Brynden

The antechamber was well lit, warm sunlight streaming in from a series of narrow windows set in the stone wall. Several wooden benches lined the edges of the chamber, a resting place for supplicant's while they waited for their audience.

Seated upon the benches were men in varying degrees of garb. One carried a large sack and was dressed in the rough spun cloth that marked him as a farmer and another was dressed in embroidered finery so detailed that Ser Brynden had long ago given up on trying to trace the patterns of it with his eyes.

They all sat, save for him. Ser Brynden preferred to stand, his armor and sword standing in stark contrast to foreign clothing around him. It had been months since he had adorned his armor, but when calling on a Queen one must dress for the occasion.

A great wooden door creaked open and a grey clad guardsmen ushered him forwards into the cavernous chamber beyond.

Brynden's mind raced back to dim memories of the Red Keep in King's Landing as he took in his surroundings. Seemingly identical guardsmen lined the walls, all standing stock still with the spears pointed perfectly to the ceiling. Other figures lined the room also, but Brynden's attention was drawn to the centre of the room.

Raised on a dais in the centre of the room a young woman confidently sat an ornate wooden throne, next to which stood the imperious figure of a knight clad all in white.

I wonder how long it will take you to recognize me, old friend?

A small young girl, with large golden eyes cleared her voice and Ser Brynden turned his attention to her.

"Honorable supplicant, you find yourself in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, Second of her name: Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Lord of Dragonstone, Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of Meereen, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons"

Brynden tilted his head, considering her.

So this is what a Dragon looks like he thought to himself, though he made no move to respond.

Daenerys moved on her wooden throne, her hair shifting and reflecting the beaming sunlight of the throne room.

"Welcome to my hall, friend, state what you will"

"If it please Your Grace, I have a titles too"

Daenerys raised her eyebrow.

"Aye, titles are the one thing I do not lack for and as I have no herald allow me to speak them. Before you stands The Warden of the Southern Marshes, The Knight of the Gate, A lord of the River and a Hand of the King. Before you stands Ser Brynden Tully, of Riverrun"

"You certainly have a flair for the dramatic, Ser Brynden Tully of Riverrun. Why have you sought me out?"

"I come at this dark time with counsel, Your Grace. I come bringing news and tidings of your homeland and a plea from those whom dwell within it"

This at least, Ser Brynden noted, elicited more than a raised eyebrow. Daenerys shifted her weight as she considered him, and Ser Barristan looked as if he was ready to leap forward any moment, though whether to embrace him or match blades with him, Ser Brynden could not say.

"You have my attention, My Lord. Say what you would"

"The words I have are for your ears alone Daenerys Stormborn and I will only utter them in private"

That caused a stir among the other occupants of the room, Brynden noted with dry amusement. A small and fleshy man, bald from age stepped forward.

"You will address the Queen of Meereen with the proper respect, Ser" he said in a shrill voice.

"Be still Reznak" Daenerys commanded before turning back to Brynden "I would remind you, Ser, that you are in the presence of a Queen. Be careful with what you say, I would hate for the histories to record those as your last words"

At least she's got some wit about her, Brynden thought to himself.

"I shall remember, Your Grace" he said, putting particular emphasis on the Grace, "However, I must insist on privacy. Yourself and your noble knight, Ser Barristan, whose honor I have never had cause to question, are the only one's I shall speak too"

Daenerys considered him for a moment, her deep purple eyes drilling into him.

"Very well. We shall speak later, Ser. Until then you shall remain here as my guest" she said as she gestured to a young man standing at the far side of the room, a muscled youth with almond skin, curly black hair and a wicked arakh hanging from his belt.

"Rakharo, escort our guest to appropriate quarters until I summon him"

"Yes, blood of my blood" the young Dothraki responded.

"Show in the next supplicant" Daenerys Targaryen said as Brynden left the throne room, one step closer to achieving his purpose.

The cool evening air dappled across Ser Brynden's face as he stood on the balcony, gazing out at the sprawling city.

"What in seven hells are you doing here, aye Brynden?" he said, to no one in particular

What would you say now Hoster?

You wouldn't think it, he mused, that the city was under siege to look at it. Even at this hour, people were bustling through the streets. Night markets were in full swing in large crowded plazas and young women suggestively lined the more narrow alleys.

The hosts and force of Yunkai may have been camped just outside the city, but the Meerenese were a people who never slept.

He tried to recall what he had been taught about the old Slaver city, during his maester lessons with Hoster all those years ago.

The city had been established as an outlying colony in the early days of the Ghiscari Empire, while the Valyrian's were still tending their flocks. But ultimately, the Dragons had risen up. The Dothraki had plundered the Northern colonies across Essos and the Old Empire had fallen into decay. These cities were all that remained, crumbling at the edge of the world.

Hoster would no doubt have been able to lecture him about all the rulers and wars this ancient city had been through. History had never been Brynden's strong point, he knew how to fight and how to lead.

