"Defy us to our worst. For, as I am a soldier,
A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
If I begin the batt'ry once again,
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
Till in her ashes she lie burièd.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
And the fleshed soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range
With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants.
What is it then to me if impious war,
Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends,
Do with his smirched complexion all fell feats
Enlinked to waste and desolation?
What is 't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon th' enragèd soldiers in their spoil
As send precepts to the Leviathan"
Henry V, Act 3, Scene 3.
Arslan heard the cry of the proud woman with hair of beaten copper. There was a roar of anger, right across the line of waiting soldiers. Dothraki drew their bows and started to shoot into the oncoming crowd, loosing volleys that cut down scores of screaming men, women and children. As the first of the crowd reached them, Arslan drove his spear into the face of a screaming woman, and the soldiers surged forward, Unsullied, Dothraki, Crownlanders, Valemen, all of them drawing swords and axes, wielding spears and arakhs, hacking, thrusting, slashing. This was what they'd been waiting for! They roared as they cut the enemy down, soldiers wading in on across the line. Even the Tyrell soldiers among the fleeing people made no effort to fight back, such was their panic. It was the easiest fight they'd ever had! Arslan glanced right and left. His comrades were drenched from head to foot in blood. He felt no remorse. These animals had taken their own toll of his men. Let them now feel their fury in response! "Leave none alive, slay them, slay them" he heard the woman screaming, but they needed no encouragement. Later, when the madness passed, he would take an honourable discharge from the army, return to his one-horse village to farm, and try to forget what he had witnessed that day; the bodies hewn into pieces; the woman whose throat was slashed across, before her infant was hurled through the doorway of a burning building; the rapes, the arson, the murders. He survived to his eightieth year, dying respected by his neighbours, one of the elite who had fought for the Dragon Queen. Long dead, by then, she would be a figure of legend, worshipped as a Goddess across the East.
The enemy were broken. Daenerys was sure of that. She saw the centre of the city burn beneath her, as she flew towards Fishmongers Squre. Again and again, green fires exploded, as caches of wildfire ignited. Another crime to lay at the feet of her father. A crime to lay at her own feet, even. She flew down River Row, towards Fishmongers Square, seeing the Kraken banners of the Ironborn. The enemy surrounded them on all sides, though men were starting to point at her, screaming. Many of them broke for cover. She flew across the square, and on towards Visenya's Hill. At little more than roof height, Drogon turned the road into a river of fire, men literally melting in his breath. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the enemy perished as they fled. She tapped Drogon with his whip, and she turned back towards the Square. The fighting had ended. Ironborn and Tyrells were in a desperate panic, fleeing in all directions, but most through the Mud Gate. Let them! She had no desire to burn her own men, even if she killed the enemy as well. Looking up, she saw the Red Keep before her - the prize she had dreamed of all her life, and drove her great beast towards it.
Lady Olenna knew this was the end. She was trapped in the manse she had taken in the city centre. She could hear the flames as they approached from all sides. She had prodded the Dragon, she knew, past the point of endurance. She had no regrets. She had come so close to winning. First the unspeakable Joffrey, then Cersei, then Yohn Royce had fallen to her. She had done what she must, and there was no shame in losing the Game of Thrones. She had always known there was no middle way between victory and death. So be it. She poured herself a goblet of wine, and took a long draft. Then she sat down in her favourite armchair, and drew her dagger, smartly cutting each of her wrists. Unknown to her, her son was fastening a noose around his neck, at this point, a quarter of a mile away.
Sansa came to her senses, staring with horror at what she had commanded. She howled and moaned, even as her husband took her in his arms, comforting her and murmuring endearments. "Kill me, I'm a monster!" she commanded. "Never. You have done nothing that any other leader would not do" he replied, gently. "Can't you see what's happening?" she screamed. "Mother, Father, Robb, Rickon, they would hate me! How can I tell my brother or sister about this?""Sister, it's alright. You're not a monster". She had no idea that Arya had joined them. Petyr relinquished her, Arya took her in her arms, while she sobbed.
"You're a real catch" smirked the bodyguard. Margaery, cousin Elinore, and Joanna were trapped, even as they fled the flames. Her own men, half a dozen of them, had their swords drawn, grinning. "Brave men indeed, to threaten two young women and a babe" she replied. "Go on then, make an end!"."Oh no. You're all worth so much more to us alive than dead" said the leader, grinning. "We'll take you to the Dragon Queen. I think she'll have...very special plans in mind for the three of you. And, very special rewards in mind for all of us. " His comrades crowed with laughter. "Perhaps, she'll let us enjoy you, before the end. " They sniggered again.
Daenerys landed, before the Great Hall of the Red Keep. The very location of the Iron Throne. Her own men were surging into the Palace, almost deserted as it was. She winced at the thought of them looting it, but it was surely inevitable. So be it. She climbed the Serpentine Steps, and then she saw it! The throne that had filled her dreams. And, her nightmares. Her heart skipped. This was it! Ugly, but fascinating. She clambered up the iron stairs , and sat where her father had sat. Oh Gods! Crowned beast though he was, he was the blood of the dragon. She saw her men, kneeling beneath her, but then in a flash she saw so much more. She saw the future! She saw herself, screaming as the ice spear pierced her heart, thrown by the Great Other, even as Drogon withered him with flame. She saw the children of the city, skipping as they chanted "The Mad Queen, The Mad Queen, a million deaths weren't enough for her"! She saw the crowds on Samhain Eve, burning her in effigy as they sang "Blood on your hands Dany, Blood on your dress. Burn for your crimes, Dany, Burn at the stake!" She saw herself as future generations would see her; whore, monster, abomination born of incest, an object lesson in the folly of allowing a woman to sit the Iron Throne. The destruction of the Others in the North, nothing more than a piece of her propaganda. A lie told to justify her tyranny, and the tyranny of Jon Snow who would succeed her.
And, then she wept for the city she had just killed.