/*Authors note*
Hi fiction readers. First off, I'd like to say thank you for all the positive feedback I have received on the story so far. It's great to know so many of you are interested in seeing how it plays out and it reall gives me the incentive to keep on writing.
The reason behind this message is just to inform you that this coming week, there will be no new upload. I'm headed out to Corfu and my wifi will be very limited, so the good likely-hood is a new chapter around the 28th of August. I will still be writing while abroad, so I may even have a double chapter special for you upon return!

Thanks again! /

A low moon hung full in the evening sky over Highgarden, illuminating the vibrant and active city below as it bathed in its fluorescence. Despite the uncertainty brewing just south of their lands, the Tyrell city of eternal valour was still a beacon of their symbolism to grow, even during the coldest winters. Winter was indeed hitting hard however, even in the most Southern regions of the Reach. The rain had only just ceased for the first time in days, the condensation rising steadily from the woods surrounding the castle and blanketing them in a thick mist.

Margaery looked on from the highest reaches of the platforms surrounding the palace within the centre of the city. She had not been the same since her experience in King's Landing, only just escaping the same fate as her brother at the hands of the Sparrows and Cersei's unmerciful justice. Only pleading uncertainty had saved her life, her grandmother whisking her away swiftly after the sorrowful events that followed suit. He had been unmercifully cut down purely for the crime of loving someone unjust in their eyes. It was something she wouldn't forget any time soon, the sight of his execution ever present in the rolling clouds of steam protruding from the woods.

Glancing down momentarily, she saw the golden roses laid neatly in the flower beds around abundant in their gardens. Their beauty was an impressive sight to all who beheld them, either from home or from lands leagues away. An admirer had once compared her to one of the flowers, their striking beauty and uniqueness being the point he raised. Thinking back, she often wished she'd taken the young man's words more kindly. It was around that time that she truly realised her ambition, queenly dreams dominating her thoughts. Maybe following a path more reasonable and realistic would have saved her the torment to follow.

Three husbands later and she began to realise the folly of her ways, being right back where she begun. To compare her to a rose now would be one wilting away, hidden underneath the shadow of the garden beneath its counterparts, not able to fully bloom as it had first expected. Despite her family's encouragement, she preferred to keep herself out of the public eye for now, the shame and embarrassment of what befell her too much to deal with sometimes. She would often field these lonely night visuals, wrapped tightly in a concealed shawl, staring endlessly over the forests below and outward over the mountains as she remained lost in thought.

However, on this night, it seemed she had a visitor. "I think anyone in the Seven Kingdoms would be hard pressed to deny we have a better view here than in those bloody gardens of Kings Landing" Olenna noted, her sarcasm an attempt to cheer her granddaughter up. It brought about a weak smile, though would it take far more than that to reroute the spirits of the disengaged young soul. Olenna was a mix of empathy and sass in her following statement. "You can't keep yourself confined up here forever. You need to be amongst your people again" she pleaded to Margaery. "I was amongst my people, for a time" Margaery began, her voice timid and lost as though she were in a trance. "I just wanted to be a Queen the people loved. They did love me, temporarily. Then, suddenly, it felt like nobody loved me at all".

"Don't be so sentimental girl. Thats not what you've been taught" Olenna reminded her sternly. "You'll always have my backing, as well as your fathers and every loyal banner in the reach. You didn't lose your grip on the Iron Throne because of the people. It was all the fault of the cursed Lannisters. Wardens of the South indeed". Margaery once again remained silent, trying to process Olenna's words in the haze of doubt and uncertainty that laid dormant on her mind. "At least come indoors and have some rose tea. It's freezing out here".

Margaery couldn't deny common sense. It was indeed getting colder by the minute as the sun's light disappeared indefinitely over the horizon until another morning awakened. Plus, she could see her grandmother was at least trying to help her feel better, even if in her own unique way. Turning to walk back into the palace, the pair took one last look over the glittering city below them. As Margaery turned away however, Olenna called her back upon noticing something new. "Well, at least the soldiers have thought of a way to keep themselves warm" Olenna chuckled as she overlooked the spectacle before her.

Glancing down, Margaery saw a rather large flame whipping up upon the eastern wall below. It was luminous and tall in its stature, its golden hue illuminating even across the darkening skyline. Something seemed off about it however, almost suspicious. It kept growing larger, almost beyond control, with no end to its expansion in sight. Even Olenna began to realise something was wrong as the flames whipped higher into the air. Their eyes widened as they began to hear the cries of terror echoing over the otherwise bustling city. Something was indeed out of the ordinary.

