Howl of the Dragonwolves

by Elphaba818

9 years ago, the Mad Queen and the Queenslayer died and left their bastard twins grow up in the cold shadows of House Stark. Torrhen and Lyaella Snow know their parents never got the happy ending they deserved. Now they have the chance to change things. They'll ensure their parents win the game of thrones. Or they'll die trying. TIME TRAVEL AU! Co-Author: Longclaw 1-6 as of 2-22-21

14. No One Listens to Children

I am so, so sorry for this long overdue update! This chapter took me FOREVER to finish, and I'm still not entirely satisfied with it. I never meant for it to run as long as it did, but I'm not sure how to trim it down anymore on my own. In addition to struggling to finish writing it, this chapter was also difficult for me to finish for the following matters. Reason #1 being that due to trying to change one of medications for my ADHD, a new med I was on for a few weeks made me reactively depressed for awhile and made it impossible for me to do anything creative, writing or artistic. It took awhile for that new med to leave my system which slowly restored my creative spark, but as soon as that was over, I was then distracted with trying to finish my online art portfolio to try applying for a job at Disney. My portfolio is still NOT finished and I didn't get that job, but they are indeed interested in seeing my portfolio for when I officially finish it later this week. Keep your fingers crossed for me, everyone! Working at Disney Animation Studios would be a dream come true for me!

I also give special thanks to my pals Longclaw and WrathofAvarice for their help in writing this chapter where I had writer's block! Thanks a lot, guys! :D

I know you're all eager to read the new chapter, so I'll keep this next note brief. I'm aware from the various reviews left in my story that some of you are displeased by the 21st century vocabularly I occasionally use during the story. I'm well aware that this is a serious flaw, and when I self-edit my chapters before publishing them, I do my best to fix that. However, I admittedly miss a few here and there in a chapter. I plan to go back and edit EVERYTHING after I'm done writing this story, but for now, I'm not going to go back and change that stuff. Why? Because due to my daily schedule, it's already taking me forever to finish writing one chapter, let alone going back to edit things. If I distracted myself with tweaking previous chapters right now, it'd take me even longer to finish writing the next chapter. I'll fix this stuff eventually, just not now. That being said, I'll do my best to be better at not making anymore 21st dialogue flaws while continuing this story. No promises, though! I'll TRY to not include them, but mistakes happen, after all. Nobody's perfect.

Now for the review count! Hooray! We made the 250 goal by getting 257 reviews! I'm so proud of you all! Whoopie! :D

For this chapter's goal count... how about we strive for 280 this time? That's only 23 reviews all together, not that many. I think you guys can do it! Just type in a nice little review when you're done reading! It's not that hard at all, lol!

I think that sums up everything I needed to say this time around, so go ahead and enjoy the chapter!

Happy Reading!

- Elphaba818

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Chapter Fourteen: No One Listens to Children

His quill flew across the page, every stroke carefully made to keep the ink from spreading. "Crescendoing whole note… tie it to… one more? No, two more… Aye, then quarter note, quarter note… and three eighth notes and a half note!"

Shadow nudged his knee with his nose, a small whimper escaping from the back of his throat.

"Not now, bud. Gotta finish this thought while I've got it. Can't let this idea go to waste!"

His wolf whined again, curling up to nestle into his side on the cool sheets.

"Two minutes, please! I'm almost done, I promise!"

Yipping in annoyance, Shadow twisted his neck to stare directly at the hand that had previously been holding the musical score sheet steady on the bed, then pointedly started licking it without reprieve.

Torrhen did his best to ignore the wolfish kisses and shoot his pal a scathing look, but he was so ticklish he couldn't force a scowl.

"H-Hey! Hey, stop — I mean it! St—" "No, s-stop! Please! Shadow, you're—" he cut himself off, laughing wholeheartedly as his friend wiggled his head under his arm to lick his neck and chin. "Come on, bud! That tickles!"

Reluctantly, Shadow backed away, cocking his head curiously.

Torrhen couldn't help but chuckle at his inquisitive look, and ruffled his furry head. "Thanks for listening this time. And for avoiding my mouth."

Shadow's tail swayed back and forth, delighted. He promptly tried moving closer again, but Torrhen shook his head and fended him off.

"No, boy. No more kisses. I've really gotta finish scribbling these music notes down before Ser Barristan comes in and checks on me."

The wolf panted, his ears drooping sadly. Licking his master's hand one last time, Shadow turned and hopped down off the bed before shuffling off miserably to cushioned area in the corner, his tail dragging lifelessly across the floor the entire time.

Torrhen sighed. "Come on, Shadow. It's nothing personal! I just can't afford to let this idea slip from my mind right now, and if I don't finish it now, then with my luck Ser Barristan will come in, see that I'm not doing that stupid meditation exercise he told me to do, and will make me do some other horrible chore!"

Shadow half-heartedly growled, finding a good-sized bone in his food dish courtesy of Missandei and taking it over to his cushiony area for a nice long chew.

Rolling his eyes, Torrhen shook his head and focused back on his unfinished music score. His future mother's song score was a tricky thing to compose. He had the basic melody done, and aside from maybe fine tuning it more later after he found a rhythm for how the harmonizing verses and the bridge would go, it'd be fine until he found Lyaella and could get her input regarding potential lyrics. Figuring out the verses rhythms were hard enough, but what made it all so much harder was... the melody was technically correct, but it still didn't sound right.

It was hard to explain, what it was exactly that was wrong when his composing brain told him the notes themselves were right. It was like his instincts were contradicting each other over the same detail in making the song sound just right. If there was one thing he had in common with his sister when it came to writing music, it was that they should always trust their instincts on whatever they made, because nine times out of ten their first idea was often the best one. This time though? His inner self was at war with himself regarding what to do. The notes themselves weren't the problem. The melody itself was the perfect tune for Daenerys Targaryen. Yet somehow... they didn't come across that way when he tested them out loud on his lute. He didn't understand it. Never had he had such trouble with writing a piece before. What was he doing wrong this time?

Frustrated, he threw down his quill and flopped back in his seat with a loud huff. "Argh! Why the hell can't you be here, Lya? Knowing you, you'd see what I'm missing here in the first five seconds!"

His sister was who he depended on when he reached musical blocks like this, just like how she relied on him when she needed input on any problems she found when combining her lyrics to the melody. Sometimes it was a problem with the melody itself that needed to be tweaked to get the lyrics to work. Other times, a simple change in a rhyme or particular word he saw when critiquing her words could fix everything. They shared a brain when it came to music, both of them only understanding one half of music theory while letting their counterpart make up for the area they lacked in. What he wouldn't give to be able to show Lyaella this score just for a few minutes. She could tell him what the problem was.

Maybe he should take a break from his mother's song. Giving himself some time off from this weird problem was probably what he needed. Instead, he should focus more on Lyaella's song. Her song was just as important as the queen's was. Before he could start though, he needed to drum up some ideas for what to do in her song first.

Slumping over in annoyance, Torrhen sullenly left the desk and returned to his small bed, sitting down cross-legged in the center. Closing his eyes, he forced himself not to move and tried to focus his thoughts only on Lyaella's song. He'd realized earlier that it was next to impossible for him to fully empty his mind as Ser Barristan had told to when giving him this weird meditation exercise. Every time Torrhen tried, all he did was make his brain go haywire with a thousand thoughts all at once, and the more it happened, the more frustrated with himself he became. Perhaps this time it'd be be more beneficial to try thinking about one matter in particular. He didn't understand what the purpose was to this whole thing, but at the very least he needed to give this stupid meditating crap another decent chance in case Ser Barristan came in to check on him in the next five minutes.

"Lyaella's song… Lyaella's song…" he murmured, his fingers tapping the side of his thigh in tempo with the beat. Unlike their mother's song that began at a regular pitch with a swift tempo right away, Lyaella's started a bit slower. Not a lot slower than Daenerys', just a little, but it was much softer in the beginning. A steadily rising crescendo from soft, swift lute strings plucked to a faster beat at an even level. It was strange, but whenever he thought about Lyaella's tune, he thought about the wind and the Narrow Sea. An odd comparison considering neither of them had been on a ship since they'd been babies, but he couldn't help it. Maybe it was because he knew the only way he'd find Lyaella again was by crossing the Narrow Sea back to Westeros? Made sense, in a way. She was back in the North somewhere… assuming he wasn't going crazy and all the things he'd been seeing during his fire flickers lately were correct.

His visions… that reminded him! He never had the chance to absorb what he'd seen when his fire flicked out during training earlier. Yet it'd been so strange. Unlike his last vision when he only caught a passing glance of Lyaella, he saw several things this time. Similar to how he first saw stuff when Daario threw him out of the reception hall. But instead of those moments being fast, barely discernible flashes, they all seemed to… linger slightly as opposed to the past few instances. Especially that last vision. That last one had baffled him far more than anything else he'd seen.

The first one was interesting to say the least. He didn't know how his visions worked exactly, so he wasn't entirely certain about what happened, but he was fairly sure that he'd somehow slipped into the body of his future self in that instance considering he'd had no control over his body the entire time. He'd been somewhere up high he knew, and the wind had been slapping at his face. Below him had been Meereen, the city on fire and always moving. Torrhen was so shocked at the suddenness of this vision he'd missed whatever it was his future self said out loud. Had he any control over his body at all, he would have tried forcing himself to repeat it, but it all happened too fast. The next thing he knew, a sudden surge of weary acceptance filled his inner being. He wasn't sure what it was that made his future self feel that way, but one thing he did know was that emotion had popped up due two separate, confusing thoughts the future Torrhen had been thinking at that time — he'd been hopeful that something would work out for him… yet he'd been unsurprised when it hadn't. It was almost like that vision had been a warning from his future self: don't force himself to do something he knew he was not meant to do.

The second vision was far more familiar. He'd been back in the North with Lyaella again, but this was when they were far younger, before they'd both realized what monsters the Stark's were. It was actually a rather bittersweet memory, that day he saw. He and Lya had only been a few days short of their fifth nameday at the time, and they'd wandered away from Winterfell for the day to follow Ghost into the Wolfswood. Not that they made it very far before their relatives tracked them down and demanded to know where they were going, but what happened afterward… it was bittersweet. One of the few memories Torrhen could recall where they honestly believed the Stark's weren't as monstrous as he and Lyaella assumed they were. Childish naivety though, looking back on that moment, but still… it was nice to pretend every now and then that that they could go back and relive that day over and over again. After all, had it never been for that day, he never would've had Shadow… and without him, Sōnar would be gone too, just like—

He shook his head, forcing the thought away. No, don't think about that. He and Lyaella knew their rules about those particular horrible memories: Don't let their thoughts linger on them, but never forget them. If they constantly thought about them, they'd become as cruel as their relatives one day because they let their memories define who they grew up to become. Torrhen had made a pact with his sister after that awful time. They'd never stoop to the same level as the Stark's, no matter what life threw their way. They would be better than the damn wolves and make their parents proud, so constantly thinking about that time was out of the question. They couldn't let their grief and anger overwhelm them, but if they forgot about what happened and how devastated they'd been back then, they'd forget why they could never truly forgive their Stark relatives for what they'd done in the original timeline. They hated the Stark's, and they would continue to hate them. He and Lyaella were still far from having hated them enough. People like them didn't deserve forgiveness, not when the cruelty they'd subjected on their parents and themselves would always have a possibility of happening all over again.

In any event, the first two visions should only be passing thoughts right now. It was the last vision he needed to puzzle over.

That was the strangest one he'd had. He was obviously in the North, but Lyaella was nowhere to be seen and he didn't recognize the area or the people in the vision… Actually, scratch that. Technically he did see someone he vaguely recognized, but considering the last time he saw said person was during the flashing visions when stupid Daario threw out of the Great Pyramid, he wasn't entirely sure if it was the same boy at all. And more importantly, he hadn't just experienced this vision as a passing glance without being able to do anything this time. For some reason, he'd been fully conscious in this scene, but he'd been as invisible as a ghost to almost everyone he saw.

It was so bizarre. He'd been standing off on the sidelines in his own body, and aside from that one boy, the others were strangers to him. The boy had been his age maybe, give or take a year, and with a thick mop of light auburn curls. Aside from playing fetch in the frozen Northern grass with a stick and a direwolf as black as Shadow, he was chatting and laughing with another boy at least a year or so younger than he was in a warm green cloak trimmed with heavy fur. Whoever the second boy was, he'd obviously been nobleborn as there was a sigil of some sort etched into the silver fastening of his cloak, but the glint of chains in it made it a House sigil Torrhen didn't recognize. Either way, it was apparent that the woman who'd been watching them was a Wildling judging by her accent, but she and the boy in the green cloak were oblivious to his presence. Torrhen had tried approaching the woman to ask who she and the boys were and to see if they knew anything about why he was having a 'lucid' vision of them, but before he could the boy in the green cloak ran straight through his body to talk to the woman, neither of them realizing he was there at all.

Torrhen had been beyond alarmed and yelped in shock. Had he died and not realized it? Was he a ghost now? Why couldn't they see or feel him? Why was this vision so different from every other one he'd had during his fire flickers?

And then it happened.

"Hello, where's your cloak? Aren't you cold?"

Torrhen gulped, a shiver running down his spine. Those two simple questions bounced around in his head, in the same voice as the auburn-haired boy. He'd been so preoccupied by how the other boy ran through his invisible-body he wasn't entirely sure he'd hadn't imagined the questions. Either way, he jolted and whipped around... or at least he tried to. He'd barely managed to catch a glimpse of the curious look in the auburn-haired boys' eyes before he fire flickered back to reality, slipping over himself when he tried to swing his training sword against the practice dummy.

He almost wished his fire would flicker out again. If it did, maybe he could try seeing that weird vision again. If he did, Torrhen knew exactly what he'd do this time around — he'd ignore the boy in the green cloak and the Wildling woman and run straight to the boy with the direwolf. Whoever that boy was, if there was any chance that he really had seen him there, then did he experience fire flickers, too? Could he see things? And what about that direwolf? That beast looked really similar to Shadow, but... he also seemed wilder than Shadow, his fur longer and more tangled. Where had that boy found a direwolf? As far as Torrhen knew, Shadow was probably one of the last direwolves left in the world, the only exceptions being Ghost and Lady Arya's wandering wolf Nymeria prowling the Riverlands.

Huffing irritably, Torrhen ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Argh! If only Lya were here! It'd be so much easier to figure this out if I could talk to her about this!"

"Talk to her about what, Torrhen Snow?"

Torrhen yelped and spun around. His eyes bulged when he saw the graceful figure of the queen standing in the open archway entrance, hands folded neatly in front of her.

"Your grace!" he exclaimed, scrambling off the bed to bow. "Forgive me, I — I didn't hear you enter! I apologize!"

She smiled, eyes twinkling as she waved away the formality. "It's quite all right, I didn't announce my entry. There's no need to apologize."

"Well, if you say so, your grace. But I'm very happy to see you. Please, come in!"

She glided inside, smiling appreciatively as Torrhen hurried to pull out the side table chair for her. "Thank you. You certainly know how to be a proper gentleman, sometimes."

"Of course," he said, sitting back down on the bed with a wide smile. "I know how one's supposed to act to those above their own station in life. And you're the queen. You deserve my respect."

Daenerys nodded, but her smile soon became fixed and tight. "Yet does that not extend to the rest of my small council?"

There was a lengthy pause, but Torrhen didn't dare break it. He'd been waiting for ages to have a nice one-on-one conversation with his future mother. He did not want to spoil it right at the start by talking about what he knew she was alluding to.

"I thought you just said that I deserve your respect, Torrhen Snow? If so, I should tell you it's very rude to ignore a question when it's been asked."

Torrhen sighed, whistling for Shadow to join him. He waited until his direwolf had trotted over and nestled his head in his lap before focusing back on the queen. "I'm not trying to be rude, your grace. If anything, me not acknowledging that question is the exact opposite."

"I beg your pardon?"

