Daenerys

She glanced over at Domino as she helped her into her leathers. "More people are coming?"

"More people are coming," Domino answered.

"It feels," Dany said with a sigh, "as if all the world is coming to Meereen. It is as if all of Essos is emptying out to see me. I never knew there were so many people in the world." The lands around Meereen had become a great city in and of itself, thanks to all that were arriving. She had just the day before launched herself high into the sky, choosing to do so when the sun was at its highest so not to draw too much attention, and seen that all around her city were other cities, made of wood and cloth and all manner of other things. It seemed to her to almost be a competition, to try and see just who could make the grander spectacle of waiting for an audience with her.

There were of course the basic tents, made of cloth and barely high enough for someone of her height to stand in, let alone some of the tall and mighty warrior men that had come. But far more had erected great billowing tents 10 times the size of those field tents, and made up of brilliant colors and designs that could only be properly seen from Daenerys' vantage point. Others had actually set about building wooden structures, disassembling their wagons to create great wooden buildings where they could rest. Others had kept their wagons together but added to them, so that at a moment's notice they could leave but still have large areas to rest and do their business and trade.

For it wasn't just for waiting that the city was growing. No… there were those that had come, per the reports, with no intention of seeing her at all. These people wished to do business with her guests and Daenerys didn't mind that all that much because it saved her the worries of how to feed and manage the people. There were open pits for the cooking of meals and blacksmiths selling swords and loomsmiths who weaved new garments better suited for the climate Meereen. Logan had shown her, much to his own amusement, some of the trinkets being sold that were meant to be gifts that fathers would gives their children and husbands their wives. Flags that crudely represented the banner of House Targaryen, only with the wrong number of heads (ranging from a single one to nearly twelve). Small drawings of her in various states; Wade had commented that they were selling rather lewd ones and while disgusted Dany had realized she could not stop that from happening. A small little doll that looked like her that she had to admit was rather cute and that she had placed in her room.

Even the waters of Dragon's Bay were not free from growth. Like mushrooms after a rain boats seemed to pop up every morning, pushing and jostling for position to create a great bobbing city of decks and planks. She had given command that there must be a clear path to the docks after receiving reports that one small fishing vessel had nearly been shattered thanks to two large Penoshi barges deciding to lash themselves together just as it was passing between them. Thus when looking out she saw a great lane of clear water for ships to pass through… and on either side hundreds of other ships forming twin walls.

'And within those walls are the far more unsavory businesses,' she thought darkly. She had commanded that there would be no slaves anywhere near her city and after she had sent Logan, Wade, and Ser Jorah to strike the chains off of any slave they found her guests had gotten the hint. More than a few had suddenly left only to return days later, suddenly with a lesser entourage. So she knew that the pleasure barrages were filled with willing whores rather than slaves. That the gambling ships only sought to take a man's money and not his freedom. That the fighting tournaments that sprang up were of free and willing men (Logan had won one himself already).

But it still bothered her.

'I can feel control slipping away from me,' she thought. 'That at any moment things might collapse completely into chaos and I will have little way of regaining control.'

Except… that wasn't true. There was a way for her to easily gain back control.

Her dragons.

'But I dread doing such a thing,' she thought. 'My family fell because they relied too heavily on their dragons as the source of their power. When the Last Dragon died so too did my family die… it was just a slow death.' She shook her head at that. 'Had Rhaegar had dragons the Usurper would have never managed to steal our throne from us. But he shouldn't have been able to do that anyway. The Usurper should have never been able to strike out against us… but we made them fear the dragons, rather than us.' And while Dany now held the power of flames she knew that if she unleashed her dragons to bring peace that would be all that people saw.

"There are far more in the world than just this," Domino said, breaking Dany from her racing and rapid thoughts. "What you see is merely a cup of water taken from the ocean."

"And it is still deadly to drink from," Daenerys muttered as she finished putting on her armor. The sword that Klaue had given her was the last and as she ran her hands along the front of her leather top she was pleased to see nothing soft and sweet about her.

That had been a rude awakening for many of the men that had come to meet with her and make their arrival known. They had swept in expecting her to be dressed in silks and sitting on a padded chair… instead Dany wore leathers and sat a throne of stone. They always got so flustered when they saw her like that, even though she knew that if they had encountered a king doing the same thing they would have been charmed and pleased.

Stepping out of the room she nodded to Ser Barristan who was waiting at the door, the old man falling at once in step with her. "What have you heard so far?"

