They had left Braavos soon after Arya's questioning. The Golden Company had been quick to promise their swords to Daenerys after they had witnessed the destruction she had caused to the Bank and when a suitable payment was agreed. Arya's capture and subsequent release from her bindings had left the main vessel pressured with high tension. No one on board trusted her truly. She may have been a Stark once, but the girl that sat high in the ropes, watching the ocean as they sailed glimmer against the sun, was different to the innocent child that Ned Stark had raised. Whilst she sat there, she thought back on her time in Braavos and with the Faceless Men. She had learnt invaluable skills during her time there, and she was grateful for the lessons she had been taught, but she had been constantly filled with a sense of impatience. She had known that, whilst she trained, her enemies lived on, earning extra time to breath that they didn't deserve. That was the reason she had eventually left. Jaqen had been useful for sure but his incessant need to stand by the rules of his faith had infuriated her. She knew enough now to get by on her own, although she now found herself within a different sort of group. She had observed the people milling about on deck from her vantage point high in the sky. They were an eclectic mix of people that had no right to be working together and yet, they did seamlessly. She was amazed and perplexed with how they functioned but she guessed this is what the Targaryen girl stood for - bringing people together. It was a nice sentiment but she doubted whether the people of Westeros would be willing to accept such extensive integration of cultures. She didn't really care either way; Arya was not one for the game of politics. All she cared about was that Daenerys left the North alone if she got to the throne. That was another reason she had left the House of Black and White - she missed her home. She hadn't been there for several years and thought it time that she returned to what remained of her family. They would also prove useful in helping her kill the people who had wronged them in the past.

"I remember being a moody teenager." She was startled by the unexpected voice and had to quickly hold onto the rope that was supporting her tightly. She looked over to who had snuck up on her so easily and was surprised to see it was an old man that she hadn't been introduced to yet. She was amazed that he had managed to pull himself up here but, evidently, he had managed to do so with minimal noise. His wild beard and hair blew in the wind up here, making him look crazed. He seemed to be enjoying that fact.

"I'm not being moody," she replied, defensively. He chuckled.

"That's what they all say." She scowled at him, which just made him want to continue. "You definitely appeared to be thinking about something intently up here." It was a statement, not a question. How had he known?

"Maybe I was sat up here for a reason. Maybe I wanted some privacy. It's the only place on this ship where that's remotely possible."

"Oh, I gathered that. What were you thinking so hard about?" She wanted to look away from his piercing green eyes, that tempted her to answer his question. They gave off the impression that she could trust him. What sort of magic is this? I don't need to trust anyone but myself. She dragged her eyes away, her frown returning. She ignored the question.

"Who are you?"

"Bruda. The man who put you on this ship." She tried not to show the surprise she felt. She had trained for months, bettered a number of assailants and enemies. Yet she had been beaten by an old man. That infuriatingly cocky smile on his face annoyed her further.

"How did you get up here? Not to be rude or anything but a man of your age should barely be able to walk, let alone climb up to this height unassisted."

He looked around them, as if he was only now realising how high up they were. "Let's just call it...magic." He winked as he finished his sentence. Again, she felt like she wanted to believe him. I can't trust anyone.

"What are you doing up here then?"

"It seems fairly obvious to me. I'm talking to you." She rolled his eyes at his answer so he continued. "I thought I'd break the proverbial ice. Now I know that you weren't wanting to kill Jorah Mormont, and I believe you when you say that, I thought it best that you were comfortable with us. I want you to like us, to trust us." He looked at her more intently as he said that. How? How is he doing this? "You should realise that your path is merging with ours. You'd be a fool not to seek our help. And we'll need yours soon. We all head to Winterfell, for better or for worse. It's going to be a long journey to get there. You'll need friends to get you there."

"I've never needed any friends, thank you." Her voice didn't hide the lie behind that unconvincing statement."

"I doubt that. And even if that is the case, what you have already faced in the past will pale in comparison to what lies ahead of you in the future." She remained silent, thinking about his words. He gave her a moment, the only sound being the wind rustling the canvas sail behind them. "Now, seeing as I have answered plenty of your questions, what do you feel about answering mine?" Silence again until she closed her eyes and answered.

"Home," came the simple reply. He smiled at the breakthrough he had made.

"Ah," he said, nodding. "Understandable. It's something that everyone wants to go back to in the end. Home represents a more innocent, a simpler time in our lives that has to be cherished. It's a worthy subject to think about." A pause in the conversation fell between them, both of them using the opportunity to watch the dragons play in the sky.

