Author's Note:

Hopefully it wasn't painfully obvious but this story is my first attempt to write FanFiction. Standard Disclaimers apply, I don't own anything you recognize in this chapter or any other.

Also I apologize if the first chapter was difficult to read, the dividers I used to separate the scenes didn't transfer over, so I'm trying another a different method.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read.

R-C

Chapter Two:

She paced back and forth across the tent, her braided hair swaying from side to side with each sharp turn of her head. Missandei approached her cautiously. "Would you like tea Khaleesi, to help you rest?"

Daenerys spun around and locked her eyes on the former slave. "How is he? Have you heard?"

She smiled kindly and stepped closer, more as a friend now than a subject. "They are still attempting to heal the damage," she explained gently. "The Maester said it is a miracle of the Gods that she is still alive at all."

Stunned Daenerys glared at Missandei as though she didn't understand the word. "She?"

"Yes your Grace," she verified. "The Maester was most surprised when he removed her clothes to assess her wounds and found a woman's body underneath. Man or woman she should be dead."

Daenerys felt her body reflexively flinch at the thought. "She saved us," she declared firmly.

"Yes, your Grace."

"She didn't need to, she could have kept walking, could have ignored it, pretended not to see…" her words trailed off unsure of what she intended to say exactly.

"She was very brave…"

"And skilled," the Queen added quickly, thinking back to the graceful way the savior moved, as if she were perfectly calm, as if there weren't men attempting to kill her.

The screams echoed throughout the camp and Daenerys couldn't stand it. The stranger had nearly died for her, for them, and she might not even get to say thank you.

Acting on a whim she intended to go straight to the tent where the girl was being healed and ensure they had all they needed, but before she could Ser Jorah blocked her escape.

She looked at her friend, pleased to see he wasn't as injured as she first suspected. His clothes and skin were dotted with blood, belonging to him and others. He was capable of walking under his own power, although with a limp to his step. She also noticed the clean white bandages covering almost the whole of his arm. "Khaleesi," he began.

"How is the girl?" she demanded to know, pushing to the back everything else Jorah intended to say.

The look she received from her advisor and friend was one of pity now. Unlike her he didn't seem surprised she was a woman. "The girl's wounds are severe your Grace," he told her truthfully, as if the use of her formal title might take the sting out of his words. "She is alive for now, but I doubt she'll live through the night."

Daenerys showed no emotion, but only because emotions were valuable and as a Queen she had to keep them hidden. With a slight downward turn of her lips and a nod of her head she thanked him, but on the inside she was furious, furious at the men who attacked her, who harmed her new friend, and furious at everyone who kept saying she was going to die. "Who were they? Who is she?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, answering both questions at once. "I've sent some of the men into town to find out what they can. I suspect it is a pre-emptive strike from our friends in King's Landing, trying to kill you before we set sail tomorrow."

How could she forget? They'd been planning for so long time and now it was finally happening. She would set sail tomorrow with her army, she would take back her throne and rule her people. For years that was all that mattered, now as she thought about leaving a knot tied in her stomach.

Shifting to her most regal and authoritative voices she addressed the former knight. "We can not leave until after the girl wakes. I must speak to her."

"Khaleesi…"

"She saved our lives," she reminded him harshly. "I will not simply sail off and forget about her. I must speak to her. I must see that she's well."

"I will ensure she is taken care of," he promised. "I'll pay to have her cared for…"

"Paid?" she roared, slapping her hand across the table, knocking a wooden boat off the map where it had been marking their location. "Tell me Ser Jorah, what is my life worth? How much shall we pay this girl for saving me? And don't forget she saved your life too!"

Twice his mouth opened to answer, only to close before sound escaped. Taking that as agreement she locked eyes with her advisor and made her point abundantly clear. "No boat sets sail until I decide!"

Bowing his head and aiming his eyes down, Jorah relented. "Of course Khaleesi."

R-C

After dinner she met with all of her advisors, Barristan and Jorah were there, along with Grey Worm, Tyrion, Darrio and Missandei.

