SAM

Sweat ran down his brow as he rushed through the streets of the city. His shoulder bumping into others, as people hurried in every direction, trying either to find shelter or going to their stations to defend their homes from the oncoming Ironborn invaders.

The screams, shouts and cries were almost enough to drown out the incessant ringing of the bells of the Starry Sept, the noise was driving him up the wall and he was sure that the fear that was hanging over the city was even greater than anything else he had witnessed before.

Sam could not blame them for that, the stories he had heard from all over the North after the Greyjoy´s had invaded were horrific. Men, women and children had been killed or worse, while the many of the survivors had been carted off to become slaves.

Those thoughts were shoved to the side, as his legs screamed at him to stop running across the city.

When Sam finally arrived back at the citadel, his throat felt dry as he longed for a drink of water to wash down that weird slimy thing that was stuck to the roof of his mouth that always came when he pushed himself hard physically.

With a shudder he swallowed it, knowing that nausea would rear its ugly head if he did not, as he made his way into the large building.

"Tarly." Sam looked to the direction from where his name had been shouted, one of Archmaester Ebrose's assistants was standing there with an irritated look on his face. "Archmaester Ebrose is looking for you, you are to report to him."

"Now?" Sam was so surprised that the Archmaester was looking for him, that he could not help but to gape dumbly at the assistant that was staring at him.

"Yes. Did I fucking stutter?" With that, the man turned around, not looking back, forcing Sam to run after him.

"Why does the Archmaester want to speak to me?" Sam asked, only to be thrown an angry glare.

"Do I look like the Archmaester to you?" The man asked snidely. "You are to report to him at the Seneschal´s court, that is all I know so stop asking me questions."

Sam´s eyes widened and what little breath there was in his lungs was knocked out of them.

Fear filled him as they walked in silence and Sam felt like he was a child again, summoned to his father´s solar for a dressing down. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest while his palms were sweating as they shook uneasily.

When they made it to the Seneschal´s court and stopped outside the door, Sam closed his eyes and remembered Jon´s words to him.

Sam took a deep breath, to steel himself before going in. The Archmaester was not his father, he would not be forcing him into a bath filled with aurochs blood to make him brave.

He entered the large room. The room was tall, circular and the big colorful windows were all casting light on the Archmaesters who were seated, forming a horseshoe shape, making it clear to Sam that he was to go to the middle.

The room was filled with the voices of the normally composed Archmaesters, who were now all trying to spout out their opinions what they should do, however as so many voices were echoing of the walls, Sam could not make out what anyone was saying.

Thankfully the Archmaesters were not wearing their masks, leaving their faces uncovered and he could see the myriad of emotions of the men in the room. Most of the old men were wearing a look of terror or fury on their faces.

Sam stood in the middle, forcing his knees to stop shaking, waiting until they noticed him. It was then that the reality of the situation struck him, he had been summoned by Archmaester Ebrose to speak with the entire conclave.

The only Archmaester who was not taking part in the heated debates, was old Archmaester Walgrave. The old man was just sitting there, clutching his cane looking ahead without moving, like he was off in his own world.

Sam did not know if he should try and make his presence known or if he should wait. He opened his mouth to try and get their attention but he was quick to close it again.

Would the Archmaesters be mad if he were to interrupt them?

They had been the ones that had asked Sam to come, so they had clearly wanted to speak to him, right?

Sam cleared his throat and raised his hand, to get the conclave´s attention, without making them think that he was offering them disrespect.

However, the men only continued to bicker.

Sam could feel the irritation rise; he should not be here. He should be with the others and prepare for the fight that was incoming.

As soon as the feeling came, Sam tried to squash it down, they were the Archmaesters of the Citadel, they had every right to get one singular novice to… to do what exactly?

It could not be because of how he had gone against orders to heal Ser Jorah. They had much more pressing matters to attend to. The Greyjoy fleet had been spotted, which meant that the Ironborn had to have taken the castle of Blackcrown or that Lord Bulwer was not intending to go against the invaders.

