They were getting close to Braavos. They hadn't run into any trouble so far on their journey. He didn't know if that was a good sign or that all their collective bad luck would arise when they reached their destination. The people who ran the Iron Bank were difficult to please, which was the main reason their support was sought after. It would send out a message to the people of Westeros. The problem was trying to please them or get their attention. A large fleet of ships like the one they currently possessed would possibly make them look up from all their papers about money. They needed to get them to stand up in shock and awe. He suspected that the dragons that were soaring above the armada would do just the trick, if they did as they were told. Daenerys would have to learn how to control them soon if the bankers were to consider her attempts at conquest.
Jorah stood by the wooden railing at the side of the ship, overlooking the turquoise water calmly splash up the ship he was on. His thoughts soon turned to Daenerys. He hadn't expected the events of the previous night to happen but he was happy that they did. She had kissed him. Properly. A kiss that spoke of the emotion and feeling that connected them. He hadn't let her take it any further; he didn't want to disrespect her in any way. He was definitely content with this new development. He just didn't know how they would go about the coming days, how they'd interact with each other. He hoped that they would simply continue the way had been like previously, with the possibility of more private interactions to come when they had the chance.
He heard the thud of metal on the wooden planks that the ship was composed of. He didn't need to turn around to see who it was. Bruda sidled up next to him, not saying anything. He looked out to the sea just like Jorah was doing, silent. He occasionally glanced at the knight, trying to determine from his facial expression how the night had gone for him. Jorah would never willingly tell him about it unprompted.
"How is my favourite little lovebird this morning?" he asked, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Quite content," came the reply. Still no telling whether it had been a positive outcome or not. He was infuriating at the best of times.
"Quite content? What the fuck does that mean? Did you actually go see your undying love or have a nice, filling meal instead?"
Jorah looked at the man next to him. He wouldn't give up the questioning until he got a proper answer. He was the only reason why he had gone through with his plan. He owed it to him to at least tell him. "I told her."
"Well you haven't got a knife in your chest so that's a good sign. Did she say anything in response?"
"Not much." He wasn't going to make this easy for the warlock. Where was the fun in that?
"She didn't say much, hmm? So why are you currently stood here with a little stupid smile on your face. It's unnatural for you. You're normally frowning, or glowering."
"She didn't say much because, soon after my confession, she...kissed me." Bruda whipped his neck around so fast that Jorah thought it might have fallen off. The mage was scanning his face to tell if he was speaking the truth. He broke into a devious smile.
"Ha! I told you this would happen." He lifted his staff in the air, sending blue sparks into the air, causing the other people on deck to look over at them. Jorah shoved his arm down to stop the theatrics before someone asked what had happened. He didn't think that Daenerys would want this to be fast-spreading news for the time being.
"Will you...be quiet?" he whispered, already annoyed that he had told the secret. Bruda would probably use it against him. In the most awkward of ways, judging from what little he had seen of how the wizard's scheming mind worked. "It was just a kiss. Nothing more. No admissions of love or anything. Don't get too carried away."
"But you gladly would have admitted your love as soon as she looked at you? Would have got on your knees and begged her to say she reciprocated your feelings?"
"That isn't the point."
"What isn't the point?" The woman in question had taken them unawares, silently walking up behind them as they conversed. She was curious as to what they would be talking about so secretly. And she didn't mind looking at Jorah when she had the opportunity. She had a smirk on her face as they both floundered, especially her knight.
"Oh...nothing, Khaleesi. Just talking about...things." So convincing.
"Things?" she responded, disbelief clearly evident in her voice. "I thought I advised you not to speak too much to our friend here. You might go mad. Or catch something."
"Excuse me, your Grace!" When she looked at her, daring him to carry on speaking, he thought it safer to stop whilst he still had a tongue. Jorah was dumbfounded at how she could easily make the other man cower, normally a person of so much confidence. Very impressive he thought.
"I thought I'd still take the risk. He doesn't know many people here. Thought I'd keep him company." Bruda eyed him dangerously, not appreciating the implications that he needed Jorah.
"That's very thoughtful of you. I'm still wondering what things you were whispering about though." Still insightful he moaned in his head.
"Just...tactics. About how we approach our arrival in Braavos."
"And you thought you'd rather discuss this with him than me? I should be jealous." The smile gave it away that she was just messing with him. This was a new aspect of their relationship, it seemed. "I'm still not convinced. I'll have to get you to tell me later someway or another." She enjoyed how his eyebrows shot up at that comment. Bruda felt incredibly awkward whilst they...flirted? Was this flirting? It had definitely changed since his day. "But I also came over to speak with Bruda as well."
"Then it is my lucky day. What can I do for you, your grace?"
