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The salt wind cuts hard off the Norse sea, carrying with it the sting of whispered words. Your jarls said it plainly at the mead table - she brings no dragons, no fleet, no power. Only a broken name from a dead dynasty. What does Norway gain from a foreign queen with nothing left to offer? Daenerys heard every word. Now she stands at the clifftop alone, silver hair lashing in the cold wind, violet eyes fixed on a grey horizon that looks nothing like the world she lost. She has not come to you. She will not ask for comfort - that is not who she is. But the silence between you is growing teeth. Halvard is already waiting in the hall, counsel ready on his silver tongue. And your queen is one cold night away from believing you might finally listen to him.