Kings Landing had become a much darker place, Tommen noted as he looked out the window of his luxurious window. The people were quieter, fearful that anything they said would be used against them by the Faith Militant and the High Sparrow. He rarely walked through the city but, when he did venture out, he could sense the unease. Soldiers, because that's what they truly were, were always standing close, watching and observing the common folk for any sins. They didn't even bother to hide themselves, standing clearly in the open, the strange markings on their foreheads; Tommen guessed that was the thing that made them even scarier to the public. They knew that they could make their presence known because no one could touch them. Tommen knew that he was the king, but they were the ones currently running the city. This couldn't continue. His kingdom, his power, so recently given to him, was under threat from a number of sides; Stannis Baratheon towards the North, although he hoped the Boltons would help by dealing with that problem for him; increasing reports of a Targaryen girl in the East, on the move apparently closer to Westeros; and the Faith in the heart of his rule. There was also the issue with his mother, who was constantly trying to leech off his power. He got the sense though that, especially after the mysterious departure of his uncle, her strive and hunger had waned considerably. He often felt that he should feel sorry for the woman but then he would think back to how she would always side with his awful brother Joffrey and would quickly wash away those concerns. Maybe a few years ago, he would still give her the benefit of the doubt but no longer. This role had changed him. He questioned whether that was always a good thing.

"Come to bed, my King," Margaery purred from her position on the bed, draped in a fine silk nightdress. Tommen smiled at her, wondering what he had done to earn such a beautiful wife. Their marriage had been hasty, and he had felt slightly wrong by marrying his dead brother's wife but he had a duty to do so and produce a series of heirs. He wouldn't complain about doing that either. Their wedding night had been bliss, truly the best night of his young life. Margaery was the one to keep him going in this sometimes awful world. "What concerns your restless mind?" she questioned, sitting up above the bed sheets.

Margaery had grown fond of her high ranking position. She craved power but was always careful to not make that blatant, otherwise people would quickly take it from her. And her new king, husband, was much more pleasant than the previous one. Joffrey had been an awful piece of work but she had weathered that storm because she was expected to do so. But Tommen was much more malleable to her whims. She didn't blame him - he was a young boy really and she was a fully fledged woman. He didn't stand a chance. Sure, she was growing to love him with each day but his purpose was to ensure she got what she wanted.

"What else but that meddling Sparrow? His men have overrun the city and I have allowed them to do so."

"And yet he has not thought to touch you. At the moment, he is not your problem. In fact, his efforts have been focused on your mother and, if she were to be removed, that would make your life much easier. It might be a good choice to actually speak with the High Sparrow in person about her."

"But she's my mother. My family."

"Tommen, I am the main woman in your life now. For her to finally realise that, you have to acknowledge that too."

"I do. Of course I do. You are my love. But what you're asking me to do is betray my own blood."

"Are you saying that, if she were in your position, she wouldn't do the same to save herself?"

Tommen hesitated. Cersei Lannister was a ruthless person, of that there was no doubt. Would she betray him if it bettered her position? It wouldn't be out of character and he was the one blocking her from the throne. Yet surely he was her best option of running the kingdom. These thoughts were rushing through his head, making him feel slightly dizzy. This role had changed him. He was no longer wanting to be the puppet.

"Maybe you're right. I will arrange a meeting with the Sparrow in the coming days."

"I knew you would eventually come round." She smiled and gave him a long kiss, dragging him into the bed with her. "I think I should speak with my grandmother soon as well. She has a good knowledge of the dark inner belly of politics, she'll be able to help us in our schemes."

"She can work with my council. Uncle Kevin has his work cut out at the moment, I think he'd like her there to assist him."

