Different baby, same game

by John Spangler

In 278 AC, Cassana Baratheon gave birth to her third child. Her name is Rhaelle Baratheon, and she's going to change the fate of Westeros forever.

STEFFON

Storm's End, 278 AC

It was a dark and stormy night. The winds howled outside of the castle as if the gods themselves were trying to destroy the home of the line of Durran. Inside, most of the inhabitants were trying to win their battle against sleep, mada even harder by the screams coming from the wing where the lord and his family lived.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Lord Steffon Baratheon was walking nervously back and forth in a corridor lit by a few torches. He was alone, having decided to have Stannis and Robert stay with Maester Cressen. He had his brows furrowed and once in a while he cast worried glances toward the door to his wife's bedroom. He had never been so nervous, not even during the burning of Summerhall, where he had risked death together with his Targaryen cousins. This time, though, the situation was slightly different. His life wasn't at stake, but...

"AAAAAAHHHHHH! GODS BE GOOD, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

He clenched his fists and muttered a small prayer. Why is all of this happening? Everything had gone so well with Stannis and Robert.

It was his wife Cassana's third delivery, and so far things didn't look too well. The lady's screams had been echoing through the castle since almost an hour. It must be a particularly difficult delivery. Such events were never good omens. He had wanted to be there to confort her, but unfortunately he hadn't been allowed to. The old midwife had not so kindly invited him to stay outside. "You already did your job nine months ago, m'lord. Now it's my turn." she had said. Other lords would have had her whipped for the boldness of those words, but he wasn't that kind of lord. Besides, that woman had been in the service of House Baratheon for years, and she knew more about deliveries than a maester of the Citadel.

He sighed and rested his back on the wall in front of the room, crossing his arms on his large chest and staring at the door. In hindsight, the old woman had been right to not let him in. He didn't have the slightest idea of what to do during a delivery, and he surely would have been a nuisance. He could only pray the gods to have mercy of Cassana's suffering and to allow her and the baby to live.

Suddenly there was silence, and Steffon started fearing the worst. Gods, if she can't even scream anymore...

Soon after the door opened partially and the midwife's head peeped into the corridor. Long white hair framed a lined face and two brown eyes, which soon settled on Steffon. "Now you can come in, m'lord." said the old woman.

Without saying a word, Steffon run into the room, mentally preparing himself for the worst. "Cassana..."

But instead, contrary to his worst fears, his wife was still alive. She was laying on the bed, panting and sweating, and blood was dripping on the floor, but she was alive. She was surrounded by four girls, the old midwife's granddaughters. He noticed that one of them was holding something that looked like a bundle of rags.

Steffon approached the bed and took his wife's hand into his own. "How are you feeling?"

Cassana sighed. "As if...someone had sliced me open from the inside..."

"The delivery was very difficult, but the Mother had mercy." The old midwife smiled, approaching one of the girls and taking the bundle. "It's a female, and in good health." She gave the newborn to her liege lord.

The Lord of Storm's End took his third child into his arms and looked at her curiously. At first he had thought it would be another male, a playmate for Robert and Stannis. Not that he wasn't happy about it. He simply didn't expect it.

The newborn girl was moaning and had her eyes closed. Steffon felt a surge of affection and smiled. My daughter...He shifted his gaze from the child he was holding to his wife. "Have you already thought of a name?" Some time before they had decided that Cassana would choose their thirdborn's name.

The woman nodded. "Rhaelle...like your lady mother."

"Rhaelle Baratheon." He paused and nodded in approval. "That sounds nice."

XXXXXX

VARYS

King's Landing, Red Keep, 284 AC

After all those years spent in King's Landing, Varys had gotten used to the nobles and their outbursts. To him, they were a part of everyday's life, like the sun in the sky or the smell in the poorest alleys of the city. Furthermore, as a habit he never showed his emotions.

So, it was no wonder that he was the only one in the room unflinching in front of the furious fight between the new monarch and his brother.

"This is madness! Our own sister isn't a commodity to trade!" shouted Lord Stannis Baratheon.

"You're taking it too hard..." answered his brother Robert, the new king. "Maybe you don't know, but this has always been the way to arrange a marriage."

