"It is but half a day more, Lord Tyrion," said one of the hands on the deck.
He nodded, not really paying much attention. Instead, he walked to the side of the ship and peered out into the expanse of the sea. The sight was formidable and grave: one thousand ships sailing along the dark waters. He thought that he was very glad to be among the invaders…
He looked over to Grey Worm and Missandei, both speaking in hushed tones not far from where Deanerys stood.
She appeared as majestic as ever, naturally leading great armies and ships over the sea.
She had no idea what was in store for her, and it was he, Tyrion, who must prepare her.
He looked away from the scene, thinking that he should counsel her before they land. It would be foolish and indeed, a poor choice for a Hand, not to do so. Precious few noblemen had travelled all of Westeros. He was in a unique position to offer her a complete view of what he saw and knew.
But first he would have some more wine.
"Tell me, you who swab the deck with such vigor, can you direct me to more wine? Or is your expertise limited to cleaning the teak of these ships?"
The hand bowed and nodded. "There are stores, m'lord, down below…"
"And if that is gone?"
The hand paled. "I…"
"As I thought," and he looked over to the ship just a stone's throw from where he stood. "You there!"
One of the hands looked up, confused. He pointed to himself, a question painted on his face. And though Tyrion couldn't get a proper view, he knew this would be a chore.
"Yes, you! You, standing there with your pecker in your hand! Have you wine on that vessel? Or have the drunkards drained it all?"
"Ah…I think there are bottles still!"
"Excellent," he muttered. "This drunkard has emptied ours," he pointed to himself. "Send someone over with your stores immediately!" the hand stared at him. "That means now. Do it now!"
And the hand scurried off.
"What an obedient fellow he is," and Tyron turned to the swabbing hand. "When he returns with their bottles, send them down below to the map room," and he turned away. He walked over to the threesome staring out into the sea, Westeros not yet visible…"It won't appear by will alone," he observed, and Grey Worm looked at him confusedly. "Westeros," Tyrion supplied. "We still have some time before we will be able to see it."
No answer.
"You two make the perfect pair. Somehow, you communicate without speaking, save some whispers."
Missandei smiled. "We speak quite frequently, Lord Tyrion."
Grey Worm was frowning.
And Tyrion stood back. "I hope so. He is a fraught one, and I don't think that he likes me very much."
Missandei laughed now.
Tyrion smiled and turned his attention to the Queen, her back toward them all, looking out into the expanse. He approached her cautiously, for though his recent realization should not effect his abilities as the Hand, he wondered at it effecting his ability to speak. "Pardon me, my Queen," he said, now reaching her side, but not looking at her. "If I might suggest, once you have thoroughly examined these waters and determined that they are salty and black, perhaps you might consider joining me in the map room below. I thought that I might give you some insight on what you can expect upon landing."
Daenerys was smiling at his humor, though he did not see it. She looked at him. "What more can you offer? I have received much in terms of information from a variety of counsel, including yourself."
"Well, seeing as how I am a Lannister, and the Lannister armies hold King's Landing. And the Queen sitting on the Iron Throne at present is my sister," he looked at her now. "I believe I am uniquely qualified to offer you detailed information about what to expect. But, as always, it is your decision," he nodded, and looked out once more.
"Yes it is," she smiled. "Very well, Hand of the Queen. I shall join you momentarily. There is a bit of black water just beyond that I am not convinced is as black as the rest, and I must examine it more closely."
At his, he looked at her, shocked that she made reference to his joke, shocked more that she attempted to make her own joke. He smiled. He nodded…he wanted to respond…cleared his throat. "I await your presence, then," and he turned and left.
How silly that a small thing like an acknowledgment of his joke should render him so fraught.
Though, he thought as he descended the stairs, she seldom smiled. Or laughed. That was likely the cause for his unease. He was able to make her smile, something precious few could boast.
Perhaps he should be satisfied with that victory and move on, away from the unattainable…the thing he could barely admit to himself.
The hand had dutifully deposited the bottles on the smallish table next to the massive one holding the map of Westeros. Tyrion poured himself some, and drank deeply. Daenerys knew much of his history, most of which he had never told her; she had discovered it from other sources.
He didn't know how to feel about this. Most knew of him, most despised him in turn. This, in and of itself, was not concerning.
But with Deanerys knowing, he felt some pull to clear his history up. Yes, he had done some awful things. Yes, he regretted some of those things.
Though he wanted, really, to be able to address them with her and explain…
"You finished the wine, and sent for more?"
He turned to see the Queen approaching him, running her finger along the edge of the table with the maps.
He swallowed. "I am no quitter," he replied. "And resourceful, at that."
"It is fortunate that I have a steadfast and resourceful Hand," she smiled. "Now," she folded her hands in front of her. "What would you like for me to understand?"
He looked at her…"Wine, my Queen?"
"I don't want it. Not now, at any rate."
"You should," and he sat, then indicated that she should as well. "You might find it soothing when dealing with the likes of my sister."
Daenerys then sat across from him. "I prefer to be lucid when dealing with my enemies."
"Lucidity is an overrated state, in my opinion. Cersei inspires such malignant irritation and anger that dulling my senses was the only way I found that I could manage interactions with her," and he drank at the thought of his sister, the Queen.