"Do...do you think about home?" He was mildly surprised with how soft her voice was. She was still a child after all.

"All the time." He wore a sad smile as he spoke. "But I can't and won't ever return home now. I've come to terms with that. And that's sad, having to leave that part of you behind. It's never easy. But you have to use its memory to spur you on. And then you'll eventually create a new home, maybe in a completely different part of the world, and it will slowly begin to hold the same sort of emotional connection as your previous one. And that's exciting."

"I haven't been home since I left with my father to go south. The worst decision he ever made." Her voice had traces of anger. She was also confused about why she was talking freely to him.

"You know, I knew Edwyle Stark when I was much younger, who was your Great grandfather if I'm correct. One of the last times I was in Westeros, was also the first time I met your grandfather, Rickard Stark." Arya's face, this time, did show some surprise. "Proper Northerners, they were. I didn't get to spend a lot of time with them sadly. I was busy with my own life, whilst they had to rule the North. But I know that they would be proud of you, for wanting to come back home." Arya had to blink back tears as he spoke. She nodded, unable to get proper words out. Bruda understood what she was going through. He stretched his arms and legs out with an audible groan. "I think that I've taken up far too much of your time. Just remember to come down after a while, it won't do you any good to be alone forever." Her eyes widened as a golden glow surrounded the rope he was holding, before he stepped off the plank of wood they were sat on, falling effortlessly down with little fuss before landing on his feet comfortably. Magic. His words came back to her and it now made sense why he had been able to beat her and sneak up on her. She sat back, thinking about their conversation, and, despite herself, she couldn't help but think that she was growing to trust him.

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The Bolton and other Northern soldiers had quickly waved the white flag when Roose Bolton had handed himself over to Stannis. The fighters had stood still in surprise and shock as they watched their leader give in to the enemy. They dropped their swords, one by one, before being rounded up by the remaining Baratheon men and wildlings. Winterfell was theirs. After the grueling battle, and roughly 500 deaths in total for both sides, Jon was back home. They had wasted no time in tearing down the Bolton sigil from the walls, replacing it with flags with the emblem of the Baratheon house. Jon had been pleasantly surprised, however, to see that Stannis had also ordered some Stark flags to be put up as well, in a show of solidarity with his new ally. With those flags adorning the walls, the castle was beginning to resemble what it had been before it was poisoned. Jon couldn't help but smile a little as he looked around the courtyard but then soon put his emotions in check as he realised there was still someone that had to be dealt with.

Stannis stood, his face and clothes covered in mud and blood, in the centre of the courtyard. He was backed by some of his men who had been lucky enough not to pick up too serious an injury. Plenty of men were being treated, accounting for the groans of pain that could be heard off in the distance. Jon was happy to see that Davos was stood by his side once again, looking in decent condition apart from a cut across his head. It didn't seem too serious as he gave Jon a nod of acknowledgement and a small grin as he walked up to them. He also spotted Tormund cleaning his axe, sat on a wooden crate in the corner. He had a manic smile on his face after the battle, wiping crimson blood off the metal. Now the fighting was over with, Jon could tell he was less than interested in what was about to happen. This line of thinking turned Jon's attention to the man kneeling on the floor in front of Stannis. The Bolton patriarch had a dark expression as he glowered at the victor of the battle but he remained in position to allow Stannis his moment of gloating. He was also wary of the sword that he held by his side, blood of the men it had claimed still coating the blade. Stannis looked at him and then the crowd of people surrounding them.

"We have Winterfell!" he shouted, the men around him roaring at his words, banging their weapons against their armour. "And now, before me, the man who dared take us on!" Jeers and shouts of abuse were shouted at Bolton. "Yet, he throws himself at my mercy. Because he knows I am the true ruler. What do you have to say, Bolton."

Roose bowed his head. "I seek your forgiveness. And I'm willing to offer my support to your claim to the Iron Throne. You need as many allies as you can get if you are to take on the Lannisters." Despite the situation, his voice remained strong and defiant, not wavering in the face of defeat and failure.

"The Lannisters are weak. I have shown here that I have the strength and power to stand against them. And I have more allies than you would first expect." He sent a sneer at Roose. "Why should I even consider you as an ally? You throw yourself at my feet because I defeated you. You don't willingly support me. You have no way of proving your loyalty to me?"

