"Lord commander!" Yelled the man, he was running through the courtyard towards the knight commanders cabin. The man was stationed on top of the wall, he was to report any events to the lord commander immediately. He was a simple man; he came from a poor background. He was nothing but a humble farmer's son, but the crops hadn't grown right and now with winter on the way there was no way of his father sustaining the family. So, here he was. Shivering in cold and constantly anticipating an invasion of mythical monsters.
"Lord Commander!" yelled the man as he knocked on the cabins door. Clear hysteria in his voice. "Lord Commander!" the man knocked again, this time the door opened revealing a disgruntled Edd Tollett. He was dressed for sleep and the warm cabin air washed over the recruit like a wave.
"Who are you?" said Edd, clearly unhappy at being awoken at such an odd hour.
"Ryan sir!" said the ranger, his voice nervous yet clear "News from the wall sir"
"What is it?" said Edd, shaking off his grogginess "Anything of the white walkers?"
"No sir, two figures. they look to have injured sir"
"Well… How far out are they?" asked Edd as he exited the cabin, not before throwing his cloak over his shoulders and collecting his sword. The two made their way across the court yard towards the elevator as they spoke"
"At least a day out sir. With the sled they are carrying its likely to take them two" said Ryan as the two entered the elevator. They barely noticing the lurch when the cage started its ascent.
"Do they look like trouble?" asked Edd
"No Sir, they look like wildlings to me. Reckon they got separated from the rest of the army."
"So, send out the horses. Get them in here."
"Sir, the horses are spooked about something, they have been since morning. No rider could calm them now and besides; if they are injured a horse would do no good, it would spook them further."
"You're smarter than you look Ryan" said Edd as the cage arrived at the top of the wall.
"Thank you sir, I tended to the horses on the farm"
"And which farm would that be?" said Edd as he looked out across the plan through a telescope.
"Horn wood sir" said the Ranger with a smile on his face, remembering the love of his former home.
"And you're here because?"
"Volunteered sir. We didn't have a very good harvest, and now with winter coming in I couldn't have stayed. I figured I'd go where I could do some good."
"A volunteer." Said Edd as he put away the telescope; satisfied with the ranger's observation. "We have far too few of those these days. See if we can send out a scout party in the morning."
Far away in the cold Bran and Meera looked on the wall with an almost hungry look in their eyes.
"There it is Bran" said Meera as she began to make camp for the night. "Not more than a day or two away. Just think, hot food and a warm fire. Thick stone walls to keep the cold out"
"It doesn't even look occupied" said Bran quietly. Not nearly as excited as his travelling companion "Where are the torches?"
"Its late Bran, they're probably asleep." Said Meera dismissively "As we should be. It's an early morning tomorrow"
"I know Jon is aware of the white walkers. He must have told the wall, surely they should be on the lookout for an attack" replied Bran
"I don't know Bran; we might just not be able to see the torches. It is late at night and the wall is still far for the eye" Said Meera as she set a camp fire going. The sounds of the wood crackling comforted Bran.
"I guess we'll find out when we arrive." Said Bran as Meera pulled two rabbits out of a sack and began skinning the animals.
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Darvon Sat in the blooming rose come morning. A greasy plate of bacon and eggs lay in front of him with parchment and quill on the far side of the table. He sat in the corner of the entrance to the brothel. He liked to eat his breakfast close to the exits. It helps alleviate some of the smells that stains the walls of establishments such as these.
Darvon didn't mind the scent that came with sex. A kind of sweat mixed with arousal, truth be told with the amount of time he spent in different brothels around Westeros, he had come to appreciate the smell as one would their mothers homemade cooking. Even so he found that any smell becomes tainted when smelt too often.
Darvon had decided when he woke up that he wouldn't return to Winterfell. He had no great desire to return to his frozen birthplace. Not to mention now that winter had actually arrived in Westeros the north was set to get even more hostile to travelers. No, Darvon was rather happy with the warmth that came with the south.
Instead, he would track down his faceless sibling. As strong as he was sure she had become in her travelling he couldn't help but worry. He had accepted that he couldn't have done anything about his parents or his elder brother; but if he didn't find Arya and then he heard of her death. Now, that would be devastating. The last time he had seen her she had been little more than a babe.