No, Lord Bulwer would not just allow the Greyjoys to sail unopposed to the city, it was far more probable that the Ironborn had sacked the castle, after having sunk the lord´s ships or commandeered them into their own fleet.

"Tarly." He jumped at the sound of his name and looked up. The one who had called his name was the current Seneschal, Archmaester Theobald. "Good, you are here."

Silence had fallen over the room, every eye in the court was now on him, making him want to sink into the floor. "You asked for me?" Sam wanted to kick himself for sounding like he was asking them a question.

"Yes, we have a few matters we need to discuss with you." The Seneschal leaned forward; his brown eyes boring into him as a suspicion about what they wanted to ask him was creeping up his spine.

Sam said nothing, waiting for the man to ask the questions that had been haunting him ever since the rumors started to circulate. He had to wonder why now? They were busy with the Greyjoys and the maesters were not traditionally believers in magic.

Except for Archmaester Marwyn, who was sitting in his seat silently. The light streaming through the colored windows was casting a dark green light on his face, as he glared angerly at Archmaester Ryam.

Sam had not seen the man since his return to the city, although he had heard that the Archmaester had only made it as far as Starfall, before rushing back to the citadel.

"You served with Jon Snow at Castle Black, did you not?" The Seneschal asked, staring at him with such intensity that made Sam feel small.

"Yes, I serv-."

"Does he have dragons?" Archmaester Norren demanded impatiently, the light bouncing of his greenish-yellow electrum ring. "Have you seen them?"

"I…I…" Sam stared at the man, feeling a little thrown that he had not allowed him to finish, he felt that maybe he should have expected this.

Archmaester Norren was infamous amongst the novices of the citadel, for loving the sound of his own voice so much, that he never allowed people to finish anything that they were saying.

"Archmaester Norren." The Seneschal sent the man a stern look. "Allow the boy to finish."

Norren´s face turned red, thankfully saying nothing.

"I was at Castle Black and Jon served as the Lord Commander after Lord Commander Mormont was killed."

"Did you at any point see any traces of dragons?" As the Seneschal focused gaze did not waver from him, Sam felt the urge to flee from the room.

"No, I have not seen any dragons." Sam confessed truthfully, however his voice shook like a leaf in a storm.

Certainly enough, Archmaester Mollos declared loudly that he was a liar. "The boy is lying; he has to be. Snow could not have hidden dragons from the world for such a long time without anyone knowing."

"How do you know?" Archmaester Marwyn said in a mocking tone. "What do you know about dragons and dragonriders?"

Mollos wrinkled face turned red, making the man look like a drying prune. "Enough to know that growing dragons are not easily concealed." The old Archmaester turned back to Sam and pointed his gnarly finger at Sam. "This boy is the bastard´s friend, he must have been helped in hiding the beasts."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face as the old man was staring at him with wild eyes, like he wanted nothing more than to execute Sam.

"Archmaester Mollos, please." Embrose´s voice sounded exhausted. "We do not even know if the boy has dragons."

Norren snorted. "Are you discounting maester Vyman´s letter? Especially after having heard all the claims about the boy?"

Sam wondered who this maester Vyman was and why his letter had been so instrumental in causing so much fear with the Archmaesters.

Before the men could start arguing again, Archmaester Perestan leaned forward, pale eyes fixing on Sam. "Tarly, you say you have not seen any dragons." Sam nodded hurriedly and the old man took it as a sign to continue. "You know Jon Snow; do you think that he would lie about having them? If he thought that it would win the lords over to his side?"

Despite the man´s calm words and grandfatherly demeanor, Sam grew angry. "Jon would not lie about having dragons, Jon would never lie."

His eyes traveled from one Archmaester to the next. Why were they so concerned about the rumors of Jon having dragons when the Greyjoys were at their doorsteps? If Euron Greyjoy managed to take the city, then it would not matter to the citizens of Oldtown if dragons were back in the world.