He glanced down at his friend, unwilling to see her expression. "If there's one thing I learned today when squiring, if I have nothing nice to say, I shouldn't say anything. I'm already missing out on dinner tonight because of my temper. I'm not risking tomorrow's morning fast, too."

The queen arched a brow, pursing her lips. Not that Torrhen could tell since he was adamantly refusing to glance over, but for those that knew Daenerys Stormborn well, they would see that she was momentarily speechless by the retort. The boy technically had a point, after all.

"There's a difference between holding one's tongue to keep from saying something rude, and completely disregarding someone who's talking to you," she said finally. "It's very disrespectful, Torrhen."

He let out a humorless chuckle and gave her a dry look. "Seems like everything's disrespectful, your grace. Is nothing I do right?"

Daenerys frowned. "I didn't say that."

"No, but I know it's what everyone's thinking 'bout me," he countered. "Am I wrong?"

Truthfully, Torrhen wasn't trying to sound cheeky. If anything, he was glad they were finally talking. It was just... hard not being annoyed by her choice of topic. Couldn't Daenerys waited a little while before probing for information about his horrible first day of squiring duties? He'd been waiting his whole life for the chance to get to know his mother. Having her lecture him about his behavior and short temper wasn't exactly the way he'd dreamed of this first conversation to go.

Thankfully the queen seemed to take the hint, and looked away for a moment to collect herself. When she was finally ready, she maintained a carefully neutral facade as she focused back on him. "Let's just say that there's been plenty of men in my family tree that have succumbed to Targaryen madness. I don't wish to see the same happen to you if we really are related. All right?"

She smiled politely, but Torrhen didn't reciprocate. He just stared at her for several moments before shaking his head in disgust. "Is that the only reason why you're here?" he muttered, hopping off the bed and signaling for Shadow to follow him as he stomped up to his desk. "Are you hoping for that?"

"What?"

He flopped down in the chair, reached for the page where he'd left off on Lyaella's song, and scanned it as he spoke. "You didn't believe me when I came here. That hurt, your grace, but when you explained why I understood. It still hurt, but I wasn't angry anymore. I figured you'd try to get to know me better when I was on bed rest. Every day I'd hoped you'd come, but other than when you escorted that healer here, you never did." Torrhen paused, dipping the quill into the ink pot and scribbling down a few conjoined eighth notes. "Tell me honestly, are you hoping to find a reason to officially declare me mad so as to throw me out?"

She sucked in a sharp breath. "No, absolutely not!"

"Then forgive my language, my queen... but what the hell? You've had plenty of chances to come visit me before now, and you wait until I'm doing this boring meditation-thing Ser Barristan wants me to do because of my temper. So seriously, what the hell?"

Daenerys stayed silent for a few moments, the muscles in her cheeks growing very fixed. Clasping her hands on her lap, she tilted up her chin and swallowed. "I never meant to give you that impression, Torrhen Snow, and apologize if I have. I'm — I'm still not sure whether or not to believe your story, but my reasons have nothing to do with who you are as a person."

Torrhen kept his eyes fixed on the page, bouncing his hand in the air in time with the beat. Scowling as he realized the last two eighth notes he'd just added wouldn't work, he scratched them out. "Then let me guess, you're threatened by me?"

"Threatened by—? What?"

He glanced back over his shoulder. His future mother stared at him with wide eyes, blinking incredulously. Did she really not understand what he meant? He hotly huffed. "You're the last official Targaryen left in the world, and the only one who wants the Iron Throne," he stated. "Me and my sister? We're Snows, so we can't claim it... but we're Snows from House Targaryen. More importantly, you're an adult, but you're not a man. Me? I'm a boy." He paused, watching carefully as the implications of what he was saying slowly dawned on her. "If you think I'm here to try to take the throne from you or to make your people support me and Lya instead, you're dead wrong! Lyaella and I don't want that fucking chair! You insult us both by assuming that!"

"No!" She cried, shooting to her feet. "No, no, no! I — I never once thought that, Torrhen. If — If you think that's why I... I..." she sighed, words trailing off. When she at last mustered the strength to look up at him, she slowly crossed the room in purposeful strides. "I assure you I did not consider that in the slightest. If — If you're telling the truth and you and your sister really are part of my House, then words cannot express just how overjoyed I am to know I'm not alone anymore."

"Then what's the problem? I might not be as smart as Lyaella, but I can tell you don't wanna get to know me."

Daenerys stiffened, her eyes flicking down at her wringing hands. It was the first time Torrhen had ever seen his future mother look so uncomfortable. Ages passed before she sighed and looked up again. "It's… It's complicated, Torrhen, and a rather private matter. If I've led you to believe I'm not happy to host you here, I truly am sorry. I didn't mean for you to think that… but I will also not discuss this any further."

"Why? You can't expect me not to be insulted if you won't even explain why—"

She raised her hand, arching a brow. "I'm not obligated to tell you any more than that, regardless of whether or not you believe me."

That shut him up. He couldn't even retort that, not when he'd said the exact same thing during their first meeting when she and her small council had been prying too much into that day so many years ago.

With a heated growl, he stubbornly looked back down at his unfinished music score and focused on the current measure. He wracked his brain, struggling to figure out what the next notes should be.

The queen blinked, peering over his shoulder. "What's that you're working on?"

"Just a song, I'm writing. Well, composing, anyway."

"You're a composer?" She selected a few dry pages off on the side, flipping through them with great interest. "You... You wrote all this yourself? Truly?"

Torrhen nodded, reaching for his quill without looking away from his current page. "Mm-hmm. Me and Lyaella love music, and especially songwriting. But please put those back exactly where you found them when you're done looking. I'm working on two separate songs right now and I don't want the pages getting mixed up."

He saw her absently nod out of the corner of his eye, her attention focused on the music sheets themselves. "What an unusual pastime! I never had the opportunity to learn any of the arts, though I wish I had."

"It's not like it's too late, Queen Daenerys," he shrugged, scribbling down a C#. "If you wanna learn, you should. I'm sure if you asked around, you could find someone in the city who could teach you any instrument you want."

She chuckled and shook her head. "No, no. I'm afraid I don't have time to learn music. Being queen is a full time job, especially with all the riots and rebuilding going on."

"Oh, right. Makes sense, I guess."

"I'll try to remember that though when I finally take the Iron Throne. It'd be nice to learn a relaxing skill once things settle down…"

Torrhen frowned. "With respect, your grace, if you want to learn, do it now. Don't wait."

She blinked, puzzled. "Beg your pardon?"

"I'm a Northerner, your grace, and House Stark is the leading House in the North," he said gruffly, the ink from his quill almost bleeding through the paper from how harshly he was pressing down. "I personally don't think much about the only well known survivor of House Stark, Lady Sansa, but their words are ones me and my sister abide by."

"Winter is Coming?"

"Aye, that's right."

"Well, what do they matter? The Starks were House Targaryen's enemy during the rebellion. If they've been wiped out, that's good news."

The fluttering of his quill feather stilled. "Come again?"

"They were my — well, possibly our family's enemy, Torrhen. If they're gone, that's one less—"

"No, I mean you think they're all gone?"

The queen was muddled. "You said so yourself. Whoever this Lady Sansa is, she's the only Stark left."

"I said Sansa Stark is the only well known member of House Stark left," he retorted, spinning around in his seat. "I never said she was the only one."

"Is there a difference?"

Torrhen didn't answer. He just stared at her, eyes bulging before shaking his head. "Incredible. Just incredible…"

"What?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Do you have something you wish to say?"

"Oh, there's plenty I wish to say, my queen."

She frowned, lips pressed tight. "And…?"

"And you don't want to hear any of it, believe me." He paused, tapping his fingers in tempo with the notes he just added in. Nodding in satisfaction, he drew in the next blank row of the music score. "You'll think I'm being cheeky and will probably add onto Ser Barristan's punishment."

He stared at the score and tried to think how to start the next measure, but a long shadow suddenly fell over the page. Daenerys' shadow.

"You may speak your mind. I won't punish you for your opinion."

Torrhen blew a loose curl out of his eyes and looked up. "It's just… you plan to take the Iron Throne, right?"

"Of course. It was stolen from House Targaryen. I have every right to stake my claim for it, being the rightful heir."

"Yet you don't know much about what's currently happening in Westeros? You aren't keeping track of the current political matters, or paying attention to the War of the Five King's?"

Silence spread between them for the longest time, Daenerys looking quite conflicted as she bit her lip. Torrhen was rather pleased to see her looking so pensive. It was important for her to educate herself on these things if she was to win the game of thrones this time around. Perhaps dropping little ideas like that was the best way to approach her on fixing her mistakes regarding Meereen, too.

Sadly, Daenerys didn't press the subject. She merely quirked her head as she regarded him before brushing the matter aside. She flipped through more of the music sheets, perusing them carefully. "How does this one go?" she asked, fishing out the first page in the pile. "The tune, I mean, and where are the lyrics? Did you write them down separately?"

Torrhen glanced over vaguely, but then jerked when he noticed which music sheets in particular she was looking over.

"No! Not those!" He cried, eyes bulging in panic as he leapt up, snatching them away. "You… You can't! Not those ones!"

Daenerys jolted, lips parting as he scrambled to gather those pages and a handful of others on the desk before dashing across the room to dump them on the bedside table. It wasn't until he stiffly walked back over that she found her voice. "I… I'm sorry? I don't understand…"

His whole face was on fire. Was this how Lyaella felt all the time whenever she was embarrassed? Seven hells, how did she live?! He was only enduring this for a few seconds out of panic that his mother had seen her unfinished song, and he already felt like jumping out the window out of humiliation that she'd seen the mess it was right now. Wiping away the thin sheens of sweat covering his palms, Torrhen bent his head, unable to look her in the eye. "That… That song's personal, all right?"

"Personal? How so? I mean, you told me I could—"

"I meant you could look over these pages here!" He snapped, his flush spreading all the way down his neck as he waved his hand at the sheets of Lyaella's song. Seizing one at random, he thrust it into Daenerys' chest and speed walked out onto the balcony. Shadow trotted along at his heels, but he was only vaguely aware of his friend. Going straight to the railing, he slumped down to rest his elbows and gazed sullenly at the ocean. The queen was free to admire his song for his sister as much as she wanted, but she couldn't see her own song. Not yet. Not when it was still as rough and awful as it was. Only when it was a bit more polished could she be allowed to see it.

"Torrhen?" She called, following him out. "Are you all right?"

He ignored her and kept staring at the sea. He'd joked with Lyaella that he'd cross the Narrow Sea to get back to her if they were ever separated, but he never thought they ever would be. His sister was out there somewhere, possibly all alone aside from Sōnar. Was she all right? Was he doing the right thing by staying in Meereen with their mother? Should he be encouraging her to abandon Meereen and sail for Westeros immediately to find her? Should he leave instead? Why was he here? What was he supposed to do?

She joined him at the railing, standing on Shadow's free side. From the corner of his eye, he saw her smile before gazing out happily at the breathtaking view. "I've always loved the view up here on the balconies. I can see everything from up here, especially in the city."

He curtly nodded but stayed silent. He had no idea where she was going with this.

"I care about Meereen, of course. I will not rest until every man, woman, and child in Slaver's Bay is free from the shackles of slavery forever. It's very important to me… but you want to know what I love the most about this view?"

He turned to look at her inquisitively.

She beamed. "It's the sea. For as long as I can remember, I've always dreamed of the day when I would finally cross the Narrow Sea and return to Westeros. I have no memory whatsoever of our homeland, Torrhen, but I've dreamed of that day. So, if it's hard for me being here in Essos as the very last Targaryen, I cannot begin to imagine how hard it must be for you. You left Westeros just to meet me. You left whatever family you have just to come here. You left your home. But that—"

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "I didn't leave my family or home, your grace," he said, sounding quite harsh. "Don't think for a moment I'd do something like that."

She tilted her head, puzzled. "What? But — But you said before—"

"Me and Lya got separated from each other, that's not the same as leaving. And we left our relatives, not our family," he explained. "Our aunts and uncle? We share blood with them, but they are not our family. As far as family goes, we have each other. We have Sōnar and Shadow. Our—" he paused, bowing his head as he thickly swallowed. It was hard finding the right words to explain this without giving too much away. "Our father's tomb… we like to visit it whenever we want to talk to him or our mother. She's not… not buried with him, but we wrote her name on his statue in a hidden area. Father's tomb in the crypts… that's the only place me and Lya consider to be like home, but that's it. Where we grew up? Our solar? The weirwood in the godswood?" He shook his head, disgusted. "It's just a place we once lived. It is not our home."

Silence reigned. The queen stared in disbelief. Torrhen couldn't bear to see her pitying gaze. Cheeks flaming red, he hotly huffed and kept his eyes on the ocean. Shadow whined, nudging up against his legs, but Torrhen only absently scratched him. Better to look at the sea rather than at his pal and risk seeing her sad eyes.

Then, quite unexpectedly, soft fingers tucked under his chin and guided his head around to see a gentle smile on the queen's face. Torrhen blinked as his future mother cupped his cheek with her hand.

"I suppose we have something in common, Torrhen," she said. "I've spent all my life here in Essos, yet I do not see this land as my home. To everyone on this side of the sea, I am just foreigner who doesn't belong anywhere. But you are luckier than me in one regard."

"Luckier? How? Because I still grew up in Westeros?"

"No — Well, yes. Yes, of course, Torrhen. If you and your sister truly are of Targaryen descent, then you're indeed lucky to have grown up on the right continent, not on the streets like I did."

"What? You — You were on—?"

"Another story for another time. That's not even what I referring to. I meant, you're luckier than I was to have someone you love as family, and for them to love you in return."

Torrhen blinked, surprised. "Wait… do you mean Lyaella?"

She nodded. "Of course. Having a sibling that loves you is wonderful. To know that you love your sister and she loves you in return… I'll admit, I'm envious."

"You… You envy me? That's—"

"Hard to believe? I'm sure it must be from your perspective, but it's true, Torrhen. You might be alone right now being separated from your sister, bu you still have a family. I on the other hand am alone as I'm the last Targaryen. I have no one."

"That's not true!" Torrhen snapped, folding his arms. "I'm here, aren't I? I'm family. You're not alone so long as I'm around."

Daenerys laughed. "Well, I suppose so… but that depends on if your telling the truth about that."

"I am!"

"How am I to know that? I can see you were at least telling the truth about having violet eyes, but for all I know, you might be sired from one of the other few Houses in Westeros with the blood of Old Valyrian. House Velaryon, for example."

"They're from the Driftmark. That's in the Crownlands."

"My point, Torrhen, is that aside from your eyes you look like a perfect Northerner while your sister looks like a Targaryen. Assuming for a moment you really are telling the truth, how am I to know? How have the two of you kept up with your Targaryen heritage in a way you can prove to me if your relatives tried to suppress it?"

Torrhen frowned. That was a fair question, but he couldn't answer it. Not just because it would give away too many details about the future, but the full truth brought up so many bad memories. Memories he'd never forget because of his Northern heritage, but one's he and Lya didn't talk about. How many times did he have to play Truth or Half-Truth to keep from explaining that day in excruciating detail?

"I can't really prove that, your grace, but don't take that as an excuse," he grumbled, scuffing the ground with his heel. "Were it up to me and Lyaella, we'd be more in touch with our Targaryen side. At the very least, we'd be fluent in High Valyrian and would know more than just sōnar, dracarys, and—" he paused, swallowing a lump as his chest grew tight. His eyes burned at what he'd almost said, the third High Valyrian word that neither he nor Lyaella ever dared to utter. It hurt, remembering it. Remembering what he almost had. Lyaella too, in a way. She lost something, too. If it weren't for their fucking Stark relatives—!

A hand suddenly fell upon his shoulder. "Is everything all right?"

Sucking in a breath, Torrhen nodded, pushing away the painful thoughts. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that. "Aye, I'm fine, your grace. Anyway, we'd know our Targaryen family history by heart, if we could. But it's not our fault! Our relatives… they wouldn't let us. They forbade the only person we know of who somewhat knows High Valyrian to teach us how to speak it, so aside from asking him about those three words, we don't know the language. Aside from giving us bare minimal history lessons, we don't even know that much about Targaryen history 'cause they threw all those history books into the fire. And you know why?"

