A/N:

Have I mentioned how much I love this fandom? Yes? Well it warrants repeating. You guys are WONDERFUL. And as I prepare myself for what I am SURE will be wild penultimate season 7 episode, I decided to post this.

As always, special thanks to my reviewers. You are lovely, lovely people:

Courtenae727 (I will miss writing them together. Which is probably why I did this chapter the way I did...), hairymayojar (lol! Girl would have hid under the bed if Tyrion wouldn't have dragged her out by the ankles. Plus leaving Robb Stark alone with Tyrion Lannister? wait. That could be great. I've made a mistake), CLTex (Thanks! They're dynamic is a lot of STRONG personalities. I feel like it's good for Jaime's life that he doesn't go with him. But his diplomacy skills have surprised me before!), Barryium (Jaime lives by duty and his own crazy brand of honor which is why I adore him. And I sort of want Cass to do that too. She's got a lot of allies, but those dragons are pesky. So is the whole ruling after you win thing which she's not 100% sold on at all. Kings (and maybe queens) have a habit of dying), MihHale (What would Jaime say?! Poor guy!), Nirvana14 (Thanks! I hope this post lives up to the excitement!), lakomadt (Would the Jon/Dany shippers kill me?), Ilp (Is now okay? I write my as fast as my little heart can!), and m (Cass ain't pleased. Jaime is also not pleased, especially since he's sending her with to another continent with basically her ex-fiance. Oh the soap opera that is GoT).

Can we talk about how I interchangeably pick ages from books/TV? No? Okay, glad we're in agreement :)

When she had turned sixteen, she had expected to be presented to court. It was tradition, duty, and although suitors had always flown in and out of her life, none had been close to having her hand. Renly would laugh at the older, widowed lords, calling them perverts and—for one particularly older man—pedophiles. Her oldest brother wouldn't deign to talk to most men who sent her letters or knocked on her door, and Cassana herself was not entirely too interested in the prospect. She was a high lady. She lived in the Red Keep. Anything other title besides queen felt like a step down.

But still on her nameday she dressed in gold silks. She let her handmaidens pin and curl her hair for hours, slipping in pearled flowers—the combs starkingly white against the black of her braids. Her face was made equally as pale, lips and cheeks touched pink. A bang slipped across her forehead, "I wish I had blue eyes."

"You're beautiful, my lady." Her handmaiden, Elva, touched her shoulders, lifted her chin. "You don't need blue eyes or blonde hair."

She hadn't asked for blonde hair for years—back when Joffrey was born and she saw a Baratheon with gold locks for the first time. She had been jealous of it, jealous of the beauty the Lannisters seemed to possess so easily. Cersei was young and regal. She was proud and smart, and Cassana hoped to be half as graceful when she became a wife.

"Do you know who your escort is, my lady?"

"I assume my brother." More often than not, Renly was the one who accompanied her to feasts and tourneys. She did not see why her nameday would be any different.

But Elva seemed to think so. Her eyebrows twitched up, and the older woman shook her head before placing the chain she had received from Stannis around her neck. "It does not really fit with your dress, if I may say."

"You may, and you're right." She touched the cold chain. It looked garish, too large and indelicate, but she kept it on. It felt soothing around her neck. "Am I ready?"

"I can't imagine you looking any prettier than you are. Perhaps on your wedding day we can try and top this."

She thanked Elva again and placed a few rings on her fingers. As her handmaidens started tidying her room, Cassana examined herself in the mirror. She was told she was beautiful, but she found her beauty more common—dark features on a palette of white. It was nothing like Cersei with gold hair and emerald eyes. Nothing like the image Robert would conjure of Lyanna Stark, someone also pale of face and dark of hair but out of legend.

Cassana didn't think she looked legendary. She did not think she possessed beauty that would inspire songs, but she also knew she didn't necessarily need to. Over a decade in court taught her that looks were valulable, yes, but title was precious. Titles would not fade, decay, even if her face did.

But she did, she supposed, look pretty. Her cheekbones were high, refined. The brown in her eyes was mixed with grey and red and silver. She had formed a body— gods knew when— and the gold cloaks had given her a bit more attention than she had previously been accustomed to.

There was a knock on the door, and Cassana stood, waiting for her handmaidens to open it before she fell into a deep curtsy. It was just her brother, of course, and she found all the formality ridiculous for someone like Renly.