Always the first to break the ice Tyrion reached for his glass and spoke to the room. "Sounds like you all had quite the eventful day." For his part Tyrion had been out in the city seeing to some affairs on Daenerys's behalf.

Jorah had a look of contempt on his face. "That's one word for it."

"Do you know who they were?" Barristan asked.

"Not yet," Tyrion answered, "but I suspect we'll hear soon. Word has spread that there was an attempt on their Queen and the people of Meereen are up in arms."

Daenerys shook her head. "No, the people have suffered enough. Send some of our troops out to keep the peace. There is no need for senseless death."

"They tried to kill you!" Jorah shouted as he leapt from his chair, knocking it over in the process. "If ever there was time for death, it is now."

She gave him a wry smile and waited patiently for him to sit again. "Yes, there will be death," she promised, "but the people of Meereen didn't hire those sell-swords, the people of Meereen didn't want this, and I don't want them harmed for me."

Grey Worm stood from his seat. "I will lead the troops myself."

She smiled at her friend. "Thank you."

Once he was gone Tyrion again cut through the quiet. "Is there any chance that they," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "they didn't know who you were? You were wearing the cloak correct?" When Daenerys nodded, the dwarf continued. His eyes moving from Daenerys to Missandei and back. "Is it possible that these thugs were simply out looking for trouble when they happened upon you?"

All eyes turned to Jorah for confirmation. "They were expecting us," he admitted, "as if they knew where to look." He reached for his glass but kept talking as he did. "The skill they had, the weapons, they were very expensive and while they never said it, they knew who you were. I don't believe in coincidences. I heard the name Nazir and I'll find him, whoever he is."

"And what of the one who saved you?" Barristan asked.

Jorah and Daenerys shared a loaded look. "She is being tended to, but she was gravely injured I'm afraid."

Daenerys was so lost in thoughts of her protector that she almost didn't hear the next question. "What of Kovarro? What was the extent of his injures?"

"He will be fine," Jorah guaranteed. "His wounds will heal and we all know the Dothraki come from hearty stock."

"Where is he then?" he wondered, looking at the chair the long-haired warrior usually occupied.

Before Daenerys could regain control of the conversation Tyrion answered, "Last I saw him he was standing over the girl's bed, making the Maester very nervous."

For a few moments Daenerys struggled to picture it. Kovarro was one of her oldest friends, and her most loyal commanders, but it was difficult to imagine him standing watch over the girl. Then all at once she understood. She cleared her throat gently and addressed the room as though she'd been paying attention all along. "She saved his life," she said in explanation. "The Dothraki take that sort of thing very seriously." She felt a small smile curling her lips. "I suspect he won't leave her side until she's awake."

Quiet filled the tent for a few moments. "If that's the case then perhaps we should discuss the invasion. The ships are loaded, the army is ready, we could leave at sunrise."

Daenerys was angry, angry that she had to address this again. She'd already told him she didn't want to leave until the girl woke. Was once not enough? "We will leave when I'm ready and not before," she told him bluntly. "What of the girl? Do you know who she is, where she came from, how she happened to be in that alley or why she has the face of a man?" all her questions tumbled out in a rush, the words barely separated by space in a very unladlylike fashion.

"I'm not certain your Grace," Darrio told her with a smile and a flirty wink. "She is not a local that is for certain…"

"That's because she's from Westeros," Tyrion interrupted while refilling his glass.

This had Daenerys's attention. "Are you certain?" While she waited for his reply another thought came to her. "When did you see her? She was already in the tent when you returned."

Tyrion shrugged his small shoulders and looked rather guilty. "I may have snuck into the tent for a moment your Grace," he said in his most innocent voice, "but only because its all the men have been talking about, 'the girl who saved the queen, the girl who saved the queen', I just had to see it for myself."

The more time she spent with Tyrion the harder it was becoming to not see and appreciate the humor in his actions. She wanted to be cross that he interfered with the Maester's work but she just wasn't all that bothered. While she might not be ready to admit it quite yet, she liked having the Lannister around. "So you know her?"

