Tyrion was leaning against the railing and drinking wine - something he had been doing for a long time. He killed his ex-lover, he killed his father, and now he can drink himself to death. Unless Varys has some plans after he got him out of the dungeon before his execution - and that's probably the case, because he saw him getting closer to him...

"Eunuch, Spider, Master of Whisperers." he greeted him with these words, without taking his eyes off the beautiful waters of the sea.

"Imp. Half human." Varys retorted, to which Tyrion merely raised a toast. "There are faster ways to kill yourself."

"Not for a coward."

"There are many things that can be said about you, my friend, but you are certainly not a coward." the eunuch assured him, leaning his back against the stone railing.

"You didn't tell me why you actually freed me." he noticed.

"Your brother asked me to do this." he replied as if it was the whole truth, but Tyrion knew there was more to it.

"You could have refused."

"Refuse the Kingslayer? Dangerous."

"Not as much as freeing me. You risked your life, your position, everything. Why? We are not a family. You don't owe me anything."

He really, really wanted to understand his motives before he got so drunk he couldn't understand. He knew Varys doesn't do anything without a reason, and Jaime's simple request wouldn't be enough to convince him.

Well, maybe the threat would work...

"I didn't do it for you, I did it for the Seven Kingdoms." Varys turned to face the beautiful view before them. He seemed convinced that he was right.

"A drunken dwarf will not save the Seven Kingdoms."

"I don't believe in saviors." he assured, leaning lower over the railing and leaning against it. "I believe that wise people will be needed in the coming war."

War? Is one already over and there will be another one soon? Who will fight in it, most of the soldiers have not yet had time to bleed out?

"You'll have to find someone else." he said, even though he still didn't know what war he was talking about. "I'm done with Westeros, and Westeros is done with me."

"You have many virtues, but self-pity is not one of them." Tyrion just rolled his eyes at this statement, even though he knew it was true. "Any fool can be born into a powerful family and rise to power. But getting it yourself - it takes hard work."

"I'm not cut out for hard work."

"On the contrary." Varys assured. "You have your father's talent for politics, but at the same time you have compassion."

"Compassion?" this word in his mouth sounded stripped of all its meaning. "I killed my lover with my bare hands, and I shot my father with a crossbow."

He kept thinking back to those two moments. The way Shae lied and then he saw her in his father's bed... He had to do it, he couldn't just walk out of there with this knowledge.
But when he stood with a loaded crossbow in front of his father... He knew that from that moment there was no turning back. He could kill him or die, dealing with Tywin Lannister never ended well, because he only wanted to get his way. Win, no matter how many lives it costs.

"I never said you were perfect." Varys shrugged.

"What do you want? Exactly."

"Peace. Prosperity. Kingdoms, where the powerful do not exploit the weak."

"And castles are made of gingerbread, and moats are filled with wine." Tyrion snorted. He had heard many utopian visions from many people, but he didn't expect them from Varys. He thought he had enough sense to know that these dreams were impossible to come true. "The powerful are powerful because they exploit the weak. That's why they became powerful in the first place."

"Maybe. Or perhaps we have become so accustomed to this terrible world that we see no other way?" they were getting too philosophical for his current state... "If you sat on the Iron Throne, would you destroy your own subjects?"

"I will never sit on the Iron Throne."

"You're right. But you could help someone else with this." he stopped drinking and looked at Varys, who was clearly about to present him with the image of an ideal ruler. "The Seven Kingdoms need someone stronger than Tommen, but gentler than Stannis. A monarch who can intimidate the high lords and inspire the people. A ruler loved by millions, with a powerful army and a right family name."

It was even more utopian.

"Good luck finding him."

"Who said anything about 'him'?" Varys straightened up, attracting Tyrion's attention. "You have a choice, my friend. You can stay here and drink yourself to death, or you can come with me to Meereen and meet Visenya Targaryen, and decide if this world is worth fighting for."

"Visenya Targaryen? This Visenya Targaryen?" he was clearly surprised.

He remembered that girl, remembered saving her from Joffrey at the coronation feast. He remembered a girl who was young, but already destroyed by life. He remembered the night when it turned out that she had run away, only her maid had been caught.

"Since she escaped from the capital, she has spread her wings, my friend. Your old friend now rules Meereen, with an army of Unsullied and Second Sons, as well as four dragons. She could have sailed to Westeros long ago, but she hasn't done so yet."

Now this once scared girl ruled the city and had a good chance of winning the Iron Throne.

"That's why you believe she can change the world?" he asked, still not entirely convinced.

"I believe she is the last hope for the Seven Kingdoms. And with good advisors, she has a chance to succeed."

"As long as she doesn't send us away immediately." he replied almost instantly. He wanted to say 'if she doesn't cut our heads off right away' but he tried not to be that pessimistic. After all, he himself never did anything to her, in fact he tried to protect her from Joffrey's psychopathic tendencies.

"If the Queen is as my birds chirp, she will listen to us first. You can now prepare your speech." Varys did not share Tyrion's pessimistic thoughts. He believed that they would be able to come to an agreement with the young queen, who in his eyes had a chance to change the world for the better, after all, she had already abolished slavery in the cities of Slaver's Bay.