Only it wasn't Renly. It was Ser Jaime Lannister, looking typically bored and dressed in the brass armor of the Kingsguard. Cass edged up from her curtsy, and Jaime didn't bow. He did, however, look up from his scabbard, and the boredom faded cooly from his face. His green eyes, so like his sister's, caught her, and Cass saw him swallow.

"My, my. All this for me?"

Her skin tingled. Cassana feared her powder would all sweat off. "Oh? I haven't heard. Have you resigned from the Kingsguard? Seeking my hand?"

The knight practically snorted. "Could you imagine? My father would shit stone."

"I hear it's gold, actually, but I imagine you would know better."

"Gods be good I don't. But enough talk about…excretion." Jaime held out a hand. "Shall we?"

They rode in a carriage after, much to Cassana's surprise. She was expecting donkeys or maybe a small horse, but the carriage was beautiful, made of grey wood and light white cloth. But that was not the first thing she noticed.

The first was that Jaime Lannister was no where to be found. He had not left the ship. He did not come out to say goodbye, and Cassana was half bitter and half grateful. She glanced to the other Lannister by her side. "Essos is shit."

"I could not have said it more eloquently myself, my lady." Tyrion kicked the ground causing a cloud of dust to fume. "I bet you're regretting emptying out all my wineskins now."

"Just a little."

"I love him too. You do know that, don't you?"

Cassana turned to him. The witty smirk most commonplace on the youngest Lannister sibling was gone. "He's a stupid, stupid man to go back there."

"We could be stupid for coming here. Like what you said before Cass, we could be living our days on a beach somewhere on the eastern continent and instead we allow ourselves to be delivered to a rival monarch. Risky seems to be an understatement in this scenario."

She watched Robb Stark in front of them, his head high, his pale skin reddening already from the sun's piercing rays. This city was hot but in a different way. It did not have the sticky, heavy heat like King's Landing in the hottest summer day. This air was warm, soothing, baking her skin in such a way that she felt coddled by the sun. Meereen—if that was where they were, she had forgotten—was more similar to King's Landing than she originally thought. It was hot, blistering. There were sailboats and a harbor and water. There were so many people, crowds of yelling, dirty masses and the realization dazed her.

"Tyrion…" She grabbed the lion's arm, halting their approach to the wagon.

"It's chaos." Robb turned back to face them both, fear apparent. "We want this woman to rule?" There was smoke in the distance, shouts and running while the great pyramid shrouded the city from above.

The sweat beaded down her collarbone. "I don't know." Frantic, she looked at Tyrion, looked at the Spider who was coming towards them all, a letter in hand. The city was revolting, it's people looking depressed and angry. Cassana had seen that look before. She had gone to Flea Bottom a few times, once with Renly who had then decided the place was far below him. And maybe she thought that too. She had but she still went. She would go and show face. Go and hand out fruit, meet with merchants because that was what a king's sister did.

She hated it.

Guilt was all-consuming. Her in her silks and gold and silver and the people she met too, too skinny with dirt and grime and gods know what else on their bodies. But Robert had been their absent king for some time then. There was no hatred in their faces, no spark of rebellion in their eyes.

But the Meereenese…

For one thing, they seemed to exhude hate as they walked towards the carriage. Cass initially thought it was because of their wealth, but these people, strangely, did not look poor. They looked well-fed, well-dressed, a class or three above the people she had seen in Flea Bottom. It's because we're Westerosi. A man spat on the ground as she passed. It's because we remind them of their queen.

Varys did not seem affected by the mass of crowds and handed her the letter in her hand. "My lady, I would like for you to offer this to our queen."

It was sealed with the sun and spear of the Martells. Cass didn't dare break it. "An offering?"

"Of sorts. Oberyn has a few…issues to deal with in Dorne, but he promises ships when he comes into power."

Comes into… She looked back at the ship. "You're sending Jaime into a civil war."

The words caught Robb's attention. The Young Wolf looked at the letter in her hands, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "What's this?"

"Oberyn Martell plans to kill Prince Doran." She didn't let her gaze slip from Varys. "Tell me, Lord Varys. When Ser Jaime lands there, what side will he be on?"

"Oberyn does not plan to kill his brother...simply overthrow. And I imagine Jaime Lannister is in the best of positions. He has helped Oberyn and our queen by saving you and Robb Stark yet his…"

"Daughter." Cassana offered. "His daughter is with Prince Doran. You can see why I might be a little worried."