"I killed my son!" Roose interrupted him. Stannis looked confused as to what the outburst had to do with him. Roose could sense his bemusement so continued explaining his actions. "I did that to show you I am on your side."

"Betraying your own blood shows your loyalty?" Stannis asked, unconvinced at his words.

"I stopped him from killing Sansa Stark." He looked at Jon, as did Stannis. He had gone rigid at the admission. He had forgotten in the heat of the battle that Sansa was here in Winterfell. She was yet to emerge from within the castle. "And also Theon Greyjoy." They all turned to the Greyjoy group, which was headed by Yara. She gave him a cool stare. She wouldn't believe him until she saw her brother alive.

"If that is the case, I am grateful for your intervention. My allies, some that I was unaware of before the battle-" Yara didn't change her expression. "-will be happy that you did so." Roose seemed to sit up straighter at that, hopeful that his actions had benefited him. "Yet all I see is a man who killed his own son to better his chances of surviving. If that's the case, surely I should remove you. Stand." Roose hesitantly did so. "Against my better judgement, I have to give into my merciful side." It happened quickly. Jon could hardly see the sword being swung in the air or it connecting with Roose's chest. What he did see was Roose slumping to the floor, surprise in his eyes. He fell to his knees, clutching at the sword sticking out of him before he fell face first into the mud after the sword was removed. Everyone stood in shock, looking at the body. "It is a mercy that I gave you a quick and painless death." He turned to the former Bolton men. "Look at your fallen leader! Look at what happens when people go against me and try to better their standing in society by betraying what they stand for. Do any of you still want to stand by this dead man or will you pledge your swords to me?" They murmured an agreement to the latter option and he nodded his head in satisfaction. "Someone remove him from my sight."

"Jon?" He heard the quiet voice across the yard. He turned towards one of the doorways and locked eyes with Sansa. He had never been very close to his oldest sister during their time growing up in Winterfell. He had always leaned closer to Arya, who was more of a kindred spirit like him, whereas Sansa had been raised with the hope of simply fulfilling her given role in society. Yet, when he looked at her, he could tell that that girl was now gone. She looked different, aged by her experiences. She ran towards him, ecstatic to see a part of her family again finally. He closed the distance between her and, as she wrapped her arms around him, he lifted her off the ground and spun her around. The soldiers didn't know what to do watching this scene and began to disperse. Davos smiled at the interaction, moving over near to where Tormund was. Sansa had tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

"You don't know how good it is to see you," he whispered to her. She just snuggled her face further into his shoulder. He looked past her and his good mood evaporated. Theon was waiting in the doorway, watching the reunion with unease. Jon gently dropped Sansa to her feet and walked over to the Greyjoy man. Theon hesitantly approached.

"Jon. I didn't think I'd get to see you again. I'm glad I do." Jon looked at him angrily, inches from him. He didn't respond, instead punching Theon right in the face, sending him to the floor. Theon felt hot blood on his face as he looked up at the man towering above him.

"I'm presuming that, in some way, you have protected Sansa here or have attempted to do so. That is the only reason I am not killing you right now. You should understand that quickly," he angrily spat out. Theon nodded straight away fervently. "You betrayed your own family. The family that gave you a home and watched as you grew up. And this was how you repay us? I don't think I will ever forgive you for what you did. The deaths you caused, on purpose or indirectly." Jon was seething.

"Come, brother," Yara said as she approached them. "You should be thankful of his mercy towards you. Leave now before he changes his mind. We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" Her surprisingly sweet tone scared him even more but he allowed her to drag him up from the floor. Jon looked at them as they walked away. New problems were arising even after the battle had been won.

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Daenerys had seen and watched Bruda talking to the young Stark girl. She hadn't even given thought to how he had managed to get up there, his capabilities amazing her more and more on a daily basis. Although she had not been able to hear what they were saying, since they were so high up, she had been able to tell that it was a heartfelt conversation. She was curious as to what the topic of conversation had been. She watched him as he gracefully landed on the ship deck, hiding a smile as he casually glanced around. He likes to show off but in a way that doesn't look like he's doing so. As he looked around the boat, his eyes fell on her. Bruda could tell that she wanted to talk. There was only one reason she'd be observing him so carefully. He walked over to her, lacking his usual support of his staff. When he had seen where Arya was hiding, he had opted to leave it back in his room. It would have just got in the way.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. She wanted to savour his reaction - he was perplexed as to what she was grateful for. He had been expecting a tongue lashing for conspiring with someone who had been seen as an enemy mere moments before. He had not thought that he would be greeted with a warm smile. She enjoyed the moment of confusion on his part - it seemed to rarely happen.

