Daenerys and Jorah sat on the tired old sofa in her room, contemplating what had happened the night before. Bran Stark, the Three-Eyed Raven, had been killed by the knight. Bruda had managed to hold the dragon off until he was free of the control of the warg, saving them all in the process. Yet, after just coming back from the dead, the strain it had put on his magical energy had drained him. He was taken to the same room Melisandre was in to sleep the effects off. They had no idea how long it would take - Daenerys hoped it would be sooner rather than later since she felt she needed a proper conversation with the warlock. But that had to wait. The commotion the events had caused, particularly the damage to the castle's structure, had been noticed by a large group of people and she had been forced to explain what had happened to Stannis. At first, he was irate that something so momentous had happened on his territory and worried about the political implications the death of a Stark would have for them all. However, to her surprise, he had actually thanked her for their intervention, stating that, if it wasn't for her council, either Winterfell probably wouldn't be standing and many people would have died or they would have continued to live amongst a traitor. He told her how dangerous that could be for a hopeful ruler. It had been an almost positive encounter between the two of them and it added even more questions that needed to be answered to the thoughts already swirling around her head.

"So you're now thinking that an alliance with Stannis is possible?" Jorah asked sceptically. She didn't appreciate his doubtful tone.

"He seemed...different. I can't base my next plans on one conversation. But it would give us a better chance of victory if we were to fight together."

"We all appreciate that, Khaleesi. But you have to think about what happens after the war is won. You know that Stannis won't settle for second best. He has been working far too hard and far too long to let it go when he has it in his grasp."

"We need to be having more frank discussions with him in the near future to try and settle this. But only once Tyrion and Varys are back. They have the best understanding of the political structures here."

"They're travelling back here as we speak. Word reached us this morning. It's just been such a hectic time that this was the only chance I have had to tell you."

"It'll be good to see them again. It feels like we haven't seen them in ages when, in actual fact, it's been just over a week."

"We have been through quite a lot," he said with a small chuckle. Daenerys smiled at him, enjoying seeing him in this relaxed position. It was very rare that he let his guard down this much, even when they were alone. It was infuriating at times, especially when she wanted him to rip her clothes off just because he could. He wasn't that sort of person. He respected her too greatly. She loved him for it. She just felt that she didn't show it enough. Daenerys lent her head on his shoulder, surprising him. He looked at her with wide eyes, although she couldn't see them. He was nervous now; she was never this affectionate. Something must have been troubling her. He had a rough idea of what or, more to the point, who it was.

"You've been thinking about Bruda as well," he remarked. She looked up at him with a startled expression. He knew her far too well at times.

"As if I'd have the capability not to."

"You need to give him the benefit of the doubt," Jorah put forward. Daenerys stood up from the sofa and started pacing around the room.

"He's a changed man. You saw as well as I how...angry he was. That wasn't him. That wasn't the man I knew."

"You have to remember that you haven't known him for as long as you think. Take into account how long his life has been - the time he has known you is a fraction of that. Which means this may just be a side to his character you haven't seen before. It doesn't mean he is a different man."

"I just don't know whether I like this side of his character then. If I'm to rule, I can't afford to have someone like that by my side."

"Who are you trying to convince? Yourself? Because you're doing a poor job at swaying me." He was standing up now, close to her. She hated how his face looked so disappointed. "He is the same man as he was. The sooner you realise that, the better."

"How can you be so sure? He lied to us about his true identity!"

"Because he cares about you!" he shouted. That took her aback. He'd very rarely raised his voice at her before. "You'd have to be blind not to see it."

"How do you know this? His feelings might have changed after...what happened."

"He protected you last night. He risked his life for us but mainly for you. That tells me he will defend you until the very end and that's all I care about."

"You risked your life as well," she pointed out. He smiled sadly at her.

"Because I love you. It is my duty to protect you at all costs. Even when I'm up against a fire-breathing dragon." This was an opportunity to tease him. He rarely spoke so openly about his emotions.