"And I am telling you how easily he can play both sides."

"Jaime does not play." Tyrion was also looking at the boat. "My sister and I have more of a knack for that."

"I can assure you he will be safe." Varys was clearly getting frustrated. He curled up the long sleeves over his elbow and looked to the carriage again. "Oberyn knows not to sacrifice both of your allegiances, and Doran will lose this fight."

And Myrcella? What of her? She was still her niece in all but blood. But she cut the thought off. The city surrounding her was in shambles. Cass had put so much brittle stock in this dragon queen, but now she could not help but think why?

I could do better.

She shook her head. She didn't know that. There was no reason for her to think that at all, and the sheer blind ambition made her sick. "I need to think on this…queen of ours."

"Of course, of course. I would expect nothing less, but please do remember." Varys pulled back the curtain to the carriage and inside was a man. He was tall, dark of skin, and held a long spear. His armor was thin and light, and the helmet could not hide the threat in his eyes. The Spider held out her hand. "You are not in the best of positions."

Cassana had to watch her feet. All thought of gracefulness faded the first time she stepped on Ser Jaime's cloak, the white fabric muddied by her heel. "Sorry."

"You're nervous. You're actually nervous." He stopped the walk down the hall towards the throne room, ignoring the gold cloaks flanking the halls. The torch light flickered across his face, and he suddenly looked taller, dangerous.

"Of course, I am." She lowered her head. There was a lump in her throat that didn't seem to want to vanish. Robert had warned her what was to come. There would be a feast. It would be grand. There would be all her favorite foods and singers, and she would sit right next to him on the upper dais, the crowned stag banner flying overhead. And there would be music and wine. There would be laughing and dancing. There would be lines and lines of men waiting to meet her, to take her away, to wed and bed her. She would be a stag no more and her breathing became short. "I like my name."

The knight crossed his arms, features shadowed. "As do I."

"But you'll never have to give yours up." Cass walked slowly, expecting Jaime to follow. He didn't. She grazed the stones of the Red Keep before turning back around to face him. They felt gritty, beads digging into the pads of her fingers. "Why again did you choose to be a Kingsguard?"

"Did I choose?" He walked up to her lazily. His hair was long and blond. It looked like fire in the light. "We remember events differently."

"I don't remember it at all. I wasn't alive."

"You were. Barely though."

"Sometimes I forget you're not that ancient."

"Not that ancient." He smirked. "I suppose I could do worse. And I choose to be a Kingsguard for the love of my king."

"I never lie to you, Jaime." She pouted. "I would have expected the same from you."

He didn't offer an answer, though he did bow gently, asking for forgiveness. Cassana never gave it and he took her arm again, leading her down.

They were silent down the hall, his armor clanging as he walked, her heels tapping solidly on the stone floor. Cassana distracted herself from the awkwardness of it all, looking at the tapestries. Some were of stags in the woods, others of the home they left behind—Storm's End—a slew of towers on a steep cliff, overlooking the rapid rush of sea.

She'd been there before and she ached for it sometimes. It smelled like sea and lightning. It felt like belonging, like home, and she wanted to go back. "What if I don't want to get married?"

"Now you are lying."

"Maybe." Cassana bit her lip. "But what if I'm married to some Northern lord who will take me to some isolated, cold keep?"

"That won't happen. Robert would only marry you to a Stark of the North and they…" Jaime paused. "Actually, that would be a good match."

"Jaime!"

He shrugged, sighing before fingering the tapestry in front of her. "This is your brother's castle."

"I know that," she said bitterly. "Renly hates the place. He's never even there."

"You've heard the story of it?" His gloved fingers touched the tallest tower of the keep. "Haven't you?"

"Of Storm's End? Bran the Builder helped construct it."

"Helped who?"

She hesitated. Cassana was never one to listen to her Septas when they verged on the more fantastical sorts of lessons. Still though, she felt embarrassed. This was her ancestral home. "I don't remember."

"I do. Gods, I had to listen to my sister tell me this story over and over again when she learned of her betrothal to your brother." Jaime rolled his shoulders but didn't drop her arm. The torches were well lit in this part of the castle, and she could see his green eyes. They were exactly like his twins'. They were beautiful. "During the Age of Heroes, your ancestor Duran decided to marry the daughter of the sea god and wind goddess. They hated the bastard so much they attacked his home. So, he built a fortress even they could not break and kept his wife."

