Good advice, bad advice, ignoring advice.
Tyrion
A sennight had slipped away since Tyrion and Daenerys had set foot again on the shores of Dragonstone. The previous morning, Grey Worm arrived with a vessel laden with what should have been grain and wine, instead, it contained a source of disappointment.
The ship held what remained of the grain and wine—promised sustenance for the hungry and solace for the victorious. However, as Tyrion peered into the ship's hold, a disheartening revelation unfolded before him. What were ample bushels of wheat revealed themselves as an imposter—a sea of grass, deceiving the eye with its mimicry. The convoy, it seemed, was a ruse, a mere two hundred bushels. These grains, salvaged from the prior year's harvest, hinted at the scarcity that lay ahead.
The casks of wine, too, were a let-down Their contents, far from the expected richness, bore the mark of inferior quality. Tyrion couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at Cersei's trickery. How many lives had been lost because of her deception?
The lack of the grain was not the sole source of Tyrion's unease. Varys, the master of whispers, had vanished for nearly a fortnight, leaving behind a conspicuous silence that fuelled speculation. Tyrion couldn't shake the suspicion that Varys had slipped away, perhaps defecting to the King in the North. Daenerys, however, remained steadfast in her belief in his loyalty, bolstered by the implicit threat of her dragons. If Varys's true allegiance became apparent, Tyrion knew he would bear the weight of her disappointment.
Yet, there was another disquieting matter at hand—the dragons. Drogon, since his return from the Reach, exhibited a disconcerting demeanour. Listless and obstinate in Daenerys presence, his behaviour raised concerns beyond the realm of mere injury. Initially attributing it to the wounded wing, Tyrion harboured suspicions that a deeper malaise afflicted the majestic creature. Each passing day amplified the looming threat of Jon Snow's audacious claim to pilfer Daenerys' dragons.
Regret gnawed at Tyrion. He berated himself for not divulging Jon's intentions immediately upon his return from Winterfell, but now it was too late.
Tyrion assembled in the room of the painted table, accompanied by Daenerys, Missandei, Grey Worm, and the recently healed Ser Jorah, who had just returned from the Citadel. The meeting was crucial, and despite the missing original table, the new one crafted was fit for purpose.
The replacement, however, was a far cry from the magnificent piece that had once adorned the room. Hewn from humble blue soldier pine, it lacked the grandeur of its predecessor. The intricacies of the terrain were missing, replaced by a simple carving that barely hinted at the diverse landscapes of Westeros. It was a mere semblance of the original, a table shaped like the continent and adorned with painted details to infuse it with a semblance of realism. To compound matters, this replica was only half the size of its majestic forerunner.
Despite the shortcomings, Daenerys seemed content with the substitute. The place names were still there, which appeared to be sufficient. Perhaps, once she had successfully conquered the Seven Kingdoms, she could set her sights on reclaiming the original table—unless, it fell victim to an accidental dragon-induced inferno.
Daenerys stood beside King's Landing, Missandei seated to her left and Tyrion to her right. Judging by her expression, Tyrion noted she appeared to be in high spirits.
"Good afternoon," Daenerys greeted her council, and a chorus of "Your Grace" rippled through the room. "As you can see, Ser Jorah has been returned to me whole and cured of the greyscale which plagued him." A warm smile was exchanged between the queen and the blond-haired warrior.
"I'm just happy to be back by your side, Your Grace," Ser Jorah responded earnestly.
Daenerys shifted back to matters of state, her countenance growing more serious. "Rhaegal and Viserion have been missing for almost two weeks. According to one of my people in Volantis, they were seen flying towards Valyria."
"Is that not good, Your Grace?" inquired Missandei. "That means they will grow stronger there, as was the case when Drogon returned."
Tyrion found himself surprised by this revelation. He hadn't grasped the potential impact of the ruins of Valyria on the dragons. Perhaps there was a peculiar magic lingering in those ancient structures. Yet, the thought of revisiting Valyria was not one Tyrion relished, having already had a perilous encounter with the stonemen.