"Well, uh, not directly your Grace, but with the look of her, I'm certain she's from across the sea, those angular features, the fierceness, I'd wager she's from the North."

"So she came to defend me? Do you think she was aware of the plot against me? Aware of who I am? Did she arrive to save me?"

The men around the table looked at one another, deciding who would answer. In the end it was Jorah who drew the short straw. "I do not believe so," he told her simply and Daenerys and she had no idea which of her questions he was answering. "In the alley I heard her speak of Braavos, and one of the sell-swords claimed she betrayed him, she carries a Braavosi blade, and that scar on her face…" he trailed off without finishing, which only angered the Queen further.

"What are you saying?"

"I believe our savior was a member of the Faceless Men," Jorah explained, after a slight delay.

While she'd heard the name the Queen knew very little about the order. It was common knowledge they were assassins, and she knew they had a temple in Braavos and that those sick of life could walk through the doors and never return, but that was the extent of her knowledge on the subject. The reactions of her advisors made it clear they knew plenty more than she did.

"You think…" Darrio stopped short. "She was that skilled?" he asked, looking to Jorah for confirmation. "I once saw a Faceless Man cut through a half dozen armored fighters and he made it look easy."

The old soldier nodded, but when his mouth opened it was Daenerys's voice the room heard. "Were it not for her, we all would be dead. She saved Kovarro's life and once Jorah was hurt she fought off the last two attackers by herself."

Darrio was impressed and did nothing to hide his feelings. "Truly? That small little girl?"

"Another skilled fighter is not a bad thing to have around," Tyrion pointed out between sips.

"You can't be serious!" Jorah retorted. "If the girl survives she'll likely be crippled. Not to mention if she is of the Faceless Men then it's not safe for her to be here."

Daenerys had no idea what it was about the girl that Jorah didn't like, but she was growing tired of it. When Tyrion was in the middle of speaking, she held up her hand and stopped him. He sat back in his chair and she took over. "Ser Jorah," she said formally, "you saw the girl fight, she saved us both, do you really think she'd be of no benefit here?"

His cheeks reddened under her attention. "She is a gifted killer certainly, and I am thankful for her assistance today but forgetting her injuries for a moment we can not simply accept her into our army."

"And why not?"

Jorah's anger seemed to bloom with every word. "If she is truly a member of the House of Black and White then she is not available to serve, because she is already sworn to another."

"There is royalty in Braavos?" Daenerys wondered, thinking back to childhood.

"Not royalty Khaleesi," he corrected. "Servants of the Faceless Men are sworn to a God."

Daenerys was surprised. "A God?"

"The God of Death."

R-C

Daenerys slipped into the tent as quietly as she could. She'd heard the screams and the cries for hours and couldn't wait any longer. The Maester looked up from his book when she entered and was surprised to see her. He bowed formally. "You… your Grace," he stuttered.

She nodded and gifted him with a small smile. "Sorry to interrupt your reading Maester, I understand you've had a busy day."

"No busier than yours, my Queen."

She nodded in agreement. "How is she?" she asked pointing her eyes at the girl.

"Still alive, thank the Gods."

Daenerys needed more information. She approached the bed and was taken aback to find the rumors true. Although her facial features were masculine, she had the body of a woman, a very strong woman undoubtedly but woman none the less. Looking at her now, she just appeared to be sleeping. Her shirt had been removed and she had two distinct sets of bandages, one on her side, covering the long slice she suffered, while the upper half of her chest was almost entirely wrapped from her neck to her breasts. Both bandages had small red spots on them. After watching in silence for a few minutes the Queen took comfort from the fact that the spots didn't appear to be growing larger. Also concerning was the large number of scars covering her body, detailing a lifetime of pain.

From where he was watching Kovarro listened but did not move, standing like a statue near the tent's wall, one hand hovering over his favorite weapon.

"How are you?" she asked the Dothraki in his native tongue. Unlike Jorah his wounds hadn't been bandages, but she could see the thread to some stitches.

