It had been a quiet evening in Meereen, and Daėnerys sat by the window, gazing out at the city beyond. Her thoughts wandered, memories of her brother, the sea, and, more recently, the handsome men she had met along her travels. She sighed, dreaming of a life filled with companionship—perhaps a man with kind eyes and a gentle spirit. She saw different faces, but they all were around her age, not a older lord. But someone like her.

Her daydream was interrupted by the soft creak of the door, and Daėnerys snapped back to reality. She turned to see one of her Queen's Guard standing in the doorway, his face stoic.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing slightly.

Daėnerys straightened, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Yes, what is it?" she asked, trying to hide the awkwardness in her voice.