Looking along the walls perimeter, the pair began to notice more flames springing up from their castletop visual. This was no mere accident. Highgarden was under attack. The bells began to toll across the city, warning its populace of the impending danger threatening them. The screams became ever more apparent and vocal across the capital of the Reach as they sound of swords clanging and clattering entered the composition. It was Olenna who was the first to broke away from her entranced state of fear. "Into the palace, we have to find safety" she ushered to Margaery as the two royals sought shelter as quickly as they could. Margaery tried to block out the sounds of suffering in her ears as she ran, the noise all too reminiscent of that she heard locked in the dungeons of the Sept whilst imprisoned by the Sparrows. She fought back as much fear as she could however as she helped her grandmother flee into the main castle.

Upon returning, they could hear the place was in just as much of a state of panic and chaos as the rest of the city. Calls echoed around the lavish halls as shadows danced upon the walls whilst the candlelight flickered.

"They've taken the Sept!"

"They're butchering all the priests!"

Then came a more chilling sound, as more blood curdling screams began to resonate from within the castle and what could only be described as 'small rumbles' pulsed through the floor as bodies fell. Silence reigned suddenly as Olenna and her granddaughter stood paralysed together in fear. "We have to keep moving, come on" Olenna noted as she prepared to run forward into what she believed to be the safety of the inner palace. Margaery remained fixed in her position, watching her grandmother walk right into the trap.

As Olenna turned around to look at Margaery once more, her subsequent words were cut off by the fear and terror in her granddaughters face. She shook in fear of something that Olenna could not quite see. It came to the obvious conclusion that whatever it was lingered behind her. Before she could react quickly enough however, she felt a sharp, searing pain shoot straight through her, one of her lungs caving in as the sharp dagger pushed through and out of the front of her chest.

Margaery, still perplexed in fear, could only look on and scream in horror as she saw the dark, shadowy figure slice into her grandmother. She watched as the fluent stream of blood poured out of her chest, splattering to the floor beneath. Her eyes went pale and before too long, she fell to the floor with a thud, devoid of life as the result of such an unmerciful murder.

Jon hadn't budged much from his window side vidual, save for getting some minimal sleep during the night, since he had returned from the Throne Room yesterday morning. At first, he felt anger towards Daenerys, her jealous and spiteful nature making her no better in his eyes than those who had led the realm into decay from the Iron Throne before her. There was a temptation within him there and then to play upon her foolish accusations and rally the northerners in revolt against this mock Queen. With such a mentality for arrogance, how could she be trusted leading the city against the impending wrath of winter?

However, something had kept him from acting on those thoughts. There had been a nagging voice in the back of his subconscious that had kept his animosity in check. She was one of his blood relatives and possibly one of the only links he would ever truly have to his real father's side of the family. He had bickered with family before, though not quite on a scale where they had threatened him with being burnt alive or eaten. It was a situation that had left him perplexed and thrown off balance, even after he had vented his frustration to Sam. His friend had been another factor in keeping him focused of course, his more pacifist nature pleading for reason to Jon's angered thoughts.

A night of indecisive reflection and freezing winter conditions had kept Jon wide awake in the dark before his body could hold out no longer from exhaustion. He had awoken slightly later as a result to find Arya waiting for him, concern in her eyes as rumours of events in the Throne Room had reached her ears. Jon had tried to usher her away at first, not wanting the young Stark being caught up in a seemingly more obvious family dispute. Arya would not budge however, insistent on finding a way to help. With some gentle badgering, Jon eventually opened up to her about the previous days events and the threats Daenerys had put to him.

As she listened to his story, such behaviour on behalf of the Queen seemed to take her by surprise. She recalled to Jon about how she had been one of the most regular visitors to his bedside during his recovery, as well as the words the Silver Queen had confessed to her about her vision for the realm during their last encounter. Jon wanted to call a bluff on Arya's sympathetic revelation, the memory of the Targaryen's scorned expression far more present behind his eyes than one of peace and mercy. Still, the look on Arya's face as she spoke to him told a story all of its own. She was telling the truth. This put him right back to square one, with far more questions than answers.

