Tyrion's conversation with Missandei the other evening had been playing on his mind constantly. She had admitted that there was no irrefutable evidence to support her concerns about the queen's safety but it was his job to investigate any and all threats to his employer. And Missandei was one of Daenerys' closest friends so she would have been able to see if anything was wrong with her. It just so happened that the person under scrutiny was another of her closest advisors, which made the upcoming conversation even more difficult. Tyrion and Bruda, apart from during council meetings, very rarely talked to one another after the Hand had been the one to dismiss him from the castle. They had sometimes been at odds with one another in the past, the warlock usually suggesting more bombastic and loud courses of action, compared to Tyrion's regularly more considered approach. But the frostiness in their relationship had reached its highest point ever since that fatal night so he would have to be careful in how he worded what he had to say. If it appeared that he was questioning Bruda's loyalty again, without any proof, then the warlock's powers would be the least of his concerns.

The dwarf stood outside the door to Bruda's room, pausing for a moment as he heard voices coming from within. He couldn't properly make out what they were saying but he was sure that the mage was angry with whoever he was talking to. Maybe Missandei had been right about him being on edge, a far cry from the pleasant man they knew. The other person was a woman from what he could hear. For a second, he wondered whether he was having a discussion with Daenerys, making Tyrion want to leave as soon as possible. If she heard about him voicing his thoughts to someone else first before he laid them out in front of her, she would be far from happy, that was for certain. He slowly took a few steps back, only for the door to swing open abruptly. He should have known. It was the woman Bruda had brought with him, Ustrina. He could see from her face how she was shocked at his presence momentarily before she expertly hid that surprise. He scrutinised her closely, observing how her expression was a mask as she looked back at him.

"Lord Tyrion," she breathed with a smile. He couldn't tell if it was sincere or not. "I didn't expect you to be in this part of the Keep at such an hour."

"Funny. I could say the same thing about you," he shot back with a cold stare. "But, then again, I hardly know what you get up to during your time here."

"Oh, it wouldn't concern you when you have so much more interesting and important matters to deal with." Was she trying to flatter him to get out of this difficult situation? That may have worked on him a few years ago but he'd learnt the hard way how words can always be vindictive and poisonous. "I do what any other guest does, I suppose. Look around, try and keep out of the way."

"Guests usually leave."

"Have I done something to upset you, my Lord? If I have, I can only apologise."

"Not yet. But things can change."

"Hopefully they do. I only wish that you would be more trusting of me," she said, trying to act like the victim. How many men had fallen under her spell before, he wondered.

"When you've given me reason to, I'll be glad to admit my...mistake," came his calculated reply. She didn't seem to like it. "You seemed to be discussing something rather heated in there. I heard raised voices. I'd advise against making the warlock angry."

"He is the last person I'm afraid of in this world." Her smile had gone and she seemed like a different woman all of a sudden. Tyrion was becoming acutely aware of how he shouldn't have been confronting an unknown entity with no one else around. But what had she meant by her words?

"If you'll mind, I came here to speak with him." He moved towards the door but she didn't move. It was if her eyes were glowing, transfixing his gaze. It hurt to look away.

"What about?" she wondered.

"Maybe he'll tell you when you next have one of your...private meetings." Finally breaking away from her stare, he shoved past Ustrina, through the open door. He didn't see how she clenched her fist behind him, trying to control her anger. Now wasn't the time to be losing control of her powers but that didn't mean she couldn't have some more fun. A trail of black smoke reached out from her fingers, following the Imp unnoticed, before it dissipated. She smirked as she stalked away.

Bruda was standing up in the middle of the room as Tyrion entered, holding a book at a certain page. As he saw the other man walk in, he closed the book and dismissively threw it onto the chair. He strolled around a table, not uttering a word, just pouring two short glasses of amber liquid. Tyrion's glass moved on its own towards its new owner. The warlock's magic, when used in small and domestic ways like this, always took him by surprise.

"I heard you talking to Ustrina," were his first words, no show of pleasantries. "You don't like her."

"Why is she still here?" Tyrion asked, clearly perplexed about her presence.