"I'd rather drink myself to death on the way to Meereen." Tyrion replied, lifting the goblet to his lips again. Despite everything, he agreed to go with Varys to Meereen.

And speaking of Meereen...

"Sons of the Harpy?" Visenya repeated, not sure if she had heard correctly.

She had hoped that the problems in Meereen were coming to an end. Eventually, she managed to come to terms with the law and created her own Small Council, thanks to which she knew what the city needed. Additionally, Rhaegal and Viserion remained locked in the catacombs beneath the pyramid, so people were safe. There has been no word about Drogon and Maelia since the sailors spotted the first one.

And now suddenly some Sons of the Harpy come after her... They murdered one of the Unsullied in a house on one of the streets where prostitutes work.
She had heard about them before, but no one had ever reported a murder to her before...

"Yes, Your Grace. They left it on the body." ser Barristan placed a golden mask on the table in front of her. It had horns and only two holes for the eyes.

"They've never killed before." she ran her hand over the golden mask, but quickly removed her hand.

"It was always just a matter of time. They don't like your rule and this is how they show it."

"They are cowards who are afraid to come to me and talk or even attack me openly." she sighed quietly and took one more look at the mask.

"Conquerors always meet resistance."

"Their own people conquered them, I liberated them." she corrected ser Barristan.

How to get rid of cowards who hide behind masks and only attack lonely people? There are already plenty of patrols going around the city, she would like to, but she can't send any more Unsullied to patrol the streets. There would have to be as many of them as there are citizens of Meereen if they were to keep an eye on everyone.

To get rid of the Sons of the Harpy they will have to kill their leaders. But first they have to reach them...

"Pōnta ȳdra daor ūndegon īlva hae lidōs, Aōha Dārōñe." she looked from Ser Barristan to Mossador, who was the voice of her people.

*"They don't see us as human beings, Your Grace."*

"Pār emilzi naejot gūrēñagon naejot ūndegon ra lodaor." she replied with full conviction in her voice.

*"So they will have to learn to see things differently."*

"The Unsullied did not fight to fall prey to cowards in masks, and I did not stay in Meereen to watch the city fall into chaos." she added. It annoyed her. Sometimes she had the impression that one solved problem was replaced by two new. "What was his name?"

"White Rat." Grey Worm replied.

"I want him to have a funeral worthy of a hero, in the Temple of Graces."

"The sons of the Harpy will get the message." Barristan nodded.

"They will be very angry." Mossador added his opinion.

"Angry people will make mistakes more easily." ser Arthur remarked.

For now, I'm very angry...

"We will get rid of them only by killing the leaders." she looked at everyone gathered in the room. "Find the culprits and bring them to me."

This day wasn't going to be good anymore and she honestly didn't count on a quick solution to the problem or any good news. She expected more worries, but surprisingly, she heard some good news: Daario and Hizdahr had returned from Yunkai and were on their way to meet her.

She was already waiting in the audience room, nervously moving her leg. They certainly must have noticed that there were patrols on the streets, even a lot of patrols. In fact, the only ones who weren't patrolling the streets were the ones guarding the pyramid where she lived.

"The expedition to Yunkai was a success." Hizdahr began to report to her. "The Wise Masters of Yunkai will hand over power to a council composed of former slaves and former Masters. You will decide on the most important issues."

"Good." she stood up, thinking that that was all and she would be able to return to her chambers.

"Your Grace..." Hizdahr's voice stopped her. She sighed but turned back to him. "They asked for some concessions." She frowned, but didn't interrupt him. "It is easier to rule the happy than the angry." she still didn't say anything, but she rolled her eyes, she didn't like it when someone circled around the topic like that, trying to convince her before asking a question. "Masters ask for permission to reopen the fighting pits."

"No."

"Your Grace... It won't be the same as before. Free people will fight in the arenas, moreover, by choice, not forced to."

What right did he have to even try to argue for such barbaric traditions? They should disappear into the depths of history and never come back. She will never understand how you can kill for fun unless you are a psychopath. For her, anyone who tried to justify this 'tradition' should be oberved, just in case.

"They will not fight at all, because they will not die for the pleasure of others. What kind of entertainment is this anyway? Do you enjoy watching someone die?"

"No, my Queen, but-"

"I've already said I disagree." she interrupted him. "You may leave."

"The liberated want it themselves, you can ask them about it. This way you will prove that you respect our traditions-"

Well, I have no respect for traditions that require taking life.

"How many times do I have to refuse you before you understand...?!" she raised her voice a little and there was silence in the room. Hizdahr didn't speak again, although it was obvious that he was searching in his head for some way to convince her. "You may leave." she said in a calmer tone, but her anger was still there.

She passed him down the stairs, not caring about what else he might have to say to her.

