Daenerys expected someone that night, but it wasn't the man who she found.

It wasn't the misshapen, mismatched eyes she had expected to meet, nor the near-white hair and beard. Yet she was far from disappointed.

"Tyrion," she said, unable to hide the surprise she felt.

Tyrion gaze up at her, wordless for a moment before finally saying, "May I come in?"

Daenerys inclined her head and stepped to the side, allowing her hand to pass inside. She closed the door before turning to face him.

"This is a surprise." She said simply.

Tyrion was wandering about the room as he spoke, looking high and low as he took in the appearance of the sleeping quarters. "Were you expecting someone else?"

It sounded less like a question and more like a statement. Daenerys stared through him as the Lannister turned to her, awaiting her answer.

"Someone taller." She said, and no more.

Tyrion laughed at the jab.

Dany's walked to her bed; or, perhaps glided would be a better word, for she made not a noise as her feet carried her along soundlessly. She had not yet changed into her sleeping robes, and her hair was still tight in the expert braidings of Missandei. Braids were important to the Dothraki, and they were important to Daenerys too.

She sat down on her bed.

Tyrion had already returned to his exploration, and held a figurine in his hand. It was of a dragon, black as night with streaks of red weaving through its intricately carved scales. Daenerys had had it made in Meereen, in the likeness of Drogon. The Lannister examined it with an unreadable expression. He stared at it for a moment before placing it back in its holding and picking up a second one just as detailed, made in Rhaegal image.

"These must have cost you a fortune;" He said at last, "The craftsmanship on them is truly amazing."

Daenerys couldn't help but laugh. "Did you simply come here to compliment my decorations, or is there a reason for your intrusion?"

Tyrion placed the glass Rhaegal back on its shelf.

"I wasn't aware I was intruding. I mean, you invited me in. I was under the impression that meant I was a guess, not an intruder."

"Be that as it may, I would still like to know just why you are here."

Tyrion turned, fixing his queen with an amused grin. "Can a hand not simply be visiting his queen? Must they always be discussing something of importance? Can I not just stop by every once in a while to check in?"

"No."

Tyrion laughed a partial laugh. "Yes, you're right. I did come here to discuss something."

"Then discuss."

Daenerys waved her arms in invitation, and Tyrion took a seat at her side.

"I don't suppose you have any wine?" All it took was a glare from Daenerys for him to forget the request. "Of course you don't. Well, there's the simple matter of succession…"

Daenerys stood. "Get out."

Tyrion raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, "Just hear me out."

"I told you we would discuss this after I lay claim to the throne. If this is the only reason you have come, then get out!" She pointed toward the door.

"I know you do not intend to die," Tyrion's tone sounded like a man pleading for his life, "but we at least have to make plans on how we should choose that heir. And there's the small question of who should sit on the council."

"All decisions we can discuss after."

The danger had left Daenerys' voice, and Tyrion seemed to pick up on that and went on, slow and deliberate.

"Yet all decisions that we should be making now. You are a stranger in our lands. Give the people a reason to follow you, a reason to believe you to be a better ruler. Should you make plans to decide an heir now, before you lay claim, you will boost moral and give the people hope for the future after you have gone. Say you choose a child from a powerful house, with a powerful name, and take them into your home to raise as the next king or queen. It will give the people of that house, and of every house, more reason to fight. More reason to be believe in Queen Daenerys of house Targaryen. The decision doesn't need to me made now; you need only make a promise."

Daenerys lowered herself back into the bed and fixed violet eyes on her companion. "And what promise would that be?"

"That, some time after you become the one true ruler of the seven kingdoms, you will choose a child from the house of your choosing and raise them up to be your heir. They will take the Targaryen name, learn the Targaryen ways, but in all essence they will still be a wolf, or a lion, or a stag or a fish. You will choose your own heir in your own time. Isn't that better than having to settle for whatever the god's give you? That hasn't really worked out well in the past. You could be the one to change that."

Despite Daenerys' suspicions, she knew the little lion man was speaking the truth.l. She was approaching her fifteenth nameday; she was still young. She would have plenty of time to settle on an heir when the time arrived, and solidify her hold on the empires. She was unable to deny her curiosity.

"And in what other ways would you suggest I gain the loyalties of my armies?"

"Marry into one of the main houses…" Tyrion sounded hesitant as he said that, maybe even jealous, "Any one would do. Marry a lordling and take him as the king."

Just the suggestion of that made Daenerys blood boil, but she forced herself to hear out the words of her hand.

