Sam hadn't told Gilly what they were planning. She would only worry anyway and probably try and stop them. She'd think too much about the risk to his safety than the overwhelming chances that this could change the course of the war that approached them. If they succeeded here today, which still wasn't for certain by any means, then they might be the ones remembered in the history books. That was if anyone survived. He couldn't think negatively, especially when a strange sense of hope had overcome him when he had been told by Marwyn what he planned. They were walking briskly through the cobbled streets of Old Town, trying not to garner too much attention from the people milling around the place. It was worth the odd looks though - they didn't realise how huge this would be, although they might found out depending on what happened up in the tower. They were headed to Hightower, which sat on top of Battle Isle in the nearby port. Its flame helped guide ships come into the bay without crashing. Sam was worried that the light may be distinguished if they made a mistake yet it was worth the risk. Marwyn, walking at a faster pace than Sam thought possible for the portly man, was carrying a small box in his right hand that contained the dragon egg. It had been transferred from the larger trunk as the maester had deemed it too cumbersome and heavy.
They eventually reached the edge of the bay and looked up on the lighthouse. At the top of it was their goal, the swirling ball of fire that acted as a beacon for sailors. They ambled down slippery stone steps towards where a small boat was waiting for them. Marywn had called up on a favour he was owed by one of the local fishermen and had made sure that the dinghy was ready for when they arrived. He placed the box in first delicately and then got in himself, making sure not to capsize the boat with his added weight. Sam got in next and grabbed the two oars. Being the younger of the two, it was expected of him to do more of the heavy lifting in their plan. As Marwyn unhooked the rope that tethered them to one side, they slowly drifted away from the mainland. After the brief moment of rushed walking, a strange peace settled around them as they made their way across the water.
"How are we going to get into the tower? It's not exactly public property."
"Oh, me and Lord Hightower share a long history. He owes me something after I discreetly sent him some rather splendid fruit that arrived from Dorne. It was given with the purpose of being examined to see how they grew in different climates but even I can give into temptation sometimes." Sam wondered if he had a number of people across the city who owed him favours. It was an effective tool of maintaining your standing and being able to achieve more.
"So we can just walk right in?"
"Hightower isn't in at the moment. I made sure to study his routine whilst I visited him. He chooses this time every two weeks to go out and buy new writing supplies. He doesn't have much else to do up there on his own apart from write. And all he has up there with him are his notes and books. The Hightower fortune is kept hidden away in some rock face in another part of the coast. That means he never sees fit to lock the entrance when he leaves, making our task a lot easier." Sam was surprised with how easy it all sounded; Marwyn must have been planning this for months, or even years.
"It's going to be a long walk up those steps in there." Sam didn't know if he'd actually make it; a sweat was already beginning to form on his brow from rowing the boat. He wasn't sure about Marwyn's chances either.
"It has to be done. We can't get too close to the flame itself or we'll be roasted alive. I'll get as close to it as possible and then throw the egg into the fire. And then we'll wait." The boat knocked against the rocks that formed the small island the tower was on. Sam tied the rope to a large, sharp piece of protruding rock to attach the boat and helped Marwyn onto the rubble. With the box in hand, he walked towards a small door in the wall of the lighthouse and pushed it firmly. Thankfully, it budged under his pressure, a loud creak coming from the ancient wood and metal hinges as it swung to reveal a passageway. They stepped inside and looked up at all the steps. They shared a glance, Sam trying to give a comforting smile but Marwyn just sighed. They began the trek up.
Sam thought they had clambered up the stairs for hours on end. As they got further up, the heat began to intensify as they neared the ball of wildfire. It soon became unbearable and they stopped by a small window. Sam made sure not to look down otherwise he probably would have been sick. He instead looked towards the fire. It seemed to attempt to reach fiery tendrils towards them, as if it sought to destroy anything living.
"A few centuries ago, a group of maesters used magic to contain the wildfire and keep it burning. Otherwise it would have devastated the city as soon as they put it in place. It's a miracle we can get this close but, to have a better shot, I need to get closer."
"You can't! The flame is far too strong, you'll be incinerated!"