"But the Tyrells..."

"You know we have to strengthen our ties with the Reach. This is the best way. And Mace Tyrell agrees with me."

Mere minutes ago, King Robert had announced his decision to bethroth his younger sister, Rhaelle Baratheon, to the first son of the Lord of Highgarden. While the other members of the Small Council had just nodded, Stannis had vehemently showed his disapproval. That reaction hadn't surprised Varys. He knew that the new Lord of Storm's End was very close to his sister.

"I will never give my own sister to the son of the man who kept me under siege for an year!"

Thanks to his many little birds, Varys knew all the details of the siege of Storm's End. It had lasted for a year, and if it hadn't been for the now former smuggler named Davos, Stannis would have gone to meet his ancestors. His dislike for the Tyrells was understandable.

"I will be the one to give her. And the marriage is not going to happen for a few years. We can't do it while she is still a child. We must wait for Rhaelle to flower."

"Robert..." Stannis tried to say.

"ENOUGH, STANNIS!" The new king of Westeros hit the table with so much strenght that the entire room shook. All the councillors stared at Robert with terror in their eyes. For a moment, his look had been one of blind fury, the same he must have had when he'd fought Rhaegar Targaryen at the Battle of the Trident. But it lasted only for a few seconds, soon replaced by iron resolution.

"Rhaelle shall marry Willas Tyrell. So I decided."

"Very well...Your Grace." the Lord of Storm's End finally gave up, grinding his teeth. Varys realized that, whatever happened in the future, that day a rift had been created between the two brothers.

Robert nodded and paused, clearing then his throath. "Now...what else should we discuss?"

"There is the matter of Dragonstone..." said Jon Arryn.

"Right, Jon." answered Robert, again calm. This too didn't surprise the eunuch. To Robert, the Lord of the Eyrie, who had been his foster father for many years, was like a real father, and he would never dare to answer him rudely. "What should we do with it?"

"Traditionally, the island of Dragonstone is given to the heir to the throne, Your Grace..." Varys tried to say.

"To hells with tradition!" the king cut him off abruptly. "I am the new king, and I will be the one to decide what to do with that island!"

"Can I at least give you a few suggestions, Your Grace?" said Varys, before anyone else could say something.

Robert snorted. "Speak. But it'd better be a sane idea!"

The eunuch's sharp mind started looking as fast as it could for a solution. What could he say to the king? He had to show him a proposal that he would like, but that at the same time wouldn't be an obstacle for Varys's plans. Suddenly, he had an epiphany.

"I think I've just had an idea you'll like..."

"All right, speak."

"The problem is giving the island to someone loyal to you, Your Grace. Apparently a difficult problem to solve, but..."

"Stop speaking in riddles, you godsdamned eunuch! What do you mean?" the king roared, exasperated.

Varys was barely holding back his annoyance. Robert Baratheon was hard testing his imperturbability. "I seem to recall, Your Grace, that Lord Stark has a younger brother named Benjen..."

"Seven fucking hells, you're right!" He hit the table again, this time with less strenght. "Pycelle, start writing a letter for Winterfell! Right now, there's no time to waste..."

While the king kept on barking orders to the Grand Maester, Varys mentally gave a sigh of relief, without caring about the suspicious glances the outer councillors were giving him. Now that he had dealt with that detail, he could take care of the more important parts of his plan...

XXXXXX

WILLAS

Highgarden, 293 AC

The bedding cerimony had been less traumatic than what he'd expected. Willas remembered perfectly all the weddings he'd attended, the bawdy jokes of the guests and the faces of the bride and groom, halfway between amusement and embarassment. He'd always considered it something necessary but annoying. However, now that he'd experienced it firsthand, he realized it wasn't so bad. In fact, he'd even enjoyed it a little.

Of course, the wedding had been celebrated in style, as it was only proper for such an event. There were nobles from all over the Seven Kingdoms (aside from the Iron Islands, for obvious reasons), even his friend Oberyn Martell. His father had argued against it, the memory of Willas first tourney still fresh in his mind, but in the end the young man had prevailed. Luckily, Lord Mace and the rest of his family had had enough sense to be civil to the Dornish prince. The only negative sides of that day had been two embarassing incidents during the feast, caused by King Robert's drunkenness (that man seemed to love wine more than his own wife), and Stannis Baratheon's icy attitude. Willas understood the reason behind his grudge. He just hoped that, with time, his goodbrother would learn if not to like him, at least to not hate his guts.

