They had been sailing now for a few hours. Every member of Daenerys's council was on the largest Meereenese ship that the Second Sons had captured, apart from Daario, who had been asked specifically by the Queen to watch over the bulk of his army on one of the other ships. Jorah had noted that many of the soldiers, especially the remaining Dothraki, weren't particularly enjoying the method of transport. They would have to learn though - this was the only way to get to Westeros. They couldn't all fit on her dragons.

The dragons in question were currently gliding over the small armada that they had. As Jorah made his way back to his own cabin, he watched as they played out their own aerial dance. They seemed incredibly happy to be back together as a trio, being able to play amongst themselves. He knew that Daenerys was worried that their time apart would have affected their relationship, which would make them more difficult to control, but, from what he could see, they seemed content. Drogon did seem to be slightly on the edge of their games but he had always been more of his own entity, the wildest of the three. Jorah had a special relationship with them all, having watched them grow from when they first hatched in the fire. Magnificent beasts. But the fact was that they were still just beasts and ultimately decided what they wanted to do. He worried that, because their progress relied heavily on their cooperation, Daenerys's chances hung in the balance until she could train them properly.

He reached his cabin with that woman on his mind. Like that wasn't always the case. As he sat down by the small window, the gentle rocking of the ship lulling him into a state of peacefulness, he thought about Daenerys. Especially because of what had transpired between them just the evening before. It confused him greatly. She had no interest in him like that, that was clear. He would always be her knight, nothing else, and he was perfectly happy with that. Ecstatic even, given the brief break they had shared away from each other. So then why was she acting the way she was yesterday? He just managed with the first kiss on the cheek, barely. But then she had purposefully got him to come in to see her like...that. He wasn't complaining, obviously - she was beyond gorgeous. But he would have thought that she wouldn't want some old man looking at her in that way. Yet she had said that she didn't see him as an old man. Was it possible? He didn't want to hurt himself by even considering that fact. He couldn't think straight - he needed to talk to someone. He got up out of his chair and was quickly out of the room, making his way over to another cabin. He knocked on it twice and hoped that the person was inside.

Bruda opened the door slightly, suspicious as to why anyone would want to be meeting with him. When he saw Jorah stood there, eyes shifting constantly, he opened the door further but was still confused as to what the knight wanted.

"I was wondering if you'd like some company? It's going to be a long journey, may as well spend some of it with other people."

Bruda eyed him suspiciously. "So spending days locked in a small room together wasn't enough for you? I should be honoured." He stepped aside, letting the Mormont man inside his room. It was pretty much identical to Jorah's - the only difference was Bruda's cloak, lazily slung over one of the chairs by a small writing desk. It was strange not seeing the warlock in it. He was dressed in a plain white shirt, with the sleeves part way rolled up, and brown pants. He seemed...normal. Although Jorah knew that was far from the case. "Would you like a drink? I don't really enjoy it myself but there should be something around here."

"Please. I think I need it." Bruda went over to a trunk that had already been aboard the ship. He fished out a dusty old bottle of rum, rubbing it slightly to see inside to make sure it was alright. He shrugged, not knowing what constituted as alright, and handed it to Jorah with a small glass. They moved over to a set of two chairs that were by the window overlooking the calm waters.

"Do you not like sailing?" the wizard asked.

"I'm fine with it. You wouldn't be able to survive on Bear Island if you didn't like going on the water. It's a way of life."

"So what is so wrong with you that you seek my company?"

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"I suppose so," he said hesitantly. "You're by far the person in our little group that I know the most. Not by choice, explicitly, but the point still stands. Yet, I don't think that's the reason you're here. To seek validation of our relationship. Unless, you came here to take things further. I'm flattered but I must say no. You're not really my type." Jorah smiled at his antics.

"Don't worry. You're not the one currently occupying my thoughts all the time."

"Well that's a knock to my self esteem. But how could I compete with the delightful Daenerys?" Jorah gave him a look that conveyed his shock at how Bruda knew. "Oh come on, like it would be anyone else. I'm wondering though why it is she is tormenting you so much now."

Jorah began to explain to him what had happened the previous night. To be fair to him, Bruda listened intently, taking Jorah's concerns seriously when they arose. His expression didn't change when Jorah reached the more shocking points of the tale; it helped the knight to continue through the hint of embarrassment. Once the story was over, Jorah sat back and took a long drink from his glass, quickly refilling it afterwards. Bruda sat in silence, pondering what to say.