"…Why?"

"'Cause they caught me and Lya play-acting a Targaryen war with Sōnar and Shadow when we were little. We weren't actually trying to start a real war or hurt anyone! We were playing! But it didn't matter. The minute they saw that, they ordered all the history books to be burned to a crisp. Lya and I only managed to smuggle out one, and we only look at it when we know we won't be bothered by anyone for hours at a time. We want to know more about Targaryen roots, we just weren't allowed to. It's not our fault."

Daenerys stared at him as she sadly sighed. "No, it wasn't," she agreed. "I'll have to speak to Ser Barristan and Missandei about this later, I suppose."

"Your grace?"

"I'm not saying I do or don't believe you're story yet, Torrhen, but if you're going to be staying in Essos, it's important you learn High Valyrian. Almost everyone in Meereen knows Valyrian, so you must be able to speak and read the language. I'll explain to Ser Barristan the importance of this so he won't keep you working late on your squire duties so Missandei can have time to teach you."

"Oh, all right. But can't you teach me, your grace? You know High Valyrian, too. I saw you that day of the execution."

"Again, I have to devote my time to getting Meereen back on its feet. Perhaps when things settle down I can assist Missandei in teaching you, but for now I must have you learn solely from her."

"Okay."

"Getting back to the topic at hand, what about this dragon you keep mentioning? The one you claim is your sister's companion?"

"Sōnar? What about her?"

"You wish to prove to me that you're telling the truth about us being related, yes? Well, as the Mother of Dragons, I consider myself well versed in dragon knowledge. What can you tell me about your sister's dragon?"

Torrhen fell silent, rubbing his chin as he thought about Sōnar. "I'm not really sure what you want me to say, Queen Daenerys. Like you said, you're the Dragon Queen. You'd know more about this than me and Lya would."

Daenerys frowned. "Are you saying you can't tell me any specific details about Sōnar? If you can't, I'll be inclined to believe this dragon doesn't really exist."

"No, I just don't know what you want me to tell you that you wouldn't already know. I don't know if Sōnar is similar or different from your dragons, so whatever I say may or may not be believable. I honestly don't know."

She softened. "Ah, I see. Well, how about this? You tell me whatever you can think of regarding Sōnar as we head downstairs, and then you judge for yourself if she's similar or different?"

Torrhen jolted. "Your grace?"

"I would like to introduce you to my sons. Would you like to meet my dragons, Torrhen Snow?"

---

It was strange, how nervous she was. Dany thought she'd been at the peak of her uneasiness when she first arrived at her young guest's chamber. Now she knew she'd only been slightly on edge, nowhere near as anxious as she felt whilst leading Torrhen outside to the entrance of the catacombs, a select number of Unsullied escorting them.

It seemed so simple when she proposed this idea to Missandei. She needed to know for sure if Torrhen was related to her, but because he was so hesitant to reveal certain details about his past, his story had so many holes in it and seemed unbelievable. Yet somehow he indeed had violet eyes like her own, the sister he spoke of had silver hair and had a dragon that was not one of her sons, and while she had never known her brother Rhaegar, Ser Barristan claimed that Torrhen shared a remarkable resemblance to him aside from his dark Northern coloring. It made it all so complicated to know if he was telling the truth. Hence the necessity in introducing Torrhen to her children now that he was healed. Drogon might still be missing and was the one she shared the deepest bond with out of all her sons, but Viserion and Rhaegal were still very important to her.

Dragons were highly intelligent creatures, far wiser than the common man. If Torrhen was telling the truth about being of Targaryen descent and that he and his sister hatched their own dragon, the best way to test that was having him interact with her dragons. If he was lying, her sons would become hostile and wouldn't allow him to approach. If he was telling the truth, they'd sense the Valyrian magic flowing through his veins and would be open and gentle towards him. Not even Ser Jorah had been able to pet her sons since they'd grown larger than dogs, and he'd been there when they were born.

Still, Dany couldn't help the pangs of guilt eating away at her with every step she made. It was one thing to act sneaky like when she deceived the slavers in Astapor. It was another to act this way when her target was only a child. Doing this was necessary… but was it right?

Torrhen was oblivious to her thoughts and happily followed with a spring in his step. "What are your dragons like, Queen Daenerys?" he asked. "I know you've got three, but one's not in the city right now, right? I saw that big black one fly off a while back. Do you know where that one is? Do your other two dragons miss him?"

"The black one is Drogon, Torrhen," she replied, forcing a tight smile. "Out of all three of my sons, he's always been the one I've had the deepest connection with."

"Like a bond?"

"Yes, precisely. How did you—?"

He grinned, bouncing up and down. "Again, Lyaella has Sōnar, and I have Shadow. We have bonds with them stronger than any other in the world. Right, bud?"

His wolf yipped in confirmation, trotting faster to be at his boys' side.

Torrhen chuckled, fingers fisting through his black fur. "Right, good boy."

"I'm sure you and your… wolf companion here have a unique friendship, Torrhen," she added, her eyes drifting over to the boy's ever-present shadow much like its own namesake. "I admit I do not know much of anything about animals from the North, but I do not believe you fully understand just what a true bond is."

Torrhen's eyes immediately snapped back to her. "Direwolf, your grace, and pardon me?"

Dany frowned. The slight edge to his words was unmistakable, and upon hearing her own words out loud, she couldn't even blame him for his anger. "I — Forgive me, Torrhen. That came out wrong."

"Hmph," he grumbled, lingering back two steps out of sync from her as they continued along. "That was incredibly insulting, Queen Daenerys. To both me and Shadow." The direwolf's blood red eyes quickly focused on her, and a low growl escaped from its jaws as they kept walking, its whole body sunken low to the ground and pointed ears pulled back in warning.

It took everything Dany had to ignore the shiver that crept down her spine, and she was secretly grateful her soldiers made sure to walk a bit closer to them while gripping their spears tighter. "I meant no disrespect, but I must rectify by explaining what I did mean. I'm not saying you and your wolf don't—"

"Direwolf, your grace."

"Sorry — direwolf don't share a special connection with each other. It's clear you two are very close, as you're quick to remind me about his feelings and he never seems to leave your side."

"Aye, he's not a pet, your grace. Shadow's my direwolf brother just as much as Lyaella's my sister, and she thinks of him that way, too! That goes double for Sōnar being like our sister. And they think the same way as us."

"How… How do you know that?" she asked. "I mean… what makes you so sure they think that?"

"What makes you so sure your dragons look at you as their mother?" He challenged, folding his arms. She swallowed, unable to answer. "It's because you have a bond with them, your grace, and a real bond isn't something you can just describe out loud. You just… know. It's as simple as that."

She looked at him for a long moment, then bowed her head in acquiesce. "You make a good point. I apologize."

"Thank you. Shadow?"

The beast relaxed and trotted forward, falling into step beside her. Dany couldn't help but tense as the wolf attempted to sidle its head under her arm, and she quickly clasped her hands together. "Um…?"

The boy grinned. "Don't worry, Shadow forgives you. He's just acting spoiled."

"Spoiled?"

"Aye, he's shameless when it comes to wanting attention. Especially if he likes you, which he does. He wants you to scratch him behind the ears and pet him."

"Ah," she murmured, still rather on edge as the wolf kept trying to nuzzle up against her side. "I… I see…"

Silence fell between them again. The queen let out a sigh of relief that aside from the wolf's nudges that was the end of it, but then she noticed Torrhen looking at her expectantly.

"Well, what're you waiting for, Queen Daenerys? Go ahead."

"Go ahead—? Go ahead with what?"

"Pet him."

"Oh! Of course, how silly of me! Don't know why I didn't think of that myself."

Torrhen chuckled, so Dany forced herself to let out a half laugh, too. She had to, because truth be told, she hadn't intended to have her hands anywhere near those sharp fangs. Torrhen's unusual friend was quite tame and as far as she knew had never attacked anyone in Meereen other than during the Harpy riot. Even so… one wrong move and she'd lose a hand with one quick, well placed bite before the Unsullied could react.

Still, she couldn't exactly be rude and turn this down, not when Torrhen looked so excited and the wolf was continuously pressing up against her. Flashing a tight smile, Dany rigidly moved her arm back to her side, forcing her fingers into the thick black fur covering Shadow's back. He couldn't easily take a nip at her back here.

But that wasn't good enough for Shadow's liking. Whining impatiently, he wedged himself against her until her hand was at the back of his neck.

She immediately wrenched her hand back, stunned. "Shameless, isn't he?"

Torrhen laughed. "Aye, he is, your grace. Expect this to happen a lot. Just promise me if he starts licking your face, push him away and yell at him if he licks you on the lips. That's a bad habit and I'm gonna make him break it. Hear that, bud?" he called, half annoyed and half chuckling as he glanced at his wolf. "You're not sticking your tongue in my mouth any more! I've had enough of your direwolf drool, and I'm sure the queen won't want you kissing her mouth, either! It stops now! Right now!"

Shadow merely yipped at him, tail wagging back and forth with his tongue lolling out.

"Ugh! Don't give me that look! I'm not joking!"

Yip yip. Wag wag wag.

"I'm serious, Shadow! Next time you stick your tongue in my mouth, I'll… I'll—!"

"You'll what, Prince Snow? Normally a man would never say no to someone tonguing their mouth."

They both looked up. They'd been so busy chatting, they hadn't even noticed they'd arrived at the catacombs entrance, nor had they seen the two who'd been waiting for their arrival with a select number of other Unsullied and the Second Son's guards.

"Ser Barristan, Captain Naharis," Dany greeted, nodding politely. "Thank you for joining us."

"Of course, your grace," said Ser Barristan, bowing respectfully. "It's no trouble at all. I see you brought my squire with you. I do hope he wasn't disrespectful towards you."

"No, not at all. A little… ill-mannered, perhaps, but not intentionally, I assure you. It's just a bad habit he must break."

"Very well. Though I do hope you at least practiced though meditation exercises I taught you, Torrhen."

Torrhen sheepishly shrugged. "I tried, ser, really! But to be honest, I don't think I did them right. I couldn't feel that calmness you told me I'd feel. I felt really stupid doing it…"

"Well, as long as you tried, that's fine, for now. Daily practice will help."

"Sure, sure," Daario grinned, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as his gaze shifted from Torrhen to her. "Though I must point out that without proper motivation, practice isn't always fun. Perhaps you require a partner for more… private lessons tonight?"

The glint in Daario's eyes was as wild and promising as ever, but unlike before, Dany felt no desire setting her aflame. If anything, her lip curled in disgust at how he cockily waggled his brow, not caring in the slightest that Torrhen was standing here with them. The poor boy scratched the back of his head, confused by the innuendo, but understanding enough to realize he was being mocked.

"I feel like I should be insulted, though I don't know why," he muttered, folding his arms and glancing up uncertainly at his mentor. "Is it honorable for knights to draw their swords and demand to know from someone who's being rude to them to better explain themselves when they don't understand an insult, Ser Barristan?"

"No, Torrhen, it's not," the knight replied, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder, his heated glare staying fixed on Daario. "Though in this case, I must say that it's a shame for that."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he murmured, eyes flicking to her when he saw her discrete head tilt. Thank goodness the knight knew her so well, for he quickly steered Torrhen towards the catacombs. "Why don't you tell me more about your meditation attempts? I can give you some pointers on how to approach it better."

Daario snorted. "Off to give him a lecture on the ways of the world? Take some advice from me, Little Prince — forget about honor. You'll miss out on the greatest pleasures in life if you're honorable and wait for marriage!"

"Marriage? I'm nine! Why in seven hells would I—?!"

"Ask your liege knight. He'll tell you why he's never known such pleasure due to his honor and vows."

"Captain Naharis," Dany hissed, stepping right into the sellsword's line of sight. "A word. Now."

Daario blinked but nodded, his hungry gaze swiftly returning as his eyes swept across her figure. "Of course, my queen. Whatever you say."

Leading Daario a short ways off, Dany waited until they were safely in the shade of another building before rounding on him. "What was that?"

He cocked his head, puzzled. "What was what?"

"That. Back there," she said, violet eyes narrowing into thin slits. "Explain yourself, Captain Naharis."

Daario snickered. "Oh, don't tell me you didn't find that amusing. He didn't—"

"Amusing?" He stiffened, jaw snapping shut. Anyone would have had they heard her. "You call deliberately taunting a child about adult relationships when he is obviously still innocent about such things amusing?!"

He thickly swallowed, his whole throat bobbing as he realized just how angry she was. "I-It's just innocent teasing, Daenerys. I—"

"You speak far too informally, Captain. You shall address me as 'your grace,' 'my queen,' or Queen Daenerys from now on, in both public and private. Understood?"

Daario flinched, eyes bulging. "What…? But—"

"Understood?"

He forced a stiff nod. "Understood, your grace," he sighed.

"Good. Consider this a warning, Captain Naharis. You are to stop behaving so presumptuously towards me in public. It is bad form to be boasting about our relationship in front of others in the small council. More importantly, you are to stop antagonizing that boy the way you have. Ser Barristan is trying to temper his anger problems, and your teasing remarks do not help."

Daario scoffed and rolled his eyes. "What does that matter? He's just another street rat, Daen— Queen Daenerys. He's just conning us to live here in the pyramid and to maybe be named a prince one day. He's gonna slip up with his story soon enough, so why should my teasing matter?"

"First of all, we don't know for certain yet if Torrhen is lying. Until I see undeniable proof that he is or isn't who he claims he is, I am keeping an open mind. That is the whole reason behind why I had you and Ser Barristan meet us here."

"What? But why—?"

"Secondly, if the in event that Torrhen is telling the truth, it is very important that he learns to keep his temper in check. I will not have that boy turn out like my idiot brother, Viserys. He could very well be the only living male descendant of House Targaryen in the world, and I will not have my family's name be besmirched simply because no one ever taught Torrhen manners. Perhaps once he's learned basic control over his emotions he could benefit from occasional provokes to learn to brush them aside, but until then you are to stop deliberately infuriating him. Is that clear?"

He sighed. "Whatever you say, your grace," he grumbled.

"Good. You'd do well to remember that from now on." And without another word, Dany spun around and marched back to where Ser Barristan and Torrhen were standing by the rest of the guards, leaving Daario no choice but to follow. They both turned when they saw her approach.

"I take it everything is well, your grace?"

"Yes, Ser Barristan. No need to worry."

"Can we go see your dragons now, Queen Daenerys? Please?"

"Certainly, Torrhen. Follow me, please."

Signaling for two Unsullied to roll aside the enormous boulder concealing the entrance, Dany waited for a few of the Second Son's to light and pass out torches to both her and a few other soldiers before finally leading the way into the catacombs. Everyone was silent as the party descended down the steps, their footsteps echoing in the darkness. Truth be told, Dany's heart was pounding with every step. The last time she visited her children they'd nearly attacked her, enraged that she'd locked them away. Hopefully they'd be calmer now and understand why she'd had to do that.

As soon as they reached the bottom level, the soldiers dispersed to light the numerous torches while Ser Barristan and Daario kept their eyes trained into the darkness. Her dragons were her children, but Dany knew no one else thought of them that way. To the Lord Commander of her Queensguard and possibly soon-to-be ex-lover depending on Daario's attitude, the dragons were still wild beasts, capable of killing her and everyone else in the cavern with just one fiery breath. Still, she paid their wariness no mind and instead signaled Torrhen to stay close.

"Stay right behind me, and don't say anything. Let me speak to them first," she whispered.

The boy furrowed in brows in obvious confusion, but slowly nodded. Smiling softly, Dany patted his shoulder and turned to the vast darkness looming ahead. With a deep breath, she ventured forward.

"Viserion?" She called, her voice echoing clearly. "Rhaegal?"

Silence rang out in return, no one daring to even breathe loudly to break it.

"My sweetlings, I'm here. I'm so sorry I haven't visited in so long, but I'm here. Please, come out so I can see you both. I even brought someone I think you'll be interested in meeting."