"I will heal Khaleesi," he promised her.

She tilted her head to the side slightly. "Go and find Missandei, she will get your dinner. You need rest for the many battles to come."

Kovarro looked uncomfortable, conflicted between following the order and obeying his customs. "I…"

Before he had to choose Daenerys stopped ended his torment. "You may stay if you wish, but no harm will come to her, you have my word."

He bowed his head and adjusted his position slightly against the tent's wall. The Queen smiled to herself.

The girl on the table began to spasm and immediately the Maester's book was closed and he was over her working. While Daenerys demanded to know what was happening the older man ran into the adjoining tent and came back with ice. Wrapping the ice in cloth he packed it tightly around her body.

While Daenerys watched the assassin's skin went from gravely pale, to bright red. Concerned for the girl she forgot her role as Queen and allowed herself to be Daenerys for a moment. Without thinking about what was or wasn't proper she hurried to the bed and began mimicking the Maester's actions. She filled fragments of cloth with ice and pressing them against her overheated body. Each bead of sweat she noticed forming on her skin urged Daenerys to work faster.

Everyone in the room was startled when the girl's body jerked and she ended the silence with a strangled groan. With obvious effort she attempted to move until she ran out of energy and collapsed back to the bed.

Out of the corner of her violet eye Daenerys saw a tiny flicker of the girl's left hand. A movement so small she wondered if it was her imagination playing tricks. She reached out to touch it but was stopped when the unconscious girl spoke. "Too hot!" she complained.

Immediately Daenerys snatched her hand back, although she hadn't touched her. If the girl was already hot, touching a woman with the blood of the dragon wouldn't make things any better. With new concern she got back to work applying the ice while carefully ensuring her hands never touch the girl's skin directly.

Within the hour the fever broke and the girl drifted off to what appeared to be a more peaceful rest. Much later when she came out of the tent she wasn't the least bit surprised to find Missandei waiting for her. "You should get some rest," she told her friend. "It's been a long day and I suspect tomorrow will be much the same."

The Summer Islander waved in the direction of their tents and they fell into step together. "I heard the Maester say she may live."

"I truly hope so," she admitted. A long second passed before she added, as an afterthought. "It'd be rude not to thank her for saving our lives."

Missandei chuckled. "Very true your Grace."

R-C

Pain, that's all she felt, that's all there was, was pain. Weakly she attempted to move her fingers and after a slight delay, her limb complied. Keeping her eyes closed and her breathing even she listened to the room around her. There was a fog in her mind and she couldn't remember where she was or how she'd gotten there. The potential for danger had her on edge. Over time she got a handle on her situation, the physical aspects at least. Her head still throbbed, but her ears were no longer ringing and she managed to crack an eye on command, although it was far more exhausting than it should have been.

Who was she? Where was she? Was she dead? She started with what should have been the easiest of the three questions, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell, or at least she had been until she became No One. As for where she was or if she was dead, she still didn't know.

As her ears grew stronger she took note of another person nearby, she could hear them breathing. She pushed the pain aside and focused. It was coming from her right, close to her head. Wrestling her heavy eyes open a bit more, she took stock of her surroundings. A woman in a flowing white dress moved about the tent… was she in a tent? Why would she be in a tent? It was difficult to focus and impossible to remember.

Her hand inched toward her waist where she kept her sword but she found nothing there. She cursed internally as she shifted slightly in search of a weapon.

With little in the way of options she would have to make due. Waiting patiently until the mysterious woman got close enough she prepared herself. When it happened it happened in a blink. One moment she was lying helpless on the bed and the next she was awake, grabbing the woman's small wrist in one hand while she took the crystal glass of water from beside the bed with the other.

The girl shrieked in protest but the assassin wasn't bothered. Fighting through her pain she broke the glass against the table's edge, spilling the water everywhere and sending glass shards raining down. Keeping hold of a particularly gruesome looking piece she laid back and pulled her captive with her, pressing the glass into the side of her neck to prove she was serious.