"You're...welcome?" He said it like a question, prompting her to answer his unspoken queries.

"It looked like you were helping her become more comfortable with us. I'm afraid I didn't handle the situation like a proper queen should." She appeared bashful almost, ashamed that her anger had gotten the better of her in the heat of the moment.

"A proper queen is dull. What makes you special is that you are driven by your emotions, not a pointless and unwavering commitment to political niceties. You'll definitely make mistakes in this way of ruling but it should serve you well overall." The tension in her body dissipated at his reassurances, making him want to take advantage of this brief opportunity. "And it's entirely understandable that you'd be so angry with her when she threatened the life of your dear old bear." She eyed him dangerously for a moment before her expression softened again.

"It is true. There was a fire rising inside of me when I heard what had happened. If she had killed him…" She trailed off at the end of her sentence but the meaning of what she wanted to say hung heavy between them. He nodded, already expecting such a reaction.

"You would have been within your rights. I can see how deeply you care for him."

"I don't exactly want to hide it." She looked shocked at herself for finally accepting that fact.

"And you shouldn't have to. Just keep all amorous activity away from open spaces. Such as the deck of this ship, for example. I'm sure all the men would be delighted to see you in a state of undress but to see Mormont...it doesn't bear thinking about." She swatted at his arm to stop his teasing. He decided to keep his mouth closed, not wanting to push his luck too far. She grew serious as she thought of her next words.

"You saved him again."

"That I did. It's what I'm here for."

"Is that why you're here? To make sure he survives? You never really told me why you searched for me. Do you know something that's going to happen?" He knew that she wasn't accusing him of anything - she was just curious as to what his true intentions were.

"Why don't we sit down over here." He led her over to two wooden barrels, giving her a polite hand to help her sit on top of one, before he placed himself on the other with a grunt. "I can't know for sure what the future holds. That's not what my powers permit me. I can't look into a fire and see things happening that haven't yet happened. What I do know is that, if you are to succeed in your endeavour, then you need him by your side."

"And you want me to succeed?"

"That's why I'm here. I told you, I just heard a small voice in my head suggesting I come to you. I heard stories of your successes and knew that I could help you. So I journeyed across Essos before I accidentally came across the fight in Meereen, which put me before your presence. Pure luck. Like something has been driving us together. And I don't know what." He seemed to hesitate as he considered his next words. "And then I met you. And I knew I couldn't leave you."

She leaned forward slightly, searching his eyes. He looked down, avoiding her searching gaze. "Why?"

"I saw you. And you reminded me so much of my Isabella."

"Jorah mentioned something about a story you told him about a love you had. Was that her?"

"Yes. Oh, you would have got on splendidly. Both fiery women, striving for what you want. Not backing down when it gets tough. And you have that same sparkle in your eyes, like you're still amazed with each passing day about what the world can offer you. Wonder is a rare commodity, which is why only a few stories are forever remembered. I never thought I would find someone just like her but, if she were still alive this day, she would encourage me to stand by your side. That's why I'm here. To serve her memory in the only way I can. To live." Daenerys could make out that tears were brimming in his eyes. She hadn't expected such a heartfelt response and it warmed her heart to see him confide in her. She stood up from the barrel, standing straight in front of him. He looked up only to see her bend down to give him a long, tender hug, along with a kiss on his cheek.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jorah asked them as he approached. They broke apart slowly at the sound of his voice, meeting his inquisitive gaze. Bruda smiled at Daenerys one last time before standing up.

"I should...go...tend to...things," he lamely excused. Daenerys understood what he would be feeling right now and so nodded her head to let him leave. As he walked past Jorah, he perked up slightly. "I left the seat warm for you," he whispered in his ear, before patting him on the shoulder and walking off. Jorah looked at Daenerys cautiously.

"What was all that about?" he asked her, although he didn't want to pry too much.

"Just Bruda working his magic as always. He was telling me why he's with us. And why he's protected you so often." She glared at him as she finished the sentence, making him look sheepish.

"Yes...well...I'm still sorry about that. I should have thought more about the dangers Braavos can hold. I let you down."

"You did no such thing, Jorah. I've already had to shout at you for your own foolishness, I'm not going to do it again." She thought back to Bruda's words. "I care deeply about you. I can't have anything happen to you, which is why I'm so thankful that man is with us right now."

