Sleeping Lessons.

Trystan had never been to the King's Landing. He'd only seen the Iron Throne in paintings, under the arses of Targaryen king's. Yet he was sure that it was the Iron Throne he was staring at. And Myranda Lannister, Queen of the Rock, was seated thereupon.

"Query: Ought things be equitable?" She tilted her head, gazing at him with the lifeless eyes of the portrait on his bedchamber wall.

"Equitable?"

"Ought all nobles be treated equally?"

"No."

"Very good. Why?"

"Because nobility is earned first, and then passed down. If it was never properly earned... then it can't be passed down."

"And it is common blood that they offer, then, is it not? To water down the thick blood of true kings."

"Yes, Grandmama."

"And so you shall never marry a Tully, shall you, Trystan?"

"I shall not Grandmama."

"Nor shall you marry a cowardly Tyrell, shall you, Trystan?"

"I shall not."

"Shall you marry a Targaryen?"

Trystan paused. Stumped.

"No?"

"You may, if the opportunity arises, for they are truly kings. It cannot be denied. It can be disputed. It can someday be altered. But it cannot be denied."

"The dragons?" Trystan looked at the strange twisted throne underneath his great grandmother's faint image.

"And the conquest. They have performed miracles, as did your ancesters. Kings, all. Gardeners and Lannisters. What a glorious alliance we might have built..."

"But there are no more Gardeners." He said, and he saw how it stung the Queen Myranda.

"No, there are no more Gardeners." She paused, "Ought things be equitable?"

"No." He said, with certainty.

"Ought revenge be equitable? Should it bring balance between the victim and the perpetrator?"

"No."

"What ought it bring, Trystan?"

"Advantage."

"Very good, sweeting. Compensation must bring advantage, not balance. If things are balanced then the offender has lost nothing. Where is the justice in that?"

"Nowhere, Grandmama."

"Query: What would be the advantage in marrying a Targaryen?"

"Advantage."

"You may awaken."

He blinked and Trystan was no longer staring at a dead Queen on an iron throne, he was staring at the ceiling of his bedchamber. He turned his head slowly and found Aunt Morganna in the doorway, smiling.

"It is time for your exercises, Trystan. We shall break fast together thereafter."

Trystan sat up in bed and rubbed his head. How would he ever feel rested if he was being trained in both his waking and his sleeping hours. He hopped out of bed, and started his day.

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It was evening in the sept. The moon hung low in the sky, but there were no stars. Trystan was in his bedclothes, bare feet upon cold stone. He had no idea how he'd gotten here, but he wasn't alarmed. He spun slowly around, looking at each of the Seven. The Father, the Warrior, the Smith, the Stranger, the Maid, the Mother and... Ah yes, he smiled. The Crone. In her place stood the Queen Myranda.

"Query: Can House Lannister survive without acknowledging the validity of the newborn Houses?"

"Yes." Trystan replied.

"But can we advance?"

"Perhaps not..." Trystan conceded.

"Can we advance without acknowledging the validity of the betrayors?" Myranda inquired.

"We can."

"We are too few, the Old Kings." Myranda lectured, "The conquest has scattered us. And our differences were great even before the coming of the Conqueror. If the Old Kings alone could have thwarted the dragons, we would have. But we could not then and we cannot now. New alliances must be formed."

"With whom?" Trystan stepped closer to his Great Grandmother.

"With the deserving."

"How will I know them?"

"They earned their places. In battle or in birth, the deserving earned their positions. They did not become lords by opening the Garden gates willingly to the Targaryen's. Gates that were not theirs to open... No. Some titles are gifts. Misplaced gifts, at that."

"You mean the Wardens of the South." Trystan bit his lip.

"I do at that. But there are others, sweet boy, who warrent our attention. Old Kings and new lords alike. Query: Are all of those lordlings dubbed by the dragons loyal to House Targaryen?"

"No."

"Even so shortly after their rising, Trystan? Are they so ungrateful?" He could tell from her tone, that he was not wrong. He was simply expected to elaborate.

"They are grateful to Aegon, but Maegor lies in closer memory."

"Ah, Maegor the Cruel. So soon after Aegon's claim was staked, the Targaryen reputation is thus tainted. House Lannister remained aloof. I was a contemporary of Maegor. I remember him well, and so should all of Westeros. He was not so long ago... But you are young."

"But I am learned." Trystan defended himself, and Myranda smiled.

"So you are. Query: Will you marry a daughter of the West?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The West is securely in the hands of House Lannister, now. We have nothing further to prove."

"And why do you preclude the possibility?"

"Because it is time to make grander strides. Time to advance. I must not marry the daughter of a small house. I must marry into a house with many bannermen, for when one marries into a family one earns sway in that house and in the houses of all of its bannermen. And House Lannister must have more sway. More sway than we have gold, and gold is sway."

"You may awaken."

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