"What kind of man is your friend?" Perestan asked, his voice still calm and collected, causing Sam to grow even angrier.

"Why do you care?" Sam demanded; he was tired of the men in front of him. They should be trying their best to help the people of the city, not arguing amongst themselves about Jon. "The Ironfleet is at your doorstep, while you sit here and ask me questions about Jon."

The men stared at him, then Archmaester Marwyn turned to the Seneschal. "We should write to Jon Targaryen, get him to fly his larger dragons here and help us defend the city from the Greyjoys."

Sam stared at Archmaester Marwyn, rooted to the floor in shock.

Larger dragons? The memory of Jon telling him about the dragon on the other side of the Narrow Sea forced itself to the forefront of his mind.

"Write to him?" Ryam indignant voice cut through his thoughts. "Defend us with his dragons? Have you finally lost your mind Marwyn? We cannot rely on some Northern bastard and his beasts to save us."

Sam could feel the nails cut into the palm of his hands, as he fought the urge to shout out at the man. Jon was not just some bastard; he was his best friend and his brother in all but blood.

"Why should we not ask for his aid?" Ebrose asked. "If the Citadel falls, then all knowledge in Westeros will be threatened and might be lost."

"We should rely on Garlan Tyrell." Norren stated firmly, looking at the Seneschal. Sam looked around the room and he could see that almost all the Archmaesters were nodding in agreement with Norren´s words. "It is house Tyrell´s duty to protect us, along with house Hightower."

"Archmaester Norren is right." Archmaester Vaellyn spoke up. "We should allow lords Baelor Hightower and Garlan Tyrell to defend us from the Ironborn."

As he stood there, Sam could feel eyes on him. He turned to see that Archmaester Marwyn was looking at him, with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Then the man turned to the others and spoke in a loud voice. "We send word to Jon Targaryen, not only is he said to be the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen but he is also said to have two large dragons by his side."

"These could be just rumors." Vaellyn said and Sam could almost feel the hatred the man felt for Marwyn. "He is probably lying about being the son of Rhaegar Targaryen to have a claim on the throne and there is also no way that he has dragons by his side."

Although Vaellyn had been the one to answer, Sam felt that Archmaester Marwyn had been directing his words at him, rather than his colleagues.

Was the man hoping that Sam would go and contact Jon, to get him to help them with the Ironborn? He did not think that it was unlikely, as Marwyn was one of the few men in the citadel who thought dragons returning to the world was a good thing.

If Jon had managed to call the dragon he had been warging into, then he might be able save the city of Oldtown.

"The maester of Riverrun has sent us a letter that Jaime Lannister is taking those claims seriously, so seriously in fact that he is willing to try and negotiate with King Jon."

Vaellyn shook his head at Marwyn. "The Kingslayer is not known for his intellect, he was even bested by a boy of sixteen. Perhaps he is worried that Jon Snow will be a more challenging foe than Robb Stark and is looking for a way to salvage the rest of his tattered reputation."

"The boy is no King." Ryam injected, with a thunderous look on his face. "He has not been crowned in the Starry Sept, so he cannot call himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"That is not true." Perestan refuted, as calm as he had been when talking to Sam. "Robb Stark was a King, he was not anointed by the High Septon."

Ryam sneered at the historian and made himself likely to say something, nevertheless he was ignored by Perestan. "I am certain that since the construction of the Great Sept of Baelor, not one King has been anointed in the Starry Sept."

As the two men started to argue, if it mattered that Jon was anointed in the Starry sept or not, Sam closed his eyes in frustration at their behavior.

He listened as the men argued, most of the Archmaesters seemed to agree with Ryam causing Sam to grow angrier by the moment.

Here they were, on the verge of a bloody siege to defend the city against the Ironborn. However the most intelligent men of Westeros were fighting about whether or not they should write to Jon or depend on lord Baelor Hightower or ser Garlan Tyrell.