Now, Willas was in the room purposefully readied for that night, together with his young bride (she was just a year younger than his brother Garlan), both naked like the day they were born. He was standing near the bed. Rhaelle was sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the floor and her legs closed, while trying to cover her large bosom with her arms. She was obviously embarassed, unlike Willas (he'd already lost his virginity, and the sight of a naked woman wasn't unfamiliar to him).

"Have you ever seen a naked man?" was the first phrase that came out of his mouth since they'd entered the room. Soon after, he mentally scolded himself. What kind of question is this, Willas?

The girl shook her head. "I...I haven't, my l-lord."

Willas sighed and sat near her. He took a few seconds to look at her. She was very beautiful, there was no doubt. She had waist long black hair, wonderful blue eyes, delicate features (not like her brothers, thank the gods), wide hips and long legs. From that point of view, Willas could consider himself very lucky.

Let's hope she is beautiful inside too, he thought as his member reacted to that magnificent sight. He was not so foolish as to think that a good body was enough as a foundation for a marriage. Intelligence and at least a decent personality were necessary, too. He knew little about Rhaelle: in the years before the wedding, they had met a few times, and always in the presence of chaperones. He couldn't even say he loved her (marrying out of love was something that did not concern a lord's child). However, Rhaelle seemed to have the right characteristics (as his grandmother Olenna had told him several times. Oberyn had said something similar about the girl's chest), and Willas found himself hoping that at least, one day, he would find kinship with her.

"Don't call me that. I'm your husband, not your liege lord."

Rhaelle briefly looked at him, and then lowered her gaze again. "I a-apologize, m...Willas."

"There is nothing to apologize for."

There was a moment of silence.

"Tell me...did someone tell you what happens on the wedding night?" Willas asked. Most noblewomen went to their weddings knowing nothing about sex.

Rhaelle nodded. "J-jonelle, Stannis wife."

Willas decided to not go into the details. "Good."

There was silence again. This time Rhaelle was the first one to talk. "We can begin w-whenever you want, W-willas." Willas noticed she was shivering.

The young Tyrell put a hand on his wife's leg, startling her. He looked her in the eyes. "There's no need to hurry." He gently moved her arms off her chest and took her hand. He felt a pang of desire in front of those large and inviting breasts and was tempted to grab them, but refrained from doing so. If he acted too abruptly, he'd risk traumatizing Rhaelle. "We could wait, if you want. I don't mind."

The girl looked anything but at ease. Willas decided to try and calm her. He brought his face near hers and kissed her. It didn't last long, but it was enough to make her stop shivering. The heir to the Reach smiled and stroke his bride's cheek.

Soon after, Rhaelle asked: "Willas..."

"Yes?"

"Could you...could you do it again? I liked it a lot." And for the first time since they had entered the room, Willas Tyrell saw his wife smile.

"Of course." he said, kissing Rhaelle again.

XXXXXX

JON

Dragonstone, 298 AC

Dragonstone was an impressive place, decided Jon Snow as he got off the ship together with Ghost. In fact, it was definitely grim.

"So, Jon, what do you think of it?" asked Benjen Stark behind him. "It's not Winterfell, but it has its own charm, don't you think?"

Jon nodded. "It's true, Uncle."

"It may seem unsettling, but once you get used to it you'll learn to appreciate it." He stopped near his nephew and scratched his beard. "Let's go, now. Surely your aunt is looking forward to see you."

The two humans and the direwolf started walking toward the castle, and Jon was able to give a closer look to what would become his home in the following years.

Will I ever get used to this place?, the young man thought doubtfully.

