Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

Tyrion V

Tyrion watched on with envy as Jon ran down to the crypts to climb on Drogon. He then turned towards the southern ramparts and began to instruct the men to winch the large barrels of oil up there, then they would be spread out among the men, with hopefully some left over for throwing over the men below, not that any Unsullied would that close. The castle was surrounded by covered trenches containing chevaux-de-frise, also known as hedgehogs, which were structures made of wood in a cross shape with the ends of the wood being sharpened into points. Should any Unsullied try getting too close to the castle, they would end up impaled on spikes. A tactic which would only work for a short period of time, especially if the Unsullied had trebuchets with them, which from the skies, Tyrion had seen carriages with structures which looked like the massively destructive weapons. Not exactly what one would expect in a siege, but Bran claimed not to be able to see the future anymore, so he possibly wasn't aware of what was happening.

Tyrion had never told anyone a secret regarding his plans for the future. When he became Hand of the King, he had been wary of Bran becoming King, it was all too easy. He knew others who had voted in favour were actually against it. Sansa being the main one of the group. Everyone had wanted Jon to become King, but Jon himself had clearly not been ready for the role, whereas Bran had seemed keen on it. His plan had always been to ask Jon again in ten years time and take on Bran, that was if he didn't make a good King. Tyrion was hedging his bets, one King ready to rule, another more qualified one waiting in the wings. Men with a good sense of morality, fairness and an ability to garner support, yet on the other hand a good King should not be in love with power. Quite the contrary, he should not want the role, but feel he has no option because he is the most capable person. The man who killed Daenerys was not ready, he was still Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell. The man who he had witnessed riding off on Drogon, was a King, another Aegon Targaryen, hopefully one who was more capable than his more recent Targaryen predecessors. This was his real reason for helping and it had to be final, because the moment he entered into discussions with Greyworm and sided with Jon and Sansa, was the day he would become a traitor to Bran, leaving him with a price on his head. A decision which meant he was going to have to sweet talk the reluctant King into taking the Iron Throne, or what was left of the original one, in the cellar under the Red Keep.

Tyrion climbed the ladder to take in the view from the top of the battlements. He could see the Unsullied quite clearly, they were setting up tents from afar, normal practice before a battle. However, they were too far off to be forced towards the castle, which was what was needed. There was a good half a mile distance between the northern forces and the outer reaches of the Unsullied, they just needed to be pushed closer towards Winterfell, where they could rain arrows, some with fire, upon them. The Tyrion had an idea, he just needed to discuss it with Jon and Sansa.

Two hours later, Jon returned from his trip. When Tyrion joined him and Sansa. He could see Jon was clearly agitated and angry.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

"They've got more men coming from the north-east, possibly the Dothraki. Mainly on horseback." he sighed.

"How many?" Tyrion asked.

"Only about five hundred, but that means we are still outnumbered and Davos' men will be right in their path." he rubbed his face as if deep in thought. "If we aren't careful, our men will be caught both sides."

"May I make a suggestion?" Tyrion asked.

"Anythin' is welcome right now." Jon sighed.

"Take Drogon and create a circle of fire on the outer rim of their men. You don't need to hurt a single one of them. They'll run towards the castle, keep forcing them towards the castle. The trenches will take care of some of them. Our arrows will kill many more. Take out the Dothraki, you have no loyalty to them. Only the Unsullied are paid for by the King, killing the Dothraki isn't enough to spark a war with the south."

"But creating a war with the Unsullied will." Sansa said.

"Quite possibly." Tyrion nodded. "As long as you do not make the first Unsullied kill with Drogon, then you cannot be held responsible. The Iron Bank and Bran cannot claim you started a war if the Unsullied run towards Winterfell as you are simply defending the castle. Bran should be grateful, it was his home." he gave a smirk."

"It would create a temporary barrier between our men and theirs." Sansa said.

"Using Drogon to create a pincer movement." A small smile came to Jon's lips. "I like it." he nodded. "Then I'll deal with the Dothraki while our men advance on the remaining Unsullied. As long as I can destroy their siege weapons, we stand a good chance."

"As long as we do it at night." Tyrion warned.

"I know." Jon smiled. "Maybe we have the upper hand after all." he said as one of the soldiers called Dorran came running up to them.

"Go on." Sansa nodded to him.

"Your Graces. There are three men outside, they say the wish to talk with you." Dorran said.

"Greyworm." Tyrion nodded.

"Thank you." Sansa said. "Tell them we will speak with them in a few minutes." she said as Dorran ran off to relay the message to the enemy.

"I'll get Drogon and then join you." Jon smiled and ran towards the crypts.

"Will you be my High Valyrian translator?" Sansa asked Tyrion. "Just in case I need one."

"I shall do my best, although your husband does seem to be coming along nicely. His will soon be better than mine." Tyrion smiled.

Sansa frowned. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Tyrion nodded. "I suspect his dragon blood makes it easier for him. Maybe Drogon is secretly helping with his grunts and screeches." he laughed as they made their way to the massive wooden gate, which was opened by the soldier they had just spoken with.

The two of them stepped out and walked towards the three men, who were armoured in leathers as metal armour was difficult to march in.

"Lord Tyrion." Greyworm started. "I would have thought you wouldn't want to be involved in this." he said.

"I speak High Valyrian, which might become useful should there be any language problems." Tyrion bowed his head.