If it was true what they were saying and the dragon that Jon had been telling him about before Sam had left for the citadel, then he might be able to ride that dragon here and help them throw back the Greyjoys.

The argument between the men started to grow hotter as Archmaester Ryam was turning purple as he screamed at Marwyn, pointing his finger threateningly at him.

"ENOUGH." The Seneschal banged his fist on the table, eyes hard as stone. The room fell silent as Archmaester Theobald stared angerly at the men in the room before his eyes found Sam, who was standing still as a statue in the middle.

"Tarly, you may go now." The Seneschal waved him off.

With a frown, Sam turned away from the maesters and fled from the room, he did not give into the urge to look over his shoulder where the old men were fighting amongst themselves about what to do next.

As soon as his feet exited the chamber, the door was slammed shut behind him but he could hear the Archmaesters fight amongst themselves.

Sam stood outside the door for a moment, feeling numb and hardly believing what had just happened.

While the people of the city were preparing to defend themselves against the Ironborn, the leaders of the citadel spent their time arguing about affairs that did not matter. If they truly believed that the rumors about Jon were correct and that he did have dragons on his side, why were they not writing to him, asking him to come and help them against Euron Greyjoy and his reavers.

The maesters might be content to yell and argue but Sam was not. He would send word to Riverrun where Jon was said to be meeting Jaime Lannister, to tell him what was happening here in Oldtown.

If Jon really had dragons under his command then Sam had to write to him. Right now, it was their best chance to fight the Ironborn and to protect Oldtown, to protect Gilly and baby Sam.

Sam hurried away from the Seneschal's court, in search of Alleras. He was sure that the other man would help him to sneak into the Ravenry to send a letter to Jon, it might be the only way for them to defeat the Ironborn.

TYRION

He rubbed his eyes, trying valiantly to stay awake but it seemed to be an impossible task.

Ever since the Queen and her armies had left the city, he had not gotten much sleep, as he was dealing with a city that was still recovering from the economic shock of having its main export suddenly banned, as well as having hosted a Dothraki hoard of forty thousand.

The Dothraki were like locust, they traveled around taking and leaving nothing but dust in their wake.

While the hoard of Dothraki had been camped both inside Meereen and outside its walls, it had been like every citizen had held their breath while praying that they would not be attacked by the Dragon Queen´s newly acquired army.

However, now that the Dothraki had left with the Mother of dragons to Yunkai, unrest had taken hold of the city again, thankfully there had been no attacks from the sons of the Harpy.

The former slave masters were probably waiting and hoping that the Queen and her dragon would fall in Yunaki or Astapor.

Tyrion slid off his chair and gathered his papers and left the room quietly to seek out the Queen´s adviser, Missandei.

This late in the evening Tyrion was sure he would find her in the small council chambers. The young woman was nothing if not a dedicated worker and seemed determined to get the city back on its feet, this time without any slavery.

When he slinked into the chamber, he was happy to find out that he was right, the young woman was indeed inside. She was looking a little weary and tired as she sat by the table in the middle of the room with papers all around her.

"My lady, I was looking for you."

Missandei looked up from what she had been reading and sent him a fatigued smile. "Yes, I was just looking over the reports about grain supplies of the city."

He climbed onto a seat beside the young woman. "What did you find?"

"They are dwindling, fast. I fear that with no more shipments from the farms in the vicinity, we will not last the year."

Tyrion poured himself a glass of sweet red wine. "The farms have not been producing enough food to feed even half of the population, even before the Dothraki came to Meereen."

"I know, I do not know what to do about it." Missandei admitted and hesitantly accepted a glass of wine. "With having to feed so many of the former slaves, I do not see how it is possible for us to feed all the people in the city."