"The things we do for love." Cassana slurred sarcastically. "I know how Casterly Rock was built."

He looked amused. "Oh, do you?"

"Not by any Lannister." She couldn't help but smile, the ends of her mouth almost hurting as he teased her. "You stole it."

"I didn't. My ancestor did."

"Cunning bastard."

Jaime frowned. "Cursing does not suit a lady of your status."

They moved past the tapestry, and Cassana thought of his story, of someone willing to spur the anger of the gods for the person he loved. She thought of her brother and his devotion to Lyanna, and her feet slowed on the stairs. "Jaime, whomever I marry…I…I can't expect to love him, can I?"

Jaime did not answer right away. He followed her pace, slowing as they approached the entrance to the throne room. He raised a hand at the gold cloak wanting to open the door and stopped the action. "No. We choose the people we marry, Cass, but we don't choose the ones we love."

"And you choose the Kingsguard."

"I…yes."

"Who didn't you choose?"

His arm around hers tightened, his face growing pale and tight. Jaime pushed open the door to the throne room.

The ride to the pyramid and Daenerys' throne was short. Cassana opted to sit on the wooden floor of the caravan, stretching out her legs much to the chagrin of the three other lords with her. "I have sea legs." She continued to stretch, to eye the man with the spear across from her. She wondered who he was. She heard Daenerys was Khaleesi of a Dothraki horde, but this man had no braid. He was not a Dothraki, nor did he look to be from Meereen. He's dangerous. She saw it in his eyes, in his stance and the point of his spear. She needed to be loose. She needed to be ready.

"Lovely place." Tyrion directed to the soldier guarding them. The smell of ash was still in the air. "My name's Tyrion Lannister."

The guard stayed stone-faced, and the lion leaned back frowning. With a jerk, the carriage stopped, yards away from the pyramid. Cass got up immediately. "What's going on?"

"Relax, my lady." Varys moved but she brushed him off.

"Why did we stop?" She approached the soldier who immediately raised his spear at her approach. The tip was pointed at her neck, but she stayed firm. She had been in worse situations, had seen worse. Her wounds from the Red Wedding still stung at night. "Tell me. Now."

He didn't. The soldier stayed on guard until the cloth to the carriage was moved away again. To Cass' astonishment, the spear changed directions, now pointed at the man entering the carriage. The guard spoke, "You…you are not welcome here."

"I invited him. Ser Jorah and I have been in talks and he has helped me with this gift for your queen." Varys stood as well, attempting to assuage the situation.

Cassana did not like being called a gift. She stayed on her toes as she observed the new man in the carriage. He was Westerosi, that was for sure, but other than that, Cass did not recognize the man.

But Robb did.

"Ser Jorah Mormont? The traitor?"

The words seemed to only make the guard point his spear even closer to the skin. Jorah raised his hands, sweat falling. "Grey Worm, please listen to Lord Varys. I have returned to ask our queen for forgiveness."

"You helped the usurper."

"Do you know who that is?" Ser Jorah pointed a long finger at Cass. She felt herself swallow and edge back. She felt caged. "That is the usurper's sister. I am bringing her to Daenerys."

Her mouth fell open, "The hells you…"

"Lady Cassana." Jorah turned to her and bowed deeply. "Do me this favor of meeting my queen."

He looked at the man, still bowing, looking like he was swearing fealty but doing anything but. And then she looked at the guard named Grey Worm—no, guard was too light a word. The familiarity of their meeting was too strong. Grey Worm was closer to the queen than any simple guard—as close as a Westerosi knight. She knew Jorah Mormont was a spy in Robert's employ, but she also knew that Robert was dead and Daenerys was not. There was something in her that changed his mind. Cassana flattened her skirts. There was something about her that made him sacrifice his land and a royal pardon. "I will meet her, but I am not a gift." Her eyes cooled and turned to Grey Worm. "Tell your queen that."

The throne room was decorated in gold and black ribbon. Candles were shining in every inch, and everyone turned and clapped when she entered, cheering, calling her name, making her blush. Ser Jaime walked her down the row, and the flush was too heated in her cheeks. She felt herself stumble on the stones she had walked thousands and thousands of times, but Jaime held her up, steadied her, made it seem like nothing had happened.