"It came to my attention recently that you saved Jorah's life without my knowing." He sent a glance at the knight, who was purposefully avoiding his gaze. "Had I known, I would have treated you a bit better than I have so far. I wanted to tell you of my gratification in person."
He bowed slightly. She didn't really know if it was on the border of mockery. She let it slide anyway. "It was nothing, my Queen. Stopped him moaning for a while until we realised that you also needed saving. And I know how much you need him, even if you say otherwise."
"I fully know how much I need him. I have never said anything different. And he now knows that, as he should have a long time ago."
"Oh, I bet he does." He said it under his breath but she still heard.
"What was that, Bruda?" She looked at Jorah, an accusatory expression on her face. So that's what they were talking about. I must be on his mind then.
"Hmm?" He tried acting innocent, something he ultimately failed at. "Nothing. Nothing. Just a cough."
"I did tell you that you might catch something in his presence Jorah. I should go get ready for our arrival. It won't be long now. Behave, you two." Jorah nodded his head, whilst Bruda bowed again. They watched as she walked away, Jorah's eyes lingering a bit longer. They stood in silence for a moment, before Bruda ruined the quiet piece.
"Blimey. The sexual tension was palpable." Jorah walked away from him at that, shaking his head at the warlock's words.
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She sauntered through the brightly lit corridors on the Red Keep as if she owned the place. She practically did now, ruling the kingdom by the side of her King. The situation in the streets below may have been getting worse by the day but, for her, the future held a lot of promise. And the future was the main topic on her mind at the moment as she walked with purpose through the palace. She had sent Tommen away to begin the process. He hadn't returned yet, which either meant the discussion was a long one, showing promise of success, or that he had been made their prisoner. She doubted that the latter had occurred. If it had, she'd bring the whole force of the Crown down on those religious fanatics. So far, they had not pushed past the boundaries yet but, if they were to try their luck, then they would be met with strong and resolute punishment.
Her part of the process was getting advice on what course of action was best to next take. She was seeking the help of the only person she truly trusted in Kings Landing. She always could be trusted to have a scheme brewing, at least. Her grandmother often was perceived as appearing meek and mild-mannered by people who casually passed her by but she couldn't be any further from that. Olenna Tyrell was a ferocious woman who used all her years of experience to full effect. She knew the political landscape. The Tyrell family was not a powerful one on paper. They had a moderately sized army and a well-constructed defence if necessary. Yet she had surged them up the hierarchy, using the Reach's fertile lands as persuasion for political alliances. And now the Tyrell name was at the top of the tree. If anyone could help them further cement their place there, it would be Olenna.
She kept mainly to her living quarters whilst she stayed with her granddaughter unless she was going to a council meeting. That's where Margaery arrived, knocking twice before being allowed entry. Olenna was sat next to a golden table, drinking a glass of wine as she overlooked the view of the city.
"It stinks of shit. Even from high up here," she muttered, disdain for the place evident in her voice. She had never been one for pleasantries, although she was definitely less sour towards her favourite family member. Margaery was growing up to be just like her, using her beauty and figure to get what she wanted from stupid cattle that ran the kingdom. Her mind was always planning, always thinking of what she could use to her advantage. She might just survive this world if that continued.
"I know you don't like it but I'm happy that you stayed here with me. I can count on you to talk to and give me advice."
"Of course, dear. I could never leave you in this wretched place. I'd never forgive myself, leaving you to fend for yourself."
"I can fend for myself though."
"Is that why you've come to me then? For advice, as you put it?"
"You taught me to always use the tools that I have access to. Right now, you're exactly what I need."
"Is that so?" she questioned, her curiosity peaked for the time being. "And what is it that you want to discuss?"
Margaery sat down in the chair opposite to the older woman and thought over her words before she spoke. "Tommen is slowly coming to realise that he is the one with the power now. The remaining obstacle is his mother. I still feel as though, if forced to, he would choose her over me, which can't happen. Although that sense is slowly diminishing."
"I wonder how you're making him realise all this." Her sarcastic tone was met with a devilish smirk. "I trust you have already thought about some things you could do to rectify this."
"More than that. I persuaded Tommen to have a meeting with the High Sparrow, which he's currently doing." Olenna's eyes widened slightly.
"I'm impressed. Your enemy's enemy is your friend, I suppose. Are you expecting some sort of alliance with him and his followers?"
"Hopefully. It will reduce the tension across the city, making the process of ruling easier for us."
"But also removes some pressure off Cersei Lannister's back."
"Exactly. Which is why I've come to you. The Faith would only consider going against her if she was found to have sinned. That's the only reason they ever persecute people. Their belief makes them frustratingly moral and unwilling to go against their system."