Bruda shrugged. "She helped me. This is me repaying her. She needed a place to say."

"There are a number of wonderful guesthouses in the city. The Red Keep isn't one of them."

Another shrug. "It'd be...rude of me to ask her to leave now. Especially when she hasn't done anything wrong. Apart from annoying you. Frankly, that's another positive in my eyes."

Tyrion chose to ignore his comment. "You've never been one to care about whether you're being rude or not."

"Maybe I've changed," Bruda sighed as he sat down.

"That's what I'm worried about." Tyrion remained standing.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" came another question, ignoring the last.

"I presumed you were going to tell me. Maybe you're trying to get rid of me again. But that depends on Daenerys' will since you can't do anything without her permission."

"Neither can you."

His words seemed to have an effect on Bruda, who looked at the floor sadly. "I wish. But my role is completely different to yours. Don't feel bad."

"Bruda!" Tyrion said angrily. "This isn't a laughing matter."

"Then what is this? An intervention? A trial?"

"I'm here because I'm worried."

"Has Daenerys put you up to this? Melisandre? I'm tired of people saying they're concerned about me when I constantly tell them that I'm fine."

"Oh please stop thinking of yourself for one moment. I'm not worried about you. Far from it. My job doesn't concern you or catering to your needs or leaving room for whatever plans you have. I'm worried about what you could do to our queen."

Bruda stood up. "You know full well that I'd never do anything to harm her."

"Yes, you've said that. But people lie. Especially when they're close to power. I don't know what you intend to do but, if it puts her at risk in any way, I'll have to stop you."

"I admire how much you care for her, I really do. But you're wasting your time here."

Tyrion could have laughed. "Am I? The last time she was hurt was because of you. Because you care about her so much that you'd do anything for her. So when you go on about how much you adore her, that doesn't fill me with any confidence. The complete opposite, in fact. You would risk everything for her but how many people have to suffer because of that?"

Their drinks had long been forgotten since the confrontation started. Bruda stared at the smaller man for a second before he closed his eyes tightly. Maybe it would be possible for him to forget all of his troubles if he could just succumb to the darkness. "Only one," he said quietly. "Me." He sunk back into the chair with his hand over his face, rubbing it slowly. "Say you have two impossible decisions. On one side, someone gets hurt. On the other, another person faces the same fate. And you're in the middle, trying to keep them both from harm's way. In the end, the one who crumbles is you."

"Is Daenerys one of those people?"

Bruda seemed to measure his words. "If I confide in you, will that mean you won't be so accusatory towards me?"

"That depends on what you say."

Bruda contemplated what to do for a moment, rubbing his forehead. "Daenerys could be one of those people. At some point. Which makes me the only person with the capability to stay in the middle for as long as possible, keeping her alive until I can't anymore. That's my role now. Warding off any threats. She won't like that because I suffer as a consequence."

"There's two people though, you said. Couldn't you...just sacrifice the other one?"

Bruda laughed mirthlessly, knowing Tyrion didn't mean it so callously. He was just focused on his main concern. "If only I could. But I'm too old and sentimental to do that."

"How long can you hold on for? Isn't there someone else who can help? I need to know about this threat in more detail."

"I can't. By talking about the potential threat, I make it a threat. I know it doesn't make sense but...you have to trust me. Can you do that? Just for as long as I can hold on?"

"For the Queen."

xxxxxxxxxx

Moon and Stars.

Since the last time Daenerys had heard those whispered words (it had been the first time too), they hadn't come up again. She had wondered if they had ever been uttered. Maybe it had been a dream of some sort as she walked around, drained and tired from the trials of being the queen. She had heard stories of people doing that so surely it was a possibility. She wasn't immune to fantastical visions, thinking back to the premonitions she had seen whilst the effects of Bruda's magic wore off. It could even have been down to something she'd eaten for all she knew. There was always bound to be a logical explanation. But she had seen and done things that defied all logic. She had walked into the flames of a pyre and emerged with three dragons crawling on her person. She had fought against the dead as they walked again, only to be saved, not for the first time, by an all powerful warlock. She couldn't stop thinking about how this could be another example of the world acting as a never ending mystery. She often found excuses to be alone, hoping that the privacy would encourage the voice to return. There was something so...tantalising about it. Something so achingly familiar that she was growing annoyed that she hadn't figured out how she could possibly remember it. But it had been days, possibly weeks, since Daenerys had heard it and she was losing hope of ever hearing it again.

