Author's Note: Hey guys! Hope everyone had happy holidays. With all the free time I'm doing my best to bring you as many updates as I can before school starts up again. I'm really trying to improve my dialogue and interactions, but any advice, feedback, or reviews would be greatly appreciated. If you enjoy the story (or don't), please drop a comment or review, it really does serve as a great pulse check for me on the general feeling. At the very least, between this chapter and the last I've really had a ton of fun writing this. Anyways, see the other chapters for my typical disclaimer. Still catching up, blah blah blah. As usual, enjoy!

Maerisa

She stood on the battlements as the column rode out the gates of Winterfell's citadel. Most of the garrison riding out, besides a small contingent of Talisa's personal guard. She watched as the thunder of hooves receded into the distance, the banners and trumpets fading. The armor of the garrison glinted in the early morning sun, and she could see the trail left in the morning frost from the horses.

She looked to her right, noting another figure watching from a tower. Jojen stood, watching the column disappear on the horizon. She couldn't help but note the sinking feeling she was getting, watching the garrison disappear to hunt Roose Bolton's bastard. Something about it simply felt wrong, and from the way Jojen was watching, something about it concerned him as well.

Eventually, the column passed over the crest of a hill and disappeared, leaving Maerisa standing out in the cold, her breath visible in the early morning chill. Finally, she returned to the keep. She supposed she should make herself useful.

Daenerys

It was well into the night when she heard the voices outside her chamber. Tonight Ser Jorah was on watch, as she had sent Daario and Trysten to deal with the Sons of the Harpy. She sat up in her bed, her silk gown flowing around her, listening to whatever was happening outside through the thick wooden doors. She didn't catch much, just small fragments of conversation. It sounded as though it was Trysten outside, speaking to Jorah.

"Get some rest Jorah. I know you're just as devoted to her as I am, but we all need to sleep." He told her loyal knight. His low voice carrying through into her chamber.

"You're sure? After tonight? You'd really rather be here than in your chambers?" Jorah asked calmly. She knew he mistrusted Trysten and retained lingering suspicions. But Barristan had trusted him and she had been given no reason to doubt his loyalty.

"I won't be sleeping tonight anyways. One of us might as well get some rest." She climbed out of her bed, moving closer to the door to hear better. She heard Jorah sigh, and then the almost indiscernible clink of his armor as he stepped aside, and then the sound of footsteps down the corridor. She listened as they receded, and heard the dull thud of Trysten's armor as he leaned against a wall. The sound of the night drifted in through an open window. Crickets chirped, and she could hear the sounds of small birds calling to one another, and bats flitting through the air. Somewhere in the scrublands around Meereen a sand cat roared. She sighed, she wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep now. She opened the door, surprising Trysten, whose hand immediately went to his sword hilt.

"Is something wrong?" He asked quickly, searching over her shoulder for some unseen attacker.

"No! No. Calm down Trysten, everything is fine." She said, easing his hand of his sword hilt.

"Oh. Alright then. How can I be of service? What are you doing awake at this hour?" He asked.

"I heard you outside." She said, smoothing her nightgown and running a hand through her hair, trying to get it into some semblance of order.

"I hope I didn't wake you, I was just telling Ser Jorah that since I couldn't sleep one of us might as well rest. No sense in having two exhausted advisors." He explained quickly, before she cut him off.

"No, you didn't wake me Trysten." She stopped him. He cleared is throat.

"Well… ahem… is there anything I can do?" She sighed.

"Well you might as well come in, since it doesn't appear that either of us are going to be sleeping anytime soon." She said, welcoming him into her chambers. "Please, feel free to sit." She told him gently. He looked incredibly disheveled and exhausted, but thankful for the seat.

"Thank you." She took a moment to assess him. He'd clearly come from the fight with the Harpies. His face was still streaked with ash and soot, darkening his usually tanned complexion, and seeming to make his gold eyes all the more piercing. He had even streaked his reddish gold hair with charcoal, turning it a darkened. He had a small cut on his upper cheek which had crusted over with blood and dirt, and his normally whitish-silver steel armor was dulled by dust and soot, though it still gleamed in the candlelight which illuminated her chambers.

Most notably however was his obvious exhaustion. Ser Barristan had always told her how diligent he was, how hard a worker and devoted he was to her cause, and it was showing. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, but still his eyes remained alert and focused. Spots of dirt and grime coated his face. Another long cut ran across the back of his hand, and his palms remained caked in soot, blood and dirt.

"You're hurt." She noted with concern, and he looked at the back of his hand, seeming to notice the long cut for the first time.

"Huh." He said, seemingly at a loss for words. "I'm fine."

