The cavern in which the wildlings were hiding was a lot larger than Jon had expected. Its damp, muddy walls were covered in torches, which had caused a layer of smoke to line the roof of the shelter. It was incredibly cramped from what he could see and he could sense how relieved the people were to get out of there. As they slowly began to file out, Tormund had made his way over, hearing the noise of the commotion. He was as shocked as Jon was, looking over to Mance for some sort of an explanation.

"When did this happen?"

"Plans were put in place after you left to seize the castle. I suspected that the likely outcome of it would be my capture. I wasn't going to leave everyone without some form of safety."

"But, the size of that thing. It must have taken longer for it to be made."

"I wouldn't know. I've been predisposed recently. Before I left, we agreed on what had to be done to survive, roughly where it would be created and the security of it." He waved the key in his hand. "The locks were actually the first thing to be made, meaning, if I got back, I'd either be able to get in myself, or help everyone out."

"The whites though. You'd suspect that they'd have known."

"How would they?" he scoffed. "Last time I checked, they're dead. So they don't have any fucking brains to realise anything. They just follow orders. And if the Night King didn't know about it, then they wouldn't."

The man who Jon presumed was the temporary leader of the wildlings was stood near them, listening in to their discussion. He was a ferocious-looking man, dark eyes standing out. Jon wondered how his bald head didn't get cold in the low temperatures but there was no way that he'd risk asking. Jon could definitely hold his sword but that beast would probably just tear him in two. He noticed Jon staring at him, and grunted, making Jon look away.

"How many men then?" he asked Mance. He had quickly gone from despair at their prospects to having a sense of renewed hope.

"I'm guessing a few hundred survived. This isn't the only one they built, there's at least another six within a few days walk from here. They'll send someone off to each one and soon everyone will be in this main camp."

"And then we can start trying to persuade them to come back with us."

"Do you really think that they'll come and fight your fucking wars after they've been through this?" Tormund interjected, angry at Jon's naivety.

"It's not about fighting our wars! That was never my intention. Stannis will expect some help from the wildlings, I can't argue with that. To be fair, he has every right to after you bent the knee."

"He bent the knee to us as well! What the fuck are we getting out of this?"

"Safety! Your people are being allowed to cross the wall. No other ruler has allowed that in history, yet Stannis has promised to do so. You'll have a better chance of survival because of him."

It was Mance who spoke up next. "You know that. I know that. But most of these people won't be so sure. Like you said, this hasn't happened ever before. For all they know, it could be a fucking trap. It'll take a lot to convince them to follow us south."

"They've seen the white walkers. They've seen what they do. I'm hoping that they see sense and realise that we're a lot more merciful than the dead."

"Are you so sure of that? I've heard you talk about what some of those southerners have done. Boy, what makes them any better than those walking corpses? The dead don't have a choice, it's man that opts to kill." Mance gave the younger man a piercing look.

That stopped Jon in his tracks. He had never considered that side of things, so assured of the morality of the fight. He made himself think of the people that had wronged him and those close to him; Karl Tanner and Rast, who had betrayed the Night's Watch, killing Jeor Mormont in the process; Joffrey Baratheon, mainly for being a sadistic, twisted little shit; and now the Boltons, who had taken his home. He thought of Theon, who had betrayed the people he had once called family. Mance's words stung at the heart of Jon, opening old wounds that still were not properly healed.

"If you'll excuse me. I'll be sure to rejoin you when everyone else arrives." He left at that with no other words.

"And I had such high hopes for that boy," Mance murmured to Tormund. "I hope he proves me wrong once again."

xxxxxxxxx

Daenerys once again found herself in her council room. She had rarely felt such rage and anger within herself than at that precise moment. She had trusted that man to a certain extent and all his words, all his actions, were untruthful. She didn't know how long he had been plotting against her, possibly from the first time they had met. What this experience had taught her was that it was illogical to trust the highborn of this world. They always seemed to have a superior motive and, when her reign began, there would be no room for people's own agendas. She was already tired of the political games and she hadn't even reached Westeros yet. Things would have to change. The game needed to be played on her own rules from now on.