"You sound like a young boy in love. Truly sickening. I've got the world at my fingertips, and you're using me for advice about a girl."

"You know it isn't as simple as that."

"Well of course it is. You're overcomplicating it for three reasons: she's very much a younger woman, by several decades I'm guessing." Jorah glared at him; Bruda didn't seem to care. "You've known her for a very long time. And she's your Queen."

"Exactly. So I should stop with these fantasies." Bruda sighed - he wasn't the one to be asking about relationships.

"I'm not saying that. She cares deeply for you. More than anyone else here. But you've got to realise that she is on a dangerous path, one that will come with casualties. I'm not saying you're certain to be knocking on Death's door but it's a massive fucking possibility for all of us. You have to decide whether it's the right time to act on these feelings you have. Although the right time may never come."

"It isn't up to me to decide. The likelihood of her reciprocating what I feel is negligible. I can't distract her with this when she has to concentrate on winning the throne."

"If you truly thought that, you wouldn't have come to me to have this discussion. You've got it into your stupid head that there is a tiny chance she does feel that way. If you really think that, then you have to pursue it. Don't give me the excuse that we're heading for war because that has never stopped people in the past. Remember in the cell, I told you that I've grown attached to people before. One of them was the most beautiful woman you'd ever see. Flowing brown hair, green eyes, full of life. She was perfect and we grew incredibly close because, for some silly reason, she loved me back." Bruda spoke with a soft smile on his face, his eyes distant. It was the most content Jorah had seen him. "She wasn't noble or anything. Hardly a penny to her name. But we were happy. And then the war came." His expression darkened considerably. "I told her to leave. I'd be able to protect her with my powers if she just got away. Yet she stayed put. Was in the wrong position at the wrong time and I ended up cradling her dead body. All that life gone in an instant. I would have outlived her anyway probably but it still broke my heart."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh don't be. Years ago now. But I still remember her. I will never lose that memory as long as I live."

"What was her name?"

"Isabella. It sounded so exotic. And she wasn't afraid of me, unlike most of the people. She didn't care about my magic."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need you to understand the pain that can ensue if you love someone during a war. If you and Daenerys do end up falling for each other, like you picture in your dreams, then there is a massive risk that one of you will be left in a year's time all alone. And it hurts. So much."

"So you're saying I shouldn't take the risk?"

Bruda smiled. "I'm saying completely the opposite. Have you been listening? The time me and Isabella had together was bliss. I do not regret ever falling in love with her, not one bit. The pain is worth that feeling of momentary perfection. You just have to be brave in the face of it."

Jorah looked out to the sea, clear blue currents swirling around their ship. "I should go speak to her, shouldn't I."

"I think you owe her that much. I'll warn you though, you might end up like me if you choose to proceed."

As Jorah got up and headed to the door, he looked back at the old man, who was still sat in his chair. "I can picture worse things happening to me."

"You really need to leave. I've had enough of this soppy fucking nonsense. Get going before I send you there myself and vanish all your clothes." It was safe to say that Jorah hurried out the room after that comment. The door was closed firmly. "She'd probably enjoy that," he muttered to himself.

xxxxxxxxxx

Sam was not enjoying his time in the Citadel. The majority of his time there so far had been cleaning out dirty bed pans or bringing over people their food to their private rooms. He made sure to wash his hands in between those two tasks. He was feeling sullen; he had arrived with such promise and hope that his journey would quickly provide positive results. He wanted to dive into all the books that the massive building held in its depths, all stacked along on giant shelves. They held so much information - Sam just wanted to absorb it all. And yet he had hardly been anywhere near those books. He was too busy with menial tasks, such as copying out old texts that would soon be lost from memory. At first, he had thought that this would give him the opportunity to gather some information about obscure topics. However, most of the notes were simply journals from men long dead about scientific proposals that never came to anything. And none of them mentioned anything about the white walkers. Every night, he would come back to Gilly and the baby and would repeat the same news of a lack of progress. It was draining the little confidence they still had.