The old man smiled; Dany had quickly learned that despite his position as Head of her Queensguard (of which there was only him though she did need to rectify that soon) people tended to forget he was around and let their lips flap with all sorts of information. It was the same with all servants and Dany had commanded Domino to become her Mistress of Whispers, creating a network of former slaves and smallfolk who would pass on information to her. Already she knew that Domino, upon breaking away from her, was off to gather info for her that would be present at her midday meal.

"Many things, your grace."

"Are our visitors still keeping the law and order?" she asked.

"They have. Greyworm has not needed to do much other than send out a few Unsullied to patrol the edges of the encampments. The lords, magisters, and other gathered leaders have come to realize that you will not take kindly to lawlessness, especially if it was brought by them. Or seen by you to be brought by them. They have been very fierce in dealing with thieves and the like."

"Good," Daenerys said. "They bring this trouble then they should deal with it."

"But that is not what concerns me at the moment," Ser Barristan stated as they made their way down the stairs.

"What troubles you?"

"Did you see the shooting star last night, your grace?"

"I did not," she admitted. "I was tending to my dragons when it appeared. I think Rhaegal might have seen something as he did seem oddly unfocused but others…" She gave a shrug.

Ser Barristan's jaw worked. "There are reports, your grace, that the star was not a star at all."

Daenerys raised an eyebrow at that. "And what, pray tell, are they claiming it to be?"

"They claim it is a man. Others though a god."

"A god?" She was about to roll her eyes at that only to pause. "I suppose, to some, my powers would make me a god." She quickly shot Ser Barristan a look. "Foolishness, of course."

"Of course," he said quickly but she could detect that he was relieved to hear her say that. He was always on the lookout for the madness of her family to rear its ugly head, something she allowed for; thanks to Viktor's tales of her father Daenerys had suffered through more than one nightmare of her burning friends alive while gibbering madly.

"I suppose we can not dismiss anything, nowadays," she commented. "I can't decide if that makes life far more complex or simpler."

"Something for the maesters to decide after we are long gone," Barristan stated with a faint smile. However that smile fell when she turned right. "Your grace?"

"I will break my fast later," she stated, reaching down and patting the sword that Klaue had given her. "If I wear this on my belt I must know how to use it, Ser Barristan. It is said that you are one of the greatest swordsman in Westeros."

He slowly nodded. "I have never reached the title of greatest; Ser Arthur Dayne was better than me even as a lad and after him was…" He trailed off.

"Jaime Lannister," Daenerys said. "Quite. Well, I can never hope to rival Arthur Dayne but I can at least know how to wield this blade."

"I will try my best," Ser Barristan stated. "Though I do worry that you will find difficulty. Not because of your gender, of course, as there are plenty of women in the songs and tales who learned how to wield a sword, but rather that I am not used to the Dothraki style of weapons… and I fear the build of it will not match your own."

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious and taking no offense to his statement.

They arrived in the great interior training yard of the Great Pyramid of Meerren to find many already setting about their morning exercises. When she'd seized the city she had quickly set about having her advisors alter what they must in order to make all of them more comfortable. As such Logan had selected amongst the 5 different great dining halls one that would become their new training ground. It was set to one side of the Pyramid; he had chosen it because the great blocks that made up their new home were able to be moved thanks to a series of wheels, allowing for fresh air to blast through the area and ensure they didn't need to light a million candles and choke the yard with smoke. Where once great tables had sat now were training dummies and sand had been brought from the shoreline to make the floor more comfortable for those training when they took a fall. Straw too, and heavy packed dirt. Any type of surface one wished to fight on; at that moment she saw several Unsullied throwing buckets of water onto the stone while four of their members trained, providing them with a slick surface so they could continue to master their footwork.

"Every young boy dreams of holding a broadsword longer than he is tall and swinging it in a single arc to cleave a foe in two. They scoff when they are given short swords to try, believing it to be an insult. And then after their first time in the yard they collapse in exhaustion and wake up to find their arms burning in pain. One's body greatly determines how they are able to wield a blade. The length. The width. The heft of it. The style."

They moved to an area currently not in use and Ser Barristan selected two wooden training swords, handing one to her handle first. Daenerys nearly toppled over due to its weight but quickly caught herself, shooting a dark look at Ser Barristan but the old knight didn't react at all; it made her feel suddenly bashful and ashamed that she had allowed such petty emotions to come over her.

