Chapter Forty-Three

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||Hardhome||

The three were now in the Throne room in the great city of Meereen awaiting Daenerys to say anything, anything at all. Zephyr's anxiety was eating away at her.

"Your Grace, I want to say--" Jorah started but wasn't given the chance to continue.

"You will not speak." Daenerys told him calmly. "How do I know you are who you say you are?"

"If only I were otherwise." Tyrion sighed.

"If you are Zephyr Baratheon and Tyrion Lannister, why shouldn't I kill you to pay your family back to what it did to mine?" Daenerys asked.

"You want revenge against the Lannisters?" Tyrion questioned, "I killed my mother Joanna Lannister on the day I was born. I killed my father with a bolt to the heart. I am the greatest Lannister killer of our time."

"And what about you?" Daenerys asked Zephyr.

"I cannot speak for my father to what he did to you and your family during his Rebellion. I can tell you however that he was a great drunken fool. He was barely at the small council meetings. When Ned Stark was still alive he spoke against him when my father ordered a hit on you. In his last dying moments, father agreed that it was wrong to Target you. You were just a child like me. Scared. You had to do whatever it took to survive, to be the Queen you are and will be." Zephyr explained, "I have no intention on being your enemy, Daenerys. I want to be your friend, your ally. I want to help you. You're our only hope."

"So I should welcome you into my service because you murdered members of your own family and you spoke against your father verytime he plotted to murder me?" Daenerys asked which made the other young Queen sigh, realizing how it looked.

"Into your service?" Tyrion asked. "Your Grace, we have only just met. It's too soon to know if you deserve our service."

"If you'd rather return to the fighting pits, just say the word." Daenerys didn't take her eyes off of Tyrion, whoonce again was bold.

"When I was a young girl, I heard a Story about a baby born during the worst storm in living memory. She had no wealth, no lands, no army, only a name and a handful of supporters, most of whom probably thought they could use that name to benefit themselves. They kept her alive, moving her from place to place, often hours ahead of the men who'd been sent to kill her. She was eventually sold off to some warlord on the edge of the world and that appeared to be that. And then a few years later, the most well-informed person I knew told me that this girl without wealth, lands, or armies had somehow acquired all three in a very short span of time, along with three dragons. He thought she was our best, last chance to build a better world." Zephyr rambled on.

"I thought you were worth meeting at least." She then quietly added.

"And why are you worth meeting?" Daenerys retorted. "Why should I spend my time listening to you?"

"Because you cannot build a better world on your own. You have no one at your side who understands the land you want to rule. The strengths and weaknesses of the houses that will either join or oppose you." Zephyr answered.

"I will have a very large army and very large dragons." Daenerys stated.

"Killing and politics aren't always the same thing. My brother found out the hard way by being murdered at his own wedding. When Tyrion and I served as the Hands of the King, we did quite well with the latter considering the King in question preferred torturing animals to leading his people." Zephyr took a step closer ignoring the unsullied. 

"We could do an even better job advising a ruler worth the name. If that is indeed what you are." Zephyr finished.

"So you want to advise me? You have the Iron Throne, why come to me?" Daenerys glanced into the young Baratheon's eyes.

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