They had left the fighting pit rather hastily after the battle was won. Drogon had taken off when Daenerys's safety was secured but what had pleased her, was that he had chosen to fly towards the pyramid. He was currently clambering over the large stone walls of the temple, snapping at any birds that dared get too close. The people of Meereen had seen nothing like it before. The terrifying beast was a magnificent sight to behold.

Her council room was as full as it had ever been. Most of them were covered in scratches and bruises but no lasting damage had been done, somehow. That fact was mainly down to the work of Bruda, who seemed to have been hit the worst. He was the only one sat down, breathing quite heavily. He looked closer to his actual age than she had previously seen, his messy brown hair showing a few flecks of grey. As they had got into the temple, she had returned him his staff as a thank you for his contribution. He was currently clinging onto it rather tightly. Nevertheless, he had told her to stop worrying about him when she had asked if he was alright.

She turned to her other advisors. The common pattern had formed around her. Tyrion, Varys and Missandei were grouped together, waiting for her to speak. Selmy stood near, silently waiting to talk if anything was directed at him. He rarely contributed much to these conversations as he knew he was more a soldier than a politician. Daario was pacing in a line, unnerving Daenerys. He was angry with himself for letting that shit get so close to his queen. Such a blatant display of emotion made her question his usefulness as an advisor - she needed clear heads more than ever. The last person she looked at was Jorah; it was a comforting sight to see the old bear by her side once again. He was always the closest to her. She guessed it summed up their relationship. He had grown to become her best friend, a point that surprised her with how easily she had accepted it. With him returning to her once again, she realised how important he was to her and her chances of success. He sent her a reassuring smile to encourage her to start the discussion.

"I think it's time we left this wretched place. I have wasted enough time as it is, trying to help people who refuse to be helped," she began.

"Do you have an idea where you want to head, my queen?" Tyrion asked, wanting to know what her plan was before they gave her any ideas.

"Westeros. I have to make my move. I've been searching through notes about my family's time in that part of the world. Dragonstone is where they initially reached, we should do the same."

"Dragonstone is currently owned by Stannis Baratheon, who is currently pursuing the throne himself," Tyrion argued. "He would not give it up."

"I beg to differ," inputted Varys, "He has always detested the fact that he received that castle and not Storm's End as he expected. I don't think he'd actually put up a great fight; like you said Tyrion, he's focused on claiming the throne and is trying to do so at the moment by conquering the North. My little birds inform me of how he has set up camp with plans to attack Winterfell; Dragonstone will be of little consequence to him."

"He's a Baratheon though! They are full of pride. Losing his castle will put into question his suitability for the throne. He can't afford that. And, you're forgetting that Daenerys is vying for the same thing he wants. Letting her have Dragonstone would just make it easier for her."

"You also forget that Stannis was the one sent to kill me and my brother when we were mere babies," Daenerys interjected. "My presence may actually make things worse for me currently. Unless I can strike a deal with him."

"That's not possible or feasible," Tyrion hastily noted. "Why would he sign any deal with you when he has a larger army?"

"I have dragons and, when the Iron Bank legitimises my campaign, he'll see that his only option is to side with me. I could even give him Storm's End once I'm Queen, if that's what he truly desires." His presence was just another obstacle between her and the throne, which needed to be removed.

"Could we not just wait till he dies?" Bruda proposed. "You said he's currently planning a battle - it's likely that he'll die doing that. Winterfell is a force to be reckoned with. Then you don't have to worry about him and the consequences of landing at Dragonstone."

"I can't take that chance. If he survives the battle before we propose an alliance, then any victory will boost his confidence and chances of getting the throne and he won't need to join with us. If we do it now, then he might just consider it."

Tyrion still wasn't convinced. "Your grace, just consider what happens if he does, for some reason, agree to this. What do you do if you go on to remove my family from the throne? Neither of you will want to give it up for the other."