"I could never hope to wield a massive great sword. I am better with a bastard sword, for that is proper for my build. Just as a Braavosi blade would leave me defenseless for it requires the fluidity that I simply lack in my old age." He began to circle her, looking her over carefully. "You have flexibility and speed, your grace, but also a bit of muscle on you." Dany smiled at that; while she knew there were many that saw her bare arms and frowned at the hard muscle that she had developed there thanks to her time with the Dothraki she was rather proud of her current build. It was a constant reminder that the weak little girl, Viserys' timid baby sister, was long dead and in her place was a true dragon. "I worry about the length of your arms when it comes to that blade but I admit I don't know enough about it to be sure." He paused. "I can begin you on the basics and serve as a starting teacher but we will most likely need Logan to train you in how to wield a Dothraki blade."

Daenerys nodded at that. "Then begin teaching me the basics, Ser Barristan."

What followed was an hour of learning all the uses for a sword. Not just swinging and killing, as that was to be expected, but also how one could defend with it. She had never really noticed how a man would twist their wrist to bring the flat part of a blade up to defend themselves; sword fights were always so quick that she could barely follow them. But Ser Barristan, much to her embarrassment, had commented that the idea of a sharp edge striking a sharp edge was NOT a good strategy at all. Rather it was one that would ensure most blades (save for Valyrian Steel) would become notched and damaged.

When it had been her turn to strike him she had assumed that he would be able to block her blows easily enough. What she hadn't expected was how he was able to redirect her strikes, causing her to stumble and fall as she suddenly found her balance thrown completely off, her momentum continuing when she had expected it to stop. After the first time it had happened and she'd ended up flying in the hard packed dirt of the section of the yard that they'd selected for their training, spitting out a mouthful of gunk and feeling her body ache from the scuffs and scrapes she'd just received, she'd looked up to see Ser Barristan considering her with a challenging look.

'Are you going to lie there and give up? Throw a fit that you are 'the queen' now your fair skin is marred? Or are you going to get up and fight back?'

Daenerys hadn't just gotten up but she had smirked at him and risen to face this new challenge, knowing that it would make her stronger. Able to defend herself. More worthy of taking back her family's throne. And Ser Barristan had nodded at that, pride flashing in her eyes before they had begun again.

She had truly worked up a sweat, feeling as if every part of her was utterly damp like she'd dived into Dragon's Bay, when Ser Jorah had approached her. She looked at him in his full leather armors and wondered how the man was able to handle the heat. 'I can control flames and still this work out has me longing to guzzle five pitchers of water! And yet her stalks about in that heavy armor…' Ser Barristan signaled for them to halt, going over to a bucket that sat near by and grabbed two wooden cups, filling them with water. They weren't elegant chalices filled with fine wine but the wooden cup still was the greatest drink she'd ever had.

"Slowly," he warned her. "You'll make yourself sick. That's also why you must be careful with how cold the water is… men have ended up losing the entire contents of their stomach because they drank from chilled water on a hot day. The body can not rapidly reduce its temperature… you with your flames…"

Daenerys nodded and heeded his advice, taking slow sips of the water before looking to Ser Jorah. "What brings you here?"

"A delegation from Braavos has arrived, your grace, and wishes to speak to you."

Dany nodded at that. "We expected the Sealord to arrive at some point." She was hopeful that she would find an ally in him. While Braavos had no love of those of Old Valyria, having been a constant thorn in their side as the Hidden City, they were also a city formed by former slaves. She hoped that they would see that while she bore the name of a Valryian family she was not attempting to bring back the Empire of old.

Bruce's words of the monster they had unleashed, the creature known as Apocalypse, haunted her thoughts for a brief moment.

'No… Valyria is dead and must never return. And my ancestor fled Valryia before the doom. There are no reports of them holding slaves on Dragonstone… I do not know much of them before they arrived in Westeros but perhaps they weren't slavers. Perhaps there can be common ground here.'

She needed Braavos. They had a mighty navy that would serve her well, if she was able to negotiate rights to use them, even if to merely land her troops and supplies. And the Iron Bank was there too… and it worried her that they hadn't sent yet a representative to seek her out and discuss what they might do for her.

'They should have already come to me. Should have sought me out to discuss what money I wished to borrow from them. The Iron Bank supports every cause unless it is a lost one… if they do not seek me out soon then people will begin to whisper that they do not have faith I can reclaim the Iron Throne.'

She would have to reach out to them herself, apparently. Perhaps that was what they wanted, yet another part of the game…

Ser Jorah broke her from her thoughts. "I wanted to warn you that those that are coming to speak with you…"

"What is it?" Dany asked.

"I have heard ill things about many of them."