"As far as I recall, Bruda was the one to take on the fire-breathing dragon. You fought a boy in a wheelchair." His mouth hung open in shock at her words before he started to laugh. She patted his cheek. "You were still my brave knight," she said softly.

"Do you understand what I'm saying then? If I took a risk just to kill a boy...he fought a dragon for you. Part of that will have been for his ego just so he can say he's done it now." She laughed at his comment. "But, like the rest of us, he believes in you. Remember that."

"I should go and talk to him." He nodded his head.

"Not just now though. He'll be asleep hopefully. Your presence would just make him want to get up. You should have seen what state he was in the last time we forced him into bed rest."

"So I've got time to spare. What...to...do." She accentuated each pause with a finger going up his chest. Only a stronger man would have been able to resist the devilish smirk she was sending him. Bruda could definitely wait.

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Stannis paced his room, a scowl on his face while he was deep in thought. That Targaryen girl was far too powerful for his liking and the worst part was that she had barely an inkling about the control she had over so many people. What infuriated him even more was that she seemed a genuinely...pleasant young woman, which would naturally attract devoted followers to her cause. He didn't have that on his side. He earnt the loyalty of men through being a tough leader and a smart military general. All she had to do was smile. Or then show off her beasts, making any sane man cower before her. It made his next plans even more difficult because he was struggling to figure out how this makeshift alliance would play out. She wanted to be Queen. He wanted to be King. And yet they found themselves working together. It didn't make any sense. But did he have the power to topple her? Would her people follow him if she were to die? He had contemplated doing that. He'd had her in his grasp, finally away from the overbearing shadow of her councillors. He'd let her go away. That had been his chance. He needed her if he was to take the Throne just as much as she needed him for exactly the same reason. It was a baffling conundrum.

Could he settle for something less than the throne? That idea had manifested itself in his head quite often. He could let her take it, stay in her good books and rule over a powerful stronghold. It wouldn't be the worst ending, he guessed. But he had been striving for the pinnacle position for years. He didn't want to lose it, or even worse give it up, to some girl. But then how would he get rid of her? She wouldn't take anything less. She didn't have to. She had three (or was it now four?) dragons at her side, an army consisting of Unsullied soldiers, seen as the best in the known world, and brutish savages, a loyal group of advisors, and obviously that warlock. He'd heard mutterings around the castle grounds that he had somehow survived the battle after he was thought to be dead and was now in a bed somewhere recuperating from his gallant endeavours. When Stannis had found out that this was indeed true, he'd thrown quite a few books down to the floor or at the wall. She'd been momentarily weakened and now that hope had died.

He was considering all this when he reminded himself that he didn't need to settle for anything less than throne as well. He had a strong contingent of men, which included allies from families loyal to the Baratheon name. They didn't see Tommen as a Baratheon anymore since he'd been influenced so much by the Lannister family, especially his mother. He also had to remember that, as far as the common people were concerned, he was the known entity in this equation. If they were to back anyone to overthrow the king, it would be him since they had no idea who Daenerys was and would base any assumptions on how the last Targaryen reign had ended. Two parts of his brain were fighting each other - the one that contained the lust for power and the one that harboured the instinct of survival

What he needed in a situation like this was a council of his own yet his two advisors had been strangely absent of late. Melisandre was in a similar position to the warlock, unconscious on a bed somewhere. He didn't know exactly where she was or why she was in this situation. He hadn't bothered to find the answers to these questions or check up on her because he had more important things to think about. This was also after she had betrayed him, telling him lies about his destiny. He wondered how often she had been untruthful to him over the years. She was, in his eyes, now expendable to him. What concerned him the most was that she had been able to fight off his attack but not with her own magic. A short while after it had happened, he had realised that whatever force it had been resembled the power of that warlock. He'd known then that she was in league with him and that meant she was becoming close to the Targaryen girl. And he'd attacked her. He dreaded to think what would happen if she woke up and told them what had happened. Maybe he'd have to find out where she was after all.