When, during his latest visit to Winterfell, Benjen had offered him to be fostered at Dragonstone and become his squire, Jon had accepted without hesitation. It was the chance he had been waiting for so long to find his place in the world. The only other alternative would have been joining the Night's Watch, and Jon doubted he would have enjoyed spending the rest of his life guarding a giant wall of ice. Nonetheless, if it hadn't been for his Uncle, the boy was sure he would've taken the black in the end. After all, it wasn't like he had many other choises. Instead, at Dragonstone he would finally get a chance to make his own destiny, to not being just Ned Stark's bastard anymore. He would surely miss the North, there was no doubt about it. But he could always go back for a visit, once in a while. And in any case, he had Ghost to remind him of Winterfell. The white direwolf walked near him, looking around diffidently.

"Jon, I noticed your wolf is even quieter than you." Benjen suddenly said, nodding toward the animal.

"That's why I called him Ghost. And because he's white, too. The others are all dark, grey or black."

"A fitting name...ah, we have arrived."

At the castle's front door, the guards bowed to their liege lord and stepped aside to let them in. Jon took a moment to admire the Stone Drum. Like the rest of the island, it too looked unsettling. He wondered if the ancient Valyrians had built it like this on purpose.

There were only a few people, mostly guards and servants. They all bowed as they saw Lord Benjen, who returned the salute and smiled kindly.

"You're here, finally!" a female voice known to both of them thundered.

The two men turned and saw a tall and lanky woman marching toward them.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Benjen asked her.

"Even though I felt a little sick, I'm not so weak as to not give my nephew a proper welcome." said the woman, whose name was Dacey Mormont.

"Just him? And what about me? I am your lord husband, after all." said Benjen feigning offense.

"I will take care of you later...when we will be alone." winked the woman, who by now had reached the two men.

Jon hadn't seen his aunt in a long time, but she didn't seem to having changed much. She was as slim as he remembered her, and as always she had a proud and elegant posture. He attempted to greet her. "My lady..."

"How many times did I tell you to call me Aunt Dacey, little one?" She wrapped the boy with her arms and lifted him up, tightening him in a hug worthy of the animal on her House's banner. "Gods, you've gotten big."

"Put him down, Dacey, or else you'll break some ribs." chuckled the Lord of Dragonstone.

Lady Dacey let go of her nephew. "And where did this one come from?" she asked glancing at Ghost, who meanwhile had approached her and was now sniffing her.

Jon rubbed his aching bones and smiled. He'd forgotten how strong Mormont women could be. "He's my wolf. His name is Ghost."

The animal barked and shook his tail. The woman stroke his head.

"I think he likes you, Aunt."

Then, from the direction Dacey had come from, another female shape came. The woman, who as Jon saw was as tall as his aunt, had long dark hair and pale skin. She was wearing a long red dress and around her neck had a choker with a ruby.

"Who's that one?" asked Benjen.

"She came here the other day. She claims to be a priestess, but I don't remember of what."

"Hmm...and what does she want?"

"She asked for shelter for some days. What else she plans to do I don't know, but now you can ask her personally."

Meanwhile the woman had come near them, and then bowed. "Greetings, Lord Stark."

"Greetings. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I am Melisandre of Asshai. I am a priestess of the god R'hllor, the Lord of Light."

Benjen scratched his chin. "If I'm not wrong, Asshai is in the eastern continent. May I ask you what brings you so far away?"

"Sometimes my order tasks some of us with visiting other lands in search of new followers. Dragonstone is my first stop."

"I don't know if you're going to have any luck, here. House Stark follows the Old Gods of the North, and most of the islanders worship the Seven."

"It won't be a problem. Of course I will respect your beliefs and won't force anyone, but even if I will find only one person willing to convert, I will be happy."

While the priestess was talking, Jon had started looking at her, and after a few seconds had concluded he'd never seen a woman as beautiful as her. His eyes run all over her body, wonderfully wrapped by the red dress that emphasised her curves. He wondered how could the adepts focus on the prayers in front of such a beauty. It must be difficult to be indifferent to her. His gaze ended up landing on her ample cleavage.

Unfortunately for him, the woman soon noticed this. "And it looks like someone is already interested in me..." She flashed him a charming smile that gave him an instant boner.

Jon looked away and blushed. "I apologize, my lady."

"Lady Melisandre, this is my nephew Jon Snow. He's here to be my squire." said Benjen. "And also, I hope, to learn to not stare at people."