"I have to take the risk. We only have one shot at this. I'm old, Tarly. If I die but succeed in the process, then I'll be content." Sam wordlessly nodded. Marwyn bent down and took the egg out of the box with a thin sheet of cloth. He didn't say a word as he slowly took the steps further to the fire, eventually going round the corner, out of view of Sam. The heat was like nothing he had experienced before. He reached a point where he thought he could throw the egg. His skin was already blistering, his screams echoing around the tower. Rushing slightly, he launched the egg into the flame, watching it hurtle into bottled devastation. As he did so, he quickly made his way back down to Sam, weary after the strenuous effort. Sam closed the distance, helping Marwyn gather himself, sitting him on the cold step.
"Did you do it?"
"...yes." His voice was quiet, exhausted yet still carried the pride of the old man. "We'll have to wait now and see if it worked out as I thought." They sat looking at the flame, getting lost in its madness and anger. It was only a few minutes before Sam suddenly stood up in alarm. Marwyn was startled by his actions. "What is it? What do you see?"
"I don't know. Something moved in there." Marwyn groaned as he fought to find the energy to stand up but soon was next to Sam, staring intently at the light. And there it was. Standing out against the green flame with its leathery orange appearance. A wing.
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She walked calmly through the wreckage, walking into the broken chamber through the large stone doors that were left clinging on to their hinges. She was a figure of serenity against the ensuing chaos. By her side were Jorah and Bruda, with Varys and Tyrion now behind them after making sure it was safe to enter the building. She had ordered her dragons to retreat for the time being, although not too far away in case she needed them again to make her point. Jorah was surprised that they had listened to her command - she was making more progress than he realised. As they walked into the mess, pieces of rock still falling from the wall, they observed the results of her actions. Daenerys noted a few of the bankers hadn't been able to evacuate safely in time, their bodies laying motionless across the floor, either crushed by the tumbling rocks or severed by shards of glass. She continued walking though, not paying them any notice. They had happily sat here whilst they ruined people's lives to make sure they lined their pockets. Their deaths were regrettable but not something that she should dwell on for too long. That's what she kept telling herself, to ensure her mask of power and composure did not slip. Tycho, even in this position, would not give into her if he was still not impressed.
She spotted him sitting on the floor, his right arm bleeding from an injury caused by the debris. He looked up at the approaching party, fear still in his eyes as the vision of the dragon neared him. And yet this time, it was the mother of dragons. The person who had set her beasts on them. She didn't say anything as she stood in front of the broken man. Bruda eyed her warily, not liking the path she was taking here. He broke from the group, not noticing the glare he received from her, and crouched by Tycho. He tried pushing himself from this new man but Bruda took a hold of his injured arm as he examined it.
"Shh, don't fight me right now or you'll make it worse. The last thing I want here is another dead body. There's already been enough needless casualties." He said that last part louder so that Daenerys could clearly hear him, looking back at her to force his message. She didn't look impressed, whilst Jorah tried to tell him to stop with his eyes. "The cut isn't bad. You're very lucky. Once this is done, I can help you or you can go find some healer in the city. I don't care which way you choose." He helped him sit up onto a large piece of stone next to them. Once he made sure he would be okay, he wandered back to the others, after receiving a grateful nod from Tycho. He paid Daenerys no acknowledgement as he walked up to take up his previous position next to Jorah. It was she who spoke next.
"Do you still question my chances or claim to the Iron Throne?" He shook his head slightly, wincing as he did so. "Will you back me in my quest."
"What do you want from us? Money?"
"I never came here for money. I have enough gold to last me for my journey. All I wanted was respect from you, acceptance. You thought ill of me because of my father. Know that I will not be like him. I seek to unite the people of Westeros, not divide them further." He was surprised with how her tone changed so quickly.
"Normally respect has to be earned."
"If any other person had accomplished what I have in such a short time, you would have given me your respect and support a long time ago. Yet you didn't because bankers don't normally gamble. You knew that the assured way of increasing your profits was to carry on backing the Lannisters."
"In fact, as I'm sure the imp will have told you, the Lannisters are massively behind in their repayments. Their debts increase daily, so much in fact that we were contemplating cutting them off."