"Now that's good thinking. How should I reward my intelligent king?" She leaned towards him, pressing a light kiss on his lips, pushing him down. This role had its perks Tommen thought happily.

xxxxxxxxxx

Night had descended on Meereen. The city was much calmer at this time although it still hummed with life. Within the Great Pyramid, things were a lot more active as people prepared themselves for the start of their journey. Tyrion was in his room, enjoying the view as he drank a golden goblet of red wine. He was making the most of the luxury whilst he could; the prospect of travelling by ship did not please him whatsoever but at least he wouldn't be stuck in a wooden box this time. Hopefully. He could see Daenerys actually doing that to him if he annoyed her too much. Despite the way they were reaching their first destination, he was still filled with a kind of excitement. He had left his family behind and was now going to return triumphant with a new queen. It was a good feeling but then he thought of Jaime, the one member of his family who actually bothered to care about him. He hoped that he had got out of there to save himself, but he knew Cersei's claws were deep in him. It would be a difficult choice for him to make between his brother and Daenerys; the fact that it was even a choice would have to be kept secret from the Dragon Queen. He had already witnessed how she dealt with disloyalty - her verdict and punishment was swift, unless you were a Mormont. He had grown to enjoy his time with Jorah but the constant whining about the girl had made him consider jumping off the boat before he eventually fell into the water. He wondered whether she would risk letting him be such a distraction. They deserved happiness though, especially with what little time they could have together before the war to come.

He was interrupted from his musings from a knock at the door. He clambered out of his seat, a bit too tall for him, and made his way over to greet whoever it was. He expected it to be Varys, or maybe even Jorah, but not the young woman who Daenerys had freed from her slavers. Missandei was stood in the corridor, illuminated by the torches behind her. She must have seen his puzzled expression as she was the first to speak, explaining what had caused her presence.

"Daenerys wanted me to check if everything is in order for you for tomorrow. She understands that you arrived with few possessions on your person but she can arrange anything if you were wanting some items for the journey." She spoke with little emotion, treating this task as if it was just a job and not a social interaction. Tyrion wanted to change that.

"No, no. Tell our Queen that I should be fine. It'll be Varys who will need all his elegant robes in perfect order." She nodded and turned to leave but Tyrion spoke up to stop her. "Would you like to come in? I'm more used to hosting company, you see. Back in Kings Landing, I'd always have someone to talk to. Not so much here." He could see the deliberation on her face. He could tell that she wanted to say no but instead nodded again and stepped inside the room when he moved to let her in. "Would you like a drink? I've got quite a bit of wine that'll be thrown away by the morning. Best get it drunk, I say."

"I don't drink."

"Well, we can change that," he said, waving off her protestations as he poured some of the wine into a clean glass. He walked back over to her with it, holding it out with an outstretched hand. Again, she hesitated but eventually gave in. She seemed incredibly uneasy in this situation. She's probably not used to this sort of thing he mused. "You know, you interest me. You're an enigma amongst a group of burly men. And myself." A flicker of a smile. Progress already. "How long have you known Daenerys?"

"Not very long at all. You know that she freed me as part of a bargain with my captors. And then she killed him."

"Were you scared of her at the point?"

"Not scared, no. I was scared of the men who owned me. She gave me my life back and I'll forever be grateful to her for that." Tyrion nodded, unable to grasp the horrors of being someone's slave.

"And what do you think of her plans?"

"I'm incredibly relieved that we're leaving this city. It has taken from me something that was growing to be precious to me."

"Grey Worm." She didn't answer. "One way to get over grief is to drink. You haven't touched yours yet." She took a sip, her face wincing at the bitter taste. "Good, good. I should tell you, I know exactly how you are feeling right now."

"And how would you?"

"Because I lost someone I loved. Twice, actually. Both of them are dead now. One by my own hand. At least you can console yourself with the fact that you did not cause Grey Worm's death. Trust me, it is a blessing. Count yourself lucky." His voice was bitter, remembering his first love, Tysha, taken away from him. And then his thoughts went to Shae, the woman who had betrayed him completely and yet it still had destroyed his heart when he felt the life leave her body.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"How would you? We haven't spoken much."

"I hope that changes." Tyrion was surprised at her comment but happy nonetheless.

"I think that wine is already affecting your brain if you are wanting to become acquainted with someone so dastardly like me. Must mean it's working." She laughed at that. He was glad that he had opened her up a bit more. What was to come would be a great ordeal for them all; it wouldn't do to have someone not feel like they were part of this group and he had seen Missandei as the outsider to Daenerys's council. He raised his glass in the air. "To the ones we have loved. And to the ones we will save." She drank with him, silence filling the room. Yet it no longer felt as awkward as it had previously. Only a few more minutes had passed when she put her cup down and stood up.