Using her limited energy, she began to sweat and she noticed her hands shaking like some rookie. "Let her go!" a strong voice commanded from the doorway, but her eyes blurred and had trouble finding it.

The killer looked up and was surprised to see they were no longer alone in the tent. The pounding in her head grew worse as she tried to remember. Who were these people? Where was she? After a few hard blinks she returned to the present and a conversation she had apparently missed the beginning of.

"Are you sure?" one of the sword-wielding men in the doorway asked.

"Yes, I am." The answer came from the woman on top of her, the captive.

"Khaleesi…"

That word, 'Khaleesi', she'd heard it before. She knew it was important but she couldn't place it. It was as if all her memories and thoughts were jumbled together.

"Release her or I'll cleave you in two."

"No one is going to cleave anybody," the captive commanded. "I am fine Ser Jorah, I simply startled the girl, that's all. Everything's fine."

"Tell her to put down the glass…"

She ignored the angry man's words and looked backward, up at the woman threatening her. Their eyes met, deep grey against violet. "My name is Daenerys," she explained softly. "You can release the glass, no one will harm you here, you have my word."

The killer scoffed at the notion of peace and made no move to release her only bargaining chip. Her eyes were wild, flickering from her face to face.

In an attempt to reign in the situation Daenerys decided to try another tactic. "Grey Worm," she called.

He stepped forward past Ser Jorah and Kovarro and dropped to his knee in front of the bed. The killer squinted as she tried to understand. Who were these people? Where was she? What was going on?

Daenerys nodded to her Unsullied commander. "This woman is my guest," she said plainly. "Do you understand? No one is to harm her."

"I understand."

She looked away from the warrior and back at her captor again. For a second time their eyes met and for an instant Arya didn't feel her pain. Something felt familiar about this woman, with her strange eyes and white hair.

"Grey Worm, if anyone harms this girl you are to kill them. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

With her eyes locked on the grey pair behind her Daenerys spoke gently. "Can you put the glass down now?"

Choices bounced around in her head and she struggled to follow one path to its conclusion. Everything was crowded and chaotic and loud. Words kept repeating in her mind, words like, 'Khaleesi' and 'Grace,' and 'Daenerys.'

More movement at the mouth to the tent drew her attention and she nearly dropped the glass in response to what she saw. Tyrion Lannister standing between the two commanders as if he were King of the World. "More excitement?" he quipped as he took in the scene.

Memories belonging to Arya Stark raced around inside her head, broken free from their cage. She remembered when he first came to Winterfell, and how she'd been excited to meet him. Her hand on the glass lowered slightly while her grip on the woman loosened. He looked different, older with a beard on his chin and a scar splitting the center of his face. Still though he looked every bit a Lannister. "Imp?"

The violet eyed woman glared. "You said you didn't know her."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I don't. Truly. I would never lie to a Queen."

The glass shard lowered further as it all came rushing back. The heat of Meereen, delivering the Gift, using a man's face, fighting the sell-swords, the Queen.

She looked at the woman she was holding and the pieces came together. She knew where she was now, and how she'd gotten there. Whether it was Khaleesi or Queen she knew of only one woman who could hold such titles. Both of her weak hands fell to her sides and she dropped the shard of glass onto the bed carelessly. Free Daenerys lifted off her, and stepped back.

"Thank you," the Queen said.

"You're the Queen," she muttered. "Mother of Dragons."

She was unconscious again before anyone could fashion a reply.

R-C

It was mere minutes before sunrise when the girl on the insanely comfortable bed stirred again. Just like the last time she stared with her body, verifying the had control, one piece at a time. Still no blade waiting on her hip but she wasn't sure she'd need it. She felt no danger. The search for understanding was largely slowed by the pain she felt so intently that just breathing required effort

Just as before she could hear someone's breathing and she pictured the girl with the silky-looking hair, violet eyes and the softest skin she'd ever touched. She didn't want to scare her this time, in fact she felt plenty guilty about the last time.