"Maybe she's afraid" Arya had told him, guessing with the best assumption she could muster as she and Jon tried to solve such a mystery. Jon had questioned such a bizarre thought. What did she, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Mother of Dragons have to be scared of? What had he quite done to make her afraid of him in any sense? Of course, Arya's answer put pay to those thoughts, the conclusion seemingly quite obvious, even from such a young mind.

"Aerys was probably scared in his last days. She told me she's tried to distance herself from his image though, but she's fought for years to come home. She treats her Dragons like her children. Maybe she sees how you'd be a more obvious fit to the throne than her. Maybe she thinks you'll take her children from her".

Interacting with Viserion as he had done yesterday morning was most certainly the catalyst for all this. He realised now that his curiosity had been rash in her eyes. Nobody else had been able to tame or even show any sign of interaction with such unruly creatures for hundreds of years. As what she had suspected to be the last remaining descendant of Dragons blood, she felt connected to them with a motherly bond. For all their time in the world, she had been the only one who could understand them. That was until Jon had stepped seemingly out of the shadows and tempted her Dragons with another choice, something they had not been presented before in an otherwise black and white existence.

He knew he would have felt similar if someone had tried to take Ghost from him. The direwolf was only what he considered a companion however. Daenerys considered her Dragons to be her legitimate children, hence one of the various titles she had been bestowed. Jon could have imagined how Ned Stark would have reacted having his children snatched from him and the lengths he'd go too to protect them. He still had to force himself to remember that Ned wasn't his real father. That had all been a ruse. Still, he had raised Jon better than any legitimate father could have ever done. So that would remain in Jons mind forever. Still, he knew now another challenge faced him in that sense.

As he sat by his window side, polishing Longclaw as he processed such theories in his head, he was drawn away by a knock upon his door. He was in no fit state mentally to entertain any guests right now. The presence was consistent however, not taking no for an answer. Eventually, Jon propped his sword to one side and answered. Waiting at the door was a presence he had not expected, least he thought would have given him time of day over the ever demanding rule of a city.

"Ah, I was beginning to think I'd missed you" Tyrion noted, pleased that Jon was actually around. "No, I was just...thinking" Jon replied, slowly but hesitantly. "It can often be a blessing to take in a private moment of thought" Tyrion preached, trying to play a hand of sympathy to the otherwise confused young man. Jon however, wasn't going to be outed that easily by his mind games. "What are you doing here?" He put bluntly to the Lannister prince. Tyrion could see the boy was no fool, despite what others may have thought. Though he did have the defensive outlook of a Stark towards those he was cautious around.

"We need to talk about yesterday" Tyrion put bluntly to him. "I'm not in the mood" Jon instantly replied, wanting to slam the door square in the Lannister's face. Tyrion spoke before he could play on such desires however. "Don't be a fool Jon" he told the young commander. "We both know there are questions that need answering regarding these events". Jon tutted in disbelief at Tyrion's proposal. "So you've come here to give me the answers you think will make this right?" Jon questioned, unimpressed by his assumptions.

"You're not the only one with questions about our Queen. I haven't spoken to her since I lectured her on her treatment of you yesterday" Tyrion put to him bluntly. This did manage to stop Jon from turning his back on the Queen's hand. "I think that we should work to find some answers together". He had captured Jon's curiosity previously, though he now had his attention as he predicted the next move. "I'm listening" he told Tyrion, a hint of scepticism about his tone. "May I come in?" Tyrion asked, thinking it rather foolish to stand at a doorway talking about the well being of the Queen in her Kingdom in front of every prying eye there could possibly be. Even in this new age, Varys wasn't the only one with spies. Jon eventually loosened his grip on the door, allowing Tyrion entrance.

Once inside, Tyrion pulled up a chair and observed his surroundings as Jon sat himself on the corner of the bed. "Do you have any wine?" Tyrion asked as he continued to scan the room for some sort of beverage. "No" was Jon's blunt reply. Tyrion's expression curdled at the answer. "Shame. It's normally good for a situation like this" he noted as he tried to relax against the back of the chair. It would have left Jon mildly amused had he not have been on edge about the Lannister's intentions. Here it was, barely midday and he was ready to crack open his first bottle.

The two remained silent for a moment, Jon staring down the member of his Northern family's long standing enemy with intensity and caution. Tyrion just wrinkled his face somewhat, trying to keep a stern facade, though lapsing somewhat under the thought of no wine. Eventually, it was the later that broke the deadlock. "What happened yesterday was not supposed to occur the way it did" he began to lecture Jon. This only brought a role of his purple eyes however as he replied with a snigger , the attempted olive branch hardly a serious option to him right now.