"I know it's not the most interesting of topics but it would help if you paid attention." Jorah's voice, full of mirth despite his accusatory words, broke her from her reverie. She shook her head to wake herself up from the pointless thoughts, pretending to pay attention to the books in front of her. Jorah studied her face with squinted blue eyes. "It's vitally important that you try to take in what these passages say. At least, that's what Tyrion said."

She curled her lip up in disgust, bored with the mind numbing task. "How are books going to help me rule? I haven't needed them in the past."

He chuckled, enjoying the few times when she showed her true colours, when she showed she was still just a young woman. "In my past experiences, they are the most useless of tools when your opponent has a sword. But Tyrion and Varys know this world better than us. They understand how words can mean swords never have to be used."

"Then why do I keep you around?" she joked, teasing him. It was one of the few times recently she'd been able to relax, relishing in this moment with her knight.

"I have no idea, Khaleesi. But I'm not complaining that you do." He smiled down at her hand as she reached across the table to rub his arm affectionately. "Tyrion believes that, with tensions growing, it's best if you know what allegiances the Crown has and has had. Then you'll have a working knowledge of how you should act with certain Houses and which Houses you need to focus on when it comes to collecting allies."

She flicked through one book, seeing how many pages there were. A small cloud of dust swept up into the air and she coughed slightly, mainly in disgust. "But these contain every sworn oath the Crown has ever made. Every king, every family. Do I really need to look that far back?"

"Some loyalties go back thousands of years, especially in the North."

"I think I'll have aged a thousand years once I've gone through all of these."

"You sound more like Bruda with every day that passes. I don't know how I feel about that."

Daenerys scrunched up her nose. "As long as I don't look like him just yet. After a few hundred years, maybe."

"Don't think I haven't noticed what you're doing. Trying to distract me from doing this."

She let out a long sigh. "It was worth a try. But...surely there's other, more pressing things we can do. There still hasn't been any word coming from the North. Maybe it was an idle threat."

"It's better to be safe than sorry. The entirety of your council told you that was their sentiment. Bruda especially seems to be on edge about it."

"We should be planning other things though. I seem to remember you asking for my hand in marriage. I also remember me accepting your proposal. Yet we have hardly talked about it since you asked."

Jorah held her hands tightly, the books long forgotten. "I'm just as eager for you to become my bride. But making sure you're safe has to be seen as more important."

"Can we discuss it at some point though? You said that Varys thought of the idea because of the positive effects it could have. Bringing more positivity to the kingdom, symbolically uniting the north and south. When you think about it, it's the perfect time to be doing it."

He stared into her eyes, seeing how sincere she was being. This was no trick aimed to stall him from boring her with endless facts. She truly wanted to marry him, a fact that made no sense to him. He had done nothing to deserve this wonderful woman but he planned on holding onto her for the rest of his life. "I'll bring it up with someone soon. Bruda will be happy about the prospect, I'm sure."

"Good. The sooner I'm married to you, the better. I haven't loved someone so dearly." A strange pang went through her as she said those words. It was as if it had hurt someone, as if someone was listening into their conversation. She was faintly aware of Jorah talking about something as he moved another book over to her but his voice sounded distant and distorted. She feared she was going to fall into a deep sleep again, like the one that had scared her council so dearly. But then the deep voice returned.

Moon and stars. Why was it saying that again? She turned her head quickly, believing it had come from right behind her shoulder. There was nothing there, other than her desk. She realised she wasn't paying any attention to Jorah but she also knew she couldn't miss this opportunity. Daenerys stood up abruptly, startling Jorah, who was immediately put on edge, worried that she could sense an attack or something going wrong.

"What is it, khaleesi?"