His other advisor, Davos Seaworth, had been even more absent from his duties. As his Hand, he expected him to be by his side most of the time. Yet, more often than not, he was not to be found and if he was, he was always with them. The way he spoke to them again caused worry to build up inside him. Even Stannis could see that he was loyal to them now. In normal circumstances, he would have had Davos executed for his crimes against him but it always came back to the girl. If he killed Seaworth, he'd face the might of her power. The instinct to survive was winning over his usually callous mind. It was swaying between both sides of the argument, leaving him confused when he was so often calm in thought and decision-making. He felt alone. She had so many people by her side and now he had none. He was isolated. This was not what it was supposed to be like. He had been promised that this campaign would be a successful one for him. Maybe that meant something else than the throne. Was it time to embrace this alliance so he wouldn't meet an unfortunate fate. He'd always seen things taken from him. He now knew how to ensure he at least got something he wanted. And he knew he had to stay in the good graces of Daenerys Targaryen.

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Bruda was sat up in bed and reading a book, spectacles perched precariously on the end of his nose. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to enjoy a good story. His imprisonment, which is what he viewed this as, was as good an opportunity as ever. His new cloak, the one he still had mixed feelings about, lay at the foot of the bed, leaving him clad in a plain white shirt with the sleeves partly rolled up. He briefly looked over to the other bed by his side as he did quite often, checking up on Melisandre. He was getting slightly concerned that she hadn't woken up but he guessed she was not used to the extent of his magical capability. At least she seemed peaceful for a change. He could tell there was always something worrying her, usually down to that damned Lord she used to follow. He hoped he had helped with that. He realised that he had been looking too long and, with the fear that she would wake up at that moment and catch him staring, he averted his gaze back to the lines on the page.

He'd gotten through another two pages when his attention was brought to the door opening, letting an icy chill momentarily overpower the small fire that was burning. He'd been expecting her to show up at some point. Before she looked at him, her back to him as she closed the door, he focused again on the book, acting as if he hadn't noticed her. When Daenerys turned around, she was surprised to see Bruda awake. She had been expecting it for some reason, though. He was stubborn enough to not follow Jorah and Davos' orders of sleeping properly to get back all of his energy. She wanted to roll her eyes at him but felt this awkwardness towards him, mainly because of their last interaction. She knew she had hurt him deeply. She needed to remind herself that this was her warlock still. She walked further into the room, passing Melisandre's bed before perching on the side of his bed, moving his cloak out of the way.

"You should be asleep," she said in greeting, a small smile on her face to reassure him that she was trying to overcome her worries. He looked over his glasses to observe her. The first thing he noticed was that her hair was out of place. That was something to definitely comment on.

"Did Mormont tell you to say that?" he asked, returning her smile, which comforted her greatly. "I'm a grown man. I can tell when I'm able to get up and about. But I'm under surveillance every five minutes, checking that I'm still lying down. You need to help me get out of here. I'm sure I could hide under your dress if I tried hard enough." He sent a wink at her and she had the good grace to look scandalised, hitting the duvet where his legs were.

"You just want to see under my clothes!" she exclaimed. She enjoyed how they could talk like this. Harmless conversations. It was a work in progress with Jorah.

"Can you blame me?" She hit him again, trying to give him a stern look.

"Anyone else saying such a thing would be facing a trip to the cells." He waved a dismissive hand.

"You've already tried that tactic before and it didn't work." The fact that he was bringing up the past made her hope that he was the same man.

"I wouldn't betray Jorah just so you can have a walkabout." He grinned at her.

"Oh, I can tell that. I think I have an idea on how he keeps you sweet. I expected you to be here at least an hour ago," he said pointedly. She felt a blush rise up her neck. She squinted her eyes at him.

"How can you tell?"