"You really should clean that." She told him, remembering with some sadness the wound that killed her sun and stars. He nodded, moving over to one of the large dishes which held water for her to wash her face and hands with. He scrubbed his hands, the water turning dark and murky as layers of grime and soot washed off. The cut began to bleed again, and as he washed his face and ran his hands through his hair to remove the grime a drop of blood fell into the vessel. He flexed his hand, noticing the cut but seemingly unfazed by it.

"Know it like the back of your hand." He said quietly, noting the irony.

"Trysten." She said, getting his attention. "What's wrong. You're quieter than usual. What happened tonight?" She asked concerned. Whatever had happened, it was clearly bothering him.

"It all went as you commanded, My Queen" she raised an eyebrow, "Daenerys." He corrected himself, apologizing. "We took them by surprise, no casualties, Daario fought well." He assured her, but remained reserved. Apparently everything had gone well, so it certainly wasn't another loss that was weighing on his conscience.

"Trysten, you've served me loyally for some time now. You've served me well."

"I am your loyal servant my que- Dany."

"Seven Hells Trysten!" She exclaimed. "I called you in here because I wanted some decent company. Someone to talk to. Drop the formalities." She laughed, attempting to set him at ease, but he still sat rigidly. She could tell he was still assessing the room, looking for enemies. "Now why do you insist on that?" She asked him, exasperatedly.

"I serve you, Dany. I'm here to protect you."

"You're here to do as I command." He nodded. "Then do as I command, and talk to me." She pressured him. He sighed, leaning back into his seat and rubbing his face. "Now speak to me honestly." She told him, pouring them each glasses of wine, which he accepted gratefully. "So what shall we speak of?" She asked him lightly. He shrugged. "Gods you can be boring. Grey Worm makes for better conversation." She laughed. "Trysten," she said, holding eye contact with him, "I need a friend." His expression seemed to soften, and past the exhaustion she could see a flicker of energy and awareness.

"What would you like to talk about, your grace. Dany." He corrected himself again before she could interject.

"See?" She smiled. "It's not really that hard. So tell me about your home. Star's Reach. Do you miss it?"

"It's a beautiful place. I believe you'd like it. I've seen my share of fortresses, but nothing compares to Star's Reach. The legends say it was built by the first men on the site of a fallen star. A castle carved into the very marble and white limestone of the mountain, overlooking our bay. My father used to say five hundred men could hold it against ten times their number."

"Did you spend much time there?" She asked.

"Not as much as I would have liked. But when I was there I was happy." He smiled. "Iagan- my bother, he elaborated, we used to sneak out and go into the city. The port. We'd play around the docks and see the sailors unloading and listen to them talk about all the far off places they'd visited. We'd run around the city and listen to people speaking their foreign tongues and praying to all their gods, or run through the woods and orchards outside the city walls." He recounted, his mood lightening. "Once, we even dove from the cliffs into the bay. My mother nearly killed us when she heard about that one." He recounted.

"What of your family? Have you heard from them?" She asked.

"Not yet. I sent word out when I requisitioned Star's Reach for a contingent of Rangers or more silversides, or even knights, but I'd imagine the message hasn't reached them yet. I haven't spoken to Iagan since our father was killed. I assume he's still with Robb and the Rangers, assuming the war is still being fought. And Maerisa was riding to join Robb's host. I'd left my mother in charge of running the affairs of the city in my absence. They would've expected word from me by now. I wonder if they even know I'm alive. Where I am. If they need me…" He trailed off, growing somber.

"Trysten, you know one day I'll go back. We'll return."

"I know. I know…" He said quietly. It must've been nice to have had a loving family. She had forgotten the sacrifices he had made to serve her.

"Tell me what I need to know. Tell me about Robb Stark." She said, trying to change the subject.

"He's a good man. We practically grew up together during my time at Winterfell. His father, Eddard, was a good man. An honorable man. He and my father were friends, we answered when Robb called the banners to answer for his father's imprisonment. Robb is young, probably around our age. The girls used to love him. He'd just been married when I left. A Volantene girl, Talisa Maegyr."

"The one whose father you had been sent to find." Trysten nodded. "He's a good man, Robb. You'd do well to seek his support when we go back to Westeros. He's honorable." It was ironic. Here she sat with the son of one of the men who had deposed her father and sent her into exile, talking about another of the usurper's dogs' sons. She chuckled at it, taking a sip of wine. Trysten took another sip of his own, before turning to her.

"So what about you Dany. What do you remember?"

"I just remember fleeing the years on the run, and then the manse in Pentos with Illyrio and Viserys." She said, taking another sip of wine. It was strange to think about. For all she had heard about Westeros, from Jorah, from Viserys, it was all just that. What she had heard. She couldn't even remember the place she called home.

"What about Viserys?" She shook her head, indicating that she didn't want to talk about him. The conversation continued, as they finished off a bottle of wine.

"Trysten," she interrupted, "why couldn't you sleep?" She asked, and he seemed to grow serious again.