"So that's why you've been sent here. To barter me into submission and change my opinion?" Jon tutted, not impressed by what seemed like another piece of Lannister deception. Tyrion held his face upon his fingers to deal with the stress of such neglect. He'd thought the boy would be more clever that to just dismiss him as a horrid apparition of a man with horrid words. Clearly, his anger and pride was getting the better of him at the moment. "Don't act the fool, it won't sway me that easily" Tyrion told him with a serious tone. "Well what do you expect me to believe after being humiliated by you both whilst you mocked me on that Throne?" Jon asked. Even he backtracked in his mind slightly as Tyrion just echoed his previous sentiment in his facial expression. Maybe that was slightly overdramatic.

"You seem to forget who you are Jon" Tyrion advised him as he twiddled with fidgety hands, relaxed in his chair. "I barely know what I am anymore" Jon murmured, indecisiveness rife in his words. The constant questions circulating in his head came to focus once again as he looked away from Tyrion briefly towards a reflection. He saw the violet glow resonating in his eyes, an otherwise foreign obscenity to him in his previous life, now a part of his every waking morning. Tyrion brought him back to reality.

"And you think you're the only one?" Tyrion questioned. He almost instantly regretted saying what he did, Jon's attention focused on him again. He was almost ready to tell Jon what Cersei had told him and what neither he or Daenerys would have speculated in their wildest dreams. Now didn't seem the right time though. It would be best after he spoke with Daenerys face to face on this matter. "What do you mean?" Jon asked, now curious. Tyrion quickly concocted an answer, one that wasn't derived entirely of truth but was also one he wasn't entirely certain upon either.

"Daenerys is just as confused as you. For days after she rescued you, she had no idea what you were, despite your ...cousin's information" Tyrion told him, having to correct himself in remembering that the current Stark crop were indeed not his actual family. Jon's silence in curious patience allowed Tyrion to continue. "I may not have advised her over every step of her journey, but in the time I've accompanied her, I know that she is a sound and just leader. Terrible to some perhaps, but most certainly the right kind of terrible".

"I didn't consider her terrible until the other day" Jon noted, trying to mould Tyrion's words upon his own situation. "She seemed like something this realm needs".

" She is what this realm needs" Tyrion told him sternly, trying to strengthen his point. "I've seen how she can unite the many under one banner whilst still being a just and fair leader". "So you'd call yesterday just and fair?" Jon asked, trying to reassert his opinion once again. "Yesterday was an exception" Tyrion noted, slightly more withdrawn in trying to admit a point he couldn't defend. "I've seen how she deals with justice and its ideals. She has her own views on the rights of justice yes, but in all the time I've know her, I have never seen her react quite like that. Something was off about her".

This again grabbed Jon's curiosity. Although the Lannisters were known throughout the north for their lies, Tyrion seemed like he was being genuinely honest. As much as he tried to note a fault in his words, he couldn't. "What do you mean?" Jon asked. Tyrion was hesitant to answer. He'd be going back on his own command from yesterday and speaking ill of the Queen behind her back. He also wasn't sure if he could trust the boy yet. Still, logic told him that she needed help. If there was two people that could possibly understand each other better than anybody else in the realm, he knew it would be the two Targaryens.

"Yesterday, after you left, she fell...ill" Tyrion confessed, making truth the focal point of their conversation. Jon was left confused by his statement. He couldn't quite grasp what Tyrion meant, letting him continue. "She's young and naïve, much like yourself". "I'm naïve?" Jon questioned, caught of guard by the sudden critic. "I meant, that you both have much to learn about your place in the realm. It would be far more beneficial for you to work together on that quest than to be at each others throat" Tyrion noted.

"So how would I go about that when she was close to having me burnt alive the last time?" Jon asked with far more commitment than before. Tyrion could see that he and bastard were on the same page now. It brought a smile to his face as he conjured a way to help him. "You just focus on what you are going to tell her when you do have a reasonable minute alone. I'll handle calming Daenarys down in the mean time". Jon nodded in agreement at the Lannister's words, putting his mind towards focusing on what he'd ask the Queen.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me Lord Snow, I have a very temperamental young Queen to talk to" Tyrion noted as he prepared to depart. As he made for the door, he heard Jon stop him temporarily. "Lord Tyrion! Thank you" Jon said, far more grateful for the Lannister's help than he would have first been upon seeing him. "Don't thank me yet. There is still much to be done. I'll let you know when we are good to proceed" Tyrion replied, smirking with pride as he exited Jons quarters.