She glanced at him and mouthed, "Thank you."

He said nothing but continued to bring her to the dais. Two of her brothers were there, but not the two she had expected. Robert was tall, his belly hitting the edge of the table as he stood. The golden crown on his head shone even in the dim light. And he shouted, "Cass! There you are! About time too. Get over here and have a drink! You too, Kingslayer!"

Jaime squirmed but nodded his head. Letting loose of her arm, he turned to her, bowed and kissed her hand. "An honor, as always, Cass." His eyes looked around the room, and his voice lowered. "Watch your back."

"Always." She looked at his hand holding hers, him kneeling on the ground. "Good thing someone taught me how."

The knight grinned and straightened before moving towards the Lannister side of the dais. She went left, the opposite way, saying hello to Shireen and even Selyse before sitting between her two oldest brothers. "I am shocked to see you, brother." Cassana dutifully took the goblet of wine handed to her by the king. "Too windy in Dragonstone?"

"It's never not." Stannis turned to face her, and, in surprising fashion, clinked their glasses. "Happy nameday, dear sister."

"Where's Renly?"

"Gods know!" Robert bellowed, wine slipping into his dark beard.

Queen Cersei was on his other side, delicately cutting a piece of meat. "I hear he's examining your suitors." She chewed on a piece of boar and slowly swallowed. "What a dear brother."

The tone slipped her. "I also need to thank your brother as well…for escorting me. It was very kind."

The knife slipped from Cersei's hold. "Yes. It was, wasn't it?"

Cass' attention strayed back to the throne room. It looked different, surreal. There were several people in the court that she did not recognize, and her her heart began to pound against her breast. One of these men I will marry. She drank more wine. I will be a Baratheon no longer.

When they left the carriage, more men dressed like Grey Worm escorted their party up towards the pyramid. It was towering, a mammoth in a city of tiny white washed houses and small markets. Cassana looked up, breathless. She had never been to Oldtown, never seen the High Tower, but she imagined it would pale in comparison to this. Her feet stopped dead when the full thing came into view, the fear finally sinking into her gut and bones. She felt silly in her long skirts and twisted hair. She felt uneasy and warm and so foreign. What am I doing here?

Grey Worm stopped at her side. "You must follow."

"I…I know." Cass pointed up. "Is she there?"

The soldier nodded.

"Seems like a more impressive seat than what my brother had. I hear the Iron Throne is quite uncomfortable, actually."

He snorted and gestured her to keep walking. Cass obeyed but continued speaking.

"Why does she want it?"

"It is rightfully hers."

Is it? Aegon the Conqueror took the throne by force, unified the kingdoms by force. And then Robert had taken it. Robert had taken the throne the same way. If anything, it is rightfully mine. She would not say that. She could not. Her steps were short, measured, and she tried to match her breathing with them. Cassana told herself to hold her chin high, back straight. She was a high lady. Her Septas had drilled and drilled the etiquette into her, and it was only that reason why she could carry herself the way she did when she finally entered the throne room.

The lights were barely there, focused only through square windows, and Cass tried her best to avoid them let it break her gaze. It was a small throne room, nothing like the Red Keep, but still it had presence and a sort of foreign majesty. It had beauty and strength, and at the very top of a small staircase, a throne. She saw her there, stiff and so young. She was…her age and the thought made Cass somewhat braver, somewhat more empowered.

Daenerys Targaryan sat on her throne of stone, several vertical feet separating them. It was mean to be intimidating—a common tactic of a monarch. Robert had always sat on the dais, and she would feel it too when she stood up there. She would stand and look down and feel powerful. But in the end, I was just a girl in silks. Daenerys was a girl in linen. It was not too different.

Though Cassana was sweating in her silks. This room was muggy, and the silence that enveloped the room when her and her party stopped was palpable, consuming. She could hear the shark flick of torchlight, the deep breaths of the men surrounding her. And then Ser Jorah fell to his knees, arm across his chest. "My queen."

"Rise, Ser Jorah." Her voice echoed across the chamber, loud, strong. She sounded like a queen, and Cassana steadied herself, cracking her shoulders, as she watched the dragon queen rise herself and walk down the stairs. As the woman walked closer, Cass could see the bright purple of her eyes, her hair looking golden underneath the sunlight. Daenerys was beautiful, elegant, and she knew it. "I hear you brought me three traitors."