He was a smart man though; he knew he couldn't just set off in the hopes of finding her. Westeros is a large and hostile place. The chances of finding her without any information were practically nonexistent. The issue was that, while he was good with people. Darvon tended to stay away from the politics of the world. It may be naive with the current state of things but when Darvon saw something incredible like the thousand foot wall of ice in the north or the mythical beasts that followed a beautiful and kind leader. He didn't like to interfere. He was more than content with just observing. He learnt a long time ago that politics rarely brought anything but misery with them.
He knew of a few people he could turn to. Namely, the spider and little finger. But both of those came with problems he didn't wish to take. Firstly, he had no idea where Varys had disappeared to. He had left Tyrions side when Darvon had left the Meereen. He could ask if Tyrion knew where Varys went to but he doubted Varys would have told anyone his destination.
While Darvon knew where little finger was residing and could send a raven, he knew little finger was a snake. If he knew that the heir to Winterfell was alive and well, then he would no doubt have plans for him. Plans Darvon had no intention of following. He had plans of his own to fulfill now that he was done his traveling.
Darvon eat his beacon as he pulled the piece of parchment over the table towards him. Picking up the quill as he did so, he began to write with a content smile on his face.
My dear Daenerys.
I hope this letter finds you well, I know that prolonged sea travel can have disastrous effects on one's stomach. I find myself in Highgarden at the moment although my plan is to be travelling again by nightfall so I will likely be on the road when you receive this letter. I can't tell you where I shall be traveling to for I do not know myself. All I can tell you is that I intend to find my sister and not the one in Winterfell.
It's a beautiful place, Highgarden. Even with the people in mourning I find my breath being taken from me when I see the gardens. I never could do them justice in all my tales, although I guess you will see them for yourself when you arrive. I do hope that whatever may happen to this place the views remain intact, it would be a shame to ruin such beauty.
You always did prefer me to be blunt so I shall be here. In my travels I have met many fascinating people and have grown fond of many more. A few of those fascinating people like yourself hold a special place in my heart. It's for that reason I must write this letter with a request. You know of course, I usually try not to get involved in the politics of the world although on this occasion I am compelled to do so on behalf of others that hold a place in my heart like you do.
House Farman rule Fair isle. A tiny and largely insignificant place except for one thing. House Farman has a strong navy. However, the Iron islands are great enemies of Fair isle and will likely attempt to conquer the island once stability has been brought back to the Greyjoys. My request is simple, I fully expect you to deliver the Iron Islands to Yara and I fully support this action. All I ask is that when you do you make the Greyjoys swear to peace with house Farman of Fair isle. They are a kind and weary house that simply cannot be sucked into the war that is to come.
In return I will make sure that house Farman does not answer Queen Cersei's call to arms once you have begun your campaign on Westeros. I have come to think of house Farman as my person family, even more so than my own house.
Please Dani, for the nights in each other's embrace we shared. Grant me this one request.
Also, say hello to Tyrion for me. I miss the little bastard.
-Forever yours
Darvon
With the letter finished Darvon eat the rest of his breakfast and took the scroll into his room. There laying under his bed lay his lute and minstrel costume along with his personal satchel. The one thing he still had from Winterfell. Eddard had gifted it to Darvon on the last birthday he celebrated with his family. Three weeks later he had run away never to be heard from again. Changing his life forever and insuring that the second eldest stark became the legend known throughout Westeros as the wandering wolf.
The satchel was made of a thick goat's leather, worn through years of use. It had the stark emblem embroidered on the cover with grey snowflakes stitched into the strap. That birthday was one of the few truly happy memories he had of Winterfell these days.
Inside the bag were his personal possessions. Mementos he had collected from the friends he had gathered during his life. Multiple bindings of parchment he had used for sketching and composing songs along with many lead sticks he would use for his sketches.
Darvon had taken to the arts the first time he had entered Highgarden. At the time he was using the disguise of a chef's apprentice to travel discreetly. People would always need a cook. It was with this disguise that he had met Margery Tyrell and her brother Loras. It was Loras who had taught him the tricks of song writing. He was a very kind boy although never quite as clever as his sister. She knew instantly that Darvon was no chef's assistant. But instead of telling her grandmother like Darvon feared she had spoken to him. Simply asking for his story, she was already learning the ways of politics. It was a shame really, Darvon knew that she was never to live a peaceful life, players of the game never did.
