Tyrion could almost smell the panic now, in the Red Keep. Half the city's population were dead or fled, the rest would tear him limb from limb if they could. King Brandon was a vegetable. The entirety of the Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne were lost, along with most of the Crownlands. Dozens of their men deserted each day, most notably Grand Maester Tarly, now languishing in the black cells. They had caught him attempting to flee from the city, two days ago, disguised as a washerwoman. There were rumours that Queen Sansa had marched North of the Wall. If she were defeated, her Tully and Arryn relatives would hardly stand firm in a lost cause.
The war was lost, and Tyrion could only expect a dreadful end. No, it was time to make good his escape. There was at least someone he knew, a ship's captain who had registered his vessels in Braavos. The Republic's vessels were allowed safe passage by the Imperial navy. He had offered the man a fortune, half paid up front, to get him out of Kings Landing. The man intended a voyage to Ib. Surely that was far enough away from the wroth of Daenerys Targaryen. If necessary, he'd keep running East to Mussovy or beyond. So, now he found himself standing in a cave, underneath the Red Keep, waiting to be smuggled on board the waiting ship. The same cave, had he but known it, that Ser Davos and Brienne had met in years ago. He heard sounds, as men approached, sailors presumably.
"Lord Tyrion" called the ship's captain softly, "We're here for you." Thank the Gods! He emerged from behind a rock to find the captain and half a dozen sailors. And then, a grinning Bronn Stokeworth appeared out of the gloom, with four of his own men. "You're escaping too?" he asked, astonished.
"Err, no, Tyrion." Bronn laughed. The captain laughed. The soldiers and sailors laughed.
"I said the same thing to the other one all those years ago, what was his name? Davos, that's it. He wanted to escape to Volantis. "Loyalty on my part costs a great deal more than you can ever afford." Oh gods, he had no idea this was the man who betrayed Davos! Allyrion had never told him the man's name. The captain laughed again, and disappeared with his men.
"Now then, what are we going to do with you, Tyrion?" He saw that the men had drawn their swords.
"Bronn, can't you see it's all hopeless, we have to get away? You too! We can take plenty of treasure, and flee to the East. We can't hope to defeat the Dragon Bitch, now. "
"Oh, I can see it's hopeless, but I reckon her Majesty has a long reach. I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. At least, not when there's a better option. Secure him!" he commanded. One of the men produced a set of manacles. "Don't struggle, Tyrion, you'll only make it harder for yourself." He felt his arms dragged behind his back, and then the manacles snapped tight about his wrists. "Shall we return?" said Bronn. One of the men prodded him with his sword. They began the weary climb back up the steps, to the Red Keep. He made another attempt to persuade the man;
"Bronn, this is madness. We're a team. We work better together. If you want to make a last stand, well, I can help you."
"I wasn't thinking of last stands, Tyrion. Before I came down here, I put what was left of Bran the Broken out of his misery. You'll find those of us who are left are all loyal Dragon men, now, and I'll thank you not to call her Majesty a bitch. The banner of the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms flies over the Red Keep, even as we speak. But, of course, she'll need some scapegoats. They had reached an iron gate, which Bronn unlocked, opening into the lowest level of the Red Keep. "Keep going." He was prodded forward again with a sword. They ascended up to the main courtyard. "I think you need some time to reflect on the error of your ways, Tyrion. I can think of nowhere better than the Black Cells. You remember them of course. You were blamed for Joffrey's death, and you wanted me to fight for you. You offered me a large part of the North. Maybe I should have taken you up on it, but I'll settle for a lot less this time. My life."
They had reached the Tower of the Hand, and Bronn led the way, before descending to its depths. "My life, but not yours. I think Daenerys Targaryen will welcome a gift of you and Tarly, and some of the other rogues, from men who were always on her side in truth, and just waiting for the chance to turn against the Raven."
"You bastard," muttered Tyrion. "You have shit for honour!" Bronn roared with laughter.
"Now you're getting it. I said as much to Lady Arryn, when Vardis Egan went out through the Moon Door. Now, he had honour, and look where it got him. Splattered to a pulp across the rocks.. You should have remembered. And, let's face it, if you had half the wits you claim, you'd have struck first and handed me over to the Empress. The only problem is, you've betrayed so many, no one would believe you." They had reached a thick, wooden, cell door. "Don't think I'm a monster, Tyrion. I won't leave you on your own down here. You can share a nice cell with Tarly. And, he's dressed as a woman too, so if you're feeling a bit horny, well, you can get him to pleasure you. Or you can take turns pleasuring each other, I'm open-minded about these things." He turned the key in the lock, and the door swung open. The cell stank of night soil and stagnant water. In the gloom he saw a figure stirring, before it began to whimper. As his eyes adjusted to the glimmer, Tyrion saw that a chain attached to a rivet in the wall was fastened to pair of fetters that secured Tarly's ankles.