"He'll come to realise that I have the stronger claim."

"Politics is much more difficult than that. He won't care about that. And the people of Westeros will remember a Baratheon ruler in a better light than a Targaryen one."

"Ser Barristan, how many men do I currently have?" Daenerys asked the oldest man in the room. He took a moment to go through the separate groups in his head.

"Over 7000 Unsullied soldiers, between 750 and 1000 Dothraki riders, and 2000 members of the Second Sons. And they acquired 93 Meereenese ships."

"And the Iron Bank, if they were to support my campaign, how many men could we hire from them? If need be, Lord Varys?"

"The Golden Company consists of 20,000 men. They're known to be completely loyal to their contract so it wouldn't be the same as simply hiring a set of mercenaries."

"And how many men does Stannis Baratheon have?"

"Roughly 3000 of his own men, and an unknown number of Free Folk soldiers, according to reports I've heard," Varys continued.

"So, Lord Tyrion, it is feasible that I will have over ten times the amount of men he has. Are you still so sure that he won't at least consider siding with me?" Jorah smiled at how she had countered Tyrion's arguments.

"You only consider the art of war and not the intricacies of politics," he countered.

"So far, politics have only served to stall me. It is time that I take the fight to the men that created the politics of today."

"Then I will support you in that choice. Just remember that I am only useful to you as a political advisor, not a fighter."

"And I am grateful for your concern and contribution. It is decided then - Lord Varys, send a proposal to the Stannis camp. We'll set sail tomorrow to Braavos." At that, her advisors began to shuffle out of her room. "Bruda, could you wait there." He nodded, wondering what she wanted. Before she spoke to him though, she stopped Jorah by the door as he left. "What do you think?" She was giving him a nervous smile - she was wanted his approval more than anyone who had been in that room.

Jorah could tell that she was slightly apprehensive. "It's definitely a risk to side with him." She visibly sagged at that. "But you're right about how we have the advantage in our numbers. It could be a very good move to get the Iron Bank behind you as well. Their stamp of approval will go along way in convincing the people of your legitimacy."

"You really think so?"

"Definitely. You did well in there, controlling the room. You knew what factors were on your side and used them effectively. I was proud of you." A warm feeling rushed through her at the praise.

"I'm glad that I have you back."

"I'm happy you allowed me back. But I should be going now, we have a long journey tomorrow it seems." His smile turned into an expression of shock as she reached up to lightly kiss him on the cheek.

"I will send for you later. I'll need you by my side for what I'm going to do." Although he was puzzled by her ambiguity, he nodded and left the room. She turned around to face the remaining man in her room.

"That was incredibly moving and heartwarming," Bruda said. Daenerys didn't know whether he was being genuine or not so she ignored the comment.

"How are you feeling?"

"I already told you that I'll be fine," he moaned, chuckling slightly. "At my age, strenuous activity like that can take a lot out of me. But I'll be fighting fit in no time, don't you worry."

"That's good, because it seems you'll be a valuable asset on my journey to Westeros."

"That's the kindest thing you've ever said to me. I must thank you for handing me back my staff. I did miss it dearly."

"It is an unusual piece of craftsmanship."

"That it is. Valyrian steel. When I first started practicing with my magic, I wanted to see if anything could hone my powers. I've never really understood why, but this can. It must be something to do with the way the metal is forged. Said to be formed with dragon fire. You know, the hottest fire of a dragon is actually blue in colour. You'll have seen my magic in the pit." He waved his hand, golden energy once again returning. "Golden. In its natural, purest form. More difficult to control but I've had a long time to master it. But, when I use the staff." He grabbed hold of it with his right hand, a swirling blue energy returning to the tip of it. "The magic goes blue. It channels my magic through the flames of a dragon and increases its potency."

"How very interesting. But, I did not keep you here just to learn that. Before I allow you to join me, because it is my choice if you actually come, I need to know more about you."

Bruda wasn't surprised at the curiosity. "What would you like to know?"

"How did you get your powers?"