Taking a heavy breath, part relief and part calming, he proceeded upstairs immediately. Whilst he had succeeded in winning Jon to his side rather quickly, he had a suspicion that this was only the easy part of the task accomplished. Daenerys would be a tougher nut to crack, particularly when she was seemingly already 'cracked' herself. He could only hope the Queen was far more open to civilised negotiations than she was yesterday. It would be a tough test of his metal but he knew time was short. If they were going to fight a war on two fronts, they'd need a unified leadership to inspire those around them.

Climbing the stairs, he notes the still burning mills churning away as they pumped steam and woodsmoke into the otherwise lightly snowing dusting of a skyline. Tyrion decided to log its image away as a metaphor in his mind should have to somehow plead reason to Daenerys. He had won her over before, saving his own skin upon their original meeting, though he knew this time would be different. He had gotten to know her persona well over the time he had advised her. She was a strong and just leader, focused in her intentions and proud in she was trying to accomplish.

She had bore the same fate as many a poor beggar or bastard in Westeros however in that she had seen so much so soon. Many other leaders were used to taking on the weight and burden of failure and setbacks over a gentler course during their lifetime, giving them a chance to recover and start again. All Daenerys had know since she was a child however was heartache and setbacks, her coming to power dotted consistently with fresh memories of pain and failure. Essos had been a stern test for the young Queen, though in her defence she had risen from almost nothing to the woman the people followed and rejoiced in. He needed to unlock that Daenerys again and deliver her back on the path to success.

As he eventually reached her door, he found it still guarded intently by the Unsullied he had commanded previously. By all rights, he was pleased to see that their unwavering loyalty had remained, even in baring such a task as technically imprisoning their own Queen. They stood aside for Tyrion, removing the blockade they had crossed with their spears. Tyrion took a deep breath as he began to set the door ajar.

At first, everything was unsuspecting. He had predicted that she may have smashed a few items around, or at the very most completely trashed the room. It remained intact however, as elegant and extravagant as you'd expect a Queen's quarters to be. As he moved further into the room, he discovered his second surprise; she was still there and accounted for. Her reckless actions had led Tyrion to believe that there was a slight possibility that one of her Dragons may have snatched her away, much like Drogon did in Meereen. She could have abandoned this fight that she was so clearly struggling with and have flown off into the night.

Yet here she remained, exhausted, exasperated but still here none the less. She didn't look at him directly, instead choosing to stare off into the unknown as she remained curled up and huddled against the bedframe. Tyrion took a moment to assess her state before he addressed her. She had clearly gotten no sleep again, nor had she gotten changed, her elegant royal attire she had received Jon in still present upon her person, if not a little creased. Her crown remained where it had stayed since she was first brought it; alone and stationary on the table near the window. Clearly, she was still battling her own inner doubts. This was something Tyrion hoped he could change.

"Your grace" he begun. Daenerys did not look at him, remaining still and idol in the sight of her most trusted advisor. "I think we need to talk about yesterday". "There isn't anything to discuss" she replied to him, bluntly yet incredibly meekly. He could respect her privacy on certain matters in any other situation. This time however, there was no chance of avoiding it. The truth would have to come out sooner rather than later.

"I don't think we can sneak so kindly around that now Daenerys" Tyrion informed her as he kept a stern expression. Daenerys began to feel her eyes well up once more as the emotional out bearing that was about to occur became all the more real.

"What happened yesterday?"

His question broke through her defences. She couldn't hold back any longer. At this point, she felt like no Queen, no ruler. Barely even a highborn of authority. Instead, she felt alone and afraid, scared of what the world was to throw at her next. She began to cry as the shame of her actions from the previous day came flooding back to her. "Tyrion, I'm sorry. I've been such a fool" she wept as the remorse echoed in her words. Tyrion almost began to feel guilty for triggering such an emotional outpouring. Still, he knew a night's worth of over thinking had probably filled the dam to its breaking point, his words being the tipping point that had pushed her over the edge.

"I don't think it's me you should be apoligising to, do you?" Tyrion questioned as he tried moving in closer to the scared young Queen. She simply buried her face into her arms as she receded further into her shell. Tyrion sighed as took a seat on the bedside close to where she whimpered. "I don't want this to be difficult for you Daenerys. I understand that this new challenge must be difficult but you have to remain strong and wise through the adversity. Making rash decisions like you did yesterday will only inspire doubt amongst your followers, not support".