"I'm going to have decision to make tomorrow." He stated plainly. She signaled for him to elaborate. "Dany, tonight I killed men. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. It needed to be done. But then, before we left, a girl found us, probably about the same age as Maerisa. Found the bodies. One of them must've been her father. And I'd killed him. And all I could think of was what I would do if someone had invaded my home. If a foreigner sat in the Starseat and cut down the weirwoods. And I'm not sure I would act differently, if I was in their place." He confessed. She began to understand. He was conflicted.

"You think I'm being too harsh? That their actions are justified?" She asked, confused and vaguely irritated.

"No, of course not. You need to show strength. But why not try and win their hearts and minds. Show them that you respect their culture, their traditions. Reopen the fighting pits" he urged her.

"Are you mad?" She interrogated incredulously. "You want me to reopen the fighting pits? Send more innocents to die."

"It wouldn't be forced. I'm sure there are men who would volunteer. It's a job."

"It's barbaric."

"How is it any different than what I did tonight? We live, we fight, we die. I've pledged myself to you, to fight for you. Why can a man not fight for pay?"

"I need you to fight for me. You fight out of duty."

"And their families need them to fight!" He insisted. "Where do you expect them to find pay? Or food. When they watch their wives and children starve because they couldn't earn pay in the fighting pits."

"And what? I should make those same families into widowers?"

"Do you honestly believe that this will ever get any better until you've been shown to adopt their customs? Dany, this isn't a war we can win! I can go kill a hundred harpies, but as long as you're seen as a foreign oppressor, two hundred more will take their place. All its doing is creating martyrs! We cannot win this fight! And the longer it goes on, the more people are going to die. Innocent people Dany. Your people! Meet with the Maesters. Hear their demands, compromise with them!"

"You've gone absolutely mad. When was the last time you slept?" She asked, feigning concern. "I will not bow to the demands of killers and slavers!" She insisted, anger building.

"It never ends! Dany, I've seen how this goes! They kill one of ours, we kill one of theirs, and on and on it goes. Its a wheel, and eventually, we're going to get ground into the dust by it. It will never! End! All it will do is breed more resentment, more hatred, and more innocent people will die!" He said, his voice rising as he tried to make her see. "Tomorrow, you're going to ask me to go out into the streets and drag men and even young boys from their homes and slaughter them to send a message. And that, I will not do. Or I will never sleep again."

"What?" She asked angrily. "Are you saying you'll refuse a direct order from me?" She said, her temper rising. This young lordling dared to defy her?

"You can't seriously think that this is justice Dany! To drag people into the streets and kill them? It makes us no better than them!" He retorted, his apparently melancholy mood supplanted by defiance.

"No better than them?" She shouted angrily. "I'm not the one who nailed children to posts to mark the way! I'm not the one who forced innocents to fight to the death for amusement! I'm not the one who sells men, women, and children, and splits them from their families! Everything I do, I've done for their benefit. And you dare to compare me to them?" She demanded, and she could see his own frustration.

"It isn't justice Dany. You mean to just execute them? Without trial? Who will follow you Dany. Its criminal. The last King I'd heard of who did that incited a rebellion and was stabbed in the back by his own Kingsguard!" That took things a step too far. She was furious. Who was this lordling, this child of one of the rebels, to lecture her on morality or justice? The dragon within her had woken.

Who is he to speak to me like this? I've lived my life in fear. He grew up in luxury, resting on the comfort of his father's crime, living as a soldier and a lord. I've lived on the run! Because of his family! And he dares to lecture me on justice? Was it justice when my brother was killed by the usurper? Or when my nephews brains were dashed against a wall and his mother raped?

"You go too far Trysten! I am your Queen!" She raged.

"YOU go too far, your grace" he said.

"These men are monsters. Cruel and heartless, and if not for me they'd let this city slide right back into the hell I found it in. Do you think they care for the people as I do? Do you even understand the evil within these people?" She demanded from the young lordling. "These are my people! I am the the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Queen of Meereen, breaker of chains, the Mother of Dragons!" She exclaimed. "And I will do what is best for them. How could you possibly understand their plight?" She said, shaking with fury. Trysten calmed himself, undoing the straps on his breastplate. and allowing it to fall to the floor, exposing his undershirt.

"How could not understand? How could I not understand!?" He said furiously, turning his back to her and pulling his shirt off. Her breath caught in her throat. His back was covered in scars. The long scars crisscrossed and ran across his shoulder blades and lower back, lashmarks. In some places the wounds still hadn't completely healed, as the flesh was still red and split in some places. "Believe me Dany! I understand!" He said turning back to her. "I lived it." He said, beginning to calm. "And I still know, this isn't the best course." Her rage began to melt away.