"I agree, Missandei," Daenerys said. "While having three dragons the size of Drogon would make conquering the Seven Kingdoms easier, I worry they would become more challenging to control, especially in their feeding habits."
"I think it prudent to monitor the situation, Your Grace," Tyrion concurred. "They may come back a little larger, but surely not as large as Drogon. After all, he has always roamed free, whereas the other two were kept under the pyramid in Meereen for a considerable amount of time."
Daenerys acknowledged the wisdom in Tyrion's words with a nod. "Let us hope they return to us exactly as they were."
"I'm sure you can keep them happy, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah gazed at Daenerys, his smile made Tyrion's stomach churn. No matter the circumstances, Ser Jorah's unwavering loyalty, would justify her most questionable acts. She could burn down King's Landing, and he would defend with her.
"Thank you, Ser Jorah," Daenerys acknowledged before turning her attention to Tyrion. "Have you accounted the food and wine from the cargo which wasn't destroyed?"
Tyrion rose from his seat, clearing his throat. "Ahem. I have, Your Grace, and I'm afraid the news is worse than I feared. After sorting through the remains of the grain, it looks like it was, in fact, dried grass."
"Dried grass?" Daenerys' asked.
"Why guard dry grass?" Grey Worm asked.
"I believe the caravan was a decoy or a trap. The scorpion, being in the wagon, suggests the latter," Tyrion said.
"Do you think your sister meant to destroy my dragon?"
"I believe that is exactly what she intended to do," Tyrion nodded.
Daenerys' violet eyes flashed with anger as she placed her hands on the table. "Is any of it salvageable?"
Tyrion squirmed in his seat, feeling the weight of disappointment. "I believe the wine would be drinkable, in desperate times, Your Grace. Although it would work wonders for injuries, should a Maester require it."
Daenerys turned to Tyrion, her anger a tangible force in the room. "This was your idea. Most of our ships are destroyed, our alliances are dead, unless Lord Varys can rescue Yara and Ellaria. Take Casterly Rock, you said. For what? What is the strategic importance of Casterly Rock, other than being your ancestral seat?"
"Your Grace, this is also the ancestral seat of my sister—"
"What use is it to her when she sits on the Iron Throne?" Daenerys asked. "No, my Lord Hand, I wonder whether you are blinded by your quest for vengeance." The accusation hung in the air, highlighting the growing tension between Deanery's aspirations and Tyrion's personal motivations.
"That is not true, Your Grace. Seeing you sit on the Iron Throne would suffice in quenching my thirst for vengeance. However, my motivations are purer than that. I believe you would be a better Queen than my sister. Is that reason enough to wish for you to take the throne from her?" Tyrion asked.
Daenerys eyed him. "Very well. I will continue to listen to your advice. However, if you fail me one more time..."
Tyrion bowed his head, the unspoken threat of dragonfire hanging in the air. "Of course, Your Grace. I won't fail you again."
Once the meeting concluded, Tyrion felt the need for fresh air. He ventured outside, traversing the grassy cliff edges until he reached the spot he frequented when deep in thought. Standing there, he gazed out at the sea, its surface mirroring the stormy skies above in varying shades of grey. Though it wasn't raining, the winds blew, causing his cape to flap until he pulled it around him. The sea before him churned with anger, waves crashing onto the sandy beach below—an environment that suited his contemplative mood.
Without Varys and his network of spies, Tyrion found himself devoid of the intricate web of information that had once been at his disposal. Left with only the knowledge he had gathered, he relied on rational judgments to navigate the complex political landscape. The most reliable source, it seemed, was Winterfell.
The northern castle had played host to various individuals during his brief stay. Most notable, were two influential figures from the Reach, suggesting fealty to Jon Snow. Key members from the Vale and the Riverlands also attended, showing support for the King in the North. Cersei controlled the Crownlands, the Westerlands, and half of the Greyjoy fleet. Daenerys held sway over Dorne and the remaining Greyjoy forces.