"Oh Gods, is Jon ok? And Missandei? I treated them both so terribly" Daenerys stammered as he gathered what he referred to. Tyrion was quick to dispel her worry however. "Both are fine, don't fret in that concern" he reassured her as he tried to calm her down. "I've spoke with Jon this morning and he is willing to move on from this ordeal in the name of progress. Missandei is fine, shaken, though relaxed in the comfort of Greyworm". This relaxed Daenerys somewhat as she continued to seek help from the wise Lannister patron. "I think an apology may be on the cards to both however, particularly after your choice of words to them both".

Daenerys nodded passively as she began to dry her tears. "I swear to you, this will never happen again" she notified Tyrion sternly, her courage beginning to rear once more, leaving her true self present. "I don't have a doubt you will" Tyrion replied with a false sense of confidence to cheer her on. In his mind, he knew that he would have to keep a close eye on her straying from the path for now. Keeping her confident was a key factor in that however, so sugar coating some of the truth may well have been the best solution.

"I will fetch Missandei to help you get ready" he told her. "Then perhaps you can receive Jon more properly and privately this time". "Indeed. There is much to be discussed" Daenerys acknowledged as she wiped away the last of her tears. "I think that was the point he was trying to raise yesterday" he noted, still getting in the odd quip when he could. It could perhaps help in this sort of situation. As she began to straighten herself out, she remained silent. It gave him the chance to prepare a more sentimental speech to her. He admired the young woman for sticking things out to the point they had arrived at, particularly when so many would have either ran or led their followers into a brutal defeat. After his chance expositioning in the dungeons too, her almost felt a little accountable for her defence. She had nobody she could feel that bond too otherwise.

"I've seen leaders come and go in my time. I've seen the good and bad soar at their highest and falter at their lowest. A responsibility such as this one can test even the most hardened of men. It's perfectly normal to feel lost under the weight of such burden. I've seen you rise above it so many times now however that I don't just think, but I know you're beyond it. That is why I'll be by your side, regardless of what the world throws at you".

This brought a broadening smile of hope to Daenerys' otherwise pained face. She could appreciate the sentiment. "Thank you Tyrion, that means a lot" she confessed, wiping the last of the tears from her cheek. "It's my pleasure. Just...think of me like an older brother" he told her. He noted the phrase with more than a little hint of irony, the truth of their heritage all too familiar to him now. As much as he expected it to bring more joy to her expression however, he found only a sense of shock and exposure etched into her appearance. "How do you know?" she stuttered in disbelief. The secret she had kept from the scriptures had been exposed. He had worked out one of her deepest secrets. Ironically, Tyrion felt almost exactly the same feeling.

"Cersei told me shortly before her execution. How do you know?" he gasped in disbelief. She began to hold an expression of shame in not revealing this to him sooner. "I learned about it on Dragonstone. I'm so sorry Tyrion, I should have told you sooner" Daenerys confessed. "So she was telling the truth" Tyrion pondered as he thought over Cersei's final words to him. A silence reigned over the pair for a moment before Tyrion signaled his intention to leave. "I will go and fetch Missandei now. I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss". Before he could make good on his words however, she stopped him.

"I saw him Tyrion"!
He didn't know what to make of her words, though the fear and dread in her voice told its own story. He turned to acknowledge as he abandoned his walk. "I saw our father. I saw how he was killed at your brother's hand. He was scarred Tyrion. I keep hearing his voice. He was scarred" Daenerys trailed off, the pain and terror of her ordeal still all too real to her. Tyrion saw it from a different perspective however. It began to reignite the fires of his fear, desperately hoping to quench them with logic as he battled against that most burning thought. Was the madness truly taking hold over her?

"I will hear nothing more of it" Tyrion informed her, trying to restore order back into the frame. "I swear it to you. Please believe me" she pleaded, seeking help from her half-brother. "What you saw was an illusion Daenerys, nothing more than the figment of an overworked mind. Rest for now and we'll get back to the business at hand later on". Tyrion's stern words left their imprint of both their perceptions. He continued to quell his suspicions. She on the other hand, felt more distanced than ever. She knew Tyrion was right in telling her to be strong. She didn't know if she could fight this recurring menace.