"But it also makes them predictable, which we can use to our advantage, if we're clever."
"We'd just have to prove to them that she has sinned in the past." Olenna considered her granddaughter. She knew of one such secret and had been saving it to use when the right time appeared. Now seemed like an opportune moment to strike, whilst the Lion was declawed.
"Well, I have got something to tell you concerning our Queen."
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The journey back to Castle Black had been arduous, especially with their increased numbers. Yet Jon was still in high hopes with their relative success. It was like Mance had said - they had never expected so many of the tribes to agree to their terms. And yet they had. And they had followed them past the wall into unchartered territory for them. He had given them a days rest before the majority of them continued towards Winterfell. Stannis would be ecstatic with their additional numbers, with it probably tipping the battle odds slightly in their favour. At least he would be happy with it. Thorne had been glaring at him whenever they made eye contact. He was frustrated at how many of the Free Folk had followed them, mainly because it was putting an extra strain on their resources. That stress though would lessen when they continued on their march so Jon made sure to ignore the constant looks out of courtesy towards the Lord Commander. He could also tell that many of the men weren't pleased with their situation - they were having to leave their families to fight a war that wasn't theirs. Jon wanted to be sympathetic towards them but knew that it had to be done. Something inside him kept telling him that Winterfell would be crucial in the Great War. Wildling swords on their side greatly increased the chances that his home would be returned to him, or at least Stannis for the time being, who didn't show any signs of wanting to keep the castle once he had achieved success.
The next day had come quickly, with the sun shining above them doing nothing to dampen the cold. He had got his men up early, not wanting to keep Stannis waiting any longer than he already had. He was sat on a white stallion, Mance and Tormund either side of him on their own horses. Jon had been surprised at how well Mance was coping with riding after his injury the last time they were here. Rayder had told him that wildlings were a tougher species and that was that. When everyone was in the courtyard, most of them not on horses, they began marching south. Jon looked back at Castle Black, a place that had been his home for a few years now. It was likely that he would never see the place again. It hadn't been the warmest of places but it had provided him with invaluable friends and memories. He thought of Sam, wondering whether he had seen any success as well. He hadn't heard anything from the Tarly boy since his departure, which worried him. It was a difficult journey that he had embarked on. But Jon had to worry about his own journey now.
It was another three days before they got close to where Stannis had set up his base camp. Jon, Mance and Tormund had rode ahead of everyone else to greet Stannis and to ensure their men weren't met with hostility. He was glad that he had done that because the three of them were met with a flurry of swords as they entered the camp. The soldiers that surrounded them slowly parted in the middle as Stannis, flanked by Davos and Melisandre, approached them. He surveyed the condition they were in. The lack of injuries, except Mance's which he had seen happen, was pleasing. It meant whatever men they had were probably in good condition.
"You've finally arrived," Stannis said to them. He wasn't a person who liked to wait.
"Yes, your Grace," replied Jon. "It was a difficult journey but I think you will be happy with the outcome."
"How many men?" Cutting straight to the point.
It was Mance who replied. "Of those that survived an encounter with the White Walkers before we arrived." Some of the men around them winced at the mention of those creatures. "Roughly 1200 men. Currently waiting to be accepted by you."
Stannis slowly nodded. "That's more than I expected. Thank you for your effort. Your contribution will not be forgotten."
"All I ask is that ma men be treated well by you and your men. Or I'll order them to head back North."
Jon expected the Baratheon to bristle at that but he remained calm. "I promise you that they will. They are my men as much as the ones already here. And, if I see any unrest, the culprits will be punished accordingly. No matter what side they are on."
"Agreed. We'd best get settled then." Mance and Tormund turned away on their horses to meet up with the waiting Free Folk. Jon got off his horse, it being walked away by one of Stannis's men. The crowd was slowly dispersing - Stannis and Melisandre headed back to the main tent at the same time. Davos was the only one remaining, stood looking at Jon whilst standing in the mud.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," he said, a chuckle coming after he spoke.
"Did you miss me or something, Davos?" Jon said with a smile.
"Something like that. Without you, I only have Stannis to talk to and he's fully focused on what's ahead of us. You're more entertaining, although still just as miserable at times."
"I'll take that as a compliment. I think."
"How have your travels faired for you?" They began slowly walking through the camp.
"Better than expected. I was worried we'd be met with forces of the undead. We just missed them."
"And the wildlings survived?" The shock was very evident in Davos's voice.
"Most of them. They planned ahead. Managed to hide from them for long enough."
"I'm guessing you won't be allowing us to use that tactic in the coming war?" Davos already knew the answer, which explained his light tone as he spoke.