He had given some variation of the truth to her when she confronted him one night, she never actually knew his true identity but she knew he was of the north and that he had run away from home. If she had ever cared enough to truly study his past she would have no doubt figured out his identity. She probably had, if so she had kept his secret to the grave for him. Margery Tyrell was one of the first friends Darvon made once he left Winterfell. He had wept for hours when he heard of the Tyrell's fate. His decision to kill Cersei become concreate.
At the bottom of the bag lay a wooden box. It was a simple box, simple enough that Darvon should likely purchase a new on for each village he passed through. But Darvon hadn't bought it, he was given it as thanks for saving a farmer's daughter from being raped by bandits. The box had belonged to the man's father, a family memento. To a simple farmer the box must have cost a small fortune. It was made out of pine, stained to a rich polish with more than a few chips missing through decades of use. This simple box meant more to Darvon than all the gold in Westeros. Darvon never did care much for gold, a rather poor trait to have for a lord.
The lid of the box slid open with little effort, inside lay many stamps from each of the different houses of Westeros. Some of which Darvon had stolen, others were bought and some were given to him as gifts. The Targaryen stamp he retrieved from the box was once such stamp. It was the last thing Daenerys had given him before he returned to Westeros.
Darvon recalled his meeting Daenerys with fondness as he placed a blob of hot wax on the letter and sealed it with the Targaryen stamp. Daenerys would know it was from him when she received a letter baring her own seal.
After he had sealed the parchment Darvon placed the stamp back in the battered farmer's box and gathered his belongings. Throwing the satchel over his shoulder and strapping his costume and lute to the strap of the bag with a fluidity that had come from years of practice.
He made his way out of the brothel. Giving his thanks to the chef for the breakfast along with payment. The chef was a kind busty women Darvon had become friends with the first time he visited Highgarden. She lived a simple life with only one daughter and no husband. He had abandoned them not long after the child was born.
As unglamorous as her life may be, Darvon often found himself pining for a life such as hers. One time he had been invited inside of her home. The three roomed shack that could have fit inside of his bedroom at Winterfell held more love within its walls than he had ever received in the north, just another reason he didn't want a life as a noble.
'The Starks may want the world to think of them as honorable' thought Darvon as he weaved his way through the streets of Highgarden. 'But there no more honorable than the Tyrells, and yet infinitely more foolish'
Finally, Darvon arrived at the raven keeper of Highgarden and quickly had a bird sent off with the scroll in the direction of Meereen. Darvon hoped that Daenerys was travelling straight across over the ocean from her seat in the free cities. He dreaded the thought of having to choose between house Farman and Daenerys. Two if his greatest loves.
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Sandor Clegane trapped through the forest with long fatigued footsteps. Him and his religious group had been forging their way through the seemingly endless forest for days now and Sandor wanted nothing more than to find an inn. He longed for a warm night's rest, his belly full and an empty mug of ale in his hand.
They had decided they would make their way to Gultown for food and drink before they set off for Herenhall. Apparently the red lady was making her way south and Sandor's companions needed to speak with her. They would travel to Harrenhal and wait there until she arrived. Personally Sandor couldn't care less for the red lady or his companions. It was just that; he had heard rumors that Arya Stark was in the north. Apparently she was the one who had killed Walder Frey and his sons.
The hound remembered the girls list. She would recite it constantly during their travels, and he also remembered that the red lady was on that list. It was a long shot but if he happened to find the girl once again it would have been worth traveling with a bunch of religious idiots obsessed with fire. As much as the hound didn't want to admit it, he found himself fond of the young Stark. He had little in the way of friends, he was secretly hoping that he could eventually count the girl among those few.
He wasn't even angry at her for leaving him in that ditch anymore. Well, not as angry as he was….
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Tensions had been high recently between the Lannister siblings. They had scarcely spoken to one another since Jamie's return from Riverun and Cersei's accent to the throne. Jamie had taken to training with many different sword masters, using the excuse that he could not protect his queen if he was not a master with left handed sword fighting. Truthfully Jamie was having more and more doubts about his love for Cersei. She seemed to care less and less about Tommen's suicide with each passing day.
Cersei had become even colder towards the world since her reign began. She had little patience for the problems that were being presented daily and even less patience when it came to the cities rebuilding. People were confused about how the city could have been storing a cache of wildfire. Most assumed that the wildfire had been used up in the battle of kings landing against Stannis Baratheon a while ago. The official story from the Queen was that there had been an amount leftover from the battle that the city had been working to remove. The explosion was an accident that had tragically took the lives of many and destroyed the great sept.