That made Dany scoff. "If I refused to meet with every person that had an ill rumor about them I wouldn't even be able to talk to either of you." She gestured at Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan.

But Ser Jorah shook his head. "With these ones it is different." He took a step closer. "The Sealord, Charlus, is a good man. Fair and kind. It is said that he invites into his home those with… gifts."

"Gifts?" Dany asked, knowing from his tone he didn't mean presents.

"Powers, such are your own. I wouldn't be surprised if that is a greater concern to him than his brother." Ser Jorah shook his head. "But it is his companion that worries me."

"And who is that?" Daenerys asked.

"They call him Magneto," Ser Jorah said, jaw working over the name, like he was chewing of a particularly hard piece of gristle. "But it is his true name that concerns me, if it is true."

"Ser Jorah…" Dany said, tried by the games.

"Blackfyre. Erik Blackfyre."

At once Ser Barristan stilled.

"Impossible," he hissed with a rage that Dany had never seen before in the man. It was startling just how fierce his voice had gotten, a growl nearly tearing itself from his lips. "They are long dead, the last of their line slaughtered. I killed Maelys the Monstrous myself!"

'Maelys Blackfyre,' Dany thought with a shudder. 'He was said to be so wide and broad that he could block a wagon from sight. On his neck was said to be the head of his never-formed twin brother, a stunted shrunken skull that was forever screaming.'

"Apparently it was not," Ser Jorah stated. "I have asked around… Erik Blackfyre claims to be the son of Daemon, hidden from Maelys so he might survive."

"A fraud and a fake," Barristan snapped. "Those have come before. No different from those that claimed that Maegor had a secret daughter whose line prepares even now to return or that Ned Stark's bastard was really your twin brother, your grace." He let out a dark huff. "Robert had the wastrel that sang that little song jailed for months. People are always seeking out hidden Targaryens and Blackfyres and they never prove to be real."

Ser Jorah was not shaken by Barristan's cold refusal to believe his words. "Be that as it may he has gathered to himself powerful allies. He and the Sealord are brothers in all but blood. And…" Here Ser Jorah paused.

"What it is?"

"And… he apparently has allied himself with Lord Antony Stark of Iron Pointe."

That made Daenerys frowned. "Lord… Antony? I was under the impression that it was Lord Eddard Stark who ruled. And that it was Winterfell. His heir is named after the Usurper, is he not?"

"He is," Ser Jorah said. "Lord Antony is a cousin of Lord Eddard Stark. His keep is in the Westerlands."

"The… Westerlands," Daenerys said slowly.

Ser Barristan, having regained some control after his outburst moments earlier, said, "He is an ally of the Lannisters."

"It is said that by now he is more Lannister than Stark," Ser Jorah added.

Daenerys pondered that. "A Lion in a Wolf's Cloak," she muttered. "That… is troubling."

"They are ready to meet with you but I have informed them that you will need time to bathe and change-"

But Dany shook her head. "Bring them here."

"Your… your grace?"

"I want them to see me not as some pampered child but as a warrior," she informed him. "I imagine that this Erik Blackfyre will attempt some show of force… I will be happy to meet him in spectacle. Bring them here, Ser Jorah." After only a moment's hesitation Ser Jorah did as she commanded, Dany turning to Ser Barristan. "I need more training dummies."

Ten minutes later Dany heard a new group enter the training yard, those working on their skills with their chosen blades pausing to stare at them. Daenerys waited until they were closer before finally turning her gaze in their direction and she had to admit they were an odd group.

Erik Blackfyre was an old man with a deeply worn face, large nose, and silver white hair. She could tell that had one time he had been dashing and handsome but the years, as they did with everyone, had worn away what had drawn the young women. But he still had strength in his limbs, having never gone to seed, and while he may not have charmed the young maids like he used to there was a commanding presence that clung to his form. He work a deep purple outfit with a long cloak and carried an open faced helmet in his hand.

Most worrying for Daenerys was how he at once commanded all attention in the room. Daenerys had met many men that dominated all when they entered into a building. She had learned under Viktor, after all, and had molded much of how she herself strode about on how he demanded attention without a word. Lords and Princes and Magisters and men with other fancy titles had all come to her, all trying to be the dominate force in the room. And while they had managed to gain some attention they had never been able to fully wrestle it from her.

Erik Blackfyre did.

He walked with a confident step and a smile on his face. All eyes moved towards him, even those with the most discipline. Wary of him. Interested in him. Intrigued in him. Dany herself found herself fighting the urge to bow to him. He was like a king from a lost age, returned once more.