"Then you have to choose someone else to back for the Crown. Your faith in the current regime is dissipating. Put that faith in me and I will ensure any support will be repaid." He didn't contemplate it for long before nodding again. She smiled, relieved that she had succeeded. "Thank you. I apologise for what I had to do today but you realise that without such a show of power, you would never have agreed to join me." She turned to leave at that, the rest of them joining her. Tycho stopped Varys and Tyrion before they left. They were confused as to what else the man had to say.
"You said it before. She said it as well. That she is nothing like her father. Look around you. Are you still so sure of that?" Worried expressions appeared on their faces as they turned away without a word. This needed to be addressed with her before too late.
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Daenerys paced up and down along the deck as she contemplated her actions. They were back on the main ship after she had sealed the agreement with Tycho and what remained of the Iron Bank. She could still see the newly damaged building from here. It had been her only choice. It had to be done to ensure she eventually got the power she deserved. It all came down to power. Was she becoming too obsessed with this need. It was the one thing that truly drove her. But then she remembered the look Tycho had given her as he lay on the floor. True terror. She had never seen anyone look like that towards her, apart from probably Doreah and Xaro when she locked them in the vault for betraying her. Yet it made her feel slightly elated, the fact that she could stand over such powerful people and bring them to their knees. Tycho, of all people, didn't deserve her sympathy. She slumped against the rail as the two battling ideas fought for prominence in her mind. She didn't notice Jorah slowly walk up beside her until he softly placed a hand on her arm. The comforting touch made her feel a bit more at ease but she was still wracked with guilt. The knight could tell.
"Khaleesi," he began, the way his deep voice said that title making her shiver. "What you did was necessary. Every leader in history has faced difficult decisions. You had to choose between the lives of the people in the Iron Bank, and only a few died, and the good of the people you will rule over with the Bank's support."
"I know." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "But those men didn't have to die."
"No, they didn't. Tyrion came up to me before, worried about the path you were taking." A flicker of anger across her face was soon masked with an expression of curiosity.
"And what did you say to him?"
"The same thing I am telling you now. The fact that you are stopping to take the time to think about your actions, and show remorse and guilt for killing people that wouldn't have thought twice about killing you, makes you so much a greater person than your father. I will not allow you to fall into the same traps he did."
"Thank you Jorah. It also seems that my actions did not go down well with someone else in our party."
"Bruda."
"He made the effort to visibly stand against me by helping him. That can't be tolerated."
"What I did was not meant to give you any reason to suspect such a thing." Bruda had snuck up on them somehow. Jorah thought that the water must provide enough noise to drown out footsteps, seeing as Daenerys had done the same before. "I was helping an injured man have some dignity remain whilst you negotiated with him."
"A man who you knew was currently against my campaign. And you thought it appropriate to help him?"
"Daenerys, you should know by now that I am fully behind you in your quest, otherwise I wouldn't be standing here right now. But you should remember to still treat your enemies with a modicum of respect when the opportunities are given to you. It would serve you well. If your enemies verge on accepting you, as Tycho now has, then your supporters will inevitably increase."
"You should run by this sort of thing by me before you do it." There was a hint of playfulness returning to her voice.
"What can I say? I'm a kindred spirit who acts in the moment and deals with the consequences later. That's what life is for. You will always have regrets - it's about rectifying them that's important."
"This will get you killed. Possibly by my own enemies who wish to take a valuable and potentially close ally from me. Or by me. I'm not decided on which is the more likely at the moment."
"I would have it no other way, your Grace." He winked, causing Jorah to groan under his breath. "Oh, and did you just say that we're potentially close?" She blushed slightly. The two of them had never seen her blush.
"I am beginning to grow fond of your company. Even if you are impossibly infuriating most of the time, you're quite entertaining."
Bruda looked at Jorah. "Don't get jealous. I wonder what you must have been doing to her to be acting like this." He chuckled as their eyes went wide, both spluttering for words that weren't coming.
"I...don't know what you're talking about, Bruda," Daenerys stammered. She glanced at Jorah to see what his expression was and quickly turned her head when she noticed he was doing the same.
"Right. I would never want to intrude on such romance. Just...make sure I'm never staying in a room next to either of yours." Jorah was really tempted to punch him but thought better of it.
