. Grey Worm can behead me, or your dragons can devour me, but if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because I choose you—because I know the people have no better chance than you."

A long pause stretched between them, filling the room with silence and a thick, cloying tension. In that moment, the sound of whipping winds and unrelenting rainfall served as her response to him. Then she broke the silence.

"Swear this to me, Varys." Her head canted ever-so-slightly to the side as she continued to study him, deciding his fate. "If you ever think I'm failing the people, you won't conspire behind my back. You'll look me in the eye as you have done today, and you'll tell me how I'm failing them."

Concern still creased his brow, but he gave a small nod of acquiescence regardless. "I swear it, My Queen," he offered, remembering then to bow his head in the respect one should offer their ruler, earned or otherwise. In the farthest corner of his vision, he saw Tyrion release the breath he had been holding and nod his approval.

Their collective relief was short-lived, however, as the queen once more resumed her prowling. Soon they stood breast-to-breast, her mask of cool wrath still fixed firmly in its place. "—and I swear this: if you ever betray me, I'll burn you alive."

The sunken apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed and his bowels finally unclenched. He offered her a polite smile and another dip of his head. Beneath his fine velvet smock, his shoulders lifted about his ears as he shrugged. "I would expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons."

For the first time since she had begun her assault, she relented and released the Spider from beneath her heel. He had won her respect for the moment, and she showed him as much with the small, genuine smile that curved her pink lips. This battle was over, and neither had lost. He had won his life and she his promise of loyalty—for whatever that was worth.

"Forgive me, My Queen," came a fourth voice, one she had almost forgotten was present. Grey Worm stepped forward from the far corner of the room, posture as tight and stern as befitted the captain of the Unsullied. "A red priestess from Asshai has come to see you."