All was quiet in the dark chamber, so much so some of the Second Son's turned to one another and exchanged hushed whispers. Big mistake on their part, because it was at that moment two distinct, ear-piercing screeches erupted from the shadows.

Everyone else jumped, but not the queen. No, a delighted smile spread across her face as the sound of heavy footfalls emanated from within.

Out of the darkness came two, elephant-sized shapes with long necks and folded up leathery wings. Reptilian creatures, with emerald green scales covering one and whiteish gold scales splattered across the other. Occasional hisses and growls escaped their mouths as they prowled closer, but unlike everyone else there who unconsciously shuddered and took several fearful steps back, Dany wasn't the slightest bit afraid. No, if anything her smile became twice as bright and happy as she passed Torrhen the torch.

"Viserion," she cooed, stepping forward to rest her forehead against her sons' snout. "I'm so happy to see you again. Have you been kind to your brother since I saw you last?" Her youngest son warbled, nuzzling her cheek. Patting his neck, she turned and stroked Rhaegal's scales. "And what about you? Have you missed your mother, Rhaegal?" A small puff of smoke erupted as he snorted, and moments later he was butting his snout affectionately against her shoulder. "I'll take that as a yes," she laughed.

Her sons crooned as they basked in her affection, and for a brief moment Dany closed her eyes and let her troubles slip away as she pampered them with all her love. Oh, how she'd missed her children. Drogon was still missing, and for the life of her Dany didn't understand what had possessed him to leave her and his brothers the way he had, but she still had Viserion and Rhaegal. It'd been sadly necessary for them to be locked away down here after what Drogon had done to that little girl, but from now on she'd have to make more of an effort to come see them. She could tell by how they sniffed her hair and happily trilled with every quick kiss that her sons had been so lonely without her or their brother. Yes, from now on she'd have to come see them more often.

A shuffle of footsteps made her turn. Torrhen didn't try to hide his shock, and he stared at her sons with eyes like saucers and mouth agape. "They're… They're…"

The queen couldn't help but smile. "They're dragons. My sons," she laughed. "Didn't you claim to have one with your sister?"

He dumbly shook his head. "No — I-I-I mean, aye. Aye, we do, b-but— but that's not what I mean!"

"Oh?"

"T-They're… They're enormous!"

Another stream of merry laughter escaped her. Even on the sidelines, the guards had to hold back their chuckles. It was impossible not to laugh at the flabbergasted look on Torrhen's face. "They're bigger than your dragon?"

He nodded, eyes still locked on her children. "Aye… S-Sōnar's… Sōnar's the size of a horse, right now. Your dragons… they're gigantic compared to her!"

She lightly laughed at his bewilderment, then turned back to her dragons. "Viserion, Rhaegal, I have an important request to make of you both."

Her sons quickly stopped crooning and turned to give her their full and undivided attention.

She pressed her nose deep into the crook of Viserion's neck, hugging him with one arm while idly stroking Rhaegal's snout with her other. "See that boy right there? I only met him recently. Do you know what he claimed to be when we first met?"

Rhaegal's eyes shifted curiously over to Torrhen before focusing back on her, while Viserion warbled in gentle confusion while pulling away to look her in the eye.

"Vestas ziry tolī ēza se ānogar hen zaldrīzes. He said he too has the blood of the dragon. He said he and his sister are of House Targaryen and have a dragon of their own. Vestas ziry se zȳhon mandia issi hen Targārien Lentor se emagon iā zaldrīzes hen pōja own."

Her sons squawked, hooting and flapping their wings. Those watching on the sidelines tensed, but not Dany. She knew her sons, and they were only surprised by this news, not angry or defensive. And out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Torrhen didn't appear to be scared either. Puzzled maybe as to why they were suddenly on edge, but he wasn't afraid. Very interesting…

Shaking away the thought, she focused back on her sons. "I have to know if he's telling the truth. Would you both be willing to meet him, my sweetlings? You can both sense the blood of the dragon in me, yes? You'll know if there's any Old Valyrian magic in him too, right?"

They hooted and cooed in confirmation.

"Good. Then let him approach… but do not harm him if you sense nothing," she added, her tone sharp. "Understood?"

Her sons were perplexed by that last command, but bobbed their heads against he in acquiescence. Dragons they might be, but she was still their mother. They knew she was serious when she used that tone.

Planting one last kiss on each of their snouts, Dany walked back over to the young boy. "Are you afraid of my sons, Torrhen Snow?"

"Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. "They're… They're just so big! I can't imagine how much bigger they can get, and the idea that Sōnar will become as big as they are now? It's hard to imagine, that's all… And I'm glad Shadow stayed up top. Dunno how he'd have reacted if he saw how big they are."

She smiled. "Perhaps next time you can bring your wolf down here and introduce them to your friend. In the meantime, would you like to get closer?"

His eyes boggled even wider. "Can I?"

"Of course. It's the whole reason we came here in the first place. Go right ahead, Torrhen."

The boy thickly swallowed before focusing back on her sons. He was clearly nervous as it took him a long time to step forward, but he didn't dare look back despite his slow pace.

"H-Hello, there," he murmured, shaking a bit in his boots. "I'm… I'm Torrhen."

Rhaegal snorted, gold eyes peering intensely at the boy while Viserion growled, white fangs flashing as he lowered his head down to Torrhen's level. Out of the corner of her eye, Dany saw Ser Barristan grow tense. She couldn't blame him. She herself was on edge upon seeing Viserion bare his teeth at Torrhen. She stepped forward—

"Your names—" she froze "—they're Rhaegal and Viserion, right?"

Rhaegal squawked, more curious than ever. Viserion hooted, still suspicious, but no longer baring his fangs.

Torrhen's stance relaxed somewhat, but he still kept a reasonable distance between himself and the dragons. Dany wasn't sure what to make of that. While her sons were much bigger than he claimed his and his sister's dragon was, she still figured he would have tried to get at least a little closer. "I thought so. It's… It's nice to meet you both. Shame your other brother isn't here, though. I'd've liked to meet Drogon, too."

Silence filled the tomb. Rhaegal inched closer, sniffing the air curiously, but Viserion stayed right where he was, his eyes following Torrhen's every move.

"Me and my sister, Lyaella," he went on, taking another step forward. "We've always wanted to meet you both, and Sōnar would be overjoyed to see you, too. She's our dragon."

Twin derisive snorts answered him.

Torrhen frowned. "You don't believe me?" Silence. "It's the truth. I can tell you all about the day we got her egg. I'll never forget that day."

Dany blinked, standing slightly straighter. That information was definitely worth paying attention to. Even if he didn't try to get any closer to her sons today, this story could at least prove whether or not he and his sister truly had a dragon. Not counting Ser Jorah considering his exile, she was the only one amongst her allies who had seen her children while they were still eggs. Torrhen's tale could make or break his claim of being related to House Targaryen.

"We were five," he said, shuffling forward a few steps. "It was our nameday, actually. Lya and me? We hate our nameday."

Her lips parted, and she spared a glance over at the others. Ser Barristan frowned, and even Daario looked confused. They were just as puzzled as she was by that statement.

"Nameday's are supposed to be fun for children. A day all about you, eating sweets and getting gifts and feeling… well, loved. Lya and I never had that." He paused, kicking a pebble near his foot. "Our aunts and uncle? They took that day for themselves, to make themselves look even better in front of everyone. Every year there's this… big event that happens, and they always schedule it on our nameday. It doesn't actually have to happen on that day specifically, they just choose to do it that day. They don't care their selfishness hurts us, they do it anyway."

Viserion cocked his head, intrigued. Then he too joined his green-scaled brother in inching forward slightly.

"I can count on one hand the number of nameday gifts we've ever gotten. But our fifth nameday? That was the best one. We got Sōnar's egg, and… and… and gah!"

He suddenly sniffled, hands balling into fists. Dany was caught off guard by the unexpected shift in emotion, but before she could recover Torrhen mumbled something under his breath. If was too low for her to catch, but she didn't have time to ponder over it because he was already continuing.

"—and Shadow a few days earlier, but we still consider him a present from our father since it was so close to our nameday anyway. He was so cute as a pup…" More intelligible mumbling, muffled by how he scuffed at the ground with his heels. Chancing another peek behind her, the queen could tell no one could make out what he'd said, but her dragons evidently could. They crept even closer, lowering their heads to be at Torrhen's level.

Torrhen chuckled as he tread closer to Rhaegal, shakily raising a hand towards his snout. Dany's breath stilled. Her dragons wouldn't let just anyone pet them. Even amongst her most trust advisors, she could count on one hand the number of people her dragons tolerated enough to approach them. If Torrhen could pet them, she'd have her proof. Perhaps he could even bond with either Rhaegal or Viserion. Assuming Drogon returned soon and Torrhen's missing sister did have a dragon, there was a good chance that all the last living descendants of House Targaryen would be dragon riders, even if two were illegitimate instead of true-born.

"Anyway, when we were little, this… this woman usually came to visit us a lot. She didn't live anywhere close, but she was friends with our mother, so she came to see us whenever she could. Lya and I really liked her. Especially since she gave us our only inheritance from our mother. The—"

"Your mother's inheritance?" Dany blinked. "What're you talking about?"

Just like that, the spell was broken. Torrhen yelped and spun around. He'd been so caught up in talking to the dragons he'd evidently forgotten he had an audience. The dragons screeched, startled. Rhaegal roared as he backed away, shaking his long neck back and forth so hard his chains rattled. Viserion was like an enormous blur of white as he leapt furiously against his restraints. He flapped his wings hard with every attempt, desperately trying to weaken the links in the chain and collar.

Everyone immediately sprang into action. Torrhen whipped around in alarm, eyes boggling, and then promptly ran towards them rather than away. Dany signaled to the others to get him out of the way as she dashed forward.

"Viserion! Rhaegal! Easy, easy!" she pleaded. "Gīda ilagon, ziry iksos mirre paktot!"

She heard Torrhen protest as Ser Barristan, Daario, and the other guards dragged him back up to the safety of the entrance, but she didn't dare turn around. Her children were still on edge, and without her reassurance they might accidentally roast them all for supper. She was known as the unburnt, but that was one area of Valyrian magic she was not keen on testing out on Torrhen. Especially not when her soldiers were in range and were definitely not of Targaryen descent.

"Let me go! Let me go!" he screamed, fighting vehemently. "I — I have to—!"

A loud screech from Rhaegal drowned out the rest of his words. Viserion cried, tugging relentlessly against his chains and collar. Dany patted their hides, murmuring more soothing words in High Valyrian. It wasn't much, but it did placate her dragons well enough until everyone was outside again. Once they were gone, their roars and screeches gradually pandered off, and soon it was silent in the cavern again.

"I'm so sorry, sweetlings. This was my fault," she whispered. "I shouldn't have interrupted him like that. If I hadn't, you two wouldn't have been startled."

Her sons warbled, sadly nudging her with their snouts. Their disappointment was so obvious it broke Dany's heart.

"I'll try to bring him back another time, all right? I think he liked you both, but let's give him some time to calm down from this little scare first before trying again, shall we?"

Rhaegal and Viserion crooned, but Dany knew they were still unhappy. Casting her sad looks, the dragons turned and shuffled miserably back into the darkness. Her heart clenched in despair at their sorrow, but she forced herself to ignore it. She hated having to leave them alone down here, but it was necessary.

"I'll try to visit again later, my sweetlings. If Torrhen's feeling up to it, I'll try convincing him to come back, too."

Her sons made no acknowledgment of having heard her. Sighing sadly, Dany slowly went back upstairs.

Two Unsullied sealed off the entrance again as she approached Torrhen and the others. The boy appeared to be in slight shock after the whole ordeal, and Ser Barristan was doing his best to gently coax him out of it while his direwolf pressed up against his side.

"They… They were…"

"It's all right, Torrhen. You're safe, now."

"No… N-No, they—"

"I know, I know. Her grace's dragons are wondrous creatures, but never forget that they are still dangerous. Let today be a lesson for you, Torrhen."

"What…? I… I d-don't—"

"For fuck's sake, Little Prince! Snap out of it!"

Torrhen jolted when Daario sharply cuffed him upside the head. Daario chuckled at his reaction, but a sharp growl from Shadow as he snapped at the air close to fingers made him reel his hand back. It definitely helped bring Torrhen back to the present, but Ser Barristan immediately rounded on him, eyes blazing.

"Captain Naharis, that was unnecessary."

"Unnecessary? I disagree. See for yourself, oh great knight."

"Regardless, it was not your place to do that."

"Excuse me for trying to help, old man!"

"That's enough," Dany called, face hard. "What matters is no one was hurt. Especially our young guest." The knight and sellsword both bowed their heads, stepping back quietly. Nodding in acknowledgment, Dany turned to Torrhen. "I apologize for what happened, Torrhen. I did not mean to startle you. Had I not interrupted you, none of that would have—"

"Don't apologize to me! Go back down and apologize to your dragons for how you're killing them!"

Everyone did a double take. Including the queen. "I — what?"

"Torrhen!" Ser Barristan snapped, outraged. "Your grace, I sincerely apologize. I assure you my squire will be thoroughly disciplined for his rude outburst. Torrhen, follow me. You're going to—"

"I'm not trying to be rude or cheeky, Ser Barristan! I meant that literally! Queen Daenerys, why… why are you trying to kill your dragons?! Don't you care about them at all?!"

The ferocity in the knight's eyes slowly faded away, but Dany was only more puzzled. Torrhen's shock… it hadn't been because he was scared of her sons. He was scared for them.

A humorless snort made her look back to Daario. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This boy's clearly insane. You really should just ditch this boy somewhere, my queen. He's just—"

The hackles on the back of Shadow's neck rose, and he growled loudly while pawing at the ground, baring his fangs.

Torrhen shot him an ugly scowl. "If I'm mad, then at least I admit it… I admit I have a temper. I admit I have to do better at controlling it. But I'm not crazy. At least, I don't think I am… but Shadow made no such promises. Think twice before calling me insane again, got it?"

Swallowing thickly, Daario pressed his lips together and looked away. Satisfied, the wolf calmed down, but it kept its eyes trained on the sellsword, watching for any sign of disrespect towards his young master.

As surprised as she was by how instinctively Shadow jumped to defend Torrhen, Dany was too baffled by Torrhen's previous comment to care. Shaking her head, she tilted her chin and tried to not appear too ruffled. "Torrhen, I don't understand what you mean. The dragons are my children. My sons. You claim you and your sister have a dragon, one you consider to be like family, so you understand that bond, yes?"

"Of course. Shadow's our brother, and Sōnar's our sister. They're family!"

"Then why on earth would you ask me that? I would never hurt my dragons. No, I couldn't."

He frowned. "But you are! You're… You're keeping them chained up down there like dogs! And in the dark, too! Don't you see how cruel that is?! Can't you see you're killing them?!"

"Torrhen… I know it seems cruel, but what would you have me do instead? I cannot let them hurt people."

"Train them!"

Dany blinked. "Train them?"

"Aye," he nodded. "They're your children, aren't they? You're their mother. It's your duty to teach them right from wrong. You're the only one who can."

Daario chortled, shaking his head. "You really are something else, Little Prince."

"Don't call me—!"

"You've been lying left and right from the day I met you, and now you've gone too far," he smirked. "You really don't have a dragon at all, do you?"

"What? Of course I—!"

"Stop lying, brat. That's bullshit, and you know it."

"Captain Naharis…"

"Don't give me that look, old man. You know as well as I do that what your so-called Targaryen bastard squire said is bullshit."

"That's enough, Captain Naharis. Thank you," she cut in. Daario flashed her a grin, but thankfully stayed quiet. It annoyed Dany how at ease he seemed, but she let it slide for now. He was technically correct this time, after all. She turned back to Torrhen, furrowing her brows. "While I do not approve of Captain Naharis' words, I must agree with his assessment. I'm inclined to believe you and your sister truly don't have a dragon."

"What? But… But why do you—?"

