"You need allies from within Westeros," Tyrion said evenly. "Only by uniting with them can you truly rule the Seven Kingdoms. And King's Landing should not be your first target after crossing the Narrow Sea."
"My sister, the Queen Regent Cersei, commands the Lannister host. She has the private armies of many great houses at her disposal—and beyond that, the Seven Kingdoms themselves stand behind her."
"King's Landing is not an isolated city. If you attack it directly, you risk being struck from both front and rear. Even if you were to take the capital by force, holding the Iron Throne would be nearly impossible."
Daenerys's earlier excitent dimd at once. After a mont of silence, she asked bitterly,
"Then who in Westeros would ever be willing to stand as my ally?"
Seeing the despair on her face, Tyrion was taken aback.
How could she not know?
The mysterious figure had ordered Varys to rescue the Stark mother and son.
That sa figure had warned Prince Oberyn of Dorne.
And he had even guided Tyrion himself toward Daenerys.
None of that could have been done without purpose.
And yet—Daenerys seed utterly unaware that such a person even existed.
The realization made Tyrion's head ache.
The mysterious benefactor had bent Varys to his will, saved the Starks, aided Oberyn, and maneuvered Tyrion into Daenerys's service… all for her sake.
And she knew nothing about it.
Tyrion desperately wanted to reveal everything—but Varys's warning echoed in his mind, forcing him to swallow the words.
He was certain that even Varys himself did not realize that Daenerys remained ignorant of the mysterious figure's existence.
For a mont, Tyrion imagined the look on the Spider's face if he learned that the shadowy power who had commanded him so thoroughly was still unseen and unacknowledged by the very person he served.
After arriving in ereen, Tyrion had subtly questioned Shireen, hoping to learn sothing about this mysterious presence.
All she had said was that soone had asked Drogon to carry a ssage, arranging for her departure from Dragonstone.
He had gained no direct answers—but not nothing.
His instinct told him Shireen was hiding sothing.
And whatever she concealed was likely connected to that sa unseen hand.
Yet from her expression at the ti, she herself did not seem to understand who—or what—that person truly was.
Tyrion's gaze drifted to Drogon, perched silently on Daenerys's shoulder, listening intently.
Only Drogon knew the truth.
And Drogon, though he understood human speech, could not speak.
When Daenerys finished her question and waited, no answer ca.
After a long pause, she assud the truth was simply too bleak to voice—that no great house intended to ally with her at all.
Her heart sank even further.
Tyrion, of course, could read nothing from Drogon's face. It was only when he turned back that he noticed the dejection on Daenerys's expression and realized—too late—that he still hadn't answered her question.
What he didn't know was that his montary hesitation had already led her to misunderstand him.
"Westeros now stands on the brink of collapse," Tyrion said at last. "Every great house is searching for allies. Yet among them, very few truly have the qualifications to compete for the Iron Throne—and you are one of the strongest contenders. Soone will inevitably co to your side."
Daenerys had assud his silence ant there were no suitable allies to na. Hearing his explanation, her spirits imdiately lifted.
"Then who?" she asked eagerly. "Who might beco my allies?"
"The Starks of the North," Tyrion replied. "And House Martell of Dorne. These are the houses you should seek to ally with."
"The Starks?"
At the ntion of House Stark—loyal supporters of the Usurper Robert—Daenerys instinctively felt resentnt. She had never imagined Tyrion would suggest them as allies.
From the mont he arrived in ereen, Tyrion had known of her hatred toward the Starks. By now, he had stopped trying to reconcile why the mysterious benefactor aided the wolf house while Daenerys still harbored such resentnt—thinking further on it would only drive him mad.
So he explained patiently,
"The Starks and King's Landing are locked in blood feud. There will never be reconciliation between them. At present, they are in desperate need of allies."
"Aren't they besieged at Riverrun?" Daenerys asked. "By the ti I reach Westeros, won't they already be crushed?"
Though she despised House Stark, Daenerys harbored just as much hatred for the Lannisters of the Kingslayer Jai and the Baratheons of the Usurper Robert.
Yet Tyrion and Shireen—both born of houses she despised—now served her loyally.
At last, she understood Tyrion's aning.
This was no longer the ti to cling to old grudges born of Robert's Rebellion. If she wished to win, she would have to set aside hatred and focus on forging alliances.
"Riverrun is easy to defend and difficult to take," Tyrion said. "House Stark won't fall so easily. However, Robb Stark lost any legitimacy to contest the Iron Throne the mont he broke his marriage pact with House Frey."
"Ramsay has nearly annihilated what remains of the Northern forces. Even if Robb breaks the siege, returning to the North will be nearly impossible. Whether he even survives this war is uncertain."
There was more Tyrion did not say.
Robb Stark, for all his honor, lacked the temperant to sit the Iron Throne.
And Ned Stark's other bastard son, Jon Snow, resembled his father even more—brave in battle, yes, but just as ill-suited for kingship.
"Then what of Dorne?" Daenerys asked. "Could they truly beco my allies?"
"Dorne bears deep resentnt toward the Lannisters," Tyrion replied, "and the mountains isolate them from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. In this struggle for the Iron Throne, they are unlikely to support King's Landing. You have a real chance to win them over."
Since Daenerys knew nothing of the mysterious figure's assistance to Prince Oberyn, this was all Tyrion could safely say.
As for Myrcella, the niece sent to Dorne—Tyrion did not believe she alone was enough to preserve the Lannister–Martell alliance.
"Tell about the other powers of Westeros," Daenerys said, eager to learn more.
"The remaining Northern forces have been wiped out by Ramsay," Tyrion said. "He has effectively beco the true Warden of the North—and he has no choice but to cling to King's Landing."
"As for the Vale, the Eyrie is ruled in practice by Lysa Arryn, Catelyn Stark's sister. Her intentions are difficult to read. With the Eyrie's natural defenses, neutrality is their most likely course."
"But Catelyn is besieged at Riverrun," Daenerys asked in confusion. "Wouldn't Lysa send troops to rescue her sister?"
They had just concluded that even if an alliance with the Starks were possible, Catelyn and her son might not survive long enough to see Daenerys arrive in Westeros.
Only now did Daenerys rember that Catelyn's sister had married the Lord of the Vale—and possessed the power to intervene.
The mont the question left her mouth, she felt a pang of embarrassnt at her own ignorance of Westerosi noble politics. I really must study more with Shireen, she thought—the history of the great houses, at least.
"I once stood trial at the Eyrie," Tyrion said, "accused of murdering Bran Stark. I witnessed the quarrel between Catelyn and her sister firsthand. Based on that… I do not believe Lysa will send troops to aid Catelyn."
As he recalled Lysa Arryn—unhinged, possessive—and her seven- or eight-year-old son still suckling at her breast, Tyrion's conclusion felt all the more certain.
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