"You need not give him an heir to make him powerful," Tyrion went on, "just him ruling at your side would be enough. People would be more inclined to fight if it is their king they're fighting for."

Daenerys had to admit that made since, but the thought of being married again… it would be her third marriage, all three out of necessity and obligation. She had done it twice before, and she could do it again. She didn't want to, but sometimes, you didn't have a choice.

Tyrion clearly sensed the discomfort in his young queen, and said tentatively. "Shall I continue."

Daenerys simply inclined her head.

"It would do well to settle on a council…" Tyrion started slowly, "A council of high lords and lady's with whom to surround yourself. Powerful names which the people are predisposed to."

"Well, I've already got you as my hand." Daenerys offered.

"Well, there's one house down!" Tyrion proudly exclaimed, "and as for the rest, I have a few suggestions, if you care to hear."

Daenerys said nothing, and so Tyrion went on.

"Well, for one, I think it's obvious who should be Master of Whispers."

"Lord Varys." Daenerys said at once, "The spider. He's already proven to have… experience in that area of expertise."

"Which is precisely why you should choose him! And as for Master of War-"

"I've already chosen a Master of War." It was the only seat in the council, beside the hand, that Daenerys had given any thought to.

Tyrion eyed her with curiosity. "And whom would that be?"

"Gray Worm. He's one of the strongest men I know and he's experienced in battle." Daenerys was certain that Gray Worm was the best choice, but Tyrion didn't seem to think so.

"I'm not too sure the kingdom would so graciously accept a stranger into their council."

"They'll have no choice." She could feel the edge returning to her voice. You don't want to wake the dragon. "They will have a stranger as their queen; a stranger in their court shall be no different."

Wine suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea.

"I fear the kingdom may see it differently…" Tyrion admitted, "But I suppose we'll see how it goes. Moving onto the Master of Coin, I should suggest that… Samwell Tarly, I believe his name is."

Tarly… that name was familiar to Daenerys. She felt words turn to sandpaper in her mouth. "Does… he have any relation to those… resisters… I executed?"

The lion's gaze was unreadable. "Yes, I'm sorry to admit. It was his father, and his brother."

Daenerys felt sick. "Oh."

Tyrion quickly changed the subject, "He is the Lord of Hornhill now, albeit an inexperienced one. Now that all the Tyrell's are gone, the Highgarden is probably descended into chaos, all following different families they are loyal to. No doubt some of them chose the Tarly's. I also hear he's an excellent bookkeeper."

Daenerys lifted her head. "And Master of Laws?"

Tyrion dismissed the question with a shake of his hand. "For that, I haven't the slightest clue. Perhaps a Stark. Or, if you're feeling adventurous, maybe legitimize Gendry Rivers and choose him."

"Legitimize Robert Baratheon's only living heir?" Daenerys barely recognized her fists closing tightly around the sheets.

"Well, once you conquer the city, it won't matter much." Tyrion pointed out, "By conquering the city, you will win back the throne. Even if he is the rightful heir right now, he won't be once you take down Cercei."

"And for Master of Ships?"

"Again, I haven't the slightest clue, but as you said, we still have time to work out the kinks. I do, however, have some suggestions for leader of the Kingsguard."

"And those would be?" Daenerys prompted.

Tyrion scratched his beard. "I hear Breanne's a good fight, and she holds a powerful name. If not her, then there's Sandor Clegane, or as you may or may not know him, the hound. He's a pretty formidable foe. I certainly wouldn't want to mess with him."

"And for Grand Maester?"

Daenerys felt stupid, like a child asking questions while the adult answered. She hated feeling like a child, but she couldn't deny the fact that she was. She was a girl in a strange new world, and she barely knew anyone outside of her small social circle. All she knew about how the kingdom was run were from stories Viserys told her when she was young, and she was beginning to realize most of what he said was either blown out of proportion, or a complete lie.

"We needn't worry about Grand Maester; it isn't up to the queen to decide anyway."

Daenerys blinked. "Then… who decides?"

"The conclave. It's a sort of council of archmaesters in the citadel." Tyrion explained briefly.

Daenerys decided to move on before she made an even bigger full of herself by asking what an archmaester was. "So there's Lord Varys, Gray Worm…"

"...Or someone else, that's still up for debate…"

"... Lord Samwell Tarly, Gendry Rivers…"

"...If you legitimize him, it'll be Gendry Baratheon…"

"...The Master of Ships still needs to be decided, and so does the Kingsguard. I'd like to see these suggestions of yours before anything is definite, however."