"I think it's time that I should leave. I was meant to relay the same message to everyone else and yet it seems that you have distracted me quite effectively."

"Are you complaining," he slurred slightly, the alcohol slowly taking hold of him.

"No." Her answer was instant, this time no hesitation seen. It made a nice change.

"Then I shall see you tomorrow. Be careful when giving the message to that Warlock, Bruda. I'm not entirely sure he won't bite." With one more smile, she turned to leave and soon he was left alone once more. He sat there for a moment, thinking about their conversation. Not another one he thought.

xxxxxxxxxx

Daenerys was using this time to relax, in a different manner to Tyrion, but just as effective. She was currently having a long bath in her private quarters. Some of the girls had offered, and sometimes pleaded, to help her wash but she wanted some time alone. She wanted to think, to take the opportunity to recollect on her time in Meereen and to assess the progress she had made. It had been a truly difficult time in Meereen. In the space of a few months there, she had been betrayed on several occasions, she had lost the leader of the main part of her army, almost lost her most skilled guard and had almost died multiple times. And yet, she was still alive. Still in power. It gave her hope that her path to the throne was her destiny; she was beginning to believe that the gods wanted her to win. And who was she to question the gods?

She had survived because of the people she kept close to her. Selmy had already proven to be a worthwhile asset and a loyal defender, which would be crucial in the coming months. He was also well respected in Westeros, which would hopefully encourage more people to her side. Missandei was the person she could discuss trivial matters with; to be examining politics and fights would wear down on her quickly if she didn't have the chance to just talk. She had become quite distant after Grey Worm's death, which was totally understandable, but she sensed that she was slowly returning to her old self. Tyrion and Varys, the newest recruits to her team, where proving to be useful as well. They were the main ones to get involved in council discussions, and usually balanced each other out, helping her to make impartial and informed decisions. What she commended Tyrion for was that he was not afraid to question her decisions; it allowed her to see how other people, especially those who lived in Westeros, would view her actions. It stopped her from just launching a massive attack on the populace. Daario was the member of her council that made her pause - he was a skilled fighter, something he had proven since the first time they had met. He also was contributing 2000 men to her army, a not inconsiderable amount. He had also proven very good in bed, something she wasn't to complain about. Yet he was not adept at what was to come. She was right - he was a fighter and that was all. She had to be careful not to allow him to get too close to her because it would likely damage her chances of success; she would keep him on their journey, but their relationship, if you could even call it that, needed to come to an end.

Thinking about relationships turned her mind to Jorah, so often the object of her thoughts recently. The older man had been a constant in her life since she was traded to the Dothraki. He had stood by her side wherever she went and, despite his mistakes with her, she had forgiven him quite easily in the end and now he was closer than ever. And that thought was both scary and exhilarating for her. He had, and probably always will, held a special place in her heart and it seemed that it was growing with every day. She couldn't control it for much longer. Surely it wouldn't hurt if she was to possibly encourage the thought of that idea. She doubted it would change their relationship that much in truth, with them being so close already. She just realised that she searched for his approval more than anyone else; to her, that meant something. She just didn't know if she could act on it.

She was broken out of her reverie by a knock at her door. She shouted for them to come in but she didn't get out of the bath. She presumed it would be Missandei, reporting on the outcome of her visits to her council members. She had already seen her in a state of undress before plenty of times. Yet it wasn't Missandei. In fact, it was the person she had just been thinking of in so much detail. Jorah. He hadn't seen where she was. Maybe that was a good thing. She didn't know why, but she wanted to give him a shock. It was a dangerous thought.

"Daenerys?" he questioned the empty main room. He had sworn she had told him to enter. He walked around the room, seeing if she was sitting in some corner that was out of view. Nothing. He made to leave when he heard a sound coming from her washroom. That gave him pause. Surely she would get annoyed if he went in there without permission. "Daenerys? Missandei came around before. I just wanted to check that you're ready for tomorrow. It's a big step, I was worried you might have some nerves."

