"I cannot claim the same affinity for them, but wine is often just the thing," Dany sipped sitting back, and looking out of the mouth in the split of the room.

"Wine is always just the thing," Tyrion drank long.

She smiled to herself. "Have you always drank?"

"As long as I can remember."

"And is it a comfort to you?"

"Comfort? Well, it's as much as part of me as is this scar on my face. So perhaps it's a comfort. But I think it's more of a blemish."

Dany nodded. "Yes," she said softly. And she thought inexplicably of Drogo. "Men often seek that which gives them the most pleasure."

"Don't women?"

"No. No…they seek ways in which to survive."

His gaze found the hearth. "It's a sorry world…those who offer life are so often the greatest sufferers."

"Why must men assert their strength and damage women as they do?"

"Have you been damaged by men, Dany?" he looked at her, a touch disbelieving.

"Well, I've had my share, yes."

"Who would dare?" he smirked.

"It's not a laughing matter. I have been maltreated by men. In fact, I'd wager that it's been only men who have mistreated me…" she paused. "But I have not yet met your sister."

"No," he smiled. "You have not. And she is something, I can assure you."

"I've heard that."

"But our Queen has suffered at the hands of evil men. Are you going to tell me about it?" he poured her more wine.

Dany sat back with her wine. "It's really not worth revisiting. I have been, and that's all."

"But if you do not wish to discuss strategy…"

She sighed. "You insist, is that it?"

Tyrion shrugged noncommittally.

"My brother."

He nodded.

"He…" she dropped her gaze. "He was often aggressive with me. Suggestive."

"Did he…?"

"No. No he didn't. But that doesn't mean that it never entered his thoughts. That I didn't feel, occasionally, threatened by him and what he could do to me."

"I'm sorry."

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "We both of us have intolerable siblings."

"Yes," he sat back fully, noticing now how the room had darkened, and the chill seeped in. The day was ending, and there would be supper to consider. "Shall I send for more wine before eventide and supper?"

"Is it that time?" she looked over once more at the cavernous opening. Yes, the sun had reached the horizon.

"So it would seem."

"I think we should eat elsewhere. It's cold in here despite the fire."

He nodded. "I'll see to it in the hall…"

"No. In the room adjacent to mine. It's smaller," Dany stood. "And I should be retiring soon. We have work to do," she left.

And Tyrion was left there, wondering at what had just transpired. He supposed she was in search of some comfort…things were not what she had been expecting, he assumed, upon her arrival. Though he couldn't really be sure what she had anticipated. She knew there would be conflict and a challenge to her claim.

Cersei would not simply allow her to come in with her dragons and rule.

Perhaps she was unsure of her claim…perhaps her doubt was less about those who might usurp her, than she herself.

He sighed and stood, ringing the little bell. A servant came, and he ordered supper for the two of them in her quarters…

Then made his way to them.


Daenerys was brushing her hair. She had just changed her clothes, and she was staring at herself in the mirror.

She thought that she knew herself. She knew she could be ruthless…but not cruel. Not to those who did not deserve it, anyway.

She sighed and rubbed her face. It would not do. She needed to remain true to herself. She had not changed all that much.

She used to have a moral compass…she knew what was right and wrong, without question. But the further she traveled in this world, the less sure she was. There were so many shades of grey. So many times in which circumstances clouded any definitive answer.

She had begun to realize that she did not understand much, and supposed that that was what people called wisdom.

Dany missed the naiveté of youth.

"Your Majesty?"

She turned to see Tyrion in her small sitting room, standing, peering through her nearly closed door. It appeared as though he was attempting to see if she was in there. "Just a moment," she called.

She did enjoy his company. "Have a seat," she said, sitting down.

The room was round, a corner of Dragonstone. It had a wooden floor, softening it against much of the stone of the castle. There were two small windows, and the table was next to them, settled in between them. Dany had a tapestry on the wall closest to her room, and the torches were lit. There was a small table by the door with some native flowers on it, but since winter was now descending, there were only a few blooms to be found.

"I ordered a meal to be brought here for us."

She nodded. "And wine?" she smirked.

"Of course, wine. I see you don't keep your quarters stocked."

"No. As I had said, I do not require constant refreshment."

"It is a burden I bear. Though not altogether unwillingly."

"And does it quell loneliness, aid in forgetfulness, or supply happiness?" she folded her hands on her lap.

"All, I imagine," and the servant brought some stew, as well as the wine.

Dany tasted it while Tyrion poured the wine. "What do you believe makes a good ruler?"

He eyed her over the cup, sat the carafe down, and sipped. "Vision."

She nodded. "No code of ethics?"

"Ethics are intertwined in the vision. Everything is."

"And what do you see as my vision?"

"You wanted to break the wheel, if memory serves."

Dany swallowed. She picked up the cup and drank long…"I did say that, yes," after she drained it and poured herself some more.

A confused look betook his countenance. "Is this no longer the case?"