The three adults laughed at the jape. Jon wished he could crawl into a hole. Ghost stared curiously at the four humans.

"Do not worry, Lord Stark. I am used to the stares of men, the young ones especially." She smiled again. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jon Snow."

Despite his embarrassment, Jon managed to get a hold of himself and made a bow to the woman. "The pleasure is mine, L-lady Melisandre."

XXXXXX

TYRION

Casterly Rock, 300 AC

Tywin Lannister had always been an arrogant man, thought Tyrion entering the solar that once belonged to the Old Lion. And that now is mine, he said to himself. Would you ever have guessed it, Father? Would you ever have imagined that one day I would be your heir? Surely not.

He had thought he could win against the might of the North, the Riverlands, the Stormlands and the Reach.

It didn't happen. His father had miscalculated. During his last days he had managed to stop the ironborn invasion of the Westerlands. But that had been the only good thing in a conflict that had become the worst military disaster in Lannister history. Tyrion didn't even want to imagine how things could have gone, if the Vale and Dorne hadn't stayed neutral.

That war had ended in the worst way possible. His own father killed in battle by Stannis himself, his head sent to Dorne together with Amory Lorch's and the Mountain's. Joffrey, Jaime and Cersei dead, Tommen at the Wall, Myrcella with those silent women. Whole territories given to the North and the Riverlands as compensation, to say nothing of the thousands of golden dragons paid out and the ruined reputation (the latter was mainly Cersei's fault. She'd started everything, after all. But Jaime and Tywin were to blame, too).

House Lannister and the Westerlands had suffered a heavy blow. One from which it would take years to recover.

Luckily, his cooperation had ensured Tyrion's safety. Stannis had forgiven him, which had surprised everyone, Tyrion first, and had officially confirmed him in all of his titles and possessions.

The new Lord of Casterly Rock sighed. Under normal circumstances he would have rejoiced, but those weren't normal circumstances. He had plenty of responsabilities, now, which would keep him busy for a very long time. Organizing the rebirth of the West. Improving the relationship with the Crown. Dealing with the new ironborn threat. And also finding a wife to give him a legitimate heir.

But there was time for it. He sighed and let himself fall on the luxurious chair that once belonged to his father. He would deal with everything the morning after. Right now, he just wanted to relax, and he would do it with a good book and a goblet of wine. And perhaps also with a sweet maid willing to keep the new lord company for the night.

XXXXXX

OTHER

Somewhere beyond the Wall, 300 AC

Once the Other had been human, but he had no memories of that time. He couldn't: he was just a newborn babe when he had been turned. The same applied to many of his kind who were there with him. Some of them had been turned centuries or millennia ago, when they were full grown adults, but they too didn't remember.

If he could make a comparison with a human being, he would surely highlight the lack of emotions and physical sensations. He felt no joy or pain, and neither hot or cold. He was a creature of ice.

His mind too was different from a human's. There was space only for a limited consciousness, and for the two imperatives that had led he and his kin, together with their wight servants, to gather in the open space in front of a cave: obey the Night King's orders, and exterminate every life form, the humans especially.

Suddenly, a black clad shape came out of the cave, riding a horse that had stopped breathing a long time ago.

The Night King's skin and eyes were the same color as any Other's, but the similarities ended there. Unlike them, he wore an armor and a cloak as dark as a night sky without stars or moon. On his head there was a crown once made of iron, but that now was covered in ice. In a scabbard on his side, his weapon, an ice sword forged back when the Wall still didn't exist. He was an unsettling figure, but at the same time regal.

All the Others turned toward their king, who didn't waste time with long speeches, like his human counterparts would do. There was no need for it. He raised an arm southward, toward the Wall, and soon all of his subjects and the wights began marching in formation. They knew what they had to do. They knew what all this meant.

Winter had come.