Jamie was no fool. He knew the story was a lie, just like he knew that many of the public were quickly figuring this out also. There was serious worry within the small council that the people would begin rioting soon. There was even greater concern about the reports that Daenerys Targaryen was sailing over the sea. An army of thousands and three dragons at her back. Plus, with the assassination of Walder Frey the Royal hold on much of Westeros was becoming challenged.
Jamie was planning an exhibition. He would visit the sworn houses and make sure that they would answer the call should it be put out. He was also planning on travelling to the twins to make sure that whoever may take over from house Frey would swear loyalty to the crown and not the newly risen king in the north.
He kept thinking back to his travels away from Kings Landing. While he was away he had met people he considered friends, what was even more unusual is he found that he liked having friends more than he should. He thought of his actions when he was away from his sister. He had shown honor even after being held captive and having his sword hand stolen. He had been kind and smart in dealing with Riverun and Dawn finding a resolution to the issues he faced with little bloodshed.
And yet, when he was residing in Kings Landing he had betrayed Eddard Stark. Killed without Remorse and taunted a grieving wife with her husband's death, a man he had truthfully respected. It was clear to him now, Kings Landing brought out the worst in him.
Jamie felt disgusted with himself. He had performed atrocities all in the name of Lannister, atrocities far worse than the one he would forever be known for. Killing a madman who tortured countless and was ordering the death of far more was nothing to crippling a child and murdering his father. No, he had to leave Kings Landing. At least for a little while. He was beginning to understand why his brother had ran away more with each passing day, it wasn't like Tyrion was the first to do so either. Nor would he be the last Jamie was sure.
With that in mind Jamie organized his journey, consulting a map to find the best route to take in order to visit all sworn houses. He would start with Lannisport and then travel to house Lefford, before ending with house Farman. They were the houses Cersei had the most doubt concerning their loyalty. After that he would travel to Riverun and end with travelling to the Twins. Just to make sure that they knew the crown was watching.
The Twins had to stay under Lannister control if they were to have any chance of winning the wars to come. If the reports were true and Daenerys Targaryen really was coming to claim Westeros, then they couldn't also be fighting a war with the north.
That was the plan Jamie presented at the small council. There was little resistance to the plan, even Cersei seemed content to let him leave for what would likely be a several month voyage. That hurt Jamie more than he thought it would.
The next day at Dawn, Sir Jamie Lannister and thirty honored guards rode out of Kings Landing heading for Lannisport
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Daenerys was in her cabin, a goblet of wine held loosely in her hand. The mother of Dragons was sitting at her desk studying a map of Westeros when a knock came from her cabin door.
"Enter" said Daenerys with all the grace a queen should possess.
It was a messenger who entered. A young lad going by his face. He had short brown hair and a face with a softness that only came with youth. "A raven arrived your grace" said the boy nervously and he bowed deeply. "It's stamped with your own symbol" They boy quickly presented the scroll before rushing out of the door.
'My own Seal?' thought Dani as she inspected the scroll. Curious she opened the scroll and began to read. A smile creeping onto her face as she figured out from whom the raven had been sent. After she had read the parchment she had called for the messenger to find Tyrion and bring him to her.
Dani couldn't help but to read the letter again as she waited for her advisor to enter the cabin. For Darvon was one of the few people Daenerys could say she truly loved. The two had spent more than a few nights enjoying each other's company. Neither of them were foolish enough to think they could ever be together publically. The world knew of Darvon as nothing more than a minstrel and if they did find out his true identity he would be forced to live the life of a lord, maybe even a King if he and Dai were public. He had told her more than once about how much he hated the thought.
Dani had written many times to her traveling lover. He had become a shoulder on which she would often place her burdens. She remembered the first time she had met the enigmatic Stark. As she read the final two lines of the letter again.
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Daario and Daenerys sat in a tavern of Meereen. The two had been walking the streets, discussing how best to make the people accept Daenerys as their queen when Daario had led the queen into the inn. Ever since she first took over the city there had been many issues she was trying to fix, few of which she would be able to do without the support of her people.
She was sat with her arms placed in her lap. Her face making it clear how uncomfortable she felt in such a place. She looked around the room with disgust as she saw a clearly drunken patrons ogling a nearly nude whore who was currently sitting in the lap of another drunkard, this one a fat bearded man. His face was as red as the sun and he had sweated his way through his thin silk tunic long ago.
