'He is no dragon,' Daenerys proclaimed, looking at the boy before her. He had lilac eyes and pale hair with occasional blue strands in it.

Her words reached Barristan as through a thick wall. The knight was surprised to know Rhaegar's son survived, but it was nothing comparing to his astonishment when he laid his eyes on her.

White septa robes. Dark hair without a streak of grey. Proud bearings. Purple eyes, wise and mischievous at the same time.

He would know her anywhere.

The woman noticed his gaze and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. One nod, it's all. What did he expect? For her, he was still a white cloak, one of seven, same as at the time of the Harrenhall tourney. Many times Barristan wondered what would happen if he unhorsed the crown-prince that day, and named Lady Ashara Dayne his Queen of Love and Beauty. Would the story change its turn? Would the girl look at him instead of the Stark? Many times he told himself nothing would come of it. He was a knight of the Kingsguard, he gave his vows. He had nothing to offer her.

He was bound by a vow at the time. But not now.

For a moment this thought has rendered him speechless. The boy king freed him of his vows, and Daenerys never demanded them.

People were shouting now in the Great Hall of the Griffin's Roost. The young queen announced her decision. The safest solution would be to execute the boy on the spot, Barristan knew, for being a pretender. But he also knew Dany wouldn't be able to do it. The youth was to go to the Wall. Whether he would get there, Barristan had his doubts. But it was not his concern. Such decisions were up to kings. His job was to keep his monarch safe.


Barristan was doing his rounds the next morning when he saw her. He was standing on the castle wall when the white figure appeared amongst the grey rocks below, moving towards the water. The sea was calm today, the water crystal clear. He could see the seabed going down pretty sharply right next to the shoreline. The woman came from between the rocks, removed her robes and climbed the nearest boulder. She was in plain view of the castle and she evidently didn't care. She dived, entering the water with almost no splash.

Barristan could neither close his eyes nor avert them. It was not that he could see her clearly. It was not that he had never seen a bathing woman before. King Robert loved nothing more than spending his summer hours on the walls of the Red Keep and ogling at the girls who swam in the Blackwater. Barristan often stood watch next to him.

Yet now he was confounded, as if after a good blow at the head on the lists. He felt like a green boy, a blushing page, taking a sneak peek at his heart's desire for the first time.

He should have turned away. Such behavior was not fitting for a knight. It was even less fitting for an old man whose best days were long gone. For a sworn shield who outlived all three kings he vowed to protect.

'Such behavior is not fitting for a lady,' said the small voice in his head. 'It's even less fitting for a septa.' Barristan paid no mind to this thought. He was way too old for this. And he never liked games.

The knight gave the sea the last long stare and went on his way.


It was dark when he returned back to his chamber, a small room previously occupied by the Griffin's Roost's master-in-arms.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, with the carved figurine of the Warrior in her hands. When he entered, the woman smiled at him.

'My lady,' Barristan said courteously, closing the door.

'Ser,' she replied, matching his cool tone. She rose to meet him. He could barely see her face in the dark, but her silhouette was clearly outlined against the window behind.

'Can I help you?' he asked.

'You can,' she said. 'I know you recognized me. My name will soon stop being a secret, but I'd prefer this to happen rather later than sooner. Can I ask you to keep it secret for now?'

'Absolutely, my lady.' She smelled like sea and feather grass. Barristan moved away from her and lighted a candle. 'I have to warn you, however. I have no secrets from my queen.'

'Queen Daenerys.' The woman touched her lips with her finger. 'She looks a queen. She acts a queen. But her decision yesterday… doesn't she understand?'

'She has a gentle heart,' Barristan replied. Time has left its marks on the face of his pretty guest, yet her eyes stayed the same, and her lips were still a delicious curve. 'She managed to stay gentle, despite everything she had to go through.'

'You are really devoted to her,' the woman said.

'She is my queen.'

'Your third queen,' she reminded him archly.

'It makes no difference.'

The woman fell silent, playing with a strand of her dark hair. Barristan watched her, feeling both old and young. He spent half his life at the court of Robert Baratheon. He knew how ladies behave when they favor a man – or when they want something. The woman in white septa robes came to him for a reason. He was Daenerys's man, her trusted advisor. His pretty guest was probably entertaining some plans - to influence Daenerys through him, to make the Queen Conqueror change her decision regarding the lilac-eyed boy with pale hair.

When the woman stepped towards him, Barristan was ready. Whether she was a schemer or a seducer made no matter. She was alive, while he believed he had lost her forever.

She didn't speak, only sighed slightly when his hands took her waist, and his lips met her lips. Her skin was cool and soft, her hair a silk curtain under his calloused fingers. The woman sighed again, her arms encircling his neck, and the old knight lost himself in the kiss that should have happened eighteen years ago.