"So you have been up to no good!" he said with a bark of laughter. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Answer the question."

"Your hair. It's a bit...off. I can't explain it. It's just different." She sat there for a moment in stunned silence, her hand instinctively reaching up to her hair. He had noticed a minuscule change in it. She doubted whether even Jorah would have noticed. But Bruda did. She realised that he was still that same man who cared for her. Jorah had been right after all.

"I can't divulge any information to a scoundrel like you." She felt more comfortable with him now.

"A scoundrel, hey? I've been called worse. Mainly by you." He sent her another smile, finally putting his book down on the table by his bed. "But don't worry, I won't spill your humiliating secret that you are in deep love with the old sod." Another whack. "But only if you help me get out of here."

"Bruda, you are an old man who needs rest. The sooner you accept this the better." He put on an expression of indignation.

"I'm old?! How very dare you? I should get back at you somehow. Turn you into an old hag."

"I'd like to see you try," she responded whilst arching an eyebrow.

"Or maybe not. I hate to admit that you do often terrify me." She felt a quiet pride at that.

"It seems you have some sense left in you. Even after fighting a dragon." His smile dropped, remembering their conversation.

"Anything for you, your Grace," he replied quietly.

"I wanted to apologise for the way I treated you. I should have known that you couldn't possibly be anyone other than my warlock."

"No. I'd rather you be paranoid. The position you're in...you have to be cautious. And anything could happen when magic is involved. Just remember that I'm at your side. If you ever need me."

"I always do. I was just concerned. I didn't want you to change."

"I should have bestowed all the treasures in the world on you for all the times you helped me. But the greatest gift of all is that you now get to travel the stars as the most impossible story in history. That's what you said to me the night I died. Whispered in my ear just before I vanished in front of your very eyes." She felt tears sting her eyes as she remembered that evening and those exact words coming out of her mouth. If he knew that, when no one else could have possibly known, it meant one thing.

"It really is you."

"You wouldn't be able to go on without this old man by your side." She knew that was the truth and took a few moments to compose herself. He smiled at her before looking back at the prone figure of Melisandre, giving Daenerys the time she needed. She arched an eyebrow at him. "So you and her…" she began tentatively, still wiping away a few tears. He snapped out of his concentration, sending a questioning glance at Daenerys.

"Yes?" He wanted to watch her squirm.

"Are you two...together?"

"Are you jealous?" he asked with a teasing smile. He raised his eyebrows at her silence as she felt another blush grow on her cheeks.

"It's just...you look like you care about her."

"I care about you too. I may be a miserable bugger but I still have a heart. She's helped me...now it's my turn."

"You've already protected her."

"What do you mean?"

"She mentioned that the necklace you gave her stopped Stannis…" She could see his hands gripping the sheets tightly even though she hadn't gone into detail about what exactly had happened.

"The magic knew I needed her so I could come back. It was protecting itself as much as her."

"So you wouldn't have guarded her against an attack like a dashing hero if you were actually there?" she asked teasingly.

"Ah, Daenerys Targaryen. You should have realised by now that I'm no hero. If I'd been there, Stannis would not be alive today."

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Tommen was mainly paranoid about the prospect of a large attack from the two great houses because he knew it would be like no other uprising. If an army were to form against him and see it fit to strike the capital, they would do well to reach a hundred feet of the city parameter walls. But Daenerys Targaryen could easily fly over those very defences, bypassing all of the men he had at his disposal. That was why he had been planning. For a few months, since the news broke that an alliance had been formed in the North, he had entrusted the Grand Maester to fashion a weapon for him. Pycelle had barely done anything on it before he disappeared for reasons that were still unknown to him so his replacement, Qyburn, had been instructed to make fast progress. And he had done just that. All that Tommen knew was that he had been working in tandem with Euron Greyjoy, the head of the royal armada that guarded the waters surrounding them. This was because Qyburn was hoping to create a machine that would fit onto several ships, which would give them a better chance of being useful. It was now the day the king would get to see their invention.