She was shocked. Ser Barristan had mentioned that he had been taken as a slave with his men, but it had never quite sunk in until she saw the scars. He carried himself as such a proper, dutiful lord. She couldn't imagine him as a slave.

And Ser Barristan.

My loyal knight. Dead because of me. It was my fault. I had demanded we take the city, against his council. He had been patrolling the city for me. It was my fault. He had fought for me. He had come to serve me. And he had died for me. She suddenly felt tears running down her face, she could taste the salt in her mouth. She felt her shoulders shudder.

"They killed Ser Barristan." She said, her voice wavering, barely a whisper, so quietly he didn't even hear her. A single tear running down her face.

"What?"

"They killed Ser Barristan!" She sobbed, collapsing to her knees. Tears now flowed freely, and she was wracked by sobs. Tears splattered on the stone tiles. Trysten rushed to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and hugging her tightly to him, pulling her close to his chest. "It's my fault." She wept. "He's dead because of me. He died for me!" She sobbed, her tears running down his bare chest as he continued to hold her. "They killed him because of me. It's my fault. And now he's gone!" She cried, eventually losing track of her words and simply giving in to her grief.

And then she heard Trysten. She could hear his heartbeat in his chest, feel his hands rubbing her back, bringing her back to her senses. There was something calming in his touch, in his embrace. And then he began to murmur quietly to her, barely audible above her sobs.

"Shhh. Shhh Dany it's okay. It isn't your fault. It's not your fault." He told her. She looked up at him, his gold eyes empathetic and compassionate.

"He was following my orders. He was serving me."

"Dany, it isn't your fault. He knew what the risks were." He said reassuringly, his voice low, calm, and steady. "The Harpies killed him, not you. He chose to serve you. He chose you Dany." He said, drawing her close as she shook uncontrollably. "The man served three kings, and still saw you as worthy, still was willing to pledge his life to you. He knew the risks. You inspired him Dany." He consoled her. "He thought you were worth dying for."

"I just miss him so much," she wept.

"I know. I know. I miss him too. He was one of the greatest knights, one of the greatest men" he corrected, "I've ever known. But he would want us to carry on. To stay strong. I know you're angry. I know it hurts, but massacring them won't bring him back. Revenge won't make you feel any better. I know, I've tried. It doesn't fill the hole they leave behind." He comforted her as she calmed down, her sobs coming slower and weakening. "It isn't your fault," he repeated, and she looked up at him. She must have looked terrible, her eyes red rimmed, her hair disheveled. His smooth hand wiped a tear from her cheek, and he smiled sadly. "But it won't bring him back." She looked down.

"Look at me, Dany." He said, taking her chin in his hand and standing up, bringing her to her feet. She stayed held tight to him, taking comfort in his arms.

"Do you know why he loved you, why he followed you? Why I follow you?" He asked sincerely. She gave a small shake of her head. "Because you're a good Queen. He saw it in you. My father saw it in you, somehow. You're kind. You're merciful. You care for your people. Its what makes them love you, makes them willing to die for you. You can be a great Queen." He told her. "But I know if he was here he'd tell you to do the same thing I'm telling you." He said as the last of her tears and sobs finally stopped.

"My father once told me," he began, "that rage is like the water in the ocean. You can sail your ship on it, it can carry you where you want to go, it might even support you, but if you let the water get inside your ship, you'll sink. You can't let it in, Dany. Honor his memory, be the Queen he thought you were. That I think you are."

She finally calmed herself, restoring her senses. He released her, stepping back. They were silent for a moment, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

"So, I suppose I'm dismissed from your Queensguard?" He asked finally.

"No."

"You know I won't do what you ask me to do tomorrow." He asserted.

"I won't ask you to, you're right, Trysten."

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"Daario and Jorah won't like it," he warned.

"Well then I suppose it's a good thing I'm the Queen." She smiled, trying to regain her composure.

"Well, you should rest, your grace," she suddenly realized just how tired she was, she didn't even have the energy to correct him. He led her gently to her bed and she sat down on the silken sheets, smoothing her gown around her, its soft silk damp from her tears. "If that will be all your grace, goodnight." He bowed lightly, and then turned, gathering his undershirt and breastplate and moving towards the door.

"Trysten," he paused, "Thank you." She told him, and he continued towards the door. Something still didn't feel quite right. She didn't want to be alone.

"Trysten, wait." She stopped him. "Please, stay with me." He paused, unsure of himself.

"Of course, your grace." He replied, settling down into one of the couches in her chamber. Then, they were silent, as she began to drift off to sleep, Trysten sitting in the couch, her vigilant Queensguard. Her loyal advisor.

"One last thing," she began.

"Yes, your grace?"

"When you told me that, all of it, were you speaking as my advisor?" She asked, nervous for the answer.

"As your friend." He smiled, and with that, she drifted off to sleep.