Next to him, wheeled in a rolling chair (she had never seen such a thing before but at once saw the brilliance in it and was determined to commission some made for those old, enfeebled, or lame who could make use of such a device), was the Sealord of Braavos; she had been told that he didn't have the ability to walk. And the lack of proper legs was truly a disgrace because she could tell at once that if he could walk he would easily rival Erik in commanding a room. He had a shaved head and sharp eyebrows that sat above kind yet intelligent eyes. He was dressed in fine clothing but one got the sense that where Erik reveled in his garments Charlus only wore them because that was what was expected of him.

Behind them was a truly massive man with thick curly hair on his head, sharp teeth that were more like fangs, and long black claws that tipped his fingers. He seemed to pause for a moment and snap his head towards where Logan was had been training but seeing him not there (Logan having left after Dany assured him she would prefer him to prowl about the pyramid, to make sure there was no risk of attacks happening during the meeting) he finally turned back to focus on her. A woman of Yi Ti descent with incredibly long fingernails was on the brutish man's other side, looking at Daenerys with a condescending sneer. Her every step screamed how she believed she was the greatest being in all of existence. But where Erik drew people to submit and follow him her arrogance made people what to tear her down.

To counter them there was a strikingly beautiful woman with red hair pulled back away from her face thanks to the dark blue fabric headpiece she wore. Surprisingly she wasn't wearing a dress but instead favored, much like Dany herself, leather britches but hers were dyed orange and over this was a sleeveless dark blue tunic. She was pushing the chair that the Sealord was in and when they came to a stop before Dany Charlus reached up and patted her hand.

Next to her was a handsome young man in blue leathers and yellow boots, gloves, and belts. He had brown hair and a face that would make women swoon if not for how stern he was. He was a leader as well but she could tell that he was still growing into it; a force of nature when he mastered it but not quite there yet. His features reminded her of Ser Jorah. But what was truly striking about the man was the strange… well, she didn't know what to call it… upon his face. Much like the woman next to him he wore a headpiece that covered the back part of his head while keeping his face and hair free. But unlike her there was a large golden visor that wrapped around his eyes, a solid piece of ruby lining the center of it. She didn't know HOW he was able to see in it but she could tell that he could.

The final group of three were, to be honest, the most normal. A dark skinned man with a short yet broad sword strapped to his back, a red haired woman in a dress… and a battle axe which for some reason made Dany a touch nervous though she didn't know why, and the man leading them. He had dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard and while there were elements of him that reminded her of Ser Jorah (and thus pegged him as being originally from the North) he also held the Southern grace she had seen in both Viktor and Barristan.

This… was Antony Stark.

At once Daenerys was on edge.

"Greetings, Queen Daenerys," Charlus said with a smile, speaking before Erik could say a word. The Blackfyre barely glanced at the man beside him but she could tell he wasn't angry… more amused. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us."

"Of course," she said politely. "This matter is closest to you, I would imagine, seeing as the Juggernaut is your brother."

"Yeah, yeah, big and brutish is really important," Antony said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And I'm sure all of us have a ton to say on that and a much of other things. I know I do. So if I were you I'd run down and go get cleaned up, unless you want to spend the entire day all hot and sweaty. Which, hey, up to you on that, whatever floats your boat. Which, uh, you kind of are in need of, now that I think about it, especially if you are in the mood to begin sailing towards Westeros at some point. Hey Mags, you got any thoughts on that?"

Erik merely raised an eyebrow at that but once more Charlus was speaking. Which was good because after only listening to Antony Stark blather on for a minute Daenerys was debating if she could get away with taking his tongue.

'Honestly it might make the people of Westeros far more likely to support my cause if they are used to him and his rambling.'

"As you are clearly already aware I am Charlus, the Sealord of Braavos. Allow me to present everyone." He paused and Dany got the oddest sense he and Erik were talking despite not a word being said.

"Very well, Charlus," Erik replied. "There will be enough time for Daenerys and I to speak."

Charlus nodded at that and continued. "First my companions. These are my wards… my adopted children: Scott the Summer Knight and his wife Jeen." The two nodded politely to Daenerys and she wondered at how that relationship had formed. They weren't blood related, she could tell that, and as a Targaryen she had no place to speak when it came to marrying within the family but thanks to Viserys she had always found the idea of brother marrying sister to be… odd. Even adopted ones. "This is Lord Antony Stark of Iron Pointe. With him are his wife, Lady Vyrgina Stark, and his sworn sword Ser Jaime Rhodes."

