Still a lion

Many look down on him

Chances of outwitting him are slim

A cup of wine, a book,

His wealth, a golden hook

A mind, rarer than valyrian steel

Few truly know, how he may feel

For cripples, bastards, and broken things

His words give them unbroken wings

Despised by sister and father

He knows the game, like no other

He smiles, sips his wine

They are blind fools, the realm is mine

He serves the young, the lovely dragon queen

His motives, though true, remain unseen

She is so young, a summer child, she needs advice

And yet he knows, any heart can harbor ice