THE REALM AT THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH CENTURY AC:

THE ROYAL FAMILY

Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (married to Jonelle Cerwyn)

Steffon Baratheon, firstborn and heir to the Iron Throne

Davos Baratheon, heir to Storm's End

Shireen Baratheon, bethrothed to Trystane Martell (match made to strenghten the ties with Dorne)

THE SMALL COUNCIL

Lord Davos Seaworth, First Hand of the King

Prince Oberyn Martell, Master of Coin (role given him after the execution of Petyr Baelish, to strenghten the ties with Dorne)

Lord Paxter Redwyne, Master of Ships

Lord Eldon Estermont, Master of Laws

Lord Roose Bolton, Master of Whisperers (role given him after Varys's escape)

Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kinsguard

Grand Maester Cressen (elected by the Conclave of Oldtown after Pycelle's death)

THE NORTH

Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (married to Roslin Frey)

Catelyn Tully, grandmother to be

Sansa Stark, Roslin's lady in waiting

Arya Stark, wild as always, bethrothed to Elmar Frey

Brandon Stark, who has just begun to have strange dreams

Rickon Stark, the runt of the litter

THE RIVERLANDS

Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands (married to Fair Walda Frey. The wedding was celebrated right after the end of the war, after many insistences by Catelyn, Brynden and Robb)

Ser Brynden Tully, castellan of Riverrun

THE VALE

Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East

Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone and regent until Robert comes of age (role taken after Lysa Tully's death)

Harrold Hardyng, Robert's heir should he die without issue

THE STORMLANDS

Davos Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands

Ser Cortnay Penrose, castellan of Storm's End and regent until Davos comes of age

THE REACH

Willas Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach and Warden of the South (married to Rhaelle Baratheon)

Cassana Tyrell, the firstborn

Leyton Tyrell, heir to Highgarden

Orys Tyrell, the thirdborn

Myrcella Waters, who has just joined the Silent Sisters of Oldtown (being a bastard, she has been stripped of the Baratheon name. Having never usurped the throne, King Stannis gave her the choice between death and the Silent Sisters)

THE WESTERLANDS

Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West

Martyn Lannister, Tyrion's cousin and her should he die without issue

Bronn Blackheart, Lord of the Sorrowfort (former Clegane's Keep), Tyrion's friend and drinking buddy (first knighted, Bronn become a lord right after the war, as reward for serving Tyrion. Not having a last name, he was given a new one, together with the castle and the lands formerly belonging to the Cleganes. House Blackheart's banner is a half black half silver shield, the words are "Stay alert". Recently he married the daughter of a knight sworn to House Lannister)

THE IRON ISLANDS (currently in uprising)

Euron Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands

Asha Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Islands (her brother Theon died fighting the Lannisters. Currently Lady Asha is in King's Landing as a guest of the Crown, together with the men loyal to her)

DORNE

Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear

Arianne Martell, firstborn and heir to Sunspear

Quentyn Martell, dead in unspecified circumstances

Trystane Martell, bethrothed to Shireen Baratheon (match made to strenghten the ties with the Iron Throne)

DRAGONSTONE

Benjen Stark, Lord of Dragonstone and Warden of the Narrow Sea (married to Dacey Mormont)

Eddard Stark, firstborn and heir to Dragonstone

Lyanna and Rickard Stark, two lovely three year old twins

Ser Jon Snow, recently knighted, follower of R'hllor

Melisandre of Asshai, priestess of R'hllor and Jon Snow's secret lover

THE WALL

Tormund Giantsbane, King-Beyond-the-Wall (after Mance Rayder died assaulting the Wall, Tormund was the only one able to keep the wildling clans united, and then he was chosen as king)

Qhorin Halfhand, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch (almost unanimously elected after succesfully repelling the wildling assault, in which many people died, including the Old Bear)

Tommen Waters (being a bastard, he has been stripped of the Baratheon name. Having never usurped the throne, King Stannis gave him the choice between death and the Wall)

Sandor Clegane (thanks to Sansa Stark's intercession, King Stannis allowed the Hound to choose between death and the Wall. Not having any relatives, the lands and titles were granted to another lord)

Jon Connington (after the failed invasion of the Stormlands and the death of the so-called Aegon Targaryen, Jon Connington choose to take the black)

ESSOS

Daenerys Targaryen, current ruler of Meereen

Jorah Mormont, First Hand of the Queen

Varys, adviser of the Queen

Samwell Tarly, just arrived in Meereen (before dying, Jeor Mormont asked Sam to find Jorah and give him Longclaw, telling him that his father forgave him and asking him to take the black)