Perhaps that had what saved him, while so many of his kin had been fallen.

Hoster. Cat. Robb. Lyssa.

He'd only heard of Lyssa's fate after he'd escaped the Siege of Riverrun. Murdered by some singer, Baelish would have the Seven Kingdoms believe. But Brynden knew better, Baelish had always coveted power and had never been afraid to hurt people to get it.

I'll be coming for you Petyr. You, Walder Frey, Roose Bolton, The Lannisters. Even the Mountains of the Vale can't protect you from Dragon fire.

After he'd escaped Riverrun, he had had to evade Ser Jamie and his forces across the entirety of the Riverlands. If Lord Wyman hadn't given him up yet, he supposed they'd still be searching for him.

Ultimately, he'd been able to make his way to The Neck. After spending weeks passing the thrice cursed bog, worrying about Cragnomen and toads the entire duration, he'd finally made his way into the North.

But where to go from there? He'd considered The Last Hearth, or perhaps the Karhold. Arnolf Karstark had declared for Stannis, he'd heard so he supposed they might shelter him while he considered his next move. He'd been moving northwards, in fact when a sortie from White Harbor had picked him up.

He still remembered the quarters they had kept him in, before he had finally been brought before the Lord of White Harbor.

One conversation with a Fat Lord and here I am, on the other side of the world about the treat with the last of the Dragons.

Fate was curious like that, he supposed.

From White Harbor, he had been smuggled to Pentos, where Lord Wyman's gold had brought him passage on a ship bound for Volantis. From Volantis to Tolos, and then from Tolos onto Meereen, posing as a common sellsword trailing after one of the many companies, seeking to make some profit from the Great Siege.

A sharp knock at the great wooden door roused Brynden from his thoughts. He turned around to consider it. At least they'd stuck him in a nice room, all heavy stone and intricate rugs.

"Enter" he called out, in his most imperious voice.

The door opened to admit one of the grey clad uniform guards he had noticed earlier.

"Good evening Ser, this one has the honor to be escorting you to the Queen"

His accent was exotic, and Brynden marked him for an inhabitant of those strange and unexplored lands south of The Summer Sea.

"Lead on then" Ser Brynden said as he exited the room.

As they walked the twisting corridors of the Great Pyramid, Brynden couldn't help but notice the large retinue of guards the Dragon princess had posted to him.

Eight Unsullied for one knight?

Eventually, they made their way to a small door, next to throne room Brynden had experienced earlier.

"Enter. The Queen is expecting you"

Brynden opened the door and took in the small chamber beyond it.

Spacious, but small with only a wooden table and chairs in the centre. Upon the table rested jugs and fruit and around it sat the two figures Ser Brynden had travelled half the world to treat with.

"Please sit, Ser" Daenerys bade him.

After he had sat, with Daenerys directly opposite him and her White Knight standing directly behind he cleared his throat, though Daenerys beat him to it.

"Ser Barristan has been telling me all about you, Ser"

"I am humbled to have been your chosen topic of conversation, Your Grace"

"Is it true that you slew Maelys Blackfyre in single combat?"

"You noble knight deserves some of the credit, Your Grace. I may have been the one to cross blades with Maelys, but it was your Ser Barristan that broke the lines of the Golden Company"

"Indeed"

Daenerys Stormborn studied him closely, as if a bird considering a mouse.

Or a Dragon considering a trout, more like.

"Never the less, Ser Barristan tells me you are trustworthy, despite the banners you fought under during the reign of my Father"

Ser Brynden raised an eyebrow at that.

This one has the fire in her, make no mistake about that.

"Aye I did fight under the Tully and Stark banners against your Father. I also heard first hand, how your Father burned Rickard Stark alive and strangled his son Brandon, who should have been my nephew"

Now you've done it Brynden. It would be just like you to travel half way round the world just to get your head stuck on a spike because of something you said.

Daenerys rose, her demeanor suddenly more hostile.

"I can only hope you didn't travel the length of the known world to insult me, Ser"

"Forgive my disrespect Your Grace. I am old, tired and have lost to many of my kin"

Her expression softened somewhat.

"Then why have you sought me out, Ser?"

"Allow me to say so, Your Grace, but you are not your father. I have travelled the length of Essos, evaded Lannisters, Pirates and Krakens to seek you out and offer counsel"

"Then offer it"

"Might I first ask, how current your knowledge of Westrosi events are, Your Grace?"

Now it was Ser Barristan who spoke up, his voice still sounding the same after so many years.

"The last we heard King Joffrey was dead, killed at his own wedding"

"Then you no doubt know of the fate of Robb Stark as well?"

Daenerys spoke up:

"I had a vision of him once, in the House of the Undying. I didn't know what it meant at the time, but after we heard the news I knew"

"Robb Stark was my blood and my King. As was his lady mother, my Cat, who was also a victim of Frey and Bolton treachery"

Daenerys's eyes rose at his use of the word 'King' but she said nothing.