"Why are you surrounding my castle?" Sansa asked. "Why did you come north?"

"You have an enemy of the Unsullied. We promised to kill him if he ever left the wall." Greyworm replied.

"As my husband, he is here at my invitation." Sansa replied as Greyworm frowned and looked at Tyrion. "King Aegon is my husband." she added.

"King Aegon?" Greyworm frowned.

"Queen Daenerys nephew. Her heir." Tyrion explained.

"She doesn't have a nephew." Greyworm shook his head.

"You know him better as Jon Snow." Sansa smiled as she heard the screech of Drogon behind her. "Perfect timing."

A thud on the ground suggested Drogon had landed behind them. Tyrion looked around as Drogon shook his head before Jon disembarked him.

"Good boy." Jon patted Drogon on his neck, joining Tyrion and Sansa while removing his riding gloves. "What have I missed?" he asked, placing his hand affectionately on the small of Sansa's back, a gesture which did not go unnoticed by anyone, including Greyworm.

"Why are you here? You were told to stay at the wall." Greyworm said.

"Drogon had other ideas." Jon told him. "His mother required a proper Targaryen send-off, and I was the only one who could do it for him. I obliged."

"What do you mean?" Greyworm asked.

"After they die, Targaryens are burned by dragons. Someone needed to give the command, which only another dragon rider can do. There weren't many he could ask, so I became his rider." Jon explained.

"Drogon belonged to Daenerys." Greyworm stated. "He should come with us."

Drogon roared, breathing flames into the air.

"I don't think he wants to." Tyrion frowned. "He seems quite taken with his new rider." he shrugged.

"I should kill you for what you did to our Queen." Greyworm spat.

"We could fight it out, you and me, right here, right now if you want. I figure it would be a fair fight." Jon offered. "Drogon could've stopped me when I killed Dany, but he didn't. He could've killed me afterwards, but he didn't. He just melted the Iron Throne and flew back to Dragonstone with her body. I can't promise he'll be the same with you, after all, you're don't have the blood of the Dragonlords of Old Valyria running in your veins. But he might spare you for the sake of the love you bore his mother."

Greyworm looked to the other two men and began to talk in High Valyrian.

"Ziry's trying naejot mittys ao." One of the men said to Greyworm. "Ȳdra daor ropagon syt ziry."

"Epagon zirȳla naejot nādīnagon se zaldrīzes." the other one suggested.

"Tȳhrion ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie." Greyworm told them.

"Yes I do speak High Valyrian." Tyrion grinned.

Jon turned to the first man who had advised Greyworm. "This isn't a trick, I'm not trying to fool anyone." he turned to the second man. "Drogon stays with me, I'm not sending him anywhere."

"You speak the language?" Greyworm looked at Jon in disgust.

Jon smiled and nodded his head. "My name is Aegon Targaryen, of course I do." the confidence in Jon's voice made Tyrion proud. "Are you planning to starve us out? I'm afraid it won't work, we've got plenty of food." he added.

"You don't have the men to defeat us." Greyworm said.

"That's right I don't." Jon smiled and looked towards Drogon, who purred back. "I've got a dragon who doesn't like anyone hurting me or my beautiful wife." he glanced over at Sansa and smiled, who looked back at Jon and blushed.

"We don't want a war!" Greyworm stated.

"Then why did you come?" Tyrion frowned. "Did you really think her Grace would give up her husband so easily?" he asked.

"He wasn't her husband. He is her half-brother." Greyworm replied.

"Cousin." Sansa corrected him. "I don't have a brother." genuine sadness tinged her voice. "They all died years ago. I only have a sister."

"Your brother is the King of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros!" Greyworm insisted.

"The man who rules Westeros is not Brandon Stark. Whoever he is, he is ready to sacrifice you needlessly. Go home, give up on your quest to kill my husband and you shall not feel the might of the northern armies. You will not last through a siege, and you certainly cannot win a battle. Not when we have a protective dragon." Sansa threatened.

"You would tell your dragon to kill us?" Greyworm looked over to Jon.

"When you piss of a dragon, it tends to do its own thing. It doesn't matter what the rider wants, a dragon has a mind of its own. A dragon can never be fully controlled." Jon explained. "I don't need to do anything. If Drogon wants to kill you all, I can't do a thing about it." he shrugged. "But as a man of honour, I will not climb on the back of Drogon and kill Unsullied men." he promised, raising a smile on Tyrion's lips. What Jon was saying was true, he would only kill the Dothraki and run circles around the Unsullied, the archers would do far more damage.

"So are we to watch a fight between the two of you?" Tyrion asked.

"We will wait you out." Greyworm smiled. "And if not, we will take hostages you care about."

"How?" Sansa asked.

"We have ways." Greyworm smirked. "Good day to you." he bowed his head, turned and walked away, followed by the two men.

"Arya." Sansa whispered to Jon and Tyrion. "What if he knows where she is?"

Jon shook his head. "One of the sailors in Davos' camp died. She took his face before I left. They won't know who she is."

"We cannot give in to their threats." Tyrion warned. "If someone dies, then so be it. We must stick to the plan." Jon and Sansa nodded in agreement.

"We need to tell the others of the plan." Jon said. "I'll let them know before we start." he added, climbing onto the back of Drogon before flying off into the distance, while Tyrion and Sansa made their way back to the castle to continue with their preparations.

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