Tyrion rubbed his now impressive and well-groomed beard. It was something that he worried about as well, even though the population of Meereen was only a fraction of what it had been before the Valyrians conquered the of the Empire of Old Ghis, the city was still larger than both of Yunkai and Astapor combined and was home to tens of thousands of people.

How could they hope to feed so many, with such little supplies? Which made the food shortages they could be facing all the more troubling.

"We cannot keep giving the freed men food like we have been doing." This was one of the opinions that he disagreed with Daenerys Targaryen on the most. The Queen of Meereen wanted to hand the former slaves food, while Tyrion wanted to put them to work let them earn their keep.

"The freed men are not slaves anymore." Missandei said passionately and straightened her back. "Her grace has made it clear that slavery will never return to the bay of Drogon."

"I am not saying that they should be slaves and I am not saying that we should starve them." Tyrion raised his hands as he spoke. "All I am saying is that we need workers to help restore the city, working at the docks and they need money and food."

Missandei frowned at him but said nothing so he continued. "Meereen has a lot of riches and we have not been able to spend any of the gold, that the Queen acquired when she took the city the first time. It has been hard to trade with other cities, so we pay the freed men for their work like any other workers and the city gets repaired, it's a victory for everyone."

"That could work." Missandei seemed a little more hopeful than just a few moments ago. "Many of the Freed men can also work the fields around the city, that would help us get more food for the people of Meereen."

Tyrion smiled enthusiastically at her words; it was a true pleasure to work with the young woman before him. She was so eager to help bring prosperity to the city; it was a delightful change as he was used to work with people who would be a lot happier to line their own pockets rather than see to the health of the city that they were supposed to help flourish.

For an hour or two, they worked on their new plans, trying to come up with the best solutions to get their scheme to work.

However, there was a sliver of doubt in Tyrion. He knew that if this worked then the city and its people would be better off than ever, because of that, Tyrion was sure that it would irritate and make the wrong people fearful.

"Are you looking forward to see your home again, Lord Tyrion?" His mismatched eyes darted to where Missandei was sitting, looking at him with curiosity in her eyes.

He thought for a moment that maybe he should tell her of his fear, that he might never again see the shores of Westeros, that he might never see any of the places that he had known growing up.

Her words brought up a sharp pain of longing in him, he hated having to be forced to stay in Slaver´s bay, serving the Dragon Queen. He wanted nothing more than to depart from this blasted city and return to the country of his birth and see his home once again.

Tyrion decided not to tell her of his fear. Missandei of Naath was too loyal to Daenerys Targaryen, she would tell the Queen immediately when she arrived from her conquest of Yunkai and Astapor.

He could not afford having the Queen knowing about his doubts, that she would reach the shores of Westeros.

After the two dragons abandoned her, she was growing more unstable by the day which did not make for a good ruler or a successful conqueror.

However, even if she had all three dragons that she had hatched in the Red Waste, she could only ride one of them, like the other Targaryen dragonriders before her.

Queen Daenerys seemed assured, now that she had Drogon back, that she could end slavery once and for all and then sail to Westeros and take up rule.

Still, Tyrion was confident in thinking that it was not nearly enough to end slavery for good.

The Valyrian´s of Old had conquered most of the known world, however Daenerys only had one dragon under her command, while the dragonlords of Old had countless dragons to break their enemies.

There was no realistic way for her to emulate the conquest of the Valyrian Freehold with only one dragon and around fifty thousand soldiers, no matter how big the dragon was or how brave and fierce the men were.

Even if Rhaegal and Viserion were to return to her, it simply was not enough. If she were to manage to conquer all the slave cities, what then?

She could not simply up and leave for Westeros, Daenerys would have to stay and govern to make sure that the slaves were not thrown back in chains the moment she sailed away.

He fought the urge to glance at Missandei, he had come to really like the woman and admire her intellect, she really was wasted on a lost cause such as governing Meereen.

