Tyrion & Dany

Daenerys stood at the railing, looking out at the horizon. She knew people said that she stationed herself there because she liked to keep her eye on the prize ahead… and she let them say it, because the real reason was much less glamorous: if she watched the horizon, she was seasick less often.

Tyrion Lannister (a Lannister in her service. She could still hardly believe it) lurched up to her and leaned backwards against the railing – wine in hand, as always. "This is much better than my last journey across the sea," he said. "Did I ever tell you about that? I rode in a crate."

"Yes," she said shortly. He'd told her more than once, actually. Possibly the wine had drowned his brain.

"Oh." He was quiet a moment, then gestured – with the goblet. "Do you think they're going to marry one another?"

A queen should not vomit on her Hand. "What?"

"Them." He pointed but she didn't turn to look. "Missandei and Grey Worm. Torgo Nudho," he added, enunciating carefully but still his accent grated on the ear.

She tried to pay attention to his words. "Missandei and Grey Worm – marry?" she repeated. "Why would they? He can't give her children, can he?"

She realized what a stupid thing she'd said the moment it was out of her mouth, and Tyrion seemed to notice too – he gave her a sideways look. "Must husband and wife give one another children?" he asked, light and casual. "Is that the only purpose to marriage?"

She nodded to show that she'd taken his point – and that she appreciated the delicacy with which he had corrected her. She spoke with confidence about ruling and about Westeros, because Jorah Mormont had been right that it was the only way to receive respect from the men around her, but she was wise enough to know that she had a lot to learn about both.

"Do you think they want to marry?" she said.

"Grey Worm would be a fool not to propose it. She's a beautiful woman, and kind, and very intelligent – and they seem to love one another."

Beautiful woman. It was strange, to think of her softspoken counselor as a man who would notice such things. She'd heard that dwarfs were low and lecherous, but if this one was seeking out any lechery he was doing it out of her presence.

Which made her wonder: "Are you planning to marry? There's no reason why the Hand of the Queen can't have a wife, is there?"

"I-, um." He cleared his throat and took a long sip of his wine. "I am married, Your Grace – or at least I was." He said it into his glass. "My father had me wed Sansa Stark. With any luck the poor girl's managed to have it annulled."

She was surprised enough to hear that he'd been married, but the way he said the name told her that he expected it to mean something. "Sansa Stark," she repeated. She struggled to remember; Viserys had ranted at her obsessively about Westerosi families for years, but she'd always been so busy trying to calm him down that she'd hardly retained a thing. "The Starks were allies of the Usurper. They are... from the North."

He sucked in his breath. "Your Grace… how best to put this." She gave him eyebrows – he'd better find a way to put it politely. "Um."

Finally she spared him the trouble. "Yes I know. But in Slaver's Bay I was busy," she reminded irritably, "And now I can't sit in my cabin reading books and maps. I'll vomit all over them."

"An unfortunate-"

"So you'll just have to teach me," she said over him. He looked pained. "You'll tell me everything, about everyone. I'll study every day – beginning now."

"Your Grace…"

There was no need for threats where generosity would serve as well. "You may drink while you're teaching."

He bowed to her, and uncapped a wineskin to refill himself. "As you command."

TBC.

The more I think about it, how is Dany planning on ruling a diverse and complicated kingdom she knows nothing about? Or is she planning on just having the Dothraki raze the place and replace everything with horse culture?

I'm working on an Arya/Melisandre bit.