"I don't really know. I was born with my magic. My parents were just regular old people from what I can remember."

"You've forgotten parts about them?"

"Of course I have. I'm nearing on 300 years old Daenerys, as I was explaining to Jorah whilst we were in our cell." He gave her a pointed look at that but she refused to apologise for actions she deemed necessary. "I'm bound to forget a lot of things. They died a long time ago, so their memory was always going to be one of the first to deteriorate."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Oh don't be. At least I still know they existed. Memories are a crucial component of life, allowing us to create stories. And my story has been a great one but, with each day, I just get the sense I'm reaching the last chapter. So I need to make the most of it. My gifts have been a burden but I have never given myself the luxury of imagining what my life would have been like without them. For a starter, I'd be dead. Would have been centuries ago. But I was given them for a reason and I'm sure that has something to do with you."

"Why do you say that?"

"I didn't actively decide to come to Meereen. A voice inside my head just whispered to me, suggesting I do. I arrived here, and then started to hear about your story. I was drawn to you, I don't know why. What I do know is that the deal you plan to strike with Stannis is crucial. He'll hold Winterfell soon. That place is important for the upcoming war. I am fully behind your push for the throne but you will be told of a greater battle to come, and you need to be at Winterfell. Because Winter is coming, your Grace, and both you and I need to be there for when it does."

xxxxxxxxxx

They had been in their new camp for a few days now, all 3000 of them. The backdrop of the mountains, whilst also serving as a good defence for them, made the landscape more interesting for them to look at, especially compared to the muddy fields that spread out for miles on end. The problem that they didn't want to arise amongst the soldiers was restlessness. The conditions were poor and, without the prospect of a battle soon, it wouldn't be long before tensions grew within the camp. Davos had already had to step in to stop one fight from escalating. Men are wild animals he thought, walking through the mud, the bottom of his cloak already turning a murky brown. He was holding a letter that had come by raven moments before. He hadn't read the contents but the emblem on the wax seal had caused him to hasten his pace. His mind was a whir with what this could mean for their campaign. Stannis was in his tent, the largest in the camp. He stood off to one side, conversing with Melisandre; they both stopped talking as the Scot entered.

"I think you'll want to read this, your grace." Stannis took the letter wordlessly, his expression not changing as he took in the seal. Davos could tell though that the Red Priestess was surprised. Maybe your fires don't tell you everything. His trust for her was minimal; he didn't expect that to change very soon. Stannis though remained stoic and Davos didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. After he had read it, he passed it back to his Hand, who began reading it himself.

"What do you know of Daenerys Targaryen?" Stannis asked.

"Not much, my Lord. Been causing quite a ruckus across Essos it seems. And now she's wanting to come back and take what she thinks is rightfully hers."

"And she wants to join forces with me to defeat the Lannisters."

"Aye. It seems so. Courageous young woman by the sounds of things. But also quite merciless. You hear stories about her dragons. There's no doubt that those would go a long way in helping you win."

"Would I be winning though? If I help her, then she'll take the throne. I don't get anything out of this."

"You get to be on the winning side. And then get rewarded I presume."

"The Lord of Light chose you for a reason," Melisandre said. "This Targaryen woman supposedly has three dragons, a useful tool in defeating the army of the dead." Stannis considered that. The road to the throne had been diverted by his own promises; if he took back Winterfell, his men would then turn to a different sort of enemy. Was becoming king his main objective now? He wasn't the one who needed to bend the knee to the wildling king, and yet, he had done so. And then, if they survived, he could be a part of a new dynasty. It was a tempting thought.

"How many men do we have at Dragonstone."

"No more than one hundred."

"This Daenerys asks to reclaim her ancestral home. I'm considering letting her. I don't need it anymore. And a sign of good will would only help me in getting close to her. Send word to those men that they should be expecting some arrivals and send a raven back to our new ally. Once this battle is done, I'd very much enjoy meeting her."

"I'll get to it right away, my Lord. Anything in particular you want me to add?"