"You know that it's down to us to take the fight to them. You could always head south, save yourself. I wouldn't think less of you."
"Snow, I don't have anything left to fight for. My son died right in front of me. My wife doesn't even know that. I can't face her now. I love her dearly but we are not the conventional couple. Any money I have left can be sent to her. You know, I was just a smuggler before I came into Stannis's circle. I was nothing, an outlaw. By fighting by your side, I can finally prove to myself that my life was worth something."
"I would be honoured if you fought with me. But I think that little girl will argue about your worth."
"Shireen? Aye. She means a lot to me too. If I have any reason to fight, it'll be her. But we have another war to worry about first."
"When do we begin the offensive?"
"Well, you're now here with an abundance of men and we're going to lose resources within the week, if we're lucky. That means soon."
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They hadn't been stopped as their main ships sailed into the port of Braavos, with the majority of the fleet waiting on the outskirts, ready if anything went wrong. For the time being, Daenerys stayed aboard her ship with Jorah and Bruda by her side. She had sent Varys and Tyrion ahead to meet with the bankers first to give them the opportunity to welcome her without having to be prompted. It was an unlikely outcome but she would not give her opponents the chance to deem her just a conqueror. She could still manipulate the political scene even if she didn't approve of it.
Varys and Tyrion walked up the stone steps that led to the entrance of the Iron Bank. It was a gigantic building, designed to be imposing. It was a fortress, representing the strength the people within held. They reached the top step and were met with two large guards. Varys looked at them impassively, not perturbed by their show of power. He wasn't impressed with brute force - a battle of the minds was what he was more appreciative of. Without a word spoken, the doors slowly opened and the two of them walked in. They were led by the guards into a main chamber. In the middle, sat on a row thrones, were the bankers that would determine Daenerys's fate. In the middle was Tycho Nestoris, the leader of the bank. He observed them astutely, his beady black eyes scanning the pair. Varys had never liked the man but greatly respected him.
"Well this is a surprise." Tycho's tone made it clear that he was not shocked at all.
"We've been sent on behalf of Queen Daenerys Stormborn to seek your support in her campaign for the throne of Westeros."
"You call her queen. I'm not aware of her being crowned. I'd have expected to be aware of such news."
"She is the ruler of Meereen and has claim over Astapor and Yunkai."
"Was and had. She's left those cities and her claim to them behind. Don't try and trick me with these lies. She even lost Yunkai. You failed to mention that."
"She has given up her rights to them to actively pursue her main goal."
"So she fantasises over an unrealistic dream. And you expect us to meet with you because of this."
Tyrion responded. "My lord, it is by no means an unrealistic ambition. She has shown constantly her merit to being a ruler and has Targaryen blood flowing through her veins. If it wasn't for my family, then she'd be sat on the throne already."
"The last Targaryen king was overthrown for a reason. Why would the people want a return to that madness and uncertainty?"
"Because she is nothing like her father! You can't judge her on what her family has done in the past."
"It is the only thing I can judge her on at the moment! Seeing as she has failed to show herself and give us the courtesy of meeting in person. Instead, she sends a Spider and a Lion, two people who worked and were a part of the current regime. You understand why I find this whole thing peculiar." Tyrion was going to continue the argument when a loud roar was heard in the distance. They all looked towards the glass dome above them. The flapping of wings resonated from the outside world. Then a thud rumbled from the roof as something unknown landed. Small bits of stone fell to the floor under the pressure. More roars came from two other directions as the bankers shifted in their seats. Scratching of claws on the walls outside soon surrounded them. One banker screamed in terror as he glanced up to the circular window in the ceiling. He was met with the glinting eyes of a beast, blinking back at him as it scrutinised the people inside. The dragon bared its teeth in a show of power and scratched at the glass that separated them. The wall to their right began to cave in as another dragon swung its tail to cause any damage it could to the building. The men didn't know what to do and looked to their leader as more roars, or possibly cackles of fire rang out. The monster above took off again, joining its comrades in attacking the stone walls as they strived to get in. The bank wouldn't last much longer. It was a miracle that it was still standing under all this pressure. It was a blessing that the dragons were not using their full strength or ability to produce fire otherwise it was incredibly likely that they would be dead. They knew that this exercise was being used to send a message and, frankly, it was working effectively. Tycho, his calculating gaze now replaced with one of fear and acceptance, looked at Varys, who smirked in response.
"It seems your wish is being granted. Daenerys wants to meet with you now." As he finished, he grabbed hold of Tyrion as they rushed towards the door as larger pieces of stone and shards of glass began to fall to the floor. The bankers stood up, one being quickly crushed by the tumbling debris, as the bank began to fall at the knees of the Targaryen.