He had been told to walk down to the dungeons. He was doing this on his own because, although he had been boasting about his genius to do this to his council, he wanted to be the first to see it. It would be no good for his advisors to see a failed job. He'd sent that message to Qyburn, just to motivate him even more to get it to work. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so deep in the Red Keep. With each step, it seemed to get darker, the flaming torches beginning to struggle to combat the encroaching darkness and the walls were soon covered in cobwebs. He wanted to know who was responsible for the upkeep of the castle. He didn't want poor levels of work to be seen in his castle. People had to look at this building as the seat of power, to show how powerful he was.

Qyburn was standing in the dungeons were the skulls of long-dead dragons decorated the floor. Some signified beasts the size no one had ever seen in this part of the kingdom for centuries. The others were the size of cats that wandered around the stone hallways. Euron was grinning madly as Tommen approached, leaning on a large wooden contraption that immediately occupied the young man's attention. He dramatically bowed, which Tommen ignored. The maester stepped towards him, bending a knee and kissing the top of the outstretched hand of the king. This was how he should be treated. Yet fewer people seemed to be doing it, which annoyed him greatly.

"Your highness," Qyburn began. He was a slender figure, his greasy, slicked-back hair reaching down to his shoulders. Many people in the Keep spoke of how they didn't trust the new maester. They talked about how he attempted strange experiments, which is why he was removed from the Citadel. Tommen didn't care. He wanted tasks completing and Qyburn was someone who did as he was told without asking any questions. That was another problem he faced on a daily basis. People, commoners more like, thought it was acceptable to question his decisions and orders. No king should have to stand for it. Once he had dealt with his immediate nuisance, he'd focus on removing this issue too. "I'm so honoured you have spared the time from your busy schedule to view what we have created." Tommen refused to say that he had accomplished nothing that day. Kings weren't expected to be busy every day, he reminded himself.

"I've given you plenty of time. I expect what you have done to meet my expectations."

"I serve only to create what you dream, your Grace." Euron wanted to roll his eyes at the arse licking on show. It was a good job he got to shoot things with their new invention, otherwise, he would have been very bored indeed. He started to grin as he thought about it. He then proceeded to pick his teeth with his longest fingernail. Tommen approached the contraption, stroking it gently with one of his hands. Qyburn was quickly by his side.

"It looks like a large crossbow," Tommen remarked, a hint of derision in his voice.

"That was the basis. But you spoke about our targets being much bigger...so we made this much bigger." His eyes seemed to light up in excitement. He nodded his head at Euron, who sent him a questioning look before remembering what his task was. The Greyjoy man reached down and picked up a large metal spear in both hands, allowing Tommen to look at it. He then put it into the crossbow and set it up. "We call it the Scorpion. Although you can, of course, think of a new name yourself."

"No, no. I like it actually. It will strike fear into my opponents' hearts."

"It can be turned at any angle so those beasts won't be able to dodge it. And the force the spear is propelled at will mean it will reach speeds no animal can react to in time."

"So it will kill them?"

"As if they were nothing more than a dog. The girl will not get past those walls whilst these are operational."

"And how many can we make?"

"Well, depending on the size of the workforce, we could have one on every turret and a quarter of your ships in a fortnight." That was excellent news. Daenerys Targaryen wouldn't know what hit her. She'd have no clue they had such a weapon or even that a weapon like this could be created in the first place.

"I want to see it in action." Again, Qyburn nodded his head at Euron who hurried over to something covered by a sheet.

"I thought you would say that." Euron removed the cloth, unveiling a large skull of a dragon. He then scuttled over to the Scorpion and turned it so it was pointing at the bones. With a loud bang, it shot off, the spear piercing the skull in seconds. It took the front of it straight off and had buried itself deep into where the head would have been. Tommen smiled. It would work perfectly.