"Because you don't understand the nature of dragons at all." Her eyes narrowed as she studied him for the slightest sign of duplicity. "I don't know anything about direwolves, but I assure you dragons are nothing like them. Your wolf is your friend, but you still treat him like a pet. You trained him to obey your commands. Dragons are not pets. They cannot be tamed."

Torrhen stared at her, blinking incredulously. Dany simply closed her eyes and sighed. This was so disappointing. This boy truly wasn't descended from her House at all. Had nothing he'd told her before been real? Did he even have a missing twin sister? If he did, it was likely he'd sought her out to plead for help in returning to Westeros to search for her. Perhaps when she finally set sail for her home country she could take him with her if that was the case. She had nothing against helping the orphaned boy, but for now she'd have to find a good family here in Meereen to take him in. Maybe Hizdahr? As much as the noble infuriated her with his constant pleading to reopen the fighting pits, he'd been loyal thus far. He might be willing to—

"With respect, your grace, I'd say you're the one who doesn't know the first thing about dragons."

Silence overcame the group. Everyone — from the queen to the guards — stopped and stared at the boy, blinking repeatedly. Torrhen was immune to their disbelief, though. He had eyes only for the queen herself, and he had such an annoyed, disapproving look on his face it was shocking.

It took Dany a few moments to find her voice. "I — I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," he scowled, folding his arms. "You're called the Mother of Dragons, but you're clueless about dragons yourselves."

"Torrhen! Apologize, immediately!" Ser Barristan snapped.

"I will not, not when I know I'm right, ser."

"Perhaps now you'd prefer it if I gave your squire a good smack? Clearly he needs better provocation to watch his mouth."

"Captain Naharis—

"Smack me if you want, but I will not take that back! Queen Daenerys is mistreating her dragons out of ignorance of how to take care of them!"

"Torrhen—"

"That does it! One good whack should teach you some—!"

"Enough." The finality in her command silenced her two guards, and even Torrhen flinched a little. Still, he didn't dare back down. Dany wasn't intimidated, though. As a queen, she'd endured worse glares from others and had sent nastier scowls of her own. She merely raised a brow. "Explain yourself, Torrhen, but choose your words carefully. You've just insulted my title as the Mother of Dragons, and unless you're reasoning as to why you did is sound, I will not take that lightly."

He huffed. "Exactly what I said, your grace. You're clueless about your dragons. That's just sad."

Her fury bristled, and it took all her willpower to keep her tone level. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"I saw for myself down there you love them. That's undeniable, but be honest with me. You've already given up on them, haven't you?"

"Given up?'

"On being their 'mother.' You think of them now as tools instead of your children, don't you?"

Red hot rage coursed through her. "This is your first warning. Insult me on how I raise my sons again, and you'll be wishing it was Ser Barristan punishing you instead of me."

"If you're going to punish me, punish me. But at least hear me out first. How hard did you try training them before you decided dragons can't be tamed?"

"I… What does that matter?"

"Because Lyaella and I had no choice but to work hard at taming Sōnar. We didn't have a choice! The Bitch of the North made it very clear that unless we could teach Sōnar to listen to us, she'd have to go! We were not gonna let that happen! We spent every day when we were little training her to obey us. It was hard, but we did it. We taught her to never attack anyone unless we told her to do so. We got her to not fly around attacking the local livestock for food, but to wait to be fed. Hell, we've even been trying to teach her and Shadow how to play music by rumbling and howling in time with our songs! So what you just said about how dragons can never be tamed? That's bullshit. Lyaella and I did it with Sōnar, so there's no reason why you can't do it with your dragons."

Her lips parted, yet nothing came out. Dany's mind was racing. Intellectually, her brain said that everything Torrhen told her was nothing more than a well thought up fantasy he'd been preparing in advance. But in her heart, the idea was farfetched, yet still seemed somewhat possible. Looking back on the early days when her sons first hatched, she never truly tried training them to do anything other than breathe fire when she told them to. And in those early days, she'd had them burn so many people alive on her command — from the warlocks in the House of the Undying to the slavers who sold her Missandei and the Unsullied in Astapor. Could the fact that her children were wild and dangerous to strangers be due to her own negligence in training them?

Her silence only seemed to annoy him further. "Its one thing to keep your dragons locked up when you can't be watching them while you rule the city. It's a whole other thing to ignore them completely without even trying to train them. You want my advice? Find the time to go see them at least once a day from here on out. Spend that time teaching them what they can and can't do. They'll never learn right from wrong unless you do that. You're their mother, so it has to be you. Hell, that's just common sense!"

"Torrhen…"

"I'm being honest, Ser Barristan. I'm telling Queen Daenerys the truth, hard as it is for her to hear. Is that or is that not honorable?"

The knight didn't have an answer to that. He just pressed his lips together and glanced uncertainly to her. Dany turned to look at the sealed off entrance to avoid his gaze.

An eternity seemed to pass before she found voice again. "I suppose I could try training them better. Whether or not it'll make any difference is to be determined, but I admit you have a point regardless, Torrhen."

His scowl lessened. "Good. I'm glad you understand that."

"Though can I assume you'll assist me in this regard? I would like to see how you and your sister supposedly tamed your dragon companion."

"If you want my help, I'll do it," he shrugged. "I don't mind."

She smiled. "All right, then. With any luck, perhaps you'll be able to bond with one of them, too. I suppose you could say that will be the ultimate test in determining whether or not you truly are related to me, Torrhen. If you can bond with either Viserion or Rhaegal, then—"

"No."

The queen stopped, blinking repeatedly. Everyone there was caught off guard at the bitterness laced in that one word, but if Torrhen noticed their stares, he didn't acknowledge them. His glare returned full force as he fisted his fingers through his direwolf's fur.

"I… I beg your pardon? 'No,' what?"

He clenched his teeth. "No," he repeated. "No, I will not do that."

Daario scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Do what, little prince? You gonna keep talking in riddles, or are you—?"

"Don't call me a prince! How many times do I have to say that?!" He snapped, head swiveling around to bark at the sellsword. For once, Daario shut up at Torrhen's words, stunned by the pure hatred in the boy's gaze.

Everyone was stunned actually, but none more so than Dany. Swallowing thickly, she reached out to touch his shoulder. "Torrhen—?"

"Don't ever suggest that again, Queen Daenerys. I have no intention of doing that, regardless of whether or not you believe me."

"Doing what?"

"Making a bond with your dragons. I'm not gonna be a dragon rider. I'm descended from your House, aye, and I love dragons, but Lyaella's destined to be the dragon rider between the two of us, not me. My destiny's lies elsewhere, with Shadow, here. Right, boy?" The wolf pressed up against him, nuzzling his side. Torrhen anger faded at his friends' antics, and he ran his hands through his fur before focusing back on Dany. "Targaryen's have always been known as dragon riders. But me? I'm gonna break that tradition! I'm gonna be the first Targaryen direwolf rider! House Stark's a joke when it comes to being respectful to their House emblem, so I'm gonna show them and the entire North want a real Northerner with a direwolf is capable of! No dragons for me! It's me and Shadow, now and always!"

Dany stared, lost for words. Of all the things she expected to hear, this was not one of them. Never had it occurred to her that there would be a Targaryen descendant who would reject the tradition of dragon riding in order to set a whole new standard in legendary creature riding. She gazed back and forth between Torrhen and Shadow as she struggled to wrap her mind around the concept.

Daario recovered faster than she did, though. "Well, that settles it, then. This boy really is a liar. He's hiding the fact he's too scared to ride a dragon behind this ridiculous idea."

"Fuck you! I'm not scared! I just have my own dreams!"

"Right, right. Of course you do… Prince Snow."

"Don't call me—!"

"How exactly would you be a direwolf rider, Torrhen?" she interrupted. "I mean no offense, but Shadow is just about the same size as you. If you were to climb onto his back, you'd risk seriously hurting him."

Torrhen perked up, grinning wholeheartedly. "Oh, he's not full grown yet, Queen Daenerys. Give him maybe another year or so, and Shadow will be the size of a horse! Right, bud?" His wolf panted, tongue dangling out of the side of his mouth as his tail swayed back and forth. Torrhen snickered. "Aye, that's right. Direwolves can grow far larger than typical wolves, your grace. Some say they can even grow larger than men!"

"Oh," she exclaimed. "I… I see…"

Thankfully, she was spared from having to think up a better response by Missandei hurrying towards them. "Your grace, forgive me for interrupting, but Hizdahr has arrived."

"Oh, good. Is he waiting in the council chambers?"

"Yes, your grace."

"Very well, I shall see him at once. Thank you, Missandei."

Nodding respectfully, her handmaiden turned and led the way back to the Great Pyramid. From the corner of her eye, Dany saw Daario quickly follow, but Ser Barristan held out an arm, stopping Torrhen from trekking after them. He murmured something quietly to the boy, but whatever it was made Torrhen huff and sulk back inside through a separate entrance, dragging his feet the whole time as Shadow trotted after him. Ser Barristan paid no mind to his behavior though and quickened his stride to catch up to the rest of them.

"My apologies for my squire's behavior, your grace. I assure you I'll do everything I can to teach him proper respect from now on."

"It's quite all right, Ser Barristan. I could see you were trying to temper his behavior. Though may I where Torrhen is going? As your squire, he has a right to attend this upcoming meeting, provided he listens and doesn't interfere."

"Oh, he'll be there, your grace. I just need him to perform a short task first. Call it teaching that boy the ramifications of what he'll be missing out on due to losing his temper earlier during training and then for being rude to you, your grace."

---

"Cruel. That's what this is, Shadow. Ser Barristan is deliberately being cruel."

Shadow gazed at him, red eyes blinking with innocent curiosity.

Torrhen growled. "Don't look at me like that. You got nice little handouts back there. Me? I got squat."

His wolf whined, then promptly glanced at the tray in his young master's hands.

"Hey, this doesn't count. This is just the wine pitcher and goblets Ser Barristan told me to fetch from the kitchens. I'm talking about real food. All those servants were more than happy to toss you kitchen scraps. But me? Not a chance! 'Oh, we're terribly sorry, Torrhen Snow,'" he snapped, sullenly imitating the high pitched voice of a young freedman. "'We were specifically ordered by Ser Barristan not to provide you dinner tonight. I'm afraid it would go against his orders to give you with a snack.'"

Shadow panted and trotted on ahead. Torrhen scowled. This task Ser Barristan gave him was just plain mean. It was one thing to take away his late night meal tonight as promised and make him go to bed on an empty stomach. It was a whole other thing to send him down to the kitchens after giving him that punishment to torment him as he fetched the wine pitcher and goblets as requested. He was already hungry, and every second he spent down there was nothing short of torture. It was just way too cruel.

He huffed and readjusted his grip on the tray as he hurried up a flight of stairs. This small council meeting was going to be long and boring. While he was still anxious to share his thoughts to his future mother on how she was failing in her rulership over the city, he knew he wouldn't be allowed to contribute his thoughts. This torment of being subjected to the mouthwatering smells in the kitchen was undoubtedly punishment for speaking his mind to the queen outside the catacombs. If he did so again during this meeting, he'd probably be looking at no dinner tomorrow night, too. That was not happening, no way, no how. Yet that meant he was going to be stuck in that meeting for ages with nothing to do. It was going to be so boring…

As he passed his private solar, a sudden idea sprang to mind, and he quickly ducked inside. If he was going to be forced to sit in that meeting without being allowed to talk, there was no reason why he had to sit there and be bored the whole time. Walking to his desk, he folded up all the papers for his unfinished songs into the inner pockets of his tunic, pocketed his quill, and hastily screwed the lid back onto his small ink pot before tucking it in his fist while he carried the tray. With his songs all safely stored away, Torrhen whistled for Shadow to hurry along and set back off down the hall.

Upon entering the council chambers, he saw the meeting had already begun. Whatever the adults had been discussing though immediately halted as they saw him enter with the tray.

"Ah, there you are, Torrhen. I was starting to wonder if you got lost on the way here."

"My apologies, Ser Barristan. I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all. Please, do come in," said Daenerys brightly.

Hurrying forward, he set the first empty goblet down in front of the queen and carefully poured the wine. One by one, he went around the table, pouring the wine to everyone except Missandei and Grey Worm, who both tactfully declined the drink. As he approached Daario, however, the sellsword shot him a jaunty smirk.

"Hey, you trying to skimp off on the wine just because I like to tease you? More, boy!"

Torrhen shot him a nasty look, yet held his tongue as he tilted the pitcher again. He honestly hadn't given Daario any less wine than he'd given anyone else, but if the asshole wanted more, then fine. Provided he kept his mouth shut, no one would get annoyed with him this time.

"Oh, now wait a minute! You're pouring it to the rim!" he suddenly exclaimed. "You hoping I spill it all over myself? Not that much!"

He rolled his eyes, but still held his tongue as he carefully picked up the goblet and started to pour some of it back into the pitcher—

"Now there's not enough again! More, please!"

"Are you doing this deliberately to get a rise out of me?! If you are, then I respectfully request permission to be annoyed this time, Ser Barristan. I'm trying to do what you want by holding my tongue, but he's deliberately antagonizing me this time for no good reason!"

"That's enough, Torrhen. You've made your point. Captain Naharis, I've asked you already to not provoke my squire. Please respect that request."

"Fine, fine. It was only innocent jesting."

"Torrhen, whatever amount of wine is in Captain Naharis' goblet, just leave it be. You may set the tray and pitcher down on that side table over there and then take your seat."

"Aye, thank you, your grace."

Following his future mother's orders, he did as she said and slid into the only open seat next to Ser Barristan. Shadow on the other hand padded his way over to a nearby rug and curled up to relax.

"Sit and listen, Torrhen," his mentor instructed. "If you ever wish to become a good knight and possibly Lord Commander of the royal guard, you must know how small council meetings are run. Learn by example." Forcing a smile, Torrhen squeezed the ink pot tighter in his fist and nodded. Satisfied, Ser Barristan nodded approvingly and focused back on the queen. "Now then, where were we?"

"We were discussing the necessity of importing more supplies for the last of the rebuilding from elsewhere in Slaver's Bay at moderate prices. Missandei, I believe you were the last to speak, correct?"

"Yes, your grace. If I remember correctly, I think I was saying there were some merchants from Pentos offering to sell to us."

"At what cost?"

"Well…"

"Missandei?"

"They're aware of our need for such materials right now, so they've… increased their price."

"To what, may I ask?"

"…"

"I see…"

Ideas were bounced around by everyone as they weighed the pros and cons on each one. Truthfully, Torrhen has no idea what was so bad about using a more costly alternative than a slightly cheaper one. So long as his future mother didn't make the same mistake the stupid Bitch of the North did in his timeline by taking out a loan from the Iron Bank, any idea was a good one.

"What if we halted our construction of the new shops and businesses, your grace? If we held off on that for awhile, we could make do with our current materials to finish rebuilding all the old freedmen dwellings, at the very least."

"A good idea in theory, Ser Barristan, but the construction of those are critical to the advancement of the city. We need those areas finished so we can establish a new form of trade in the city, to bring the gold back in. Meereen is spending more than it's earning right now what with everything going on."

"We focus on half, then," said Grey Worm. "Finish half of shops, leave rest for now. Use rest of material for homes. Or sickhouses."

"Hmm, I suppose that could work…"

"Tch, hardly. We spend time fixing the city now, and we'll only waste more gold when the Harpies strike again. They ransacked the bazaar in that last riot. Until we stamp them out, rebuilding the city is pointless."

"We cannot just ignore the needs of the people while we deal with the Harpies, Captain Naharis. There's still quite a fair share of people who don't have a roof over their head at night. We cannot simply forget about them."

"But if we focus on helping them now, we'll only have to help them again and maybe others who do have homes right now if the Harpies attack them next time. They're your biggest threat right now, so stopping them has to be the top priority."