She made it a point not think of her father. Arya Stark's life was over and she was No One now. No One didn't have or need a father. No One didn't need anyone. Still as she recalled what she'd done, holding a piece of broken glass to Daenerys Targaryen's neck, she thought of Eddard Stark and what he would say. He'd be appaulled surely, that she'd threatened a woman who had done everything she could to save her unworthy life. She knew her father would demand justice, and Arya knew what the price would be.

With her eyes barely open she saw a fresh glass waiting where the other had once been. Another glass of water? Was this woman foolish or simply courteous? The Northerner suspected it was likely a little of both.

Lifting head to see more she immediately took note that she was in the same tent as before. There were no weapons or chains nearby and only the water on the table in the event of an emergency. It seemed her hosts didn't intend to keep her against her will, at least not yet. And while that wasn't much, it was a start. The last thing she noted was that the face that was watching her was not the small pale queen she'd saved and then held captive, but the Dothraki she'd aided in the alley.

With a grunt of effort, she attempted to sit, pushing her legs off the bed easily and just letting them fall roughly to the ground. Kovarro rushed to her side, pushing gently on her uninjured side to lower her back into bed.

"You ride with the Queen?" she asked, genuinely curious.

His answer came in a language she didn't understand.

During her second attempt to leave her body upright she wobbled more, shook violently and cursed in every language she knew but she didn't fall.

While her focus was on getting up, Kovarro was speaking in the harsh, guttural voice of his. Moments later Daenerys arrived with Tyrion and Ser Jorah half a step behind. She grunted through the pain and pushed herself up before she curled in against her own body, her arm instinctively folding into her chest to minimize the agony.

Tentatively she took a shuffled step and wobbled.

Daenerys was by her side in a flash, guiding the killer's scarred arm over her shoulders so she could lead her back to the bed.

Neither spoke until after she was back, safe and relatively comfortable in bed. "First and foremost…" Daenerys began, only to be cut off by the Northern girl.

"First and foremost I must apologize to all of you," Arya said. "When I woke here I was confused. I meant you no harm. I don't mean any of you any harm. I thought I was in danger and my instincts took over."

"Its all right," she decided with a kind smile. "Can you tell us who you are?"

She took a deep breath. "I was sent by the House of Black and White to warn you of an attempt on your life."

From the instant she woke up and recalled what had happened the night before the assassin knew how this would end. She'd been around enough to know that Queens can hold grudges too. She put a piece of glass to the Queen's throat and threatened her. Some things are simply unforgivable. She thought of her father again and the justice he'd demand and she suspected this Queen would have something similar in mind. Whatever it was, she didn't think she'd have to wait long to find out.

Unconcerned by the prospect of death she thought of something else. It became common knowledge that the Dragon Queen really did have dragons, three of them in fact. Arya had always wanted to see a dragon, long before she became No One. Since it was rumored that the Queen feeds those she dislikes to her beloved children, it was possible that she'd get to see a real dragon before she went to meet her God. What a final memory that would be to take with her.

Waiting there looking up into Daenerys's eyes the killer -turned-savior felt peace. Death wouldn't be so bad. Valar Morghulis. As much as she hated to admit it, after her life this was a better end than she likely deserved.

Having made her peace with her God and her upcoming death she began counting each of her breaths as they left her lungs. "I will give the Gift to Nazir and you will be safe your Grace," she explained, wheezing in between words as the pain she felt spread. After a violent cough she added. "You must be careful, there will surely be others."

Joining her on the bed they sat together as if they were old friends. As she moved the assassin noticed the way the light reflected off her light hair and how even with concern etched on her features the fabled Daenerys Targaryen was just as beautiful as the stories she'd heard.

Long before today she'd heard of the Dragon Queen's beauty, her kindness, her compassion. It surprised her that for once every generous word spoken appeared to be true. She was kind, and compassionate and she certainly was beautiful.

Looking at Daenerys and forgetting about the crowd of people watching she addressed the Queen. "May I go see Nazir before I return for my punishment?" she asked, sounding exhausted. "Or I can tell your guard how to find him, if you prefer."