When he had first arrived, his hopes had been bolstered by his conversation with Marywn. Although lacking in some social etiquette, the old maester seemed to have a good understanding of the white walkers. He had actually talked about them when most people this far south still threw away the idea of the undead as strange stories conjured up by the people of the North. Sam had expected to have daily, or at least weekly, meetings with him to discuss facts about them. That was why he was here after all. Yet Marwyn hadn't communicated with him since that first day. It had now been over a week and Sam's patience was beginning to wear thin. He had made the decision to go seek out the reclusive man that evening. He had to get through yet another day of dullness but the time soon passed by and Sam was walking through the dark corridors of the deepest part of the Citadel. He made his way to Marywn's office, the one in which their first meeting had taken place. From a distance, he could hear soft grunts emanating from the room. Then a shout of exasperation at something going wrong. Sam considered heading back as it didn't seem like the best of times but he had made it this far so ploughed on. When he could see into the office, he spotted Marywn hunched over a small trunk, muttering to himself under his breath. Sam knocked on the open door, causing him to jump up in alarm.

"What the blazes? Oh...it's you. I've been expecting you."

"So why haven't you sent for me then?"

"You're the one who came here asking all the questions. I presumed that, if it was so important, you'd come to me to get your answers." Sam looked down sheepishly at that. He'd been stupid once again. All that time wasted; it could be costly for everyone in Westeros.

"I...didn't quite think of that."

"Apparently so. But you're here now. What do you want?"

"Knowledge. About the white walkers. Anything you know. Are there any books about them?"

"There isn't a lot to know about the white walkers. Mainly because most people who encounter them end up joining them. And no, there's no books. The Citadel wouldn't allow any works about them because it would taint their reputation. For some people, that matters more than surviving."

"So my journey here to Old Town has been a waste of time."

"Don't jump to conclusions so quickly. You wanted to know about ways to kill a white walker. There's been a number of theories up North about that. Again, there's nothing definitive because no one has been able to defeat one."

"I have." Marwyn looked at him with thinly veiled shock. "It was luck really. I just stabbed it in the back when it was going to kill Gilly."

"And you've kept this from me for so long? This is a major advancement! Was there anything about the tool you used to kill it."

"It was dragonglass. It...kind of...exploded into tiny pieces when it became embedded in it."

"Dragonglass, you say. A peculiar material. Better known here as Obsidian. The Children of the Forest made their weapons out of it quite frequently so that would support your claim. People used to think it was created by dragon fire. The Valyrians even called it frozen fire. It's more likely that it comes from the fires within the earth itself."

"So you believe me?"

"I have no reason not to. If it is dragonglass that can kill these creatures, then we need to be heading for Dragonstone soon. That place is sitting above the largest store of the stuff."

"Then I need to be telling Jon about that."

"I would think so. If he is in league with Stannis Baratheon, the current owner of Dragonstone, then our fortunes are looking up. We should also be looking at valyrian steel. It's on the same lines as dragonglass, in that it is believed to be formed with dragon fire. So there's a common factor. Maybe dragon fire is the key to defeating them."

"Well we don't have any dragons on hand. There are rumours in the east…"

"Yes. And I believe them, which is why I've been working with this." He hesitated before he turned towards the trunk that he had been messing with previously. He motioned for Sam to step closer and he looked inside. A dragon egg, black towards the top but dark orange mainly. It seemed like stone yet still radiated heat.

"How did you get this?" His voice shook a bit.

"A friend in Essos. Illyrio. Thought I'd be interested in it, with my field of work. I've had it for a few years now, trying to figure out what to do with it. Nothing I've done so far has changed it. But I have the feeling that extremely high heat may cause it to hatch.

"You want to hatch it?" His voice was full with fear and disbelief.

"It may be our only option if we want to win this war."

"Even so, it's unlikely that the heat we need can be created."

"That's where you're wrong. The Hightower. That light at the top is a small volume of contained wildfire. It's been running for decades. That should be hot enough. If we can get the egg in that flame, then I think it's definitely possible."

xxxxxxxxxx

Tommen reached the Great Sept of Baelor the day after his conversation with Margaery. He had come unannounced, not wanting to give the High Sparrow any time beforehand to plan this meeting. He would not be played by someone else like he had so frequently been in the past. Tommen wanted to finally take charge as King, to do something that he himself had decided. Apart from Margaery, no one else in his court knew about what was going on, especially his mother. She would work to stop this if she found out, mainly because her power would lessen. But also because the likely outcome of the possible alliance would result in her being put in front of the Faith to atone for her sins. He didn't know the full depth of what she had done in the past. He was glad that he didn't.