He was always worrying about her. She should think it was irritating and yet found it endearing. She beckoned him into the washroom and was delighted to see his eyes widen as he entered, before he quickly turned around.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't realise that you were in this state. I'll come back later if you want."

"I wouldn't have called you in if I didn't. You've seen my body before, Jorah - there's no need to be shy now." She waited until he slowly turned back around. She found it cute that his eyes remained firmly fixed on her own. Very strong willpower. "You wanted to discuss something with me?"

"I just wanted to check up on you really. You've had a traumatic few days and tomorrow represents a giant leap into the unknown for you."

"Thank you for your concern," she said, smiling as she did so. "But you have no need to worry about me. You need to realise that I'm a strong woman now."

"I know." She didn't know whether he was saying that because of the position she was in. "But it's my job to look out for you. I have a duty of care."

"I should be asking you if you're ready for the long journey. You were involved in a heavy fight today, I'm surprised you're not simply resting in bed." She enjoyed the fact that she could tease him so easily and freely

"I'm not as old a man as you may think."

"I do not see you like that at all. Jorah Mormont, the brave knight, my protector." The look he gave her made her blush, her cheeks going slightly pink. She hoped he just presumed that it was down to the heat of the water.

"I always will be. Unless you find someone else." He looked down at the ground at that. He knew that one day she would find a younger man and fall in love and his relationship with her would come to its natural end. He had expected it to come with Daario. It had been clear that they shared a physical relationship. Yet that seemed to have waned during his absence. He averted his eyes as she got out of the bath, causing her to laugh. "You don't have to look away, ser. I won't think less of you." He remained resolute. Always so noble. "And, I should remind you that, as long as I live, I will need you by my side."

He looked up at that, perhaps slightly disappointed that she had put a green robe on to cover her body. "I will make sure that I live long enough to see you on that throne. It is where you belong, Daenerys. I'd die if it meant you succeeded."

Her face grew stern at that. He didn't know what he had done wrong. "Jorah Mormont, say that again and I will banish you for good. If you dare get it into your head that that is your purpose or what I want, then I will have to remove you from my council to save you. You are too valuable to be a shield." She thought back to Daario's comments in the council meeting just after Jorah had returned; she was scared that he had spoken the truth.

"As you said, I am your protector. Your life comes before mine. You are the crucial piece of the puzzle. You are the one that the realm needs."

"But I need you! What's the point of ruling a realm if you're not in it?" Tears began to form in her eyes. He walked over to her, wrapping her in his arms and gave her a kiss on the top of the head. Daenerys found it incredibly comforting. Jorah was trying not to focus on the feel of her body.

"I will try very hard not to die. I won't actively put myself in harm's way unless it is completely necessary. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I got like this. A Queen should be stronger than this."

"Please. You are the strongest person I have ever met. Your emotions, your empathy, are two factors that will make you a good ruler that is loved by their people. You should pride yourself on how you are different from rulers before you. It is why I follow you, Khaleesi. Remember that. I think I should leave you for the night. You need to rest for tomorrow." He unwrapped his arms, not before another kiss was planted on his cheek. She had been tempted to try the lips but that would be too far. He didn't see her like that. This friendship would have to suffice.

"Good night, Jorah. And thank you once again. For everything."

xxxxxxxxxx

The other surviving tribes had arrived within the space of a couple of days. Jon was glad that they had come so soon - the cold was beginning to get to him and his men. However, he had enjoyed seeing how the wildlings went about their normal days. It was comforting to see a world where things were much simpler. Their main concern was having enough food, whereas Jon had to worry about the oncoming storm, as well as ensuring the nobility of Westeros were kept content. Any support he could get in the future would be invaluable. He was currently sat inside a tent that Mance had said he could use. It wasn't anything special and yet Jon enjoyed the lack of luxury. He had experienced a fairly comfortable life, had seen how the highborn lived. But this, this was what he was fighting for really. To make sure that the people who couldn't defend themselves were protected. To preserve life in the face of death. I've become incredibly morbid recently he thought to himself, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of his position. A few years ago, he would have balked at the idea of even going to the Wall; now, going past that great structure was little more than an occupational hazard. It had to be done. He still wondered though why it had to be him that did it. There wasn't anything special about him and yet this great pressure was on him.