"I'll...make sure that's the case when we arrive at Dragonstone. We'll have a days rest here whilst we wait for the Golden Company to arrive. And to make sure that my men have the chance to touch dry land before the next part of our journey. I think it would be apt that you take a wander, Bruda. Stretch your legs whilst you can. Explore the city."
"I know what you're doing. You gave it away be saying how it was apt for an old man to take a long walk. Your cruelty knows no bounds. But you're right and I'm nothing but willing to listen to you." With one final smirk towards Jorah, he walked away.
"He's impossible," Jorah said to her, watching the figure disappear below deck.
"And his impossibility will help us win." Jorah nodded in agreement.
"I'm going to do as you advised, Khaleesi. I think I'll explore what the city has to offer. It's probably my last time in this part of the world. I'll tell Selmy to watch over you in my absence. I shouldn't be long."
"I don't need protecting all the time. I hope you realise that."
"Oh I do. Doesn't mean I won't stop worrying about you." He stopped as he realised what he had said. "You...your safety." She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. He would need to learn to loosen up eventually.
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Jorah walked calmly through the busy streets of Braavos, squeezing through small gaps in the crowd as he took in the atmosphere of the city. It was a vibrant explosion of culture with so much going on at once. He had walked through the markets of the port, buying a selection of strange foods that Westeros was not fancy to try. Dried fruits, cured meats. He had even had a few oysters from a young vendor who was familiar for a reason that he couldn't place. It hadn't bothered him much as he continued to stroll around. It was nice, having a moment to not worry about war or that devilish woman. The same woman who constantly occupied his thoughts, during the day and night. He was obsessed with her. Infatuated with her. And the way she was wont to touch his arm now, or kiss his cheek. It would soon make him collapse, he was sure. He felt like he was the only one with her who could get Daenerys to open up, to be herself. With increasing frequency as of late, she was beginning to resemble a power-hungry lord. It was his job to guide back to the realm of the common people. He had to remind her that her goal was to warm those who were living in the cold with her fire. He believed he was making progress with each day.
Bruda was also keeping him on his toes. His personality strongly resembled his appearance; crazed and manic. Yet, when he got talking, there was no doubting his wisdom from the many years of life experience he had. He was resolute in his opinions, not often budging when he felt he was right. The problem was that Daenerys was very similar so clashes between them were bound to happen. Yet, for the time being, they were all working well together. Their campaign was on the up. Varys and Tyrion were content with his assurances about Daenerys's state of mind; Missandei was slowly regaining her exuberant charm after her recent heartbreak; Selmy was nearing a full recovery from his injuries; Daario was happy controlling his section of the army; and they would soon arrive at Dragonstone, which would represent a giant leap forward in her plight.
He turned down a narrow alleyway to get some peace from the loud and bustling atmosphere. As he continued to walk, he couldn't help but reflect on the positives that he was being dealt. Not only had Daenerys welcomed him back into her council, she had professed her love for him. Him! A disgraced knight much older than her. He didn't deserve her at all, he felt, but, as long as she wanted and needed him, he would be by her side. And, by being there, he could also admire her. By all the Gods, if Bruda could hear my thoughts. Although the warlock liked to tease, Jorah was happy that he could. Ever since he had joined Daenerys, he hadn't had a male friend or acquaintance. Bruda was filling that gap. The crazed man, with unimaginably strong powers that he had only glimpsed upon. He was an enigma that he and Daenerys wanted to solve.
He slowly went down a set of steps, heading for the end of the alley to rejoin the explosion of life. He didn't hear or notice the figure slowly approach him. They were silent on their feet, as if they were trained for complete stealth. They jumped onto the wall of the steps without making a sound and made their way to their target. Jorah was still running thoughts through his mind when he felt a sharp point edge into his back to stop him walking. As he came to a halt, alarmed by his own stupidity and carelessness more than actual fear, the assailant whispered into his ear. Their tone was cold, emotionless.
"You shouldn't have left the main street. Braavos is more dangerous than your homeland, wanderer." He felt the knife move from its position at his back. He gulped slightly, putting his hands up to show that he wouldn't reach for his sword. He then felt the knife placed against his neck.