He found the Sparrow standing in a plain stone room, observing a stone plinth at the back of the room. He was let in by Sister Unella, a foreboding woman who Tommen didn't want to get on the wrong side with. She was possibly the largest woman he had seen; she might have been beaten only by that Brienne of Tarth. The Sparrow didn't look up when they entered, which unnerved Tommen. As king, he was always greeted with adoration by people who wanted to use him to better their prospects in life. The Sparrow didn't care about trivial things like social standing and wealth - Tommen respected the man because of it. He had to stop thinking like that though otherwise, he would simply become the Sparrow's puppet.

"I'm surprised that you've come here, your Majesty," the old man started. The High Septon was a peculiar man to look upon. Dressed in plain grey clothes with no shoes on his feet, he would easily be mistaken as one of the beggars that littered the streets of Kings Landing. Yet this man held so much power, controlled a group of people that had overrun the city. Tommen wondered whether he dressed like that purely because of his beliefs or because it gave people a false sense of security around him.

"I thought the time has come for us to join together to stop this madness continuing in my kingdom." His voice was firm, contradicting the nerves that were coursing through his body.

"Madness? I see no madness out there. The opposite, in fact. The people are slowly learning to live better lives. There is nothing mad about that." Tommen didn't like how his voice was so calm and serene - it made you want to listen intently to what he said and that was when you were caught in his trap.

"They only are living that way because they are scared of being dragged through the streets by your men. Fear shouldn't be a tool used to gain obedience."

"Fear is sometimes the only tool. The sooner you learn that, my king, the better the chances are that you will stay on that throne. It is a dreadful thing that I have to do but I do it to save these people from themselves."

"They survived many years without the Faith controlling their lives."

"And look what happened. They fell into disrepute, into lives full of sin and darkness. And that was down to rulers before you not properly overseeing them. Blinded by their own selfish needs. You can change all that."

"How?" He was caught in the trap.

"The Crown and the Faith don't have to be separate entities opposing one another. Throughout the history of this city, they have often worked together to create a more peaceful community. We could continue that. You have the power to decide that."

"That was my purpose for coming here today. I understand that I cannot remove you from the city…"

"Well you can. You are the king after all. But the fact that you have already dismissed that possibility gives me hope that you are seeing a more reasonable conclusion."

"The Crown and the Faith should rule together. I would still have the final say on matters, as is my right, but your needs would be taken into consideration more. You could even have a seat in my Council."

"I don't need a seat like that. I'm not after power. I work for my beliefs and to make people see the better ways of living, without our need for luxuries and approval."

"I understand that. And I will make it so that your message is heard more often. But only if your men remove themselves from my streets. Let people make their own choices. And then we can begin to deal with the outliers."

"Outliers such as the Queen Regent?" Tommen nodded slightly at the question, not wanting to utter the words that condemned his mother. "She wouldn't approve of our meeting. I am proud that you are finally shaking her off your back. She would slowly poison your mind with her schemes and dark thoughts."

"What would happen to her?"

"At the moment, nothing. She has not been tried for any sins that I know of. But, if she opposes us too strongly, or we hear of any of her sins, then she will be persecuted based on the findings of a group of seven Septons. It is a fair practice that gives her the opportunity to repent."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then the Faith will decide her outcome."

xxxxxxxxxx

He stood outside the door of her private quarters. She had rightly been given the largest room on the ship, seeing as she was the Queen and controlled the fleet. He had been waiting there silently for a few minutes now, still debating whether or not he should go through with this stupid plan. Bruda had gotten into his head far too easily for his liking. Yet he was still thankful for the warlock for the advice he had given. He was also surprised with how the older man had opened up to him about his past; his story seemed to get more complicated with each new piece of information. He knew that Daenerys didn't have company - hardly any noise had come from her room since he had been outside there. He knew that this is where she would be otherwise more guards would be on the upper deck protecting her. Although nothing could touch her whilst they were out in the middle of the sea. All it would take was one knock. One little knock. It still represented a giant leap for him though. One that he just couldn't take. Bruda would be disappointed in him - he had risked it all for love but Jorah was too pathetic a man to blindly leap into the unknown. That's what his thoughts were saying anyway. He was about to turn around and walk away when the door opened. Daenerys was stood there, surprised at the sight of the Mormont Bear by the entrance. He seemed just as shocked, maybe a little afraid.