Daenerys looked at her hands folded in her lap. "She is ruthless, I understand."
He looked at her, though she was not returning his gaze. "You have no idea."
She looked at him now. "Explain, then."
Before he could answer, he poured more wine, attempting to clear away frayed thoughts of Cersei's hatred for him. He minded only but little, he never actually felt as though he was part of the Lannister family. But still, one would hope that, when it came to family, one would be at least accepted a bit.
He wasn't.
Well. Jamie had.
He looked at Daenerys with a bit of a sad look he wasn't aware he was making.
"Is it that bad? You, who are so logical and sound? My most trusted advisor…" and she smiled at him slightly. "I can deal with a maniac, Tyrion. You never met my own family."
"No," and he drank once more.
"And I can tell you that my own brother, whom I loved, told me that he would have Khal Drogo's entire army fuck me if it meant he could use them to take back the Iron Throne," she paused, looking at his face. "You appear to be shocked."
"That is because I am."
"I wasn't always the Queen you know," and she looked out the small window. "I've been bought and sold, terrified and humiliated. I know what it means to not own your own life," she looked at him once more. "Simply by virtue of who you are, being born into this world. I am a woman. Those slaves whom I freed were born into slave families. You are an imp," she nodded. "We have done nothing save be born. That is no crime."
"Indeed no. It is not."
"So…tell me. What horrors await me at King's Landing?"
He sat back in his chair. "Cersei, whether through her own fault or not, has lost all of her children," and he drank. "It is a shame, really, for that role humanized her in a way that nothing else ever did."
"She loved her children?"
"Oh yes. And Tommen and Marcella were lovely, really. Joffery was a beast, and likely even more insane than his mother."
She smiled. "Such love for your nephew, Lord Tyrion."
He then returned her smile. "He was vile. Even though I did not murder him, I had contemplated it on several occasions."
"And now you confess murderous intent. I am no priest…" and she laughed.
…and the joy he felt at her ease with him was palpable. "You'll do, my Queen. At any rate, you should know that Cersei now has nothing left to lose. Everything that was good in her is now gone, for her love for our brother I really cannot call good."
"So…the rumors are true, then?"
"Which? The ones that my siblings are fucking? Yes. Those are true."
Daenerys cleared her throat.
"Apologies for my indelicate remark."
She shook her head. "I appreciate the frankness."
He smiled. "I don't think I've ever told anyone that, though I'm positive that nearly everyone knows, or at least, suspects, that those were not Baratheon children."
"She has absolutely no claim to the Throne," Daenerys sat back, an odd position for her.
"That is not true. She has more than any of her children. She was Robert's wife."
"The usurper," she said, with a cock of her brow.
His face changed, and he appeared to be slightly unsettled…"I do not wish to engage in this type of historical banter, your grace."
She shrugged noncommittally. "Then what sort of banter do you wish to engage in?"
"To advise you, on no uncertain terms, that Cersei is formidable, if only because she is the son my father always wanted."
She held his gaze steadily. "What do I do?"
That was the question…"You do not speak to her at the outset. Send someone else. She will be waiting to pounce…when she denies you," he leaned in a touch. "Flatten her with all the might your dragons can muster."
"You wish for me to hide behind my dragons and send someone in my stead to negotiate?"
Yes, but only because I fear for your life if you do otherwise. "It is sound advice."
"Whom shall I send?"
He drank his wine deeply. "Me."
"You?"
"Yes. Doesn't it make sense for me to go? Her little brother?"
Daenerys did not laugh. "As I understand it, she means to have you killed."
"Cersei means for much to happen. Things seldom happen the way she means."
"No," it was an emphatic reply for so short a word.
"Your grace, if you allow me…"
"No. I named you Hand of the Queen. What am I to do if my Hand gets himself killed?" she rose from her seat. "If what you say about your sister is true, then I will not risk your life. I can face this Mad Queen. I am likely not so different from her in ways you may not see."
"My Queen, I will not allow it," and he stood. "She is dangerous…vile, and now, utterly mad. She will be expecting you to make a mistake. This is that mistake."
Daenerys smiled at him. "You are forbidding me?"
"I…" and his gaze dropped. He cleared his throat. He shifted his weight a bit…"I am advising you in the most severe language I know how. Send someone else. If it not be me, someone whom you trust."
"Everyone I trust I value. I cannot spare a life."
He looked at her solemnly. "Cersei used wildfire to kill hundreds at the Sept. The Sept was filled with her enemies, but also held many innocents. She has no limits. She is now surrounded by enemies…she has only the Lannister armies and Jamie. That is not enough to stave you off, and she knows it," he paused. "She is dangerous, because she is not nearly as smart as she thinks she is."
"She may be smarter than you think."
"She isn't," and he drank deeply and sat down once more.
"She is desperate and dull, then? What have I to fear?"
"Desperation is the most dangerous of characteristics, Daenerys. You must have seen enough of this world to understand that."
She looked at him quizzically, and with a thoughtful glance, went to the map on the table. "Come, Hand of the Queen. Let us discuss the plot my generals have outlined."
He hesitated for a moment, then slid off the chair, and drink in hand, met her at the table, Westeros but a drawing…
…the land itself drawing ever nearer.