"With your hands free, Tarly, you can jerk him off whenever you want. He can pleasure you with his mouth in turn. " Tarly began to weep, silently. A soldier attached one end of a length of chain to Tyrion's fetters, before fixing the other end to another rivet in the Wall.
"Well, they don't seem so happy about it, after all, " remarked Bronn to his men. "But I've seen love blossom in the harshest environments, truly, it warms my heart." The others sniggered.
"Well, goodbye, my lord. I'm sorry our long partnership has to end like this, but you'll understand, I've got to look out for number one. " He exited the cell with his men, whistling, and then the door slammed shut, leaving the two of them in the darkness.
In the years that had passed by since Daenerys Stormborn had last been within this city, much had taken place, and many of the Smallfolk had died. Many more had fled, to anywhere that would take them, and of the new arrivals, carried on the winds of war, many more had just died. The city had never truly been rebuilt. Just more slums.
"The Citadel, the Walls, they were Visenya's really," Shiera was explaining to Daenerys. "She was an architect and handled most of the construction, while Aegon concerned himself with the realms. She also plotted the sewers and water supply, but in the end only the Red Keep and the villas immediately around it were fitted before her death, and the city has been poorer for it."
"The smell is as bad as Astapor," Elaena nodded. She had put Drogon down in the ruins of the Dragonpit, and the column of the Empress' party had made its way there, before proceeding with Elaena as the Princess and Heir, toward the Red Keep. They had recovered Sansa, treated her neck wound, then flown South by easy stages. Some in the city cheered her, most, even, but particularly those from the poorest districts. Some of the others were much more afraid, especially merchants who may have profited from trading slaves during the Three-Eyed Raven's regime. They had heard many stories, and the Three-Eyed Raven's agents had tried their best to encourage every one of them. But at the hour of conquest, they rang hollow, since they were not already dead, the city not already a slagged cinder. That helped. Unfortunately, many of the Three-Eyed Raven's lickspittle Priests had been whipping up the arrival of Daenerys as a conquest by the Army of the Lord of Light (which was not exactly false), and so the reception was decidedly cool among some. Imperial soldiers had landed at the docks and were filing into the city. A picked body of Unsullied had joined the Empress's party.
"Do not judge it too much," Daenerys spoke smoothly, taking the situation in stride. She had long since learned not to hold against the Smallfolk what they had been deceived into believing by the Lords who were truly guilty. "It was my family's city, and we are all used to it, from campaign. It will be your city someday, and the better you keep it, the finer these lands will be."
"Of course, Your Majesty. I didn't mean…"
"I like baths and running water as well," Daenerys replied. If Elaena tried hard enough, she could imagine the Empress smiling under her mask.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." A cheer went up for Daenerys, and she raised her hand to acknowledge it, as they made their way up Aegon's High Hill. Their banner was already waving over the Red Keep, after all.
The Red Keep. Bran's Government had restored it, and repaired it, and made it whole, for necessity of the function of government, at least. It loomed now above them, the gates thrown open, the Targaryen banner hanging off of it. They rode onwards through the gates, at a slow and steady walking pace that allowed the Unsullied to occupy the Gatehouse before they proceeded into the courtyard.
Elaena quietly looked around at the red walls, the signs of the new repairs using red bricks which had filled out and completed the castle after the previous damage and destruction. Everyone could clearly see the points where the walls had been replaced and repaired, the different shades of red, and Daenerys, she could see, was staring long and hard and quietly at them.
At length, a party came down from Maegor's Holdfast, with a Targaryen banner. The man in the middle attracted Yara's attention as she came up to Daenerys' side. She pointed to him. "Bronn Stokeworth, Your Majesty. The Master of Coin, later commander of the Armies, and Lord Warden of the Reach."
"A rogue if ever there was one," Daenerys murmured. "He's carrying something, Yara."
"Yes he is." Yara peered sharply, with a good sailor's fine eyes. She wouldn't have the reputation as a Captain that she did without her keen eyesight. "A head, Your Majesty."
"This will be interesting."
"Shall I intercept him, Your Majesty?" Elaena asked.
