Two unsullied soldiers forced the Golden Queen to kneel in front of Daenerys, a hateful sneer adorning her face. Daenerys gave away no emotion, only held her head high looking as mighty as her dragons.
"Tell me where you stored the Wildfire," the Dragon Queen demanded.
Cersei didn't respond, looking around the scorched remains of the throne room. That ugly chair finally seems to match its surroundings, she thought looking at the Iron Throne. She couldn't say she enjoyed sitting on the damn thing, not with all the cuts it gave her.
"I said, tell me where you keep the rest of the wildfire! Or I'll..."
"You'll what, kill me? I'm already as good as dead, I don't expect any mercy from you 'mother of dragons'," she practically spits the last part.
Daenerys had a troubled look. She sighed, looking down for a second. "All my advisors want me to be done with it and kill you, even your brother is of that opinion. I, however, want to give you a fair trial. No one will say I don't rule justly."
"The imp is no brother of mine!", Cersei screamed, "And we both know the trial is only a formality now. My head will be on a spike by the end of the day." Cersei smirks then, "Why are you so worried about the wildfire? You won, my armies are destroyed and King's Landing is yours."
Daenerys doesn't respond. She draws her hands into fists, her knuckles turning white.
"Oh I see, you're afraid I still have one of my lackeys waiting for the right time to set the whole city aflame". Cersei laughs then, a harsh and coarse sound after being in the black cells for almost a week. "I would love nothing but to tell you that is true, but I'm afraid there's no one willing to help me in this miserable city after what they saw your dragons do to my armies. Cowards." She shifted her bloodied knees. If only Jamie hadn't killed that fool of a maester, this whole city would be in ashes and this silly girl would have nothing. Now my beloved brother has bent the knee to this dragon bitch, and I'm left with nothing.
Daenerys had a hard time remaining calm. 'You don't want to wake the dragon', her brother always said. Why is it so hard? It was never this hard. "If somebody sets the caches off in accident, the whole city will burn!" She tried to reason. I can't torture her. His grace was right; everyone will be looking to me in this critical period. I must show them that I'm a fair and just ruler. Jon doesn't understand though, he knows nothing. Why is it so hard?
"Let them all burn for all I care," Cersei responded, "besides even I don't know where all the fire was stored. My brother killed the only person that knew."
When Daenerys realized she wasn't going to get anything from the lioness, she nodded at her guards to take Cersei back to the cells. "Enjoy your last few hours Lannister, your trial begins at midday."
"You'll be nothing but the queen of ashes, you'll never be able to repair this broken kingdom!" Cersei screamed as she was dragged away, struggling against the guards for the first time since she was captured.
Right after midday, the Dragon Queen and her small court gathered outside the gates of the red keep to hold trial for all the smallfolk to see. As Cersei was brought forth in front of Daenerys, who sat on a chair on a raised dais, the crowds shouted insults and spit at the lioness' face. The unsullied struggled to keep a secure line, lest a riot broke out. It seemed everyone wanted queen Cersei's blood; and just so for she had allowed the whole city to starve as she hoarded the city's food inside the Red Keep. Now that too was gone after she blew up the whole thing as she did the Sept of Baelor before.
Now Cersei, made to kneel once again, stands in front of the Dragon Queen. Her look is determined, her head held high. I can't let it end like this; I won't let it. She spoke then, loudly for everyone to hear, "I won't stand for this mummer's farce! I won't let a group of cowards and turncloaks decide my fate. I put that on the hands of the gods, I demand a trial by combat!"
Daenerys was surprised at the declaration. She'd never heard of such a thing until Tyrion had explained to her how he escaped execution at the hands of Lysa Tully. She almost wanted to laugh, who would be your champion? She was right when she said there was no one left in this city to support her.
"You forget your own son, Tommen, outlawed the practice" responded Tyrion, standing at Daenerys' right. "You have no recourse but to take responsibility for your crimes."
"And I reinstated it after he passed, but that matters not. It is for the Dragon Queen to decide now." Cersei turned to look at Daenerys, "will you deny a queen her last wish? Or will you just have me burnt like you did all my men in the battlefield. It might already be too late for you to call yourself a 'just' queen." She finished with a smirk, knowing the effect it would have on her captor.
Daenerys had to take a deep breath, her hand gripped the armrest of her seat tightly. Images of fire spreading across a frozen wasteland filled her head, thousands of corpses burning. They were the same images that plagued her mind when she slept. It was never this hard, she thought. "Who would you have as your champion Lady Cersei? I don't see anyone lining up to defend their 'queen'," she finally responded.
