Dragonstone and the Taking of Westeros

The stone chairs within Dragonstone's keep were oily to the touch, and always chilling. You guessed, it always serves to keep those seated fully awake when they need to be.

The meeting room is full before you, and the open facade of the wall behind you, looking out upon the sea and stony shores of the island, breathes salty sea air into the room. Your legs prickle and gooseflesh forms on your sleek, toned legs beneath your dress.

Varys, Tyrion, Grey Worm, amongst others, all vie to be heard whilst the others simply talk louder over each other.

The taking of Westeros would be a strategic miracle, when it began in earnest. The issue was that each of her advisors thought they knew the best way to go about it.

Tyrion was the dark horse. She was predisposed to trust not a single word that fell from a Lannister mouth, but he was quickly becoming her most trusted advisor and - you think worriedly to yourself, taking you by surprise - friend.

Were Viserys here to see you now...

The discussions, for lack of a better term, had been going on for the better part of the morning and into the afternoon, and your back ached.

You stood, and the room fell silent.

"My most faithful friends and allies. You all have valid views and opinions, and I value each one. I feel our discussions this afternoon have reached somewhat of an impasse..." you pause as a slight murmur pervades the room from your introduction of levity to the situation, "so might I suggest we take a break for a while. Rest up. Refresh ourselves, and return to this later today? Seventh bell, here once again?"

One by one, your advisors leave you, until, at last, only yourself and Missandei, who shared one last lingering look with Grey Worm before he left, remain.

"Khaleesi," the Sothoryosi began, "might I suggest I draw you a warm bath, and you retire to your bed chambers for a few hours? Your pardon, but you look tired, and it would not be seemly for the others to see you this way."

You smile at the woman. She has blossomed into her strength, confidence, and with a twinge in your gut, remarkable beauty. "I agree, thank you for your support. I cannot remember when I last showed you my gratitude, Missandei, but I could not have come this far without you."

"It is my pleasure, Khaleesi, were it not for..."

Her words in response are cut short by a knock on the door. It still remained ajar, and Varys stood, lurking in semi-darkness, beyond the threshold.

"Come." Your strength and tone of voice surprises you, as the weariness sets in to your bones.

The Spider enters, his bald head reflecting the afternoon light.

"Your grace, it seems we have a rather surprising visitor. Beyond the keep, and begging an audience, is none other than..."