"No, let him come and speak to me." A tight knot of Unsullied was all around them, ready to deal with the situation if there was a requirement. Certainly the man who had raised the Targaryen banner and thrown open the gates would not be an immediate threat—but the general sense of the entire party was that he was a rogue and a traitor, as Yara had suggested.
Daenerys and her thoughts remained inscrutable behind the mask, and in this moment that was probably exactly how she wanted it. Bronn and his guards approached, and with a flourish, he bowed, and then thrust the head up into the air before her. "Your Majesty, the City of King's Landing, at your pleasure as your capital. I killed the usurper Brandon Stark on your behest, Your Majesty." Sansa gave a cry of dismay.
"Lord Bronn," Daenerys began, "I recall that you were long the loyal right hand of the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, the sometimes Hand, sometimes General and sometimes Minister of the Pretender whose head you now hold. I know, too, as you also know, that you hold the head of a crippled boy, whose only crime was coming into the power of a fiendish monster and enemy, who did not enact these evil designs by his own will. We have heard from the people of the city that he was insensate, and thus a harm to no-one. Though I may have had him killed, for his own good and mercy, and for the safety of the realms, lest that power still attend to him—that was my decision to make, and not your's."
Bronn paled, and he dropped the head and bowed again. "Your Majesty, I have given you this city without a fight. I ask only for a pardon; I will return to being a common soldier forthwith. Tarly, the Imp and the others are in the black dungeons."
"What of Allyrion the spymaster?"
"He aided me."
"In seizing a city from a drooling moron, a witless, unthinking boy? How hard was it, Bronn? And here, you have dropped a head which was that of the rightful Lord of the North before this evil power took him, down onto the stones—I will not permit such a disgrace to good blood. Unsullied, seize him!"
They rushed forward, grabbing Bronn and holding him in his place with his sword but a quarter drawn before firm hands grasp him, and three spear-points were at his neck.
"My regime is based on freedom, rights and compassion, not on hypocrisy and lies and rewards for traitors. Once a traitor—always. These men shall betray me if we suffer them to live, my loyals. Princess Elaena, sweep the palace, stop them from flight or any further acts of destruction or hiding their crimes. Secure the prisoners!"
Elaena saluted in the Valyrian style. "Your Majesty! Unsullied of the fourth company, to me!" She swung down from her horse, drawing her sword, and dashed ahead. They barely had enough time; two archers opened fire from Maegor's Holdfast and they tried to lower the doors, but the Unsullied rammed iron bars into the mechanism and jammed it first. A small group of men tried to escape into the tunnels, who had been paid; the spear-men made short of work of them, and Elaena with the group had recourse to her sword, drawing blood with it for a rare occasion, in the military career of a woman who burned her Empress' enemies from dragonback.
But this was, Lord willing, the end of the wars. Reaching the upper levels of the Holdfast, they found Allyrion, the Spymaster, his pulse disappearing with the last of a powerful and fast-acting poison. He had seen Bronn's fate, and quickly moved to avoid being taken prisoner himself, using a last number of well-paid and recklessly foolish catspaws to buy time.
The pounding heart, the sudden rush of killing fever, the quick work of the Old Guards that the Unsullied now were. It was all done, and it was done. Perhaps there would be resistance elsewhere, but if there was, they would be fools and damned fools. Westeros was their's, too.
Three Crowns.
The ravens had gone out soon after they had taken Westeros. In the meantime, Elaena had been put to the task of cleaning up the city by Daenerys. She had had sewers dug down the middle of the streets, a work which was ongoing, connecting into the sewers built by Septon Barth long ago. The cisterns and wells on Aegon's High Hill and at the Dragonpit and around the burned ruins of the Great Sept were repaired. The Septries around the Great Sept and the Great Sept itself having been destroyed, the cisterns there and the wells on the hills could be combined, and used to supply several fountains in a ring around the hill, which now became a source of clean water for the city. Most of it was temporary, and would have to be replaced with brick and stone in the years following, but it was a good way to keep the Army busy now that the fighting was over.