She needed to think of something. She needed to get him away quickly. "Oh...um...sorry. I really shouldn't have acted so suddenly. But I...realised I needed...Missandei for something important. Would you go and find her?"

He didn't look too convinced. "If this is just another way to avoid doing the work…"

"It's not!" she said, just a bit too frantically. "I swear. I just really need her."

He stood up slowly. "Can't I do what needs to be done?"

"Please?"

He rolled his eyes before moving towards the door. "I'll find her for you. But I'll want an explanation about what has you in such a state."

"Thank you." She wore a small smile on her face. She knew that Missandei would be on the other side of the Keep at this time of day, which gave her as much time as possible to figure this mystery out. As soon as Jorah left the room, sending one last curious glance her way, the voice returned. It was louder, somehow closer. Inside her head and, yet, coming from somewhere in her room. She wandered over to the table, catching a sight of the bell she'd found at the same time as when this had started, the one that had spooked Bruda. She picked it up, believing it to be relevant. She tried to follow the sound of the voice talking but it was like it was coming from all directions around her, making her the focal point. It was too much. She hurried through one of the adjoining doors, hurtling into the empty room. But it wasn't empty. Her eyes went wide before her vision blurred as tears built up. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout out, she wanted to cry. The person in front of her stood tall and mighty, as she remembered. Daenerys collapsed to the ground in fear and dread, wondering what power could have brought him back. This wasn't real. It couldn't possibly be real. She saw his arm reach out towards her. She flinched away from him but, soon, his hand was caressing her hair, the other holding her shaking hand. She could feel his touch which meant he was surely real. She stopped herself from reaching out too, still too frightened but she allowed herself to let out a small whisper.

"Drogo."

xxxxxxxxxx

Jon stormed through the flap of the tent angrily, brandishing a worn piece of paper. With dawn just breaking, the main tent of the camp was busier than usual as wildlings took advantage of the heat it provided. Some of them looked up in surprise and confusion at his sudden entrance, wondering who would have the audacity to disturb the relative quiet of the room (or as quiet as the Free Folk could be). Others simply ignored him, deciding to stay focused on the lumps of cooked meat that were spinning on spits above the fire. Any other time, Jon may have been tempted by the intoxicating smell but he had more pressing things to think about. His morning had already been ruined by the contents of the letter, which had been the main reason why he hadn't wanted to read any that came, be it from the south or north of the kingdom. But curiosity had gotten the better of him, his patience worn thin by the sheer number of letters that kept coming.

Tormund sat over in the corner, minding his own business. He was the one who Jon headed for straight away, wanting to discuss the course of action he'd already decided on his own. Sandor Clegane, trying not to act interested in this new development, sat on the same bench as Giantsbane. That definitely wasn't because they liked one another (they hadn't uttered a word all morning apart from a few grunts). He'd been forced to sit there because it had been so packed inside. It made him contemplate returning to his life of being alone although the food he managed to find during that time didn't compare to what he got now.

Jon hadn't wanted to attract a crowd and, thankfully, he'd been successful. Oslen had wandered over though, always intrigued by what the young leader was up to. He almost jumped when he turned his head, seeing her right next to him. She smiled and he managed a smirk in response, momentarily forgetting about what had brought him to the tent in the first place. Shaking his head slightly, he handed the note over to Tormund. Oslen hurriedly ran over to crouch behind him, attempting to read it at the same time. They both frowned at the words. They could tell it had been rushed; it hardly made any sense to them. Oslen, who had barely been in contact with those who lived south of the wall, was perplexed at how they spoke if it was all like this.

"What's this then?" Tormund asked, inspecting it again before handing it back to Jon. It was too early to be making his brain work so hard.

"Another letter from Sansa," Jon practically growled.

Oslen glanced at him curiously. "I though you weren't reading them?"

"Well...I did! And it's a good job that I did. You saw what she put in there, what she said. This is different to all the others, I think. She isn't asking for my support in some war. She just wants me to go back to Winterfell."

"Where she'll probably ask you for your support in person, where you can't exactly ignore her."