In the evening - as Daario returned from his expedition - she was no longer alone in the room. She enjoyed being close to him. She had always lacked warmth and tenderness, and she got it all from him. These moments were the best, she didn't care about anything, it was just her, him and their feelings. Something she had never experienced in her life before. She felt good being in his arms, even though that other boy was still on her mind.
And even though Daario also tried to convince her to open the arenas.

"Don't even start this topic with me, I won't open the arenas. It doesn't matter what Hizdahr has to say to try to convince me." she rose to sit on the bed and ran a hand through her hair, a bit ruffled from their fun.

"You should."

"Excuse me?" she said only after a while, because she was literally choked up for a moment. She should? Is he suggesting to her that it would be best?

"You should reopen the arenas." he repeated and started pouring them wine, standing at the table next to the bed. "My mother was a whore, I already told you. She liked to drink pear brandy. As she got older, she worked less and drank more." he returned to the bed and sat down next to her, placing a glass in her hand and clinking it with his for a toast. "That's why she sold me to a slave trader from Tolos when I was twelve."

"I'm sorry..." was all she could comment on his story. She thought she was the one who had a hard time as a child, but she always had a roof over her head, food, clothes... There are thousands of people who had lived worse than her.

"Why? I was a terrible child." she smiled for a short moment. "I may not have been big, but I was agile. And I loved fighting. They sold me to Tolos, and from there I went to the fighting pits. I was sixteen then."

"They sold you into slavery, forced you to fight in the arena, and you... Defend the arenas? Despite everything you've been through?" she herself would never defend people who hurt her, who hurt her family. She would never thank them for it, saying that thanks to them she is who she is and has specific goals ahead of her.

"I'm here because of these arenas. I learned to fight like the Dothraki, the Norvoshi, and the knights of Westeros. I was famous, ten thousand people were chanting my name. My Master made so much money from me that he decided to free me before he died. I joined the Second Sons, and then I met you, and now I'm here."

From this perspective, perhaps it made some sense, but she still had a hard time believing that he liked his fate and wouldn't rather grow up in some quiet place without constantly wondering how many days he had left.

She looked down at her wine, not sure what to say. Because of all this, she was just confused now, and then there was also this whole situation with the Sons of the Harpy...

"You are the Queen." He cupped her chin gently and lifted it so she would look at him. "People are afraid to tell you the truth, everyone except me. You've made a lot of powerful enemies, certainly not only on this side of the sea. As soon as they see any weakness in you, they will attack. Show your strength. Here and now, this is the only way."

"I sent the Unsullied to patrol the city. They do it in shifts, day and night."

"Anyone with enough money can buy the Unsullied." he noticed. "They call you the mother of dragons, but they are locked under the pyramid."

"Because I can't control them." her voice broke as she said it. She could still feel tears coming to her eyes as she thought about it. That poor child... "I don't want anyone to come to me to show the charred bones again." she raised her tearful gaze at him, but she didn't start crying yet. "Drogon and Maelia have disappeared, they may be near the city or at the other end of the continent. It pains me, but if they came back, I would lock them up just like I did Viserion and Rhaegal."

"A dragon queen without dragons? This is no queen."

"A better queen whose dragons will burn all her subjects?" she countered, raising the glass of wine to her lips.

"They are your greatest strength. Show it, show your strength, and don't hide it from the world like these dragons. There is more to you than meets the eye. I know it."

She tried. In the middle of the night she went down to the catacombs and ordered them to be opened. The Unsullied handed her a torch so she could see anything inside. She accepted it and began to slowly walk down the stairs. The sound of her heels on the stone steps was the only sound that filled the room.

"Viserion? Rhaegal?" she said, already downstairs. She looked around, but she didn't see them anywhere. She took a step forward and heard the chain being dragged across the floor. "Iksan vaoreznun!" she shouted so that they would definitely hear her, she continued walking into the darkness, because the torch did not provide enough light to illuminate the other end of the room. "Yn... Ēdan naejot gaomagon zira!"

*"I'm sorry! But... I had to do it!"*

Another sound of the chain sliding along the ground scared her a little, because it was dangerously close to her.
She had never been afraid of her dragons, but in this current situation... She was afraid of what they might do. After all, she locked them here, they have every right to be mad at her for it. She had abolished slavery, and yet her dragons were now slaves, locked in the catacombs.

She wanted to call out to them again, but at the same moment Rhaegal breathed fire right next to her, and in a flash of light she saw Viserion snapping his teeth dangerously close to her. Frightened, she dropped the torch and retreated a few steps.

"Gīda, gīda..." she stretched her hands out in front of her, trying to calm them down, but they were getting closer and closer to her, breathing fire or snapping at her.

*"Easy easy..."*

As a result, she finally retreated to the very stairs, where the dragons - held by chains - could not reach her. Terrified, she did not walk, but ran back up the stairs and ordered the entrance to be closed, leaning her back against the wall nearby to catch her breath and calm down.

It looks like she will have to find strength within herself rather than relying on others.

But... Will she ever be able to free her children if they are behaving like this towards her now? Will she be able to get closer to them? She felt like they were trying to kill her, not just scare her... She can't keep them here forever, or rather she doesn't want to.

Now she may have no choice. And at her own request...