"I …" she paused. Truth be told, she was a bit fearful of what she thought. "No. It is. But I'm also aware that things are not as simple as breaking the wheel. I cannot expect to come to Westeros and tell everyone that I am the Queen that they need. I need to, in many ways, prove myself."

Tyrion nodded. "Wise words."

"But they are not merely words. They are fact. And I am only just realizing that."

He considered her a moment, then took a bite of the stew. He swallowed, looking out of the window closest to him. "Well, there is certainly something to be said for humility."

"I don't feel particularly humble."

"Most Queens don't, or aren't."

She smiled at him. "No…I don't suppose they are," she played with her food a bit. "Why do you work in politics, Tyrion?"

"It's what I know," he replied matter of factly.

"Have you no passion for it, though? Might not you be an able monarch?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

"It's been my experience that those who do not wish to rule are often the most suited for it. I do not know if I am an exception or not," she paused. "I suppose I'd like to think that I am. But it may not be the case…recent events have rendered me confused."

"Are you referring to the episode today?"

She nodded. "But not only that. It's also the gradual transformation I've made from a wayward, nameless princess, to a conquerer and queen. I do not know if this way is the best way any longer. I stole my brother's dream…I've never really had my own."

"Well. This is a surprise," he smiled. "You are unsure…and you are asking me if I might…what?"

Dany shrugged. "Even I am not certain. Advise me."

"Of your own mind?"

She swallowed. Was that what she was asking of him? Her gaze fell, and she played with the hem of her dressing gown. "It's a strange place I find myself, Lord Tyrion. It's not so much that I doubt my ability to rule, or indeed, to conquer. I doubt, rather, my resolve to do it."

"You don't want it?" he replied, disbelieving.

"I …do not know. Yes, I want the Iron Throne. But I'm wondering if I deserve it."

"It's precisely that you're thinking about this at all that you more than deserve it! Do you think, for one minute, that your father ever doubted his right to King's Landing? Do you think that Robert Baratheon once thought that perhaps he should step down? And do you think…" his voice fell to nearly a whisper. "…that any of Cersei's sons didn't believe wholeheartedly that they were deserving of the title, King?"

"No," she answered softly. "I do not," she stood and looked out of the window. "But I am not those men. Nor am I your sister," she turned to look at him now.

"You most certainly are not," he said, looking at her very directly. "But Cersei will be looking for a weakness. Any weakness," he swallowed. "Don't give her one."

"I cannot let my mind be corrupted by one woman," she sat down again.

"So, you poison it yourself?" he spat.

"I'm confiding my most ardent fears and thoughts. Things that I have not intimated to anyone. And this is to be my reception?"

He sighed, a solemn look on his face. "Daenerys. You have tasked me with your most trusted position as your Hand. And I can only advise you as I see fit for your rule. If you do not want to rule, then you need to tell me now, so that I might resign my post and find someplace to hide while the winter falls."

She looked at him, disbelieving. "You'd leave me?"

"I'm the Hand of the Queen. If there is no Queen, then there is no need for a Hand."

"But what about a friendship?"

"Are you in earnest? Can this be so? After crossing desert and sea, you're going to abandon it all…for what?" he sat back, staring at her.

She smirked a bit. "Wishful thinking," and she paused. "Where would you go, if money was not a concern, winter was not coming, and there was no threat of war?"

He licked his lips, poured more wine. She wanted to be humored. She was scared of something, and she was playing some silly game as a means to avoid her fears. He sipped, agitated, and sat back again. "Where would I go if I could go anywhere without fear or debt?"

She nodded.

"The Summer Islands. They laud wine and pleasure above all else, and the place is always warm and always beautiful."

"For someone who has a magnificent mind, you spend much time concerned with pleasures of the flesh."

He shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps it is because of my mind that I understand that the pleasures that our flesh affords is fleeting, and we are wise to enjoy them while we can," he paused, noting how odd all of this was. "Where would you go?"

"The Shadow Lands."

"Isn't that a terrifying place?"

"It's where my babies are from."

He nodded. Of course, she'd want to see where they came from. It made sense.

"…and as my friend," she continued. "I'd want for you to accompany me," she smiled.

He cleared his throat. "Dany, what is it that you're trying to suggest here?"

"Only that we are friends."

His mouth twitched. "And what does that entail, in your estimation?"

"I'm not certain…"

"We are here, in your quarters, eating supper and drinking wine."

"Yes."

"And you were just implying that I should accompany you on a long and tedious journey."

Her face paled. "As my friend."

He was getting angry, for he felt as though he was being used. What he was being used for, he couldn't rightly say. "But I am your advisor, and we shouldn't confuse things."

"No one is confused. At least, I am not so. Perhaps you are, Lord Tyrion."

"I am no Lord," he stood in anger, then collected himself. "Apologies. I think it's best if I retire," he nodded, and left.

Daenerys swallowed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly.

She could not deny that there was something amiss in the way she was just speaking with him…

But she could not say what, exactly, or why.