The two of them could toil all they liked, trying to help the people of the city, although when the moment came, when Daenerys was tired of waiting around for the dragons that would undoubtedly never come, they would be forced to head west.

When Daenerys would no longer be governing the bay of Drogon, it would all fall back to the slavers, or any one of the slave cities would invade and tear everything down that they had built.

Perhaps it would be a good plan to introduce the idea, that Daenerys was not as perfect as Missandei thought she was. Tyrion could not go right out and say it to her, that would only make the woman refuse to believe in what he was trying to tell her.

He would have to be gentle and tactful.

"Lord Tyrion?" Missandei seemed concerned when he did not answer.

"My apologies, my lady. I do miss my home and I hope that I get to see it again one day." He confessed, deciding not to come right out and state his fear of never seeing it again.

"You think that you will not see it again?"

Tyrion smiled sadly at her. "I do not know, men die in wars, even little men such like myself." He tried to keep his tone both joyful and sad at the same time, hoping that she would start to ask him more questions.

"I am sure that our Queen will not send you into battle, your mind is too valuable." Tyrion was impressed with her tact, normally he would have been told that no one would have expected a man of his stature to fight.

"Thank you." He smiled at her and took a swig of the wine in his cup. "Though I fear that the Queen´s work may not allow us to return to Westeros."

He discreetly studied her face, he noticed that there was a lot of confusion written all over it, as well as curiosity. "What do you mean? Her grace is taking Yunkai and Astapor and when Rhaegal and Viserion return to her, we will sail to the Sunset Kingdoms and take back her rightful throne."

Tyrion had to stop himself from snorting at her words. "Queen Daenerys is certainly formidable; I think that only a fool would risk an open war with her."

Missandei seemed to be filled with pride, when he spoke of Daenerys, however he was not done. "Although, even Queen Daenerys cannot be in many places at once."

"What do you mean?" The woman sat straighter in her chair, as her sharp eyes stared into his.

Now came the tricky part, he had to introduce doubt in her mind, without her wanting to run to the Queen to tell her that Tyrion was going against Daenerys.

He took another swallow from his cup and moved to refill it again. "Well, men like the slavers of Yunkai and Astapor are so set in their ways, that almost immediately when our gracious Queen and her armies had disappeared beyond the horizon, they took the cities back. How do we know that the slave masters of Meereen will not do the same?"

She opened her mouth to respond but no sound came. Her eyes searched around the room, as if she could find the answer to his question in one of the corners.

"Well, maybe that will not happen." Tyrion spoke again, having filled his cup to the brim. "If we do a good job here, then maybe everyone will see that slavery is vile and we can manage perfectly fine without it."

Missandei was now looking at him again but he could not read her face. "Maybe."

Her unreadable look turned into one of worry, filling Tyrion with guilt. He did not want her to feel bad, rather he wanted her to see the reality of the situation they were finding themselves in.

If she wanted to survive the upcoming months, Missandei needed to see Daenerys´s flaws and not just focus on how she had freed her from slavery. Which to be fair, was a massive undertaking to do for a person.

Still, Missandei needed to see that the Dragon Queen leaving Meereen would be viewed by the slavers as her giving the up city.

The thought of having Daenerys take up rule in Westeros filled him with dread, it was clear that the Mother of dragons felt that ruling Meereen was hard and she was right about that, however if she believed that ruling the Seven Kingdoms was easier, then she would be in for a rude awakening.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "The masters will likely think twice before crossing Queen Daenerys again." He took yet another swallow of wine. "Not after she conquers Yunkai and Astapor, for the second time."

Missandei nodded and took a small sip of her own wine, looking reassured; still Tyrion was sure that he could see a glimmer of doubt in her eyes. "You are right, she will defeat the slavers and when Rhaegal and Viserion come back, we shall sail with her to the Sunset Kingdoms."

Tyrion found himself blinking at her in surprise. "Well, that may take a while but yes, I do think you are right."