"Strong words," Cassana let her voice slip. "Especially when we have never met before."

A pale eyebrow twitched up. "We may not, but I know who you are. Cassana Baratheon, sister of the usurper, Kingslayer."

What? Her back stiffened and Cass found herself looking at Tyrion. The man had the wits to bow and address Daenerys himself. "Your Grace, if you are referring to the death of our nephew, neither Lady Cassana or myself are to blame."

Joffrey. Of course, she had meant Joffrey though Cass' mind immediately went to Jaime and Aerys. Jaime killed her father. Cass wouldn't allow herself to forget that especially when the dragon queen probably remembered that little fact as well.

"Pity." Her eyes slid to a woman on her right, patiently waiting and taking in the strangers. "And here I thought that would be your act of fealty. Though I suppose it would be wrong to call you Kingslayer if you only killed a pretender."

"I'm not here to swear fealty." She needed to stop talking, stop being rash, but she was tired of machinations and lies. Robb Stark turned to her, the faintest smile on his lips.

"Then what? Are you spies as well? Ser Jorah, is that how you intend to make up for your own mistake? By capturing more of the usurper's spies?"

"None of us are spies. Nor would we admit it if we were." Cass saw the lines form on Daenerys' face, the anger and rashness. It was then Cassana realized with absolute certainity that she did not know this woman. Yes, she had heard stories of dragons and slavers and goodness, but Cassana didn't know. She could be as merciless as Tywin, as manipulative as Cersei. That was something Cass could determine later. Right now, her options were thin. "I am a highborn lady, like yourself. And also like you, I had no control of what house I was born into or the actions of my brothers."

Daenerys' chin lifted. "My family…"

"Burned his family alive." She wanted to make that clear. Cass looked at Robb and saw the anger, the clenched fists. "And mine killed yours. His killed yours." Tyrion wanted to refute but Cass raised a hand. "But we wish to help you."

"Help me? Did I ask for any of your help? Correct me if I'm wrong but you are in my court. Did I summon you here? Perhaps I had forgotten." She took careful steps until they were eye-level. Cass tried hard not to flinch or bend. Daenerys smirked, and Cass could see the fire, see why she would call herself the Mother of Dragons. There was a fierceness there that Cass could not define. She was young but powerful. She was small in stature but held such a grandeur that Cass could only describe as regal. "It seems you need my help more than I need yours."

"My queen, if we are to invade Westeros, we need help of the Westerosi. The three I have brought to you are the heirs to three of the most powerful houses in Westeros. That's three houses on your side."

"…more like four." Tyrionn shuffled his feet. "I'm afraid my house is the one you'll need to overthrow, and though I am happy to help you do it, I do not hold much power over my own house. But the Martells have always been with you, and Robb Stark has the benefit of being half-Tully. The fish would fight for you."

"What's left of them would." Robb flexed his hands. His voice was low, and Cass could tell he was clearly hiding his frustration underneath the guise of patience and care. "The Lannisters have slaughtered my men. They almost executed my father, my mother, and have humiliated my sister. They tried to kill me at my own wedding. They need to be brought to justice."

"So revenge for you." The queen looked at Tyrion and then to Robb. "And for you, Robb Stark, you seek honor and justice. But what about the Baratheon? What could a highborn lady like yourself gain from all this?"

How many times had she asked Jaime the same question? What did he want. How could she help him get it. And he had posed the question back, and even now, months and miles away, she still craved those things. She wanted her family back. She wanted Robert to sit on that throne, laughing and drinking, Jon Arryn still alive and looking on in light-hearted concern. She wanted to be worried about which high lord she would marry, about how she would still be able to train with Jaime, but instead, those thoughts could be combined. She was worried about Jaime. She wanted Jaime. She wanted Jaime to be safe, for her three brothers to come back to her, and for her house to fly gold and black again.

Her eyes blurred in front of the dragon queen, and Cass bit her lip before sucking the tears back, clearing her throat so that her voice was loud, reverberating. "I just want this to be over. I want this fucking war to end." She caught Daenerys' gaze. "I can promise you my bannermen if you could give me that, but can you?"

To her extreme shock, Daenerys Targaryen offered her hand. "Would you like to meet my children?"

A/N:

You know what plot point I've been avoiding? That annoying Night King. Hm.