Ever so slowly, Torrhen reached into the inner folds of his tunic and tugged out a song page at random. Leaving it on his knees, he pulled out his quill from his pocket and carefully unscrewed the ink pot. Having no choice but to leave the bottle out in plain sight on the tabletop, he unfolded the page under the surface and readjusted his chair slightly to have a clearer view of his lap. Looks like he caught a break. He'd pulled out the page where he'd last left off on when working on his mother's song. Chancing a quick peek up at everyone else to ensure they weren't watching, he swiftly dipped his quill into the pot and scribbled down a fast eighth note.

For awhile, no one seemed to notice anything. Torrhen continuously jotted down notes on the page, but after every other note he'd look up at everyone to appear like he was paying attention. So long as he blocked the ink pot from view by leaning his free arm in front of it, and listened for any lulls in the conversation so no one would hear the scratching of his quill on the parchment, no one was any wiser to what he was up to.

Or at least, they hadn't been. Until—

"Your grace, I know you don't want to hear this, but reopening the fighting pits might be the best way we address all these problems at once."

Daenerys frowned. "Hizdahr, I've made my decision about the fighting pits quite clear. That will not be happening. Moreover, I fail to see how reopening them could be the answer to all these issues we're dealing with."

Hizdahr sighed. "Right now, your grace, the Sons of the Harpy are angry because they believe that the freedmen are not worthy of respect. They see them as lesser people than themselves, and that the nobles should be the only ones with power."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm aware of how the former masters think, Hizdahr. It's that very way of thinking that I'm striving to end. Nor have I forgotten that you yourself are a former master. Are you suggesting that's how you also see freedmen of this city?"

"Not at all, your grace. I'm merely reminding you what the group at a whole thinks of your actions. The fact remains that even though you've given the common people their freedom, the rich and poor still see a line dividing their classes. Right now, there is nothing allowing the citizens of Meereen to look past that line."

"And allowing the practice of human cockfighting will somehow change that?"

"I understand that in your eyes it's a terrible practice, your grace, but for the people of Meereen, it's a yearly tradition. It's sport. The men who would fight wouldn't be slaves who are forced to fight, they'd be freedmen who wish to do so. Those who wish to fight in your name and honor."

"Well, I do not wish for anyone to die in my name for loose entertainment! It's barbaric and beyond inhumane! And I don't see how reopening the fighting pits would help our financial troubles and rebuilding the city."

"Warriors would flock to Meereen from all across Essos. Merchants would arrive too, eager to sell and trade. I know you're not keen on raising the tax any higher than you already have, your grace, and I agree that doing so would paint you in a worse light to the people than you currently are, but garnering more trade by reopening the pits would solve our current financial problems. We could easily finish rebuilding and constructing all the new trade centers with hardly any trouble."

"But at the price of human slaughter? Absolutely not!"

She slapped the table harshly to emphasize, except—

"Gah! Fuck!"

The adults whipped around. Torrhen had dropped his quill and leapt out of his chair to protect his song sheet as the ink pot toppled over from the force of the table shaking. Great globs of ink splattered all across the tabletop, though most of it ran over the edge of the surface and dripped across the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit! Goddammit! Fuck!" Torrhen swore, carefully backing away from the mess. "Seven fucking hells! Sorry! So sorry! I'll — I'll find a rag or something! Be right back!"

Tucking his song score back into his tunic, he bolted out of the council room before anyone could say anything. Even when he returned a few minutes later with a handful of rags he'd gotten from a passing servant, he didn't give anyone the chance to say anything. He simply dashed back to the mess and scrambled to wipe it up.

"I — I'm really sorry, your grace! I'll get this cleaned up right away!"

"Thank you, Torrhen, but—"

"Really, it's no trouble! This — This was my fault, after all!"

"Yes, but—"

"It's — It's fine! No need to call a servant! I'll—"

"Torrhen, sit. Now."

He froze. Ser Barristan's tone… he was not pleased.

Gulping thickly, he plastered the most innocent smile onto his face that he could muster as he gazed up at the knight. "But ser, I haven't finished cleaning the—"

"You can clean it in a moment. Right now, sit."

Torrhen grimaced. Averting his eyes, he mopped up the little bit of ink that had landed on the chair and miserably sat back down.

"Look at me, Torrhen. Now."

Biting his lip, he reluctantly glanced up. Everyone was either blinking incredulously at the ink spill, or staring at him in bewilderment. Everyone except Ser Barristan. His liege knight was fixing him with the most disapproving, authoritative frown he'd ever seen anyone wear, including the Bitch of the North's usual sneer.

Without breaking eye contact, Ser Barristan vaguely waved his hand at the ink mess still on the table. "Torrhen, what is this?"

"An ink spill," he mumbled.

"Why is there an ink spill?"

He didn't answer.

"Torrhen?"

"…I was using it."

"Didn't I tell you to listen to our discussion? Learn?"

Torrhen sighed and stubbornly looked away.

His nostrils flared. "Show us what you considered more important than paying attention. Now."

The boy huffed. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out the unfinished music pages and passed them over. The knight wordlessly leafed through them with a raised brow.

From the corner of his eye, Torrhen caught sight of Daario casually folding his arms as he snorted. "What's all that? Lists of battle plans? You planning for the attack on King's Landing already, little prince?"

Torrhen scowled. "S-Shut up!" he snapped, his face growing hot.

"Is that your music score, Torrhen?" asked the queen, standing and circling around the table to see for herself. "Were you working on that under the table while we were talking?"

It was like his tongue had suddenly swelled up. "Aye, Queen Daenerys," he mumbled, bowing his head. "Sorry…"

Ser Barristan's expression was completely unreadable as he sifted between the pages. Beyond raising a brow, it was impossible to determine what he was thinking. Finally he set them aside and turned to his squire. "You certainly have talent when it comes to music, Torrhen, but this was not the proper time to be working on this," he declared. "I told you to pay attention to this council session. You disobeyed me."

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again," he grumbled. "Can you give them back, now?"

Ser Barristan shook his head. "This was very disrespectful of you, Torrhen. The problems going on right now in Meereen are no light matter, yet you don't see the point in learning what to do to fix them."

"What? No, that's not—!"

"Torrhen, I can see you value these greatly and I have no issue with you working on them on your own time, but while you are committed to squirely duties then you must focus on them." He sighed. "Which is why I'll be confiscating these. You'll get them back when I am confident you've learned to pay attention."

Torrhen jerked, eyes bulging. "No, please don't! I won't do it again, really! I'll take them to my solar right away, I swear!"

"I'm sorry, Torrhen, but you brought this on yourself," said Ser Barristan, folding up the pages and tucking them away into his own tunic. "There's a time and a place for things, and this was not the proper time to be working on this. You should've been paying attention to the meeting, learning from example."

"Well, what's the point in listening when I know everything you're suggesting is wrong?!"

The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Everyone did a double take at him, blinking several times for good measure. Torrhen simply froze, dread seeping into his being. Shit. If he wasn't in trouble before, he certainly was now. Why the hell was it so hard for him to think before he opened his mouth?

Ser Barristan sighed, his gaze growing twice as intense. "Return to your chambers. We will discuss this—"

"Ser Barristan, forgive me for interrupting, but I mentioned this to you in passing earlier, your grace."

Everyone turned to Missandei with matching looks of puzzlement. The translator ignored all of them and only smiled politely to the queen.

Daenerys tilted her head, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"I told you about my brief conversation with Torrhen this morning," she explained. "I mentioned he'd vaguely told me his concerns for the city."

Ser Barristan frowned. "Lady Missandei, with all due respect, even if he does have some opinions on how things in the city are being handled, it was still disrespectful of him to not pay attention. I must punish him for his disrespect."

"Of course, ser. I'm not arguing that, but I don't believe you should send him away just yet. If he wasn't listening to our discussion was because he was forbidden to contribute his thoughts, then perhaps we should let him contribute?"

There was a long pause. Torrhen could only stare hopefully at Missandei as the rest of the small council exchanged various looks. Daario scoffed at the notion, but Grey Worm appeared torn, glancing uncertainty between him and the Naathi translator.

Hizdahr however nodded at her suggestion, and turned to Torrhen with a raised brow. "I must admit, I did something similar when I was a boy. Whenever my father lectured me in how to balance a ledger, I'd draw to occupy myself. It wasn't until he caught me doing that multiple times that he changed his approach to teaching me while making me work through his own ledger that I actually started learning."

Ser Barristan frowned. "But that would mean rewarding dishonorable conduct, and I'm not keen on doing that."

"Don't think of it as a reward, Ser Barristan," said Daenerys, returning to her seat. "You have already decided upon an appropriate punishment for Torrhen's lack of focus — taking away his music sheets. That seems more than fair in my eyes. As for letting him contribute his own thoughts to our meeting, I believe Hizdahr has a point."

Hizdahr jerked, lips parting in disbelief. "T-Truly, your grace?"

A muscle grew taut in her cheek. "In this regard, yes. Not necessarily in other matters." He frowned, yet nodded in acceptance. Appeased, she turned back to the knight. "Sometimes the best way to learn is by experiencing things for yourself. When I was on the Great Grass Sea, I learned how to speak and act like a khaleesi because I was given the opportunity to take charge and give commands. Had my situation been reversed with Viserys and he by some miracle was able to get the Dothraki to see him worthy of respect, I never would have learned that."

The creases in his forehead wrinkled as he thought this over. "Then what are you suggesting, your grace?"

Daenerys smiled. "If he has his own thoughts and opinions on what's happening in the city, I would like to hear them. Whether he's capable of expressing those ideas in an intelligent, respectful manner is a whole other matter, as is whether his ideas are even feasible to carry out." She paused, turning to look at Torrhen. "Tell me, Torrhen, do you believe what your ideas are regarding the city are simply hopeful wishes for me to carry out, or reasonable ideas like I was discussing with my small council?"

Torrhen bit his lip. "Um… maybe both? Some things you probably won't like, but they're still things I think you must change for the good of your rule. Not just because it'll be good for Meereen, but so you'll be accepted in Westeros, too."

"What makes you say that?" Daario chuckled. "You're… what? Just past your eighth nameday? What would you know about Westerosi affairs?"

He clenched his fists. "My sister and I are nine, actually. And I still know more than you. Have you ever been to Westeros?"

That shut him up. Daario stared at him for a long moment, then rolled his eyes and looked away. "Fine, fine. Carry on if you think you're so smart, little prince."

"For the last time, don't call me—!"

"Torrhen, if you wish for me to listen seriously, you must behave seriously. Is that clear?" Torrhen huffed, but stiffly nodded. "Good. Now, getting back to what we were discussing, what you said puzzles me. What do you mean by me being accepted by the people in Westeros? The Lannister's are quite hated by the people as far as we've heard, and the Baratheon king claimant is merely trying to assert his claim on the throne through his lineage to the Usurper. The last we heard, he seemingly abandoned the war and took his armies to your homeland in the North. We don't understand why, but from our perspective he appears to have made a foolish mistake. Why wouldn't the people wish to follow me instead?"

It took everything Torrhen had to keep a straight face. In all his planning to meet his future mother and start persuading her to change her ways to ensure her survival in this new timeline, it had never occurred to him what he would say when the time came. This was going to be hard to explain without revealing too much information about the future. Everything he said would have to follow the rules of Truth or Half-Truth very, very carefully.

"Well, you forget I was on the streets for a few months, your grace. I was among the common people, and even the nobles. I saw things from their perspective. With all due respect, your grace, considering how Meereen is on the verge of collapse from both the Sons of the Harpies and from rebuilding everything, don't you think it'd be a good idea to listen to someone who's spent time looking at your actions over the past few months who was not on your small council during it all?"

She was quiet for several moments as she considered this, then firmly nodded. "I see your point. Go ahead, tell me what you think about my decisions, then."

Torrhen smiled, then fished back inside his tunic for any leftover blank parchment. Pulling out a sheet, he dipped his quill back into the little bit of ink that still remained in the ink pot before scribbling on the page.

"Torrhen, what're you—?"

"Just writing a quick list. I don't wanna forget anything." He finished a minute or so later and blew gently on the page to dry the ink. He was about to pass it to her, but then a thought came to him and he looked up again. "Please understand that even though I wrote all this rather bluntly, I'm not trying to be rude or disrespectful. I'm just writing all this down in the same manner others here in the city told me things, or in my personal opinion so you understand how much I firmly believe that you change your decisions things as soon as possible."

She tilted her head, brows furrowing in gentle confusion, yet still nodded. Satisfied, Torrhen slid the parchment across the table.

Taking it curiously, Daenerys' eyes skimmed the first few lines. The more she read, however, the larger they became.

1) Abolish your contract with the Second Sons and hire the Golden Company to replace them — I'm NOT saying this because I don't like Daario! The Golden Company is a sellsword company that upholds honor, and the Second Sons don't. They ignore the needs of the common people.

2) You MUST stop destroying the culture and history of the city of Meereen. Slavery is evil and should be rid from the world, but your other actions regarding the culture and history of the Meereenese people is wrong and I AGREE with the nobles that you're acting like a tyrant.

3) You have mixed views on how the law should be carried out. You planned to give one man a trial, but then a freedman killed him so you killed that man without a trial. Shouldn't the law apply to everyone before you kill them?

4) Find and forgive Ser Jorah for banishing him. He's a good man and you'll NEED his advice on how to earn the support of the North when you finally set sail for Westeros!

"Your grace?" asked Ser Barristan, the adults exchanging puzzled looks at her visible shock. "Is… Is everything all right? If my squire suggested anything against your principles, I sincerely apologize."

The queen mutely shook her head, passing the sheet of parchment to Missandei on her left. One by one, everyone read through Torrhen's list and passed the sheet around the table. The knight frowned intensely the more he read, but to Torrhen's surprise he didn't turn to him when he finished. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, thinking intensely. Torrhen didn't know what to make of his mentor's reaction. His future mother's shock he understood, but he had no clue on what could be going through the knight's head after reading his list. Was he thinking up some new way to punish him for speaking his mind?

A derisive, angry snort pulled him back to the present. "This is a joke, right? You trying to get revenge on me for throwing you out of the pyramid?" Torrhen turned. For once, Daario wasn't flashing him a cocky grin or a mocking eye roll. If anything, the sellsword was glaring daggers at him as he crumpled the parchment tightly in his fist.

The look on his face nearly made Torrhen smirk — finally, the man knew how he felt whenever he ridiculed him. "What?"

"This! Your top suggestion!" he snapped, waving the sheet furiously. "What the hell's up with you?!"

Torrhen had to look away as he failed to conceal his snickers. "I'd say you're only further proving my point on why the queen should do that."

"Come again?!"

He bit his lip, chest quivering as he struggled not to laugh.

"That does it—!"

"Calm yourself, Captain Naharis," Daenerys ordered. "It will do us no good if you switch places with Torrhen and lose your temper." Daario scowled, yet obeyed her command and leaned back in his seat with an angry huff. She raised a brow at his behavior, but ignored it to focus back on Torrhen. "Torrhen, I'm sure you're still angry about how you were turned away when you tried to meet me properly, but even if you're upset with Captain Naharis, that's no reason to take out your anger with his entire sellsword company. The Second Sons have been loyal to me since I liberated the people of Yunkai. It would be incredibly disrespectful of me to simply dismiss them only to hire another sellsword company in their place."

"Not if it's because of how disrespectful they are to the common people," he retorted. "I wrote down specifically that this has nothing to do with Daario. The Second Sons as a whole are not the type of sellswords you should be associating with if you ever want to rule in Westeros."

Daario's glare intensified. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that anyone who plans to conquer the Seven Kingdoms doesn't want to be associated with sellswords that kept turning me away whenever I tried to get food rations."

Daario tensed, but Daenerys and the other adults all straightened at that news, now listening attentively. "What? Say that again?"

"I went to the Second Sons almost everyday while I was on the streets, your grace. I know they didn't believe me about being related to you, but they wouldn't even give me food after a couple days of going to them. I was starving, but they ignored me. And not just me, either. They did the same to others if they showed up everyday, but only to the homeless freedmen. The homeless former masters? So long as they had gold in their pockets, they were welcomed back."

She whipped around to Daario, making him flinch. "Is this true, Captain Naharis? I specifically told you to have your men distribute food to all the citizens in Meereen, but priority was to be given to those who'd been left homeless after the disaster. If you told your men to not do this—"

"Daenerys, no! That's not—!"