"This is a pleasant surprise. I was getting a bit bored on my own. I was actually going to see if you wanted to join me. It seems that I don't have to make the journey now." She had a smile on her face, which made Jorah step inside against his better judgement when she moved aside to let him in. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you. I just had one with Bruda. I shouldn't drink too much even if we're not under threat."

"Do you think it wise becoming inebriated in his presence?"

He laughed. "I trust that man, even though my mind tells me I shouldn't sometimes."

"And why is that? We hardly know him."

"He speaks the truth. All the time. It'll get him killed one day, his brutal honesty. Doesn't know when to stop his mouth."

"And that's a good enough reason for you?" She was still doubtful.

"He saved my life." This got her attention, her head snapping up in alarm.

"When? He didn't seem to be anywhere near you in the fighting pits so it can't have been then."

"On my journey to you, after capturing Tyrion as your gift, we ran into a problem in Valyria. Stone Men surrounded us. I made sure they didn't get him. Put my body on the line." He subconsciously looked down at his arm where the infection had been. Daenerys followed his eye line and grabbed hold of his arm gently, pulling back his sleeve to reveal a light faded scar.

"Greyscale," she whispered. "It should have been incurable. Why didn't you tell me?" She was angry at him for withholding such important information about his safety. Angry that she could have lost him so easily.

"I wasn't your favourite person at the time. I didn't think you'd care that much. It should have done your job for you and killed me."

She looked into his eyes intently, trying to show the feelings she had. "I always cared about you Jorah."

"I betrayed you, your Grace. You shouldn't have."

"And I've forgiven you for that. Please remember that. You won't be effective by my side if you are still stricken with the guilt of the past." She got a nod in response. "Bruda managed to cure you then?"

"In the cell, yes. It was like a simple wave of the hand for him. But it eventually worked. I think the outcome surprised him just as much as it did me."

"I should bestow all the gold in the world on that man when I sit on the throne. I will be forever grateful to him."

"Don't tell him that. He'd become even more unbearable." He liked how she laughed at his comment. Life seemed simple right now, just the two of them. Not worrying about what was to come. "Before, in his cabin, he was telling me a story of how he lost someone he loved."

"He is full of so many secrets, that man. I feel sorry for him, having so many stories. It must be tiresome trying to remember them all at times. Why was he telling you such a story?"

He didn't want to tell her. Why did she have to ask? Why had he even mentioned the conversation? "You know what he's like. He enjoys rambling."

He's avoiding something. "It just seems that it is a private tale. One that wouldn't come up unless prompted.

Does she know? She's too insightful for her own damn good. "I went to him to discuss something that has been on my mind recently." Maybe she'd leave it at that, wouldn't probe any further.

"Your thoughts are on a woman then? If that story comes up." Still probing. Was she standing closer? He couldn't trust his voice so just nodded slightly. She picked up on it. She looked into his eyes and saw the truth, those pits of deep blue conveying raw emotion. "I wouldn't think of you as someone so confused with the fairer sex, Jorah. Fights you can deal with but women scare you?" Was she teasing him?

"She is more than simply a woman." Why was he still talking? He had come this far, surely he could take that final step. Bruda had told him to be brave. He sighed gently. He'd kill that man for convincing him to do this. "Tyrion was right, you know."

"About what?" She knew exactly what he was talking about but wanted to hear him say it properly.

"I do love you Daenerys." He couldn't look at her, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. But I thought you should know. It won't affect the way I serve you. I will continue to fight for you. Unless you want me to leave when we reach Braavos." He didn't want to see her face, worried that she would be angry or confused.

"I already told you that I need you. I always will. This doesn't change anything about that. Well, it changes one thing."

"And what is that?"

"Look at me." He did so. Her face, whilst he expected an expression of disgust or maybe even embarrassment for him, was filled with a smile, her white teeth shining in the faint light of the room. She closed the distance between them, cupping his face with her small hands. She stood on her tiptoes as she finally did something she had wanted for a number of years. She had wanted to experience what it felt with him. They shared something more than love. Something more than what she and Drogo had, something definitely more than what she and Daario shared. She closed her eyes as she kissed him deeply.