"It is a grievous thing to lose one's kin to treachery and broken oaths. Is that what you travelled all this way to tell, Ser? News already nearly a year old?"

"No, Your Grace. The Seven Kingdoms believe all Ned Starks children to be dead, save for the Lady Sansa, who nobodies seen since Joffrey's death"

"Believe?"

"There are still Starks left, Your Grace. Rickon Stark is alive and by now should have been retrieved and brought to safety"

Daenerys remained still, her deep purple eyes drilling into Brynden's head.

"But the Starks are exiled, the Boltons control rule the North from Winterfell and Frey's, King's Men and Ironborn overrun it"

"You'll forgive me for sounding callous Ser, but exactly what is the point of telling me this?"

"The Northern Houses don't want the Boltons, and the River Lords will never willingly call the Freys or Littlefinger their Lord. They want to rise up, but they have not the strength to do it"

"And you think I can…"

"Give them a banner to march under"

"Ned Stark rose up against my Father, you expect me to ally myself with his bannermen over his son?"

"That is exactly what I propose, Your Grace. Give the Northern Houses their liege lords back and they will fight for you, I swear it"

"And how could you possibly know this?"

Here comes the big reveal.

"There is a plan, Your Grace. An alliance between the remaining loyal houses of the North, spearheaded by the Manderly's. Though still secret in their existence, they seek to restore the Starks to their rightful place and pull down the Bolton's and the Frey's from their stolen halls"

"Why"

"Because Winter is coming. This one will be the longest and hardest Westeros has seen for many years, and the North needs the Starks"

Ser Barristan spoke up once more:

"This is all well and good, but who exactly is in on this…. Northern Conspiracy?"

"Wyman Manderly seeks retribution on the Freys for the murder of his son. By now he should have Rickon Stark safely hidden away in White Harbor. Besides him, Alysane Mormont has agreed to deliver the strength of Bear Island, Mors and Hothor Umber have sworn the strength of the Last Hearth to your cause in return for the rescue of their nephew from the Twins. Robert Glover will fight for whatever side delivers him his Liege Lord, be it you or Stannis. The only significant force in the North that remains a question is the Karstarks, Robb Stark executed Lord Rickard for treason and the Karstarks have declared for Stannis. Only time will tell if they will return to fight under Stark banners once again"

And what of the River Lords? You mentioned them as well"

"Aye, Your Grace. After the Siege of Riverrun, my nephew Edmure was taken to Casterly Rock as hostage and my brothers late ward Petyr Baelish was raised to Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. But all the surviving River Lords are in agreement. The Pipers, Blackwoods, Mallisters, the lot of them. Restore my nephew to his seat. Help us seek retribution against the Freys for their treachery"

"You ask a lot of me, Ser"

"Aye I do. But what I offer is by far greater: the combined strength of the North and the Riverlands to your cause. Dragons are the only ones we mean to bend the knee too again"

"You have given me much to think on, Ser. But I have duties here. Thousands of my children still live in slavery and I would see them free"

"Begging your pardon Your Grace, but the Seven Kingdoms need you now. The Lord Regent, Ser Kevan, is dead. Cersei Lannister sits the Iron Throne and she will turn Westeros to ruin. Euron Greyjoy seeks to conquer all Seven Kingdoms under Ironborn rule and will content himself with ruling over their ashes if he cannot. You can be Queen of Slavers Bay or you can be Queen of Westeros, Your Grace but you cannot be both"

"You would have me abandon thousands of people to death and servitude?"

Brynden looked her dead in the eye:
"Yes. You already delayed once and because of that my King is dead. I would not have you wait longer"

"And you think I would be successful?"

"The Seven Kingdoms are in disarray. You have a host of nearly 10,000 Unsullied, the navy of the one of the greatest cities in Slavers Bay, the combined forces of the River Lands and the North at your disposal and three Dragons. I think they'll be calling you Aegon the Conqueror reborn the second you set foot on Westrosi shores"

Daenerys remained still, her deep eyes heavy and ponderous.

"To go North you must journey South" he heard her mutter to herself.

Suddenly she stood up.

"You have given me much to think on Ser, I promise you will have your answer soon. Until then allow me to extend the hospitalities of Meereen, you must be weary after such a long journey"

I suppose I can't really ask for more.

"Thank you, Your Grace…"

He trailed off as a loud knocking sounded at the door. Daenerys motioned to Ser Barristan to open it. A blue haired man dressed all in yellow burst through the door and knelt at Daenerys's knees.

"My Queen, a mighty fleet has been spotted traveling up the coast, a day's journey and sailing directly for us"

"Have we been able to identify them?"

"No, Your Grace, but their lead ship bears the sail of a mighty Kraken"

Brynden stood up abruptly.

"The Iron Victory, the ship of Victarion Greyjoy. Your Grace, The Iron Fleet is here"