Tyrion nodded slowly. "I fear we may have to squeeze a Stark in there somewhere. Perhaps Bran or Jon."

"I'd much rather have Jon." Her heart gave a flutter as the words escaped on their own accord.

Tyrion leaned back. "And all of Winterfell will be glad to hear it."

Then there was a silence, and in that silence Daenerys saw the scene repeat in her head. Jon and his men, trapped. Surrounded by those… things. Wights, they called them. Her children soaring down from the sky, breathing their flames and breaking the ice, burning the wights. Then that one wight, the one with the crown of ice… his sphere. He could of easily struck down Drogon, yet he aimed for Viserion. Her sweet, innocent Viserion…

Why? Was it because Drogon was landed and Viserion was still in the air, taking down the army of the dead? Or was there some other reason, some other purpose that made the Wight-in-the-ice-crown aim for him? It didn't really matter the reason; her child was still there, dead. Frozen and preserved among the ice, when he should have lived hundreds more years, like the dragons before him. Like Drogon and Rhaegal would. But instead he died in the ice, in the place he hated most; the North.

"I lost my dragon to get him…"

"And Viserion will be dearly missed…" The sadness in the lord's voice was impossible to miss.

"No, you don't understand." Any sense was lost on her as the images flashed. "I lost my dragon!"

Viserion play-fighting in the air with his brothers…

"My child!"

Viserion was so little. They all were. Flying above the herd of Dothraki.

"I was there when he was born!"

Those eggs. Her beautiful, stone eggs…

"I hatched him in that fire!"

She was walking into Drogo's pyre, but she felt not the heat. She felt not the flame, nor the anguish, nor the fear.

"He was the last one to hatch…"

The eggs were cracking…

"He was so little…"

The last egg hatched, cream and gold, and stared up at her with eyes of bronze.

Daenerys felt the hot tears on her face, and she could speak no longer. It took all she had to stifle the sobs, so that no one would hear. No one besides the little lord before her.

Tyrion took her hand in his, and there was nothing but pity and compassion in his green-and-black eyes. "I can't imagine the pain you must be going through…"

Daenerys squeezed Tyrion's hand tight; it helped, somehow, and the tears stopped flowing. Tyrion squeezed back. "No you can't." She didn't mean to sound so curt. "Not unless you've lost a child." She hesitated. "Have you…"

Tyrion didn't let her finish that sentence. "I can't say that I have. I mean, sure, I've been with a lot of women. More than I can count, actually. Maybe there is a little Lannister bastard or two running around, but I can't say for certain."

"Would you like to have kids one day?" The thought had never really occurred to Daenerys before that moment.

Tyrion was silent for a long time. His eyes seemed dark, somehow, and he no longer returned Daenerys tight grip. "One day, sure." Tyrion's words and tone were brisk and, at least to Daenerys, felt rushed. "Imagine: dozens of little imps running around Casterly Rock. Just the thought of it would of driven my father mad."

Daenerys couldn't help but laugh. "I think they'd be cute!"

"Maybe." Tyrion's expression darkened again, "Or maybe they'd look like me…"

The dragon queen stared. "And why wouldn't that be considered cute?"

Tyrion clearly took it as a joke and laughed a forced laugh, but when he saw Daenerys wasn't laughing along, his false-smile faded. "Are you serious?"

"I mean, your eyes are quite unique; you're the only man i've ever seen with eyes like them." She placed her free hand under Tyrion's chin and lifted his head to get a better view of his eyes. "And I may be biased on the matter, but white hair is quite stylish." She pulled both hands back and folded them on her lap. "You look odd, sure. But odd is good."

Tyrion seemed flustered; he covered his mouth with his hand and gave a nervous laugh. His other hand tapped absently on the bed. "I… don't know what to say, your majesty. For once in my life, I am utterly speechless."

Daenerys drew herself up to her full height. "A change for the better, if you ask me."

They both laughed.

After the laughter was over, and a silence followed, Daenerys said, "It's… getting pretty late. I should get ready for bed."

"Oh, oh course! I didn't mean to keep you." Tyrion climbed down from off the bed, but Daenerys stayed where she was.

She waved at the little man. "It's fine; I enjoyed it."

"Then you're one of the few, Daenerys."

"I find it better to be the few than to be the many."

Tyrion smirked at that. "You speak the truth."

"Someone has to."

Tyrion was at the door then, hand on the doorknob, but before he left he turned to his queen and gave a bow.

"I shall see you on the morrow, dragon mother."

Daenerys stared after him. "On the morrow, little lion lord."