"You shall address me as 'your grace,' Captain Naharis. Now, yes or no?"

His throat bobbed. "I admit my men had to turn some people away when distributing supplies, but can I at least defend myself before you pass judgment, your grace?"

Her eyes didn't lose their sharp edge, but she nodded for him to continue.

"At first, my men didn't turn people away. I told them to carry out your orders to the letter and give out rations to everyone who asked. But they all started to run low after a while! Half the city was left on the streets, my queen, and there just wasn't enough food for everyone. It was either prioritize rations for those strong enough to help rebuild and get the city back on its feet, or keep focusing on the homeless and have the city collapse!"

"Don't you think that's something you should have reported in the last few meetings?" Hizdahr exclaimed. "My family was lucky enough to endure minimal damage during the earthquake, but we're aware of how much the city is suffering. I've been running our ledgers dry trying to get the city rebuilt. Had I been aware of the food shortage, I could have been sending for more food and grain than I already was!"

"There were more pressing matters to be discussed, what with the Sons of the Harpy lashing out! Until they're gone, there's no point in rebuilding Meereen. They're just gonna keep wrecking it until we stop them for good!"

"Regardless, that was not for you to decide on your own. You should have mentioned this immediately when you noticed the issue. Had I known the food shortage was that bad…" she shook her head, sighing in frustration. "Hizdahr, could you…?"

"Of course, my queen. I'll make arrangements for more food and grain to be shipped in."

"Thank you. As for the Second Sons, from now on they'll be limited strictly to rebuilding the last of the damage."

Daario gaped. "What?! But… But my queen—!"

"This is not debatable. While I don't intend to dismiss the Second Sons considering how loyal they've been to my cause, your actions as their leader as well as their individual behavior is testing my patience, Captain Naharis. This is not a helpless town you and your men were hired to plunder. This is a city. A city I'm determined to liberate from the shackles of slavery. Every single person in this city is therefore my responsibility. Rulership is certainly much more difficult than I imagined whilst marching on the road, but I chose this path and I intend to see it through. Is that clear?"

Her tone left no room for debate. "Yes, your grace."

"Good. Grey Worm, surely you can find men in your ranks who can take over distributing supplies to the people, yes?"

"Yes, my queen."

"Splendid, thank you." She turned to Torrhen again. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Torrhen. I promise you this matter will be addressed immediately so that no one else will hopefully be starving like you were. You have my apologies for how you were treated."

"Thank you, Queen Daenerys, but my point still remains about hiring the Golden Company."

"Torrhen—"

"I really think you should hire them! I know I interrupted you, and I know that's against the rules, but… but please think about it! The Golden Company is honorable. I know you value loyalty, your grace, so you don't wanna fire the Second Sons, but please… think about how they'll look to the people in the Seven Kingdoms when you set sail for Westeros!"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Torrhen hesitated, biting his lip. This was when he would really have to bring Truth or Half-Truth into play. "I'm unsure if I should say this…" he said, stalling for time.

"It's all right," she said, folding her hands nearly on the table. "Go ahead."

He stayed quiet as he gathered his thoughts, then took a deep breath as he sighed. "It'd probably be better if we came back to this in a minute. I think we should discuss you welcoming Ser Jorah back first."

Her brows narrowed. "That is out of the question."

"But your grace—"

"He betrayed my trust, Torrhen. In the worst possible way imaginable. I don't know what he may or may not have told you when you met him, but I will not welcome him back into my service."

"But without him, you'll never win the North's support! The North isn't like the Southern Kingdoms!"

Missandei tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I've seen many societies in my lifetime, but things are more or less the same in all of them when it comes to leadership. The strong take what they want, the weak accept that or die for their pride."

The boy snorted. "And that's essentially the problem. Northerners won't accept that. They'd rather die for their pride."

The queen blinked while Grey Worm and Missandei exchanged looks of disbelief. Hizdahr looked baffled by the idea, but Ser Barristan sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly. Despite his annoyance with the legendary knight's strict tutelage, Torrhen was glad he was still here. If the knight had died in this timeline, there'd be no way for Daenerys to see that the only Westerosi-born man on her council was only staying silent because he understood the practicality in what he was saying.

Daario didn't seem to care what he said though and rolled his eyes. "Fine, let them, then," he snorted, kicking up his heels on the tabletop. "Sounds to me like your people are just as stubborn and thickheaded as the damn masters here in Essos. If killing them all is what it'll take to make them obey our queen, then fine. That's what we'll do."

"Do that, and you'll destroy any chance whatsoever in them learning to love you. They'll never forget that slaughter. Never."

"Listen, little prince—"

"No, you listen to me. This is one thing I know what I'm talking about. I'm a Northerner, so I know them. Can anyone else here say the same? I mean, how much do any of you know about the North? Enough to know what our most common saying is? Excluding you, Ser Barristan, because you're the only other Westerosi here and should know this, do any of you know what I'm talking about?"

Silence filled the chamber. Ser Barristan stared at him contemplatively as the others exchanged questioning looks.

"Obviously not. Well, it goes like this: 'the North remembers.' Along with the words of House Stark, it's a phrase every Northerner knows and it's true. Northerners… we're different than other societies, your grace."

"No two societies are exactly alike, Torrhen," she said, swallowing thickly. "That's why they're divided into different societies."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. Queen Daenerys, Northerners are… they're very… shit, how do I explain this…?" Pinching the bridge of his nose, he suddenly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, not looking at anyone as he paced back and forth.

Missandei frowned. "Is something the matter?"

"I need a second. I'm trying to figure out how to best explain this…"

"Explain what?" asked Grey Worm.

"How the culture and bad history of Northerners whenever we get involved with anything south of the Neck has warped the thinking of the country as a whole. It's… It's just something that I — well — know. Trying to describe the mindset of a Northerner to a non-Northerner… I've never done that before. It's hard to explain…"

"Try, please," Daenerys urged, studying him intently. "You have me intrigued, now."

"Well… I guess the best way to put it is that everyone south of the Neck is probably more or less what you're used to. The nobles live rich, entertaining lives. They play games and squabble with each other to get what they want. It's not like that in the North. Like the Stark words say, Winter is always coming, even in the Summer. It's a harsh country with a rough daily life, so we consider Southern matters to be a waste of time and resources. A good cloak, a hot meal, and a good night's sleep in front of a warm fire is valued a thousand times more than a crown and a chair of melted swords."

Everyone exchanged bewildered looks. Torrhen could tell his description of Northern values had shocked them, and he wasn't surprised. No Southerner could fully understand what it meant to be a Northerner, least of all people who had never set foot in the North before.

"I can see you believe what you're saying, Torrhen," said the queen finally. "However… I'm not entirely certain whether or not I do, too."

"Why? I'm not lying, my queen. I swear I'm not!"

"I'm not presuming you are, it's just… I don't understand how your description of the North could be true whereas compared to Ser Jorah's stories. He always spoke very fondly of his homeland. If anything, if what you're telling me about the people in your home country is true, then I'm surprised that you suggest I welcome Ser Jorah back into my ranks. That won't be happening no matter how much you ask."

"But the way Northerners act towards non-Northerners is exactly why you need Ser Jorah's council. I'm not an adult like all of you. I don't understand politics. I just know that when it comes to the North, I understand how Northerners think and he was once the Lord of Bear Island. He might have been exiled from Westeros a long time ago, but he knows how to deal with Northerners. You need his council, because the North will never submit to you."

Daenerys pressed her lips together tightly. "Explain why your people wouldn't follow me. I still don't understand."

"All right… let me put it like this. Permission to be blunt, your grace?"

"Granted."

"You could sacrifice everything for the North — your armies, your dragons, your trusted friends — and it won't mean a damn thing. They'll still see you as nothing more than a Southerner who is just the Mad King's daughter. You're not a queen in their eyes, let alone a human being."

Silence. Dead silence. Aside from Ser Barristan who bit his lip sadly as he mused over the truth in his words, everyone else just stared at him in complete shock by his description. Torrhen only sighed and glanced over to where Shadow was sprawled out. It wasn't like he enjoyed telling the queen that, but it was necessary. His future mother needed to know what to expect.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Daario chortled sarcastically. "And yet you say our beautiful queen should not slaughter them all? Assuming you're right about your people, little prince, sounds to me like we should conquer them first when we cross the sea. If they're that opposed to our queen's rule, perhaps chopping off a few heads would make them realize they should shut their mouths and obey."

Torrhen scowled. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you to stop calling me a prince, but stop already! And I told you already that killing them to make a point won't work! The North will remember that tyranny and they'll never support her after that!"

"You keep saying, 'the North remembers.' Why that matter?" asked Grey Worm. "What important about North memory?"

He clenched his fists as he marched back to his seat, glowering at the Commander of the Unsullied the entire time. "It's important because Northern customs dictate that our way is the Old Way. We do not conform to new ideals. We do not let bygones be bygones. The other six kingdoms converted to the Faith of the Seven when the Andals landed in Westeros, but not us. We still worship the Old Gods at the weirwood trees. Personally, Lya and I despise those creepy things. We always feel like our uncle can spy on us through the one in our godswood."

Missandei jerked. "Spy on you? How could—?"

"Long story, and one that'll take us way off track. The point is, Northerners don't ever accept change. The fact that you're trying to change the world for the better is more than enough reason for the North to despise you already, your grace. And our heritage dictates we never forget even the slightest insult inflicted on us, even when it has nothing to do personally with whoever we currently have a problem with."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Hizdahr.

"On the top of my head, Northerners have a problem with Targaryen's after what led to the rebellion. The reasons should be self-explanatory."

Ser Barristan tensed, hesitantly nodding in agreement. "Because of what happened to the late Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark? And the Lady Lyanna?"

"Aye."

"Just because my father was a terrible man and my eldest brother abducted an innocent girl doesn't justify discrimination against me," Daenerys declared, her voice quite firm. "I wasn't even born yet when those events happened. They were not my fault."

Torrhen stared at her for a long moment, then — to everyone's surprise — humorlessly snorted. "You really don't get it, do you? Your grace, Northerners don't care about that fact. They remember only what they want to remember, and nothing else. They don't want to remember the good times in their history. Only the bad ones."

"That's ridiculous. No society can justly hate people just for—"

"Aye, it's ridiculous, but it's the truth. Me and Lyaella have been treated like shit since the day we were born simply because we have Targaryen blood. We never did anything wrong, yet we were hated anyway. It doesn't matter if you personally haven't done anything against them. They remember the terrible things the Mad King did and the stories about Lyanna Stark's death. They hate you already because of them. And with what's happened these past few years during the war, they're never gonna accept a Southern ruler. Not after the Red Wedding."

"A red wedding? What type of Westerosi custom is that? Do the husband and wife get drunk on Dornish Red and keep drinking until the lady's too drunk to notice her own bedding?"

"Captain Naharis, please don't talk that way in front—"

Ser Barristan was cut off by the firm whack of Torrhen's fist slamming down on the table. Everyone gawked, but Torrhen didn't even notice. His eyes were locked solely on the sellsword. "Apologize," he demanded.

Daario blinked, then chuckled with a half-hearted shrug. "Apologize? For what? You don't even understand what I said, do you?"

"No, but I know it can't mean anything good!" he snapped back. "Apologize! Right now!"

"Why should I? It's not like I did anything to—"

"You call making fun of the dishonorable slaughter of thousands of Northmen under the protection of guest rite at a wedding not doing anything?!"

Everyone's eyes bulged. No one dared to be the first to break the hushed silence. Torrhen didn't care, though. He was focused solely on shooting the most poisonous look he could at Daario. It didn't matter that neither he nor Lyaella hadn't been born yet when the Red Wedding happened. The Red Wedding was a terrible event for the North, and as a Northerner he took offense to anyone who dared laugh at it. Besides, Robb Stark had been murdered that day. The Young Wolf might have been an idiot marrying for love and he and Lyaella had never known him, but there was still a possibility he would have been more like family to the two of them had he survived. And unlike the other Starks, he'd never done anything to them or their father. It wasn't right to hate him.

Daenerys hesitantly cleared her throat. "I'll have to remember to find more loyal Targaryen supporters in the Seven Kingdoms to send news on the status of the western continent later. I've been so focused on Meereen and Slaver's Bay that I've neglected to stay informed on recent events in Westeros."

"The Red Wedding didn't exactly happen recently, Queen Daenerys. It happened almost two years ago, by now."

"Two years? Now I'm really wondering how we didn't hear about this. I mean, we heard about the death of Joffrey Waters at the Purple Wedding, but this Red Wedding you speak of… I'm shocked."

Torrhen scoffed. "House Frey was backed by the Lannister's and the Northern traitors the Bolton's for that plot. Fucking Walder Frey… and that's not even the worst part."

"What… What do you mean?" Ser Barristan whispered.

"I mean that all those murders were bad enough alone, but what they did to Robb Stark's corpse? That was sick. Only monsters do something that disgusting… I mean, it's true he broke his vow to marry a Frey girl because he fell in love with some nobody, but nothing justifies making him watch while they stabbed his pregnant wife repeatedly, shooting him multiple times with crossbow bolts, and cutting his mother's throat down to the bone."

"They — They what?"

"It's the truth, Lady Missandei. I swear it on the souls of every Northerner who died that day. And guess what they did with the King of the North's body?"

"You make your point, boy. There no need to—"

"No, there is a need to say this, Grey Worm. None of you seem to know what happened that day, and to understand why the North won't bend the knee to our queen, you need to know the full story." Pausing only to ensure he wouldn't be interrupted again, Torrhen focused back on the queen, who was already quite pale from the horrors he'd described. "After that, the Frey's sewed the head of Robb Stark's direwolf onto his headless corpse, and paraded it around the dead bodies of the fallen Northmen yelling, 'All hail the King of the North! Long live the king!'"

Hizdahr shook his head, eyes wide with disbelief. "They didn't…"

"Oh, they did. It was a horrible, horrible night, and the North will never forget it. Nor have I forgotten that I'm still owed an apology." He snapped his head around to glare at Daario again. "I demand one for your disrespect towards this tragedy."

"All right, fine! I apologize!"

"Hmph. Good." Shaking his head at the leader of the Second Sons, he went on. "I know that House Stark is no friend to House Targaryen, your grace. I know they're partially responsible for why our House is nearly gone. You can form whatever opinion you want of them and Lyaella and I wouldn't care, but Robb Stark did nothing against me and her. He was a fool, but he was still a good person. His death was a terrible thing in our eyes. At the very least, no one deserves to see their wife murdered like that before being murdered themselves."

Daenerys thickly swallowed, her face nearly as pale as her hair. "I… I'm inclined to agree. You're correct in that regard, Torrhen."

He blinked, half relieved, half surprised. "Huh."

"What now, boy? You tell things like you wanted. Are you not happy our queen agrees?"

"No, I am. Very happy, actually. I just wasn't expecting her to agree so easily."

"Why wouldn't she? She's only staying here in Slaver's Bay because she's appalled by the merciless mistreatment the freedmen endured from the former masters. She doesn't enjoy seeing people suffer."

Torrhen tensed. "To be honest, Lady Missandei, I'm actually not so sure about that."

His future mother jerked, lips parts in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean no disrespect, Queen Daenerys, truly. I'm only stating my opinion based on what I saw and heard on the streets from other citizens. That's why I wrote down those other two points on that list. They're based on what the people themselves are saying about your choices. But before I get into all that, I wanna state again that the North's had enough of Southern matters. Things were bad enough when Ned Stark lost his head, but after the Red Wedding? They've taken all the abuse they can endure. The only reason they haven't declared themselves independent again is because the Lannister's made the traitorous Bolton's the Warden's of the North and the Bolton's are ruling them through fear. Were it not for them and there's no Stark trying to band the country together to take it back, the North would break away from the Seven Kingdoms without a second thought. They don't want to bend the knee to another Southern ruler. They'd rather go to war and risk being burned alive by your dragons than give you a fair chance."