"I understand. The feeling is strongly reciprocated."

"I'm glad," she said as she stood up and pecked him on the lips. He still wasn't used to that. She thought back to something else Bruda had said to her. "Oh, he also told me to leave all amorous activity with you for when we have some privacy." She enjoyed how his cheeks reddened at her teasing.

"I really do hate that man sometimes. If only he could keep his mouth shut. I'm under the impression that his sole purpose is to embarrass me." She laughed at his comment and then smiled as Barristan walked up to them.

"Yes, Ser Selmy?"

"Hello, my Queen. I think you should look at what we are heading for." She did as he said and saw the imposing castle on the rocks ahead of them. This next step on the path to the Throne. Dragonstone.

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Jon and Sansa had spent some time catching up and reminiscing about the lives they had left far behind. It was nice and soothing for the both of them to be able to talk freely; the men at the Wall were not ones for emotional conversations for sure, especially after Sam had left for the Citadel, and Sansa had been without anyone to confide in since her move down south. Talking with each other was the first step in soothing their tired souls but it would be a long time before they got through their personal and united hardships. Jon still had the thought of the next wars to come weighing heavily down upon him. Sansa still didn't truly believe that Ramsey was gone, even though she had seen his lifeless body hit the floor with a small thud. A part of her felt sad that it had happened but only because she hadn't been the one to strike the final blow. She had broken the news to Jon about Rickon's fate after a while, the two of them crying together quietly. It had brought their situation right back to reality.

After over an hour of talking about more pleasant and random topics, getting reacquainted with each other once again, they chose to take a short walk around the Winterfell grounds, letting the icy cold wind bite at them through their woolen cloaks. Sansa hadn't been able to appreciate the castle and the surrounding lands in their natural beauty during her time under Bolton control - it now felt more like the home she had been used to. Jon fancied strolling over to the Godswood, seeing as he had once enjoyed thinking through his thoughts under the shade of the weirwood tree when he was younger. As they were walking over to the forested area, they came across a group of people that neither of them had seen during or after the battle. Their line of sight was immediately directed to the young boy sat in a cart in the middle of the group, who was being guarded by a girl a few years older than him. Sansa could tell that she was crying as soon as she saw him.

"Bran," she whispered, running over to him, Jon not too far behind. They ignored the others as they embraced him, with Jon giving him a kiss on his forehead. They were both relieved to see him alive. They hadn't heard from him since Theon had taken over the castle so they had presumed him to be dead. They had to think like that in this dreadful and merciless world. Sansa had not expected to see any of her brothers again; to be reunited with two on the same day was almost overwhelming.

"Look at you," Jon said, a smile filling his face. "You've grown so much since I last saw you. Practically a man now."

"Almost." They were both surprised to hear such little emotion in his voice. Just like the two of them, Bran had been changed in his years away from his home. They would have to get used to what he had become. Feeling that the conversation had abruptly ended, Jon turned to the girl by Bran's side. He held out his hand in greeting, which she took hesitantly.

"And who might you be?" he asked her gently, noticing her slight discomfort.

"Me...Meera."

"How do you know my brother?" It was Sansa who spoke this time. Meera looked at Bran as if to seek permission to talk about what they had been through together.

"I helped Bran go North of the Wall. Me and...my brother. He knew that Bran was special. We took him to see the Three Eyed Raven." Jon looked at Sansa confused, not knowing what this creature was. "He helped train Bran for a while before we were...attacked." She wore a haunted look as she thought back to that time. "The Night King…" Jon bristled at the name, sadly knowing what that creature was. He nodded in understanding, telling her that she didn't need to talk about that. He knew it must have been harrowing for them. As she came to a stop, Sansa looked at the others standing around them. She spotted Brienne and her eyes went wide.

"You! I've met you before." Brienne nodded, forcing a smile on her face.

"I tried to take you from Lord Baelish. You argued against my intentions, even though I was working on your mother's orders." Sansa scowled at the mention of her deceased parent.

"So why are you here now? I thought I made it perfectly clear about my thoughts towards you and your intentions."