The young woman sent him a quizzical look. "It will not take our Queen a long time to subdue Yunkai and Astapor, she conquered them both once without the help of Drogon, she will do so again."

Tyrion opened his mouth to reply but Missandei was already speaking before he could. "Or is it that you do not think that her dragons are not going to return?"

"I cannot say about the dragons." Tyrion admitted, he found it doubtful that the two runaway dragons would ever show up again in Meereen unless they were forced to. "While I will confess that I have read much about them from various books and scrolls, I have only met Drogon, I think that you will agree that he is not like any other dragon."

"You have done much reading about dragons?" Tyrion had to confess himself surprised that she did not know that, even though they had not spent copious amount of time together before Daenerys had left.

"Yes, I have but I fear that you know more about them than I do, having spent so much time with them."

He watched as she drew her small fists together in her lap, as she clutched the fabric of her dress tightly. There was a hint of fear in her eyes before she spoke. "Do you know-…Have you heard any ta-…" She cut herself off, trying to find the words to say while Tyrion waited patiently for her to find them. "Is it common for dragons to hurt the people they know?"

He could feel the curiosity rear its head, his hunger for anything dragon related overshadowing anything else. "Well, most of what I have read about dragons, are secondhand accounts or speculations of maesters that never got close to any of the Targaryen dragons. Although I do think that it is not out of character for them."

He stared at her for a moment, studying her face again. "Did Drogon hurt you?"

"No." Missandei shook her head, her curls bouncing. "It was Rhaegal who snapped at me."

Her confession made Tyrion´s brows furrow, he had always been told that Drogon had been the bad tempered one. "What happened?"

"I was petting him, then he just…" Again, she trailed off now looking embarrassed, like she was hiding something.

"How big was he?" Tyrion had a suspicion as to why the dragon had snapped at the woman.

"Bigger than a large horse. Why?"

Tyrion looked into the cup he was holding in his hand, swirling the wine before meeting her eyes once again. "Did you try and mount him?"

Her rapidly whitening face made Tyrion sure that he had been correct in his assumption, he really could not blame her, who did not want to ride a dragon?

She shook her head again, this time more forcefully. "No, no I did not. I was only petting his neck and must have gotten so distracted by his pretty scales, they are like emeralds you see. I got close to his shoulder and then he…"

He held up his hand and placed his cup of wine on the table. "Lady Missandei, if you say that you did not try and mount Rhaegal, then I believe you." He did not.

It was painfully obvious to him that she was lying. Why else would Rhaegal have reacted in such a manner if she had not been trying to do something that he did not want her to do? Tyrion doubted that if she had spent a large amount of time with the dragons, they would not start snapping at her without a reason.

Tyrion understood her desire to ride a dragon and he could understand her fear of him knowing that she had tried to mount one of Queen Daenerys´s dragons.

There was no question in his mind that Daenerys Targaryen would not suffer another dragonrider, even if said dragonrider was one of her most trusted adviser and friend.

He doubted that the thought of Rhaegal, who according to Missandei had been larger than a horse, could carry a rider had occurred to the Queen of the bay of Drogon.

However, Tyrion knew her to be wrong if she had thought the green dragon was too small. Missandei was not a large woman and did not weigh a lot. Making it possible for Rhaegal to carry her at the time, just like Moondancer had carried Baela Targaryen.

"Thank you for believing me, Lord Tyrion." She was still pale and there was a fearful look on her face. "Could you please not tell anyone of this? I do not want anyone to think…"

Again, she trailed off not knowing what to say. Tyrion only waved his hand. "There is nothing to tell, you petted a dragon, who was having a bad day. That is all."

He sent her a smile, knowing full well that it would do nothing to reassure her. Tyrion started to question her about how they could start to get the freed men and woman to work, even though Missandei seemed to throw herself into the work, Tyrion could see the dark cloud of suspicion hang over her head.

The seed was planted, now Tyrion would have to wait and see if it would bear fruit.