No, Dani held no love for establishments such as these. It was with a grain of salt that she knew she couldn't close them. That was a quick method for losing what little love of the people she held. Of course, just because she couldn't close such places didn't mean that she had to partake in them either.
"Daario" said Daenerys, putting on her best queen voice "I wish to leave"
"Just let me finish my drink" said Daario with his usual cheeky swagger "Besides the minstrel is going to come out soon. They say he is the best in the city"
"I do not care for minstrels" said Daenerys dismissively "and I do not care for establishments such as these. What I do care about is you wasting my time on places such as these when I have matters to attend to"
"You want to know how to get the people of Meereen to accept you" said Daario, proceeding once he saw a slight nod from his companion "The best way to understand that is to learn how they live. You can't do that from the top of that pyramid"
Daenerys might not have liked the thought much but she did have to admit he had a point. There was no truer projection of a person then when they were drunk and horny. At least, that's what Viserys had always told Dani when she was younger.
Daenerys was glaring in the direction of a man who had mistaken the corner of the room for a chamber pot when the minstrel did arrive. He came out of the kitchen with a mug of something in one hand and a lute in the other.
He wore a form fitting shirt that didn't fail to show off his not inconsiderable muscle and a pair of trousers that were far too thick to be ideal for the heat of Meereen. He clearly wasn't from here. His flesh was far too white to be from the area although it did have a tan that came from travel. He wore large boots that made his footsteps loud as he walked across the wooden stage at the far end of the room.
Daenerys was surprised at the quiet that fell over the inn when the minstrel sat on the single stool positioned at the edge of the stage. There were no more drunken yells from the patrons nor false giggles from the whores. Daenerys looked to the whore who was laying in the lap of the fat man only to find her and the rest of the workers standing in the corner of the room. They were putting blankets around themselves as the Minstrel made sure his lute was in tune.
"They cover themselves when he sings" said Daario in answer to her silent question "No one wants to distract him once he starts. The people have been talking, apparently he is far more than a simple singer. this place is never usually this full, the people are here for him, not the drink nor the girls."
"How long has he been here. That outfit doesn't belong in Meereen"
"Very observant my Queen" said Daario in a hushed voice "The people tell me he travelled in a month or two ago"
Before Daenerys could ask any further questions the minstrel looked up from his lute. Took a gulp from whatever was in his mug before placing the cup on the stage floor by the stool and began to speak. Not breaking into song straight away like most minstrels do.
"Well it's nice to see the regulars again" said the minstrel with a smile, his accent making it clear he was not from Meereen. "Not to mention some new faces" he said as he nodded his head towards the table where Daenerys and Daario sat "And who might you be?" he asked not unkindly
"I am Daario Naharis of the second sons" said Daario as he turned to be facing the minstrel "and this is the mother of dragons" at this the entire inn looked towards Daenerys. Making her feel more than a little intimidated.
"The great Mhysa visiting my little inn" said the Minstrel. The smile never leaving his face, "It's an honor, Daenerys Targaryen. The tales couldn't do you justice, although that's always the case with true beauty is it not?"
"Thank you sir" said Daenerys in a quiet voice
"Would you do me the honor of making a request?" said the minstrel. Daenerys noticed the envious looks she was receiving from the group of whores.
"Do you know any songs from Westeros?" she asked after a moment's thought.
"I do at that" said the Minstrel as he took another gulp from his mug before clearing his throat. The attention of the inn turned back to him as he adjusted himself in his stool. "This is a song I learnt from a woman in Riverun. See if you can figure out what it means." With that the minstrel began to strum a slow tune.
'Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day.
Gentle Mother, strength of Women,
Help our daughters through this fray.
Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
Teach us all a kinder way.'
The song went on for a good four minutes. Each punter in the inn sat in silence as the minstrel went through different pianos and fortississimos, gently swaying along with the soft tune of the song. Daenerys knew exactly why he had chosen to perform that song above all others from Westeros. She was the mother of dragons, the breaker of chains. To her subjects she was there gentle mother. She had to admit, he had a wonderful voice. So much so that she joined the others in the room and closed her eyes, letting the music wash her away to foreign lands.