Tormund entered the tent, his red hair covered in specks of white snow. His eyes were as wild as ever, looking around the small shelter. Jon knew that they had recently had a number of disagreements about the supposed futility of this task. Jon knew that, really, he had no place in deciding the fate of the freefolk - they were Tormund's people, not his. He had to get him to realise that it was for their own good.

"The leaders are assembling. Mance sent me to get you like I'm a fuckin' messenger or somethin'." Jon laughed at that; he was still incredibly blunt.

"I'll be on my way shortly. They shouldn't have to wait for me."

"No, they shouldn't," came the short reply. It was now or never.

"Look, Tormund. I know you feel as if I'm trying to destroy your way of life. I know I have no right to have a say in what your people choose to do. But I am working to help you, to save your people, to preserve your way of life. Once this is all over, you can all go back to the way it was. You'll never have to speak to me again."

"Don't you think I realise that? You think I'm, what? Angry with you? Fuck that. I feel only pity for you for the shitty job you have. Most men like you wouldn't think twice about leaving us to die. It's the easiest thing to do. It would be our own fault. But you're different, Snow. You actually give a shit. That makes me respect you. You're a dumb fucker at times, but I respect you. And if you think you're getting rid of me that easily if we survive this torment, then you have another thing coming." Jon smiled at that - it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to form a friendship with the brute.

They made their way over to the largest wooden construction in the camp. Inside, a meeting of older men was beginning to take place, with Mance in the middle. He looked up as Jon walked in and beckoned him over to his side. Tormund stood behind them.

"Are you ready for this, kid?" he asked.

"Not at all. But that doesn't matter right now." It seemed to be the right answer as Mance gave him a small smile and nod. He then spoke loudly to get everyone's attention.

"Right then! You know why I'm here. You understand the threat that breathes down on our necks, getting closer with every day. You've seen what they can do, the destruction they can cause. We need to leave whilst we still can." This caused an uproar, especially amongst the older of the men. He put his hand up to stop it. "If you disagree, we're all dead. And before I die, I will make sure to look every one of you in the eye as the swarm encroaches us."

"Where will we go?" one of them asked. Mance looked at Jon, prompting him to answer.

"Stannis Baratheon has agreed to allowing you past the wall. You can have whatever land you need once the war is over. What he asks for in return is that your men fight by his side in his conquest." That last point didn't go down well, which was expected.

"Why should we fight for some fuckin' southerner?"

Mance replied this time. "He's our ally now. At Castle Black, I willingly bent ma knee to the man." More uproar. A large man stepped forward, anger written all over his face.

"You're a fuckin' traitor Mance! We should have you killed."

"Of all the time I have known you Shakra, have threats ever worked? If you had let me finish, I would have also told you that he bent the knee to me. Something that wasn't agreed beforehand. He did so out of good faith, to tell us that he will help and support us. But only if we help and support him. He is our only chance of survival." A hush descended on the room as the different leaders deliberated amongst their advisors. Mance gave them a few moments before he spoke again. "I'm leaving tomorrow. With or without you. I will not die as a result of pride. How many of you will follow me once again?" No one responded initially. Then, the man Mance had called Sharkra nodded. Another tribesman, a bone through his nose, stepped forward. The bald man that Jon had encountered also agreed, along with two more men. "And the others?" He looked over at the men that hadn't given their support. "So be it then. Good luck. You'll fuckin' need it with what's to come." With that, he walked out of the room, Jon trailing him closely.

"Did that go as you planned?" Jon asked him.

"We got five out of the seven large tribes that are still standing. About 1500 people, two thirds of them men. It's a lot more than I expected, which means that the situation is even more dire than I realised. But they've seen sense, the majority of them. I hope you know what you're doing, Snow." Jon didn't know if he really did.