"I heard my cell guards talking about the fate of Ser Gregor Clegane, that he took out almost twenty men in the battlefield before he was taken down by that wolf beast your husband takes for a pet." Cersei paused then, as she saw realization strike Daenerys. "That's right, I'm not as clueless as you think. I also heard he survived his injuries and now awaits his own trial at the black cells. I would make him my champion!"
The Mountain? He had almost killed Jon, but Ghost interfered before he could deal the finishing blow. He'll heal just fine though, just another scar to match the many others that already adorned his chest. Who could defeat such a man, such a monster? Daenerys knew she should not agree to such a foolish request. Before she could make up her mind though, a tall man in well-worn armor stepped forth from the crowd.
"I know what you are thinking! I would fight the fucker and be your champion. If you'd have me your grace." He added that last part haltingly, clearly not one to use proper honorifics.
She recognized him too, how could she not? His scarred face made it clear to everyone this man was none other than Ser Sandor Clegane, the Hound. This man was Gregor's younger brother. Why would he want to fight his own brother, and in a duel to the death no less? She thought. She shouldn't be too surprised though, considering her own relationship with her late brother. She was curious though. He's part of Jon's personal retinue now is he not? It did seem like something he would do, to take a man like him in. Half his personal guard is filled with wildings after all. Daenerys had too heard about this man's prowess in the battlefield, how he took out a dozen men during the storming of King's Landing. He clearly had not met his brother during the battle, for surely only one of them would be alive now.
"You presume too much Ser; you are not even part of my retinue." Daenerys finally responded.
"I don't see any other fucker stepping up. They're all afraid of my brother."
"And you're not?"
"I stopped being afraid of him the day he did this." He responded pointing to his burned face.
Clearly this man wanted some form of revenge. What am I to do now? She thought. If I refuse Cersei's challenge people will think I don't trust the gods to carry out judgment. Many people already doubt my beliefs; they see me as a godless queen. She sighed, making up her mind. They're not wrong for believing that, but I must not give them any more proof that they're right.
"Very well, I have decided to agree to your request Lady Cersei! Ser Gregor will be your champion and, Ser Sandor mine." she said.
Cersei, who had remained quiet during the whole exchange, only continued look at her with that smirk of hers. It was as if she knew everything would happen as it did.
"Bring me the man, we will resolve this tonight!" Daenerys said, speaking in Dothraki now. "And bring four of your men with you, we can't take any risks." She continued, speaking to one of her personal guards.
The sun would set soon, much earlier than she was used to. There was a chill in the air, and a light flurry of snow fell throughout the city. Daenerys would have been surprised, were it not for the fact that the weather had been very much like this since she had landed at Dragonstone some moons ago. When she had asked Jon how he could stand the cold, he had said 'This is nothing Dany. At the Wall, the air was so cold that it would burn the skin. Many brothers had lost fingers to frostbite.' At the time it was hard to imagine the cold could burn, but as it got colder she began to understand how that could be. Then again she couldn't know, she had never experienced the feeling.
A wide circle had been opened in front of her, the crowd pushed back by her unsullied. About two score of her best men stood shoulder to shoulder around the circle, spear and shield in hand. I can't take any chances, she thought. If Ser Gregor attempts an escape, he must be put down at all costs. Ser Gregor towered over the group of men that brought him into the circle. It was clear he could have overpowered all five of them, had it not been for the thick iron chains secured around his feet and hands. The guards removed his chains and retreated from the circle. He made no sign to escape, never said a word. Can he even speak now? She thought. He seems like nothing more than a slave to Cersei.
When Daenerys explained he was to be his mistress' champion, he merely grunted. He extended his hand, as if asking for a weapon. Daenerys nodded for his sword to be given to him. Her men had confiscated it from him after the battle. Now the man that walked into the circle to give it back to him looked to be struggling. He had to hold it with both hands. Ser Gregor took the sword with one hand like it was nothing, and turned to Cersei and grunted again. A sign that he was ready. He didn't have his armor, but after the wounds he had survived it didn't appear he needed it. His image is gruesome, Daenerys thought looking at the man's purple and swollen face. There was a nasty wound on his neck, Ghost had taken a large chunk of his flesh during the battle. It was frightening in a way, that he could survive something like that.