Reflecting on the political chessboard, Tyrion acknowledged the upper hand rested with Jon Snow. With a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne and the support of vast regions won through cunning and diplomacy, Jon had assembled the largest army in Westeros. If the Reach had indeed joined his cause, his forces were formidable. The alliance was strengthened by the potency of Jon and Sansa.
Jon Snow's words lingered in Tyrion's mind, a persistent reminder of the unspoken truth that could alter the course of events. Dragons were the missing piece of Jon's puzzle, and Tyrion couldn't shake the feeling that this absence was only a temporary state. Confronted with this knowledge, he knew he had no choice but to share it with Daenerys. The truth would surface, and the longer it remained hidden, the more damaging it could become.
In Deanery's solar, Tyrion found her standing by the window, her back to him, gazing out over a view reminiscent of the one he had sought outside just minutes ago. The solemn atmosphere clung to the room, foreshadowing the gravity of the revelation he was about to make.
"How can I help you, Tyrion?" Daenerys asked, her gaze steady.
"Your Grace, there was something I should have mentioned when I returned from Winterfell. At the time, it seemed... inconsequential."
"But you have changed your mind," Daenerys observed.
Tyrion nodded. "When Jon banished me from the bedding, he made a threat, one which I believed impossible."
"Go on," Daenerys said.
"He threatened to steal your dragons," Tyrion said.
Daenerys laughed. "How? I'm the mother of dragons. They are loyal to me." The confidence in her voice betrayed no hint of concern.
"Your Grace, what do you know of the First Men?" asked Tyrion.
"I must admit, I know very little. I believe they fought with the children of the forest until the Andals invaded," Daenerys said.
"That is correct, Your Grace. But my question lies in the abilities of the First Men. They differ from the rest of those in the Seven Kingdoms."
"What abilities?" Daenerys inquired.
"It is said that the First Men can inhabit the minds of animals. A rare ability, but some possess it,"
Daenerys looked at Tyrion as if he'd gone mad. "They can read the minds of animals?"
"They can control animals," Tyrion clarified.
Deanery's amusement faded. "He threatened to steal my dragons, and you didn't think to raise this with me as a concern?"
"They are the stories told by wet-nurses to children to scare them. Nobody believes in skin-changers. However, Jon Snow was resurrected from the dead. I cannot rule anything out."
"Do you know what would happen if Jon stole my dragons?" Deanery's voice carried a tone of urgency.
"He would be the most likely candidate to take the Iron Throne, Your Grace. Or there would be a dance of dragons between you and Jon. Which Cersei would win," Tyrion said.
Daenerys paced the room, while Tyrion poured himself a goblet of Dornish Red. "Do you think he has this ability, or was it an idle threat?"
"I would have said an idle threat. But the behaviour of the dragons has been different of late. It seems coincidental, Rhaegal and Viserion should fly to Valyria as soon as you left to go to the Reach," said Tyrion.
Daenerys nodded. "Maybe I ought to pay my nephew a visit. If the other dragons are in Valyria, he cannot do anything."
"What if he can control Drogon?" Tyrion asked.
"If he could, then I'm sure he would have stopped Drogon from burning a grain caravan," Daenerys said.
"I hope you are right, Your Grace," Tyrion said.
Daenerys stopped pacing, her gaze fixed on Tyrion. "I will wait for Lord Varys to return before leaving for the North."
Tyrion took a sip of his wine. "Your Grace, I do not believe Lord Varys will return."
"Why?" Daenerys asked, her expression tense.
"I suspect he has defected and allied himself with Jon Snow."
"Why would he do that?" Daenerys poured herself a goblet of wine and sat in front of the warm glow of the fire, opposite Tyrion.
"Lord Varys claims to work for the realm. He cares only about the little people."
"As do I," Daenerys said.
