Dany was actually perusing the teachers' offices for her own purposes -- she assumed that Ser Jorah would want to know of her progress forming alliances here, if he were to visit. And while Dany had been keeping to herself in her grief (another expectation of Ser Jorah, she expected), she knew that the fastest way to gain followers was to find the people in power. Like her own teachers.

However, when she peeked into the small room marked with the number nineteen, her heart stopped. While she'd never met the Imp, everyone knew all of the Lannisters' trademarks. The expensive clothes, the blond hair, the sheer cocky way they each carried themselves. Queen Cersei's cold smile. The Kingslayer's handsomeness. And the Imp's stature.

Dany thought quickly. Revealing herself to him -- well, he likely already knew she was here, didn't he? She was unarmed and still weak, and for once, she'd left the dragons behind. Not that they could have done much good. Drogon might have attempted to singe the Imp's hair.

"Good morning." She knew, young though she was, that she was likely as recognizable to him as he was to her. The Targaryen looks and the Dothraki garments were immediate tip-offs, she was sure. But she lifted her chin as she stood in the doorway, determined to look every inch the khaleesi she was.