"Just inform them that we are open to a new alliance. If they get the backing of the Iron Bank, they can have Dragonstone. I'd be a fool to go against them. But right now, I have a war to win myself. I'll worry about dragons after I'm victorious."

Davos nodded and left the tent, being hit by a blast of icy cold air. When he had read the letter, he had not expected Stannis to be so open to the deal. He contemplated whether his motives were entirely pure; he'd find out soon enough.

Back in the tent, Stannis looked over to the red haired woman. "Am I making the right choice here?"

"I can't see everything. With her, the future becomes less certain. But it is like what I said, fire is one of the only weapons we have right now and she'll bring it to us. What worries me is that she is blinded by the pursuit of the throne, as you once were. You will have to convince her of the growing threat mankind faces, otherwise, this alliance will be for naught and neither of you will sit upon the kingdom."

"I'm sure the Stark boy will be able to persuade her. He's supposedly seen them in person, he'll be our best option in putting forward the truth."

"That's if he's still alive. Word still hasn't come from them."

"I'm not concerned about that. My men can wait for a while longer. I get the sense that Jon Snow has a talent at surviving. I bet he'd be able to survive a knife through the heart. If he doesn't return soon, I'll put that theory to the test myself."

xxxxxxxxxx

A few hours had passed since her council meeting. After giving them some time alone, in order for them to get ready for their voyage, she had summoned Jorah, Bruda, Tyrion, and Varys. They were all stood outside at one side of the Great Pyramid. In front of them stood a large stone door that blocked the tombs inside. Strange noises could be heard from within, strangled roars emanating from the creatures trapped there. Daenerys wished that she hadn't done what she had to her children but it had been a necessary evil to keep them under control. But now they were leaving, and she needed them, along with the recently returning Drogon, to impress the Iron Bank and then spearhead the upcoming fight. She stepped forward, pushing the door slowly open, the stone grinding against the floor. She was met with darkness and so beckoned an Unsullied soldier towards her with a torch, grasping it in her hand as she stepped forward. The others were slightly more tentative of going inside but they eventually all followed her.

They slowly walked in silence, the only sounds being the gentle roar of the flame and the clink of Bruda's staff on the cold floor. Then, the shuffling of large bodies against the floor could be heard, followed by a deep growl. Daenerys took a few more steps before Viserion and Rhaegal's heads suddenly appeared from the darkness. They eyed her suspiciously, with anger. She felt tears well up at seeing such hatred from them. But she continued towards them and they let her place her hand on their necks. She focused on Viserion first, reaching to the chain and unlocking them. The loud bang of metal echoed around the cavern as they hit the floor. The dragon shook his neck wildly, chirping with joy that he was free again. The same was for Rhaegal too as she repeated the process. They had grown since she had last seen them yet they were still small in comparison to Drogon.

"They're...beautiful," Tyrion whispered in awe, his childhood dreams coming true. Varys, on the other hand, was looking at them warily. He could manipulate people easily but wild beasts were not his speciality. Bruda stepped closer towards Viserion. Daenerys wanted to warn him to keep his distance but she was then surprised to see the dragon bow his head slightly to move into the open palm of the warlock.

"Not my first dragon. There used to be so many filling the skies. It was a sight to behold, I tell you. But this one is just gorgeous." Viserion chirped at the compliment, causing Daenerys to smile at his antics.

"You are full of surprises Bruda," she commented.

"It's why you like me," came the quick reply.

"That is still to be determined. I think it's time they were allowed to finally open their wings again. They are the last of their kind, for all I know; they deserve to make the most of their time here." Bruda looked at her, realising that she was following what he had mentioned in their conversation. The group made their way back outside and waited for the dragons to emerge.

"They might not fit through the entrance now," Jorah pondered, looking at the small hole. His concerns were answered just moments later as the two of them smashed through parts of the wall, making the hole much larger, before they clambered out. They took in the fresh air, sniffing for smells that they hadn't sensed for a long time, before they unfurled their wings and took off into the sky, circling the city.