"That's right," Antony said, wrapping an arm around the dark-skinned man. "Me and Vyrgina here are madly in love. Give us a kiss."

"Get the fuck off of me, Tony," Jaime complained.

Charlus merely smiled, bemused by Antony's actions while Dany wondered if the man was ever serious about, well, anything. "And finally, but certainly not least, may I present my dearest friend Erik, along with Yuriko Oyama and Viktor Creed."

"Trying to hide who I am, Charlus?" Erik said with a shake of his head. "I imagine that isn't needed; Daenerys surely must have heard by now who I am."

"Erik Blackfyre," she replied.

"Son of Daemon," Erik said with a smile that she was sure was supposed to make her feel comfort. The smile of an old man welcoming their grandchild to them, asking them to come over and sit a spell and hear stories of the olden times.

'But I have no grandfather living and all the old men that stared at me like that have wanted to fondle my breast and stick their hands between my legs,' she thought darkly.

If the fact she didn't instantly simper at the sight of his smile bothered him he didn't show it. Instead Erik merely continued on, voice pleasant. "I am also sure that you are aware of our family's long history. And I do mean that in the singular."

"Because we are descended from the same ancestor?" Dany asked with a single raised eyebrow. "We may both share the blood of the Conqueror but that doesn't make us truly family."

"That wasn't quite what I was referring to," Erik stated. "We are related in another way, one that ties us far closer as family. My wife is Ravan Targaryen, daughter of Prince Duncan Targaryen."

"Liar," Ser Barristan hissed at once, startling Daenerys. "Prince Duncan died at Summerhall!"

"And Jenny of Oldstones died in childbirth," Erik stated. "Born amongst salt and smoke, saved by a witch who became a ghost. Your cousin… and thus…"

"And… what?" Daenerys asked. "You've come to ask for a place in my court?"

Erik laughed at that. "Oh… no no no. Quite the opposite: I offer you a place in mine."

She had been expecting that. Readying herself for it. And still it was a blow when he said the words.

"Do you know how many Targaryens have been born? Far more than have sat the throne. For every king or queen of our house there have been 10 more who never held the Iron Throne. It is arrogance to believe that you deserve to sit upon it purely because of who your father is."

Dany set her jaw at that. "My father was king. Yours was a sellsword."

"True. But sometimes it isn't our blood that matters."

"When you just countered that it is blood that matters. Does it hurt to speak out of both sides of your mouth?"

Erik though merely laughed even as Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan moved to bracket her. "My dear, you can not hope to win this battle. I have far more years on you. I have a wife already while it is said that you are barren… Westeros will never support any ruler that can not produce an heir. I already work to stabilize my hold on Westeros… my allies are powerful and can slay any army."

"Not mine," Dany said with a cool glare.

Erik sighed at that. "The follies of youth."

"Erik…" Charlus admonished. "We are here to discuss other matters-"

"Yeah, important ones," Antony said, cutting in. "See, I haven't told these two old biddies yet but the whole Iron Throne thing? Doesn't really matter. Worthless in the face of what's coming." Erik turned to stare at Antony, surprised, and Dany was feeling the same way. She had expected the loudmouth man to say many things but not… that.

"And… what exactly is so important that all of us should ignore this discussion concerning my birthright?" Daenerys asked.

Antony locked eyes with her, his smile falling. "The Others have returned."

Dany… just stared at him.

"…you have no idea who the Others are, do you?" He looked at Erik and Dany saw he was just as befuddled as she was. Even Charlus seemed a touch confused. "Okay… fuck, this is going to take a while to explain and I am the wrong person to do it because honestly I only half believe it myself-"

"Not making the case any easier," Vyrgina said and Dany had to agree with her. If he thought this was winning her over he was sadly mistaken.

Antony let out a huff. "Alright, everyone pay attention. So thousands of years ago the Children of the Forest-"

Viktor Creed suddenly stiffened before a dark vicious smile formed on his lips… just as Logan entered the training yard, flanked by Benjen the Grim, Johnny and Sue Storm, and Rickard Reed. Greyworm, Domino, and Wade trailed just behind.

"Figured you might need some backup, your grace," Logan said gruffly only to freeze and slowly turn towards Creed. "You… I remember your stench."

"Hey there runt," Creed said snidely. "Haven't seen you since I tossed you into the Sunset Sea-"

Logan let out a roar, popping his claws out and leaping at Creed.

And with that all hell broke loose.