When the song was finished the minstrel took another drink from his mug. There were calls for another and different requests were yelled from many. It all stopped however when the singer put his hand in the air and signaled for a waitress. It was a young woman who approached him, clearly nervous about being on stage in front of so many. The minstrel whispered something to the girl that went unnoticed. She quickly left the stage and went through the door the minstrel had come through before he began his performance, coming back into the room with a satchel held carefully in her hands she walked to the stage, the girl attempted to hand the bag to the singer on stage from where she stood on the floor but was forced to climb back onto stage to hand the bag to the singer when he refused to accept the bag from her outstretched hand.
He accepted the bag the second time she offered it, this time with her standing by his side on stage. Yet he would still not allow her to leave. Instead he held her wrist in his hand as he pulled something out of his bag. It was a large book with tattered edges to it. Then, still with a smile on his face he gave the book to the waitress.
She had a shy smile on her face as she opened the book. She flipped the pages with care one would take with a holy book until she handed the book back to the singer, this time open at a page somewhere roughly in the middle of the book. With a thanks from the singer the waitress left the stage her face a burning crimson.
"That girl has great taste" said the minstrel to the crowd. "This is a song I wrote when I was crossing the ocean to arrive at this very city we all find ourselves in. I was looking to the stars one night, feeling the motion of the waves below my feet as they rocked the boat when I wrote this one"
It was then that Daenerys realized what was in the book. 'it must be his songbook.' Dani saw how clever the act that the minstrel put on was. Instead of providing simple background noise and being paid by the pubs owner he instead made a show of his act. Making it far more likely that the pub asks him to return after he has finished his act for the night.
The genius of the act became even more apparent to Daenerys after he had played his way through much of the night. For when he had emptied his mug he didn't give it to a waitress for a refill, he instead placed it on the edge of the stage. Empty. At least, until he had finished his final song. Hours after Daenerys had requested the opening tale the patrons of the inn one by one placed handful after handful of coins into the mug.
Dani even saw the fat man from earlier waddle his way over to the stage and place more money than a normal minstrel earns in a month into the battered mug. 'He must have more money than most houses of Westeros if he performs like that regularly.'
All of this was done in silence by the crowd. You could hear every cough, sneeze and deep breath in the room when he wasn't singing. It was only when he had risen from the stool and took a deep bow that the crowd erupted into cheers. Even Daenerys couldn't resist applauding the unique performer. Even Daario was giving the singer a standing evasion as he slung the satchel over his shoulder and placed the mug into the bag.
Instead of returning to the kitchens like Daenerys expected he instead walked through the crowd. Shaking hands as he did so until he came to Daenerys's table. There he stopped and looked at the mother of dragons.
The two locked eyes for a minute until the minstrel opened his sachet and retrieved the same book he had handed to the waitress at the start of the night. This go the crowd's attention as once again they fell silent. The songster then flicked through his book, without the care that the waitress had used earlier until he stopped at a certain page. This one near the rear of the book. Without a word he casually tore the page from the book and placed it down on the table.
The crowd gasped at the sound of tearing. Deanery's looked from the parchment he had placed on the table to his face with curiosity. In response he simply offered her a smile and bowed his head before strolling out of the inn. His lute held loosely in his right hand.
The inn was silent after he left, they were looking at Daenerys with clear envy in their faces. It was then that she read the parchment. Written on it in a delicate hand were lyrics to a song she had never heard. A song he hadn't played during the night. A song about her.
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Daenerys stood at the memory and made her way across her cabin to the bed. There lying next to her bed was her current book, but more importantly inside of the book was a piece of parchment, a torn edge standing out from the rest of the parchment contained within the leather. She was reading the lyrics when a knock came from her cabin door. She had read the parchment so often that she knew the words like she knew her own name.
She placed the parchment on her bed and opened the door where she was met with her friendly dwarf, waving her advisor in she quickly placed the paper back inside of the book. It was the one song he wouldn't perform for anyone but her. And she would never show the lyrics to anyone other than him. It was just another silly game the two played.
"Daenerys" said Tyrion with a smile as he followed his queen into her cabin "what can I do for you?"
"Darvon sent a raven" she said as she handed him the letter "He asks a favor of me"
Tyrion's eyes scanned the parchment quickly until he got to the final line. A smile broke out on his face as he looked up to the women who had renewed his faith in the world. "Well" he said joyfully "I guess we had better talk to Yara then"
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A/N:
There we go. Chapter two, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please leaver reviews. It helps me write if I know you all want to read my story.
Sorry for the late upload. What with University work and trying to write three stories updates will be irregular.
Again please like/fav/review
Until next time :)