Daenerys donned her armour, golden bronze breastplate and dragonsteel helm. She bore no weapons; her dragons were enough, however much Missandei insisted she donned a bow and a quiver filled with the finest arrows her father had carved from a weeping tree. Daenerys once again stared out on her sea of men. Her army. They were following the right leader. Tyrion waddled over. Daenerys pitied him, really. After all, he was banished as well. An outcast. She would avenge all who were not treated with the respect deserved.

"My Lady," Tyrion bowed best he could, which was only a little shorter than he was standing. His accent was easy to pinpoint if you ever met him. His black and green eyes shone. But rather than thinking him a weird dwarf, or a half-man, which was pretty much the lowest insult anyone could get in Vaes Dothrak, Daenerys regarded him with the same respect as anyone who was full in hight. Tyrion was useful. Past his witty and sarcastic comments, he was smarter than the average man. His knowledge of books, history, coinage and battle strategy, as well as knowing King's Landing's weaknesses, he could be the decider whether they win or die. For that was just how you played the Game of Thrones.

"Tyrion," Daenerys greeted him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Tyrion looked up at her and studied her face before replying, as if to check if she were mocking him. But, in truth, Dany had meant what she said to some point.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. You were standing there with such… longing in your eyes, I thought it rude to interrupt."

Dany had not known Tyrion and been standing there, and she vaguely wondered how long he had watched her staring into the distance. She shook off the thoughts and regained her Queenly composition.

"No, it's ok. I was just musing. I grow impatient, and am anxious for the battle to commence." Daenerys stood well over Tyrion Lannister, and, in some way, it gave her confidence, for she was not considered tall for her age.

"They will sing songs of the glory you brought the people." Tyrion promised. "But this is not why I came. There are urgent matters you need to oversee." Daenerys nodded her head, and Tyrion turned away, his curious walking style vaguely interesting Dany. She shortened her strides and slowed her pace to keep next to Tyrion. A few short minutes later, they arrived at a summer orange tent and walked inside, the dim light inside a harsh change for Daenerys to adjust to. She waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the lighting, before seeing her small council seated at a small round table.

Missandei sat among them, wearing a pale orange wrap around dress, a sash around her a slightly darker shade of orange. Her dark brown curly hair was held behind an orange headband. Grey Worm was standing, his chair untouched. He wore the usual black helm and armour. Despite no enemies being near, he held his spear. Tyrion tottered over to join them. One of Khal Drogo's BloodRiders once stood in this tent before he had sacrificed himself defending her.

Daenerys took her seat at the head of the table. "So, what of this? Why was I called here so urgently?"

Tyrion spoke. "I'm afraid we have found some flaws in our previous battle plan."

Daenerys was confused. Everything had already been planned out…

Daenerys would ride in on Drogon, and, after shouting the command, her dragons would lay siege to Mud Gate, allowing her Khalasar to destroy the first line of soldiers, whilst the Unsullied would climb up the wall and take care of the archers. She and her dragons would burn most of the opposing army, and then head for the Castle and claim the Iron Throne.

"What is wrong with this plan?" she asked Tyrion.

The dwarf looked grave, his usual witty humour air gone. "They have dragons too."