Westeros, like Essos, was ruined by war. Daenerys had taken measures to quickly improve the economic situation, though; she had allowed the Summer Islanders and Braavosi, who strongly supported her, to carry goods between ports inside of the Three Empires, without paying duties, and only charging them when they brought in goods from without. This provided a ready merchant fleet for the internal commerce of the Empire, and despite the devastation, and the internal collapse in Essos from the end of the slave trade, the end of port duties when ships were in cabotage between the different cities of Daenerys' Empires had resulted in quick improvements in the prosperity of the people, and now it was hoped that the extension of her reign to Westeros would bring the same benefits; but, they had only been there for two months, and for the moment, miserable poverty was the rule in King's Landing, though with the city so empty from so many deaths, Elaena had arranged to pay the poor to pull down old wooden buildings and shanties, so that the risk of fire was lessened, and had instead provided them with buildings once owned by the rich who had supported Bran's regime, and who now languished in the cells. The conversion of these buildings to tenements had at least provided housing. Sansa, deeply upset by the sight of her brother's severed head, had been taken under close guard to the Maidenvault, where she was held in custody. Criminal and traitor though she was, it would not be seemly to confine a lady of high birth, who had been a Queen, to the Black Cells. Shiera pointed out that Alicent Hightower had been treated similarly, by Queen Rhaenyra, when captured.
The news having gone out through the realms, by about ten weeks after they had occupied King's Landing, ships arrived from Dorne, bearing representatives of the Prince. Among them was a wonderfully pretty and lean woman, Lady Gwyneth Yronwood, who attracted some instant attention, particularly from Yara, which the Empress took pleasure in teasing her about, but nothing more. Yara, for her part, made no move toward her—she was faithful to Daenerys—but indulged in the humour of it.
Dornish were, after all, Dornish. Elaena, in truth, found their attitudes more normal than those of the Westerosi. As an aristocrat behind the Black Walls, she had considerable freedom, and her education had included the works of romance and sexuality of old Valyria, which in the upper classes had been quite open.
But she wrote her letters to Maekar in Lys, and she spent her nights with Jon. The stupid bastard was trying to be a good lover, but always got guilty about having sex with her, which was a level of prudery she could not imagine. You are a nobleman, an affair or two should seem normal to you. Still, in his ready earnestness, there was a certain endearing quality, and Elaena's opinion of him had softened, some.
Now, Elaena watched the audience between the representatives of the Dornish, and the Empress.
"Your Majesty's triumphs and signal victories have destroyed the regime we faced; we freed our own land from bondage, however, Your Majesty," Gwyneth was saying. "We will renew our pledge of allegiance as was given by Ellaria Sand during her regime, even though the current Prince does not recognise her acts, on the understanding that it is freely done by a free people. We also have a stipulation."
"They call me the Queen of the Free," Daenerys answered. "Our Imperial Edict is to accept this term, without reservation. It is Our intent to reorganise Westeros. The High Lordships of the Westerlands, Riverlands, and the Vale are abolished forever. The Lord Wardens there will be men of repute, appointed by the Crown, and serving at the pleasure of the Sovereign. But, I shall recognise the Hightower and the collateral branches of the Tyrell as High Lords, and the ruler of the North, too—and Dorne shall have a Prince, with the widest freedom. We will pardon Lord Gendry, for his quick revolt, when circumstances prevented; and because he sincerely thought me dead, and was yet uneducated, and ill-served by his Maester. I shall gladly accept your stipulation and give it, along with half of the Dornish Marches, as a boon to the Prince of Dorne."
Even Lady Gwyneth seemed surprised at the staggering scale of the abolition of three High Lordships, and half-choked at the idea of Dorne being given half the Marches to rule; or the fact that Daenerys granted her stipulation without hearing it. "What does Your Majesty intend to do so that she may rule these lands she will place directly under the crown?"
"Many Lordships are forfeit, and they shall remain so. We will place them under Intendants to be administered for the prosperity of the people there, and the wealth of the Crown. We will organise Circles, administered by Judges, Priests and Maesters and other men of quality, to oversee the Lords of each one of the Realms of the Crown, with Justiciars to enforce the law under them, and the rights of pits and gallows reserved to the Crown in all the High Lordships that are abolished."
"You will take Aegon the Fifth's reforms, and complete them, Your Majesty," Gwyneth observed, regaining her composure.
"But not in Dorne. You may keep your own customs and laws, in full, and apply them as you see fit to the lands in the Marches that you are given; they all belong to Lords Attaindered. We will grant all the old customs and privileges, and increase them. What is your boon, Lady Gwyneth?"
She smiled, then, a hungry thing. "Your Majesty is kind, and the ancient friendship of our peoples, since the age of King Daeron, is forever renewed. Our stipulation is that nothing can change the stain of blood. We know that you are merciful, Your Majesty, but except for those whom we refer to mercy, we expect that blood will be washed clean with blood, in the case