No one said anything for the longest time. Daenerys exchanged blank looks with her Essosi advisors, but Ser Barristan scrubbed his forehead apprehensively as he stared at the table. Everything he'd revealed was simply too much for them to immediately process.

"Torrhen," said the queen, slowly turning to him again. "I understand why after that Red Wedding ordeal it would be… difficult for Northerners to trust others. I… I cannot fathom how there can be people out there who would even plot to do such a vile thing, but I swear to you that I would never do anything of that nature to others. When the time comes for me to finally set sail for Westeros, I will do whatever it takes to earn the North's loyalty and trust. I will prove to them that I am nothing like the Lannister's, Frey's, or Bolton's."

He sighed. "You don't get it, do you? You… You think I'm over exaggerating, don't you?"

"Torrhen—"

"Fine, don't believe me. Watch and see what happens when you try appealing to the North. But please think about forgiving Ser Jorah. At the very least, he can help paint some of your actions here in Essos in a better light than what they hear in passing."

"Pardon me?"

"Everything you do here in Essos, your grace, people in Westeros find out about eventually, and right now, they don't know what side your Targaryen coin flip has landed on. Some say greatness, some think madness. If you keep acting like a tyrant here in Meereen, they'll side with the Lannister's to drive you off."

Daario let out a humorous snort. "All right, this has gone on long enough. Time to shut up, little prince. Let the adults take over again."

"Don't call me—!"

"Queen no tyrant!" Grey Worm barked, temper flaring. "She good and just!"

"Then why did she execute that freedman without a fair trial? Why is she destroying the history and culture of the people of Meereen? And what about—"

"Stop right there," Ser Barristan cut in, now studying him carefully. "I believe I speak for everyone when I say I have no idea what you're talking about when you say her grace is destroying the history and culture of the city, but the execution you mention… are you referring to the execution in the public square?"

"Aye, that's right." He folded his arms and turned back to Daenerys. "The people hated you for that."

"I'm well aware I made a mistake that day," she countered, raising her chin. "I should have executed Mossador in the privacy of the pyramid rather than in front of the whole city."

Torrhen shook his head. "The execution itself wasn't the problem, your grace. It was how you passed judgment over that man that made the people angry."

"What makes you say that?" Missandei asked. "I mean… her grace spoke to the people entirely in High Valyrian when that happened, so how do you…?"

"Someone in the crowd translated for me. That's not important. The point is, I was in the crowd that day, so I know what they were thinking. They didn't like that you were the only one allowed to pass judgment over him."

"What? But I am the queen. It was within my right to do that."

"Yet you told everyone the reason he was sentenced to death was because he killed someone else. Someone awaiting trial, I think?"

She nodded. "We had found and captured a suspected Harpy. Mossador killed him even though I had decided to give that man a fair trial before passing any judgment."

"And there you go. You were willing to give a suspected Harpy a trial, but not a freedman."

Daenerys tensed, as did the rest of her small council. For a moment, Torrhen thought he'd made a definite impact on his future mother regarding that fact, but his inner confidence quickly faded away when he realized that no one seemed particularly moved by uncertainty of that decision. They'd all been caught off guard by what he'd said, but that was it.

"Torrhen… I didn't hold a trial for Mossador because there was no need for one. He confessed to killing that prisoner when I asked."

The boy blinked, jerking a bit. "He did?"

"Yes, he did. It was entirely within my rights to have him executed for that."

He glanced down at the tabletop top, silently considering that detail. "I guess that's true… but even so, no one in the crowd knew that. They only knew what you told them, so they all thought you didn't want to show him mercy."

Daario snorted again. "Bullshit."

"What? I'm not lying!"

"I actually don't think you're lying this time, Prince Snow. More like mixing your ideals with what you want to see change."

Torrhen was too caught off guard to get angry about the 'prince' tease this time, and only stared at Daario in obvious confusion. Everyone there mirrored his puzzlement.

"What exactly are you implying, Captain Naharis?"

Daario grinned, leaning back even further in his seat as he took a long swig of his wine. With his boots still kicked back on the table, he looked so smug and relaxed. "Exactly as I said, oh great knight. Your squire here is naive on how the world really works. It doesn't matter whether or not our queen didn't give the people all the facts that day. Those people rioted because too much happened too fast. A year ago, there were masters and slaves. Now there's former masters and freedmen. The masters don't like that, so they create the Sons of the Harpy. Harpies kill everyone to cause trouble for our queen. Then she did one thing neither side liked, and the people snapped. It's as simple as that." He glanced over to Daenerys, his lips taking on an unusual curl in Torrhen's eyes as he appraised her. "You know I'm right, my queen."

To Torrhen's dismay, she nodded in agreement. "Yes, thank you, Daario. I'll admit you make some good points, Torrhen, but in this instance I'm inclined to agree with Captain Naharis. I'm sorry if the way I handled Mossador's execution seemed like a merciless act, but the people would have become angry regardless."

He couldn't believe his own ears. "And that's fine, to you? You don't care if you don't have your peoples full support anymore?"

"Of course I do, but in regard of this particular matter, no. The people needed to see that justice was dealt out accordingly and that neither rich nor poor are exempt from the law."

It was like talking to a wall, how immovable she was. What did one have to do to make her change her mind? If anything, his future mother was already well set in her path to become the Mad Queen and didn't want to hear advice on how to change her ways. He was wasting his time.

Huffing in annoyance, Torrhen slid back his chair and got to his feet. "If that so pleases you, your grace. You'd think differently if you actually went out there yourself and heard what the people are saying. Have a good day." He sullenly bowed and whistled for Shadow to follow him as he marched to the door. His wolf yawned, stretched, and started trotting along behind him when Ser Barristan swiftly stood.

"Torrhen, we have not yet concluded this meeting. Sit back down."

"What's the point? She doesn't want to listen to me."

"Torrhen—"

"I'm telling her grace all this because I want her to be a good queen. If she doesn't care to listen to what I know is true just because I'm not a grown up, then there's no point asking about that stupid statue or that rumor I heard. I'll take my punishment now for being rude and go back to my solar."

He'd nearly reached the entryway when there was the scrape of a second chair being pushed back. "Halt please, Torrhen." He stopped as she requested, though didn't turn around. "I am sorry if I don't fully agree with everything you're telling us. I don't mean to offend you, but I must think about the overall situation of the city and do what I believe is right for fixing things."

"Hmph, lot of good that's done you…"

"Torrhen."

"No, no, Ser Barristan. It's fine. He is technically right, after all." Smiling politely, she continued. "I promised I would hear you out fully about everything you wished to speak to me about, didn't I? I never said I'd follow your advice regarding each matter, but I am listening to what you have to say. Now, would you please rejoin us all here at the table? What statue and rumor are you talking about?"

He huffed. Folding his arms, he turned to face everyone again. "The statue relates to what I said about you destroying the culture and history of Meereen. You're acting like a tyrant with how you're trying to erase it all."

"Erase it all? What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said, Lady Missandei. Wiping it out. Destroying it. Making it so everyone in Meereen knows the past is gone and will never come back."

Grey Worm furrowed his brows. "Queen destroy slavery. You mean that?"

"No, not ending slavery. Slavery's horrible and if she wants to end that practice, I fully support her. I meant how she's using her power to wipe out other cultural and historic symbols to the Meereenese people. I told you how important it is for Northerners to remember our traditions and past, so I understand and agree with them that she's acting like a tyrant."

Ser Barristan blinked before exchanging a confused look with Daenerys. "Torrhen, I know you're struggling to accept everything I say because of your short temper, but I give you my word as Lord Commander of her Queensguard that her grace has always done her best to act justly in her rule. She'd never deliberately—"

"Forgive me, Ser Barristan, but in this instance, you're wrong. The queen has been doing this, even if she hasn't realized it."

"In what way?"

"For starters, I hate to say this because I know it's terrible, but Lord Hizdahr is right about reopening the fighting pits. You need to do so. As soon as possible."

Daenerys jerked, eyes bulging for a half-second before blazing with rage. "No."

"Your grace—"

"I will not reopen them. The fighting pits were created to force slaves to slaughter each other for the amusement of the masters. A boy younger than you who never so much as held a sword before could be pitted against a man three times his age. And the people watching would cheer. Does that sound right to you, Torrhen? Does it sound right that people should die for barbaric entertainment?"

Torrhen grimaced. His future mother certainly had a way with words. "Of course it doesn't sound right, your grace! Personally, I agree with you on what a horrible sport it is! But as a Northerner, I also understand Lord Hizdahr when he says that it's part of their culture and history. If both the nobles and the freedmen want to see you reopen them, then you're just fanning the flame for the Harpies to keep attacking people."

"If Harpies try attacking again, Unsullied kill them," Grey Worm declared, straightening with resolve. "We kill any who oppose our queen."

Daario nodded. "That goes double for the Second Sons. We are loyal to the Mother of Dragons."

The boy scoffed. "If you were truly loyal, you'd have brought me straight to her grace when I first came here."

"Prince Snow—"

"I'm not a prince! But whatever, that's not the point. What I mean, your grace, is that if you keep doing what you've been doing here in Meereen, it's going to be used as the excuse to reject you when you finally cross the Narrow Sea. And I don't just mean the North, I mean all the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys sighed. "Torrhen, I told you, I am not trying to be a tyrant."

"Whether you truly are or not doesn't matter. It's how people perceive your choices that does. Right now, you've got the whole city against you because of that execution, and you're angering everyone further by not reopening the fighting pits. Add in your other bad choices with destroying that statue and when you first came to Meereen, and it's gonna be easy for the Lannister's to rally the lords of Westeros to stand against you."

"What are you talking about? What statue?"

"The Great Harpy Statue, the one that fell off the pyramid in the earthquake. People in the city hate that you melted it down instead of restoring it. Frankly, I agree with them that you were actively stripping Meereen of its cultural symbol when you did that."

Aside from Hizdahr who stiffly pressed his lips together, the adults all stared at him incredulously. One by one, they all slowly glanced back over at Daenerys. She gaped back at them, eyes wide like saucers. She thickly swallowed before focusing back to him. "Torrhen… I admit I had that statue melted down, but I did not do so for the reason you accuse me of."

Torrhen raised a brow. "Right, of course not… then explain why Lord Hizdahr looks so upset, your grace. He's Meereenese, after all. Have you asked him what he thought about you doing that?"

Daenerys paused. She slowly looked over to Hizdahr, but Hizdahr didn't meet her eyes. He just stared out the open balcony archway at the view of the cityscape as he sighed. "Practically speaking, I know why you did that, your grace. Had I been in the city at the time, I might have suggested doing the same with some of the other fallen statues. However… I wish you hadn't done so to that particular statue. At the very least, you should have had the Unsullied explain to the people why you ordered them to bring it to the forge."

"The Unsullied were working nonstop day and night in the aftermaths the disaster, Hizdahr. Between clearing rubble, helping rebuild, and finding and escorting anyone buried alive in the debris to the sickhouses, every second counted. I needed them to continue those tasks as soon as possible."

"Then perhaps you should have made a public address about it, my queen. Had you done that, that would have cleared up the misconception."

"You saw how busy my court sessions were when you and Captain Naharis returned, Hizdahr. I had no time to do so."

"That may be true, but without a proper explanation to the people they didn't understand your motives for doing that. How were they to know that doing that brought them food and roofs over their heads?"

"Wait, what're you talking about?" Torrhen asked, annoyance fading slightly.

The queen sighed. "Torrhen, I had that statue melted down because Meereen was on the brink of collapse after the earthquake, but there wasn't enough gold to pay for everything. The city needed help, so that statue helped pay for the rebuilding costs. I was backed into a corner financially. It was either melt it down and have the gold used to bring in fresh supplies, or leave it there and let half the city die. What else should I have done?"

Torrhen fell silent, thinking hard. He didn't have a clear cut answer that question, and that just made the situation all the more complicated.

Daario sneered. "You get it now, right? The world isn't as clear cut and simple as you think it is. There's no easy choices in life."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try making the right choice when you can," he countered. "Doing the right thing isn't supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be what's right."

"That makes no sense."

"No, I'm sure it wouldn't. Someone with no morals like you probably persuaded her grace to murder all those people when she first came to this city!"

There was a collective round of head jerks and wordless gasps as everyone whipped around to stare at him.

"Murders?!"

"You cross line, boy!"

"The fuck you talking about, brat?!"

"Her grace has done no such thing!"

"Torrhen, you have gone too far! Apologize to her grace right now!"

"I will not, Ser Barristan. I will not apologize for stating what her decision to crucify over a hundred and sixty-three noblemen was in my eyes! That was murder, plain and simple!"

It was so quiet, no one dared to even breathe loudly. Unlike the past few instances where his words made some impact but was brushed off after only a momentary delay, Torrhen could tell that no one could even think up a possible way to refute this claim. And sadly, his future mother didn't even deny this accusation. She just stared at him, eyes bulging while frozen in place. The sight of her like that only filled him with even more disgust. Wasn't she supposed to be trying to convince him he was wrong to judge her that way? That's what any other normal person would do in this scenario.

An eternity seemed to pass before she found her voice. "Torrhen… that situation was far more complicated than you believe it to be."

He scowled. "It doesn't seem that complicated to me. It's a yes or no question. Did you crucify those noblemen?"

"Torrhen—"

"Yes or no?"

"…Yes."

Torrhen stared at her for the longest time, face utterly blank, but then to everyone's surprise, he darkly chuckled. "Unbelievable. Unfucking believable… Well, that settles that, then…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's clear to me, your grace, that as much as it pains me to admit it, my relatives were partially right about you. You really are a madwoman."

"Torrhen, apologize to the queen. Right now."

"Why should I? No sane person would ever dream of crucifying even one person, let alone a hundred and sixty-three."

"Torrhen—"

"It's all right, Ser Barristan. He doesn't appear to know the full story, so it's understandable why he thinks that."

Torrhen raised a surprised brow at how easily his liege knight backed off at those words, and quickly focused his attention back to his future mother. "All right, I'm listening. What is the full story, then? What justifies the crucifixions of over a hundred people?"

"The crucifixions of a hundred and sixty-three children."

"Children? What?"

"Torrhen, please listen to her grace. She didn't decide to do that solely to be cruel. It was an act of justice."

"Missandei is correct. When traveling on the road to Meereen, I discovered that the masters of Meereen had crucified over a hundred and sixty-three children on the mile markers leasing to the city. They were trying to scare me off from approaching their city. I was horrified by their actions, but even so, I looked into the face of every single child and made sure to have them all properly buried before continuing our march. Tell me, what would you have done had you been in my shoes back then and discovered all those murdered children? Some were even younger than yourself, I might add."

Torrhen didn't respond. He simply pressed his lips together and stared at the table surface as he thought over this new information. In all their times reading through The Song of Ice and Fire history book, he and Lyaella had never read about that. Not once had the crucifixions of all those children been mentioned in history. That certainly changed things, but even so…

"Were they all to blame for those deaths?"

"What?"

"All the nobles you crucified as justice for those children. We're they all responsible?"

There was another long pause. Aside from Hizdahr who suddenly became quite rigid as he turned to gaze out at the balcony, Daenerys' councilors all turned to her with rather pensive expressions. She didn't meet their eyes, though. If anything, her gaze kept flicking back and forth between Hizdahr and himself.

"No. Some were against those children's murders."

"Well, there you go. It's one thing to punish those who are truly guilty, but another to consider everyone the same by mere association. Take it from someone who knows, your grace. It's how Lya and I have been treated our whole lives, after all."

He stood up again, and to his relief no one commanded him to come back as he walked out. Hopefully his opinions on these matters were the eye openers the queen needed to get off this sure fire path to madness she was currently embracing. His future mother seemed like a genuinely nice person, but because everyone around her only told her things she wanted to hear, there was no one to advise her against some of her more ruthless base instincts. Tempering that side of her would have to be a top priority for him from now on. Otherwise history would be doomed to repeat itself all over again.

And that wasn't happening. He and Lyaella were going to grow up with their parents from now on. No matter what.