"Jon Snow is reputed to be benevolent and supportive of the people Lord Varys claims to protect. He is an acclaimed warrior, some say the greatest swordsman in all of Westeros. Jon Snow ended wars which raged for thousands of years with the wildlings. He died and was resurrected. He is viewed as a god-like figure," Tyrion said, painting a portrait of Jon Snow that underscored the reasons Lord Varys might have aligned with him.
Daenerys was scowling. "What about me? Am I not seen as a god-like figure? I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains. Across the Narrow Sea, they call me Mhysa. I can free the little people from their masters. Does this Jon Snow claim to do that?"
"He freed the North from the tyranny of Ramsay Bolton. He saved many lives. His greatest asset is himself and his wife. They have spread stories of his greatness, and people love him," Tyrion explained.
"People love me," Daenerys glared at Tyrion.
"The people of Essos do, but not in Westeros, not yet. You must win the battle of words. People must know you will be the better ruler and that you will be fair and just."
"And how do I do that?" she asked.
"Do not burn the Lords or grain. If you wish to turn the people against you, destroy their food. They care nothing for the Lords; all they want are long summers and full bellies," Tyrion said.
Daenerys stood, caressing her goblet as she walked over toward the window once more. "I will think on your words, Lord Tyrion. I still believe Lord Varys will return. He knows the consequences if he does not."
"If Lord Varys is indeed trying to rescue Yara and Ellaria, then you will keep your existing allies. If not, you will lose the Ironborn to Jon Snow."
"Why would I lose them to Jon Snow? What can he offer, that I can't?"
"Theon Greyjoy was once a ward to House Stark. He betrayed them, but I hear he saved Lady Sansa's life. I would not be surprised if he were to defect to the King in the North."
Tyrion got up and waddled over to the table. He placed the counters of the major houses over their allegiances, picking up one with the Lannister lion. "My brother Jaime is a mystery. Although I cannot believe he would ever leave Cersei, I have heard he may have joined forces with Jon Snow."
Daenerys pinched her nose. "Thank goodness Dorne would stay out of matters should Lord Varys not rescue Ellaria. If Jaime has joined them, then Jon Snow holds most of Westeros. I cannot see Dorne aligning with him; he has no ties to it."
"Your Grace, Jon Snow was born in Dorne," Tyrion said.
Daenerys stared at the table, shaking her head. A roll of thunder outside disturbed them before they resumed their assessment of the situation. "The worst-case scenario is Jon Snow being the King of Six Kingdoms without using an army or dragons. The best case would be the King of Four Kingdoms. However, he holds no seat of power outside Winterfell." She looked up at Tyrion. "Who would you say is the most dangerous? Your sister or Jon Snow?"
Tyrion weighed the options carefully. Jon Snow posed a greater threat to Deanery's claim to the Iron Throne, but Cersei currently held that seat. Jon Snow might have the power to potentially steal Deanery's dragons, but Cersei possessed a weapon designed to kill them. If Cersei could control the dragons, she would undoubtedly use them against anyone standing in her path. Jon Snow, guided by his sense of honour, would likely seek the most peaceful path with minimal bloodshed. If Daenerys were to eliminate Cersei, she could secure much of the goodwill Jon Snow had built up, causing the Lords to rally to her side.
"My sister is the more dangerous," Tyrion concluded, recognizing the immediate threat posed by Cersei's cunning and ruthlessness.
"Very well, we will concentrate our efforts on King's Landing. It matters not who is holding the city under siege. I am the great Khaleesi. My Dothraki will hold King's Landing. I think we should call for a council meeting," Daenerys declared.
Tyrion nodded, though not entirely comfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. However, the siege option provided him with an opportunity to turn the tides on their campaign. Once outside the capital, they could gather more information about the state of affairs in the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion just hoped that Ser Jorah could dissuade Daenerys from unleashing fire and blood upon the city. The delicate balance of power and alliances required careful manoeuvring, and Tyrion knew that indiscriminate destruction would not serve their cause well.