"That's true. But I reckon she knows my answer wouldn't change. Regardless of if I'm there or not." Why did his sister have to be so infuriating? He wanted peace but this plan of ignoring the issue wasn't going very well so far. He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.

"You're glossing over what she actually says in the letter," Tormund pointed out. "There's something vital that I've discovered that concerns you. A secret that can't be written on this paper with the risk of it being intercepted. She seems paranoid to say the least."

"Can I trust her though with what she's saying. It's pretty convenient that she's just found whatever this is when she's been pestering to see me for weeks."

"It could be a ploy to get you surrounded by her men. Keep you as a hostage until you agree to help her," Oslen put forward.

Jon shook his head immediately. "She wouldn't do that. She'd risk starting a war with us when she needs our power. And she'll know that any chance of me moving to her side would be lost if she did that to me. Maybe...she is being sincere. Maybe she has found something that's shaken her. Despite everything that's happened recently, she is still my sister. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her and I wasn't there to help because...I was afraid of getting involved!" He was pacing in a small circle, his hand covering his face. He couldn't bear to look at the small group around him for fear of what their expressions might be. Ridicule? Disdain? The one he dreaded was pity. What would they be thinking of him, this man who was meant to be a ruler but was faltering at the first sign of trouble. It would be best if he left the job for someone more fit for the role, he was sure of it. Tormund would be able to unite the wildlings better than him. He was letting down the last of his family and the people he had promised to look after.

He was surprised when he felt a small hand on his arm, a reassuring gesture. He opened his eyes to see that Oslen had returned to his side. She was looking intensely at him and, for a second, all he could think about were her gleaming eyes that seemed to be looking into his very soul. Somehow, despite the fact that, really, he didn't know this woman very well at all, he was calmed down by her warm gaze. If they had been alone, he may have kissed her. He certainly wanted to but knew that, if he did, he'd never hear the end of it from Tormund. And it was more than likely that she would protest profusely and he would be left feeling incredibly embarrassed. It was just that the look she was giving him made him believe that wouldn't happen however.

"You're overthinking this," she said quietly, whispering nearly. "I can see it. Feel it. That fear in your eyes. You think that, whatever you choose, you're bound to let down someone you care about. That probably comes from how you were brought up, always in the shadow of the rest of your family."

"How...how do you know that?" he sputtered incredulously.

"Call it intuition," she smirked playfully. "I've got a good read of you by now, Jon Snow. But that isn't important right now. You need to see that you have accomplished so much in your life because you chose to do the right thing. If your mind is telling you that this is the right thing to do, then it is. You'll go to Sansa, see what this information is, then come back quickly."

"How will you lot survive without me?" he tried joking. He was aware of Clegane letting out a snort of laughter but he managed to ignore it.

"That's their problem." Oslen could have laughed at his confused look. She enjoyed messing with him, even when she was attempting to be nice. "I'm coming with you."

Jon took a step back. "No you're not," he quickly said. "You have no experience of what life is like past the Wall. I doubt you've been on a journey as long and...Sansa will only ask questions about who you are."

"And how would you answer that?" she asked curiously, a low purr.

He started stammering, the others relishing in his discomfort. "I...don't know! You're my…"

"Yes? I'm your what exactly?"

Jon let out an annoyed huff. "Oh, nothing! This is my point. You'll just make it awkward for me. Even more so than it already is."

"You do know how to flatter a girl, don't you?"

"I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it like that." Another moan escaped from his lips. "Fine. If you really want to, you can tag along. But you have to look after your own horse."

"Yes, sir," she said with a mock salute.

Jon turned to Tormund. "I'm sure you'll be alright being in charge whilst I'm gone."

"Of course. I hardly need your supervision to cope," the other man responded.

"No no no!" They were all startled by the Hound's sudden involvement in the conversation. "I'm not listening to a fucking word he says if he's our temporary ruler." He sneered at Tormund, who bared his teeth. They resembled animals more than people.

"Here's a question for you: have you ever listened to an instruction I've given and followed it without complaint?"

"No."

"Then nothing has to change. Perfect." Jon tucked the letter into a pocket in his cloak and patted it for safekeeping. "I just hope this is all worth it."