"Nazir hired you then?" Jorah asked from far away.

"No the House of Black and White sent me," she tried to explain for a second time. "Nazir wanted to hire one of us to kill the Queen. I was sent to stop them, kill Nazir and warn the Dragon."

"You saved us," Daenerys said. "Thank you."

"Valar Dohaeris, your Grace, everybody serves."

The tent was quiet and even sitting up became a challenge for the killer. Her vision blurred and the numbness spreading throughout her body was growing in both speed and intensity.

Reluctantly she looked past the beautiful Queen and met the grizzled face of her commander. "To the east of the market, past the smith, there is a slum. On the third floor behind a blue door you will find Nazir. Kill him." She kept her eyes on Jorah until she saw the former knight nod in understanding. Attempting to move her body she felt a rush of pain and bit down to keep from cursing. From where she was sitting on the edge of the bed Daenerys reached and helped her with a soft hand. Looking down at the hand on her bare arm, and then up into those memorable eyes No One became Arya Stark again for a moment. "I'm ready, your Grace."

Daenerys didn't understand so she looked behind her for help. Watching with grim expressions no one said anything, so she was forced to look to the woman for clarification. "Ready for what?"

"You can kill me now," she declared calmly, sounding more lucid than she had in minutes' past.

She cursed in Dothraki as the words reached her ears. "W…why would I do such a thing to the woman who saved me?"

"I harmed you, threatened you and you are a Queen."

"No, no I can't do that." Daenerys said, looking again to Jorah for help. "I won't do that to you, it was a simple mistake, nothing more."

"I wronged you and you are due justice, take it. I've delivered the message, I've sent the sell-swords to the Many Faced God and told your knight how to find Nazir. My work is done."

Daenerys looked from face to face, studying them each in turn. "Ser Jorah."

He stepped forward blade in hand. With his left hand he touched the Queen's shoulder gently. "The girl is right, I'll do it."

As her adrenaline began to wear off, she knew she didn't have long. Her words began to slur slightly and she shook, until Daenerys reached out to balance her yet again. "It has to be you," she whispered to Daenerys, in a haggard voice. "The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

Daenerys's mind raced as she tried to process the last few minutes. Did the girl really expect she'd kill her, over that stupidity with the glass? It was absurd.

R-C

"What did she say to you?" Tyrion asked as they ate together hours later

Closing her eyes, she did her best to remember, wanting to get the details correct, sensing that they were important somehow. "She said something like, 'It must be you, and then something about the swinging sword passing judgement."

Tyrion was quiet for a few minutes, flipping through the pages of the book he was reading, while picking at the food before him. "I've got it!" he declared loudly, drawing eyes from all around the room.

"What is it Lord Tyrion?" she teased, using his full title with an indulgent smile.

"The girl, she wasn't saying the sword passed judgement, she was saying 'The one who passes the judgement should swing the sword.'"

As Tyrion spoke those words Daenerys heard them again in the weak voice of the girl. "What does it mean?"

Tyrion chuckled as he picked at his pheasant. "It means that I was once again, in fact, absolutely right. Whoever the girl is she is definitely of Westeros and definitely of the North. The Old Gods and the Old Ways are still quite common in the North."

"That saying is from the North?" she asked, trying to understand the connection that Tyrion insisted was there.

"The people of the North have many lovely, equally cryptic, sayings, your Grace that is just one of them."

"Very well. Do you know where you met her yet?"

"Well your Grace, before crossing the sea I was fairly well known around all of the Seven Kingdoms, even the North. Perhaps this is a case of my reputation proceeding me."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "You told me you travelled to the Wall once, correct?"

"I did," he said with a wide small as he recalled the sense of power he felt as he pissed off the side.

"Could you have met her there on your travels?"

"I don't think so, a face like hers on a woman's body, I'd remember, but I will keep trying to understand." He took another long drink from his wine. "Perhaps when she's awake and not threatening to kill anyone she can just tell us who the hell she is.