"My job wasn't done until I knew you were safe. I came here to rescue you from the Boltons, with the help of Podrick here. It was due to chance that we met Jaime and Bronn on the way." Their attention became focused on the previously quiet two men. Bron tried giving his usual winning smile, although it seemed to fail in earning their acceptance. Jaime shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot under their gaze. He was in the middle of the wolf pack now and was beginning to wish he had travelled east, and not north. He had been pleasantly surprised to earn the undeserved acceptance of one Stark - he doubted that the others would be so forgiving of his past. Jon scrutinised them both, recognition flaring as anger rose within him. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You're Jaime Lannister. What are you doing here exactly? Looking to sabotage us from within?"

"Jon." It was Bran who answered. "Jaime is fully repentant of his previous actions, going as far as to leave his family behind him. He is lost, like so many in this world, searching for purpose. We can give him a purpose. You and I know that Winter is coming. The Night King grows stronger with each passing day, and soon the Wall will crumble at his feet. Our only chance in defeating him is if we gain as many men as possible to our cause. That process is already beginning, here in Winterfell and in further lands. Cogs in the wheel are turning, Jon. We grow strong too."

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Daenerys had relished walking up the long set of stairs that led up to the castle, the cool sea breeze causing her hair to flow wildly in different directions. Her fleet surrounded the island, after having been welcomed by the few Baratheon men that remained at Dragonstone. Daario had joined them from the ship he had been managing. It was good to see him again, although she realised that she had forgotten about him during their time apart. She felt saddened by the thought but not wholly surprised. There were so many people by her side now, giving her support. It was a magnificent piece of architecture to her and she could tell that her family had lived here decades ago. It was a deep black in colour, as if it had been charred itself by a dragon. The jagged rocks that surrounded it made it look like an even more foreboding place. She placed her hands on the large doors, feeling the coolness of them under her palm, before letting a few of her soldiers push them open. The large doors swung open, revealing a dark interior, lit by several torches along the wall. They all stepped inside, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The guards who had already been waiting inside directed them to the main chamber. They entered the substantial room, admiring its size. Light poured in from the windows that adorned the walls, seemingly focused on the strange throne at the head of the room. Daenerys slowly approached it. The throne, just like the castle itself, seemed to have been formed in fire. It sat on a raised stage, with jagged stone behind it making it stand out. She sat herself upon it, looking out across the people who had followed her in. It took Jorah's breath away - she had never seemed so much like a Queen as in this moment.

"It suits you marvellously, your Grace," Bruda said, bowing at her. "You look like a splendid Queen, if you permit me to say so."

She nodded her head in acceptance. "It is...satisfactory. Though I don't plan to stay here long. This is a temporary throne for me. I only deserve the true seat of power that was wrongly taken from me."

"Yes, yes. I understand that. But you still look nice." She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips at his stubbornness. She surveyed the room coolly. To think that her family, long gone, had once thrived in this place. That's why she didn't want to stay long - she wanted to move away from their past to make her own future. This was just a convenience for her.

Tyrion stepped forward. "I know we just arrived here, your Grace, but I was wondering what you think your next steps should be."

"I thank you for always thinking like my advisor Tyrion. It is much needed at times. I think the first thing to do is send a raven to Stannis Baratheon to thank him for allowing me to stay. It would do me well to strengthen our burgeoning alliance, to make sure he does not forget that I exist."

"I'll write it myself, my Queen. To Stannis Baratheon...cheers for the castle" Tyrion bowed before leaving them.

"It is a good job that he is good at what he does, otherwise I may have had him killed a long time ago for his cheek."

"If that were the case, Daenerys, I'd be merely a head on a stick right now," Bruda quipped, causing her to smile further.

"And you'd be well served to remember my graciousness in not doing that to you. Yet." He was impressed that she was beginning to be able to take him on at this game of words they often played. It made for much more interesting conversations. "Ser Barristan." The old guard stood forward upon hearing his name. "I'd like you to gather the Baratheon soldiers here. Let them explain how Dragonstone is run and where my men can stay. Some of them can stay on ships if that is necessary. Even though I may not want to, I believe we will be here for a while so we should know how to use this castle to its maximum capability." He gave her a quick nod before leaving. As the door was opened by the waiting guards, Varys walked briskly in. He seemed troubled by something, making Daenerys sit straighter in her new throne.

"Lord Varys. What has you in such a concerned expression?

"Some of the guards came up to me just a moment ago, with some unusual news. It appears that, prior to our arrival, they were met with some unexpected guests. They don't know who they are."

"And why should this concern me? Surely they should have dealt with them before I arrived here."

"Well, your Grace, they thought that you would want to see them. It appears that they have a dragon themselves."