The hound stepped into the circle, wearing his usual well-worn armor and bastard sword in hand. He also didn't speak a word, though he could. No words needed to be spoken either; by sun down one of them would die, and Cersei's fate would be decided.
Daenerys looked towards the young septon, one of the few that had survived the Sept of Baelor's explosion, bidding him to begin. The thin man stepped forward, right in front of the dais that Daenerys sat on, and exclaimed "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of the Lady Cersei Lannister. May the mother grant them mercy, may the father give them such justice as they deserve, and may the warrior guide the hand of our champion don't…"
"Fuck this! I didn't come here to hear a man preach. I came here to fight!" the Hound exclaimed, speaking for the first time.
The poor septon looked at her queen, but she only vade him to step back and allow the duel to begin.
The two brothers circled each other slowly, waiting. The two hadn't fought each other since that time Sandor had to step in and save the flower knight. It was a different time then; nothing was at stake. Now it was a matter of life or death. The Hound could feel the chill seeping into his body, his southern armor doing nothing to protect him against the elements. Ser Gregor, on the other hand, gave away no discomfort. When the mountain finally got tired of waiting, he charged an inhuman roar bursting from his mouth. The Hound stepped away from the overarching swing and sliced at his brother's belly. His belly split open but no blood came out, only a black tar-like fluid.
Sandor took a few steps backs, staring at the wound he had just left. What the fuck? He thought. His brother made no sound of pain, only continued to stare back with his blood-filled eyes. The mountain charged again, and he met his swing this time with one of his own. The ring of the clash echoed for all to hear. The crowds behind the circle were getting restless now. Many were trying to push past the line of unsullied to get a better look at the fight.
The two continued to trade blows, swinging with all their might. Both had landed a few more strikes of their own. Black fluid continued to come out of the Mountain's wounds. He seemed unhampered though, the slight limp after the Hound sliced his left calf in half being the only sign of weakness. The Hound had not fared as well. While his armor had taken the brunt of the strikes, his side was bleeding and he had a nasty slice to the unburned side of his face. He knew that he had to end it soon or his brother would. They circled each other again, both aware it was almost over.
Sandor looked at the wound on his brother's neck. That bastard should have allowed his wolf to finish him off, he thought. If there is anything that would kill the bastard, it would be separating his head from his body. He knew what he had to do then. Sandor charged, feinting an overhand blow before he turned direction and sliced upwards with all his might. His sword slashed through the Mountain's already injured neck, almost decapitating him in the process. The Mountain kneeled on the ground now, using his free hand to grasp at his neck, as if that would keep it in place.
"I hope you burn in all seven hells you fukin' bastard." The hound bellowed, and gave one final mighty swing, cutting his brother's head off and taking the grasping hand with him too. The Mountain's head rolled a few feet away, and his body dropped like a stone to the ground. The hound was breathing heavily now, looking at his brother's lifeless eyes. They didn't look any different than they did just a few moments ago.
Queen Daenery's stood up, "It is decided! With Ser Sandor Clegane's victory, you are found guilty of all accusations. I hereby sentence you to die by beheading! What are your last words Cersei Lannister?"
Cersei didn't appear to hear her at first, still looking at the mountain's headless body. When she finally spoke, it wasn't towards Daenerys. "I always thought it would be you. That you would betray me and kill me just like you did my beloved Joffrey. Now I see, you weren't the Valonqar after all." She turned her eyes to look at the Hound briefly before turning back towards Tyrion. "I'm tired and no one will say I died without grace, I won't make a fool of myself now. Just get it over with."
It was dark now, and braziers were lit so that everyone could see the execution. The crowd had diminished some by now, but many still wanted to see the death of the woman that had caused them such misery. Cersei knelt in the center of the circle where the duel took place, Ser Sandor Clegane stood over her. Everyone was quiet now, the crowd's excitement had given way to anticipation. Daenerys gave the Hound a sign from her seat, signaling him to carry out the deed. The hound lifted his sword in the air and swung down, cutting the Golden Queen's head with a single strike.
Daenerys didn't feel any better now that the whole ordeal was over. She was just exhausted. How many will stand in my way still? She thought. The Westerlands had bent the knee, King's Landing was hers, and the North was her closest ally. She should be celebrating her victories, but the threat beyond the wall did not allow her to rest. With the south secured, she would soon be marching North with her armies and dragons. What will she find there? Jon had sent a large portion of his men to secure the wall, and until recently, letters came regularly with increasingly distressing news. The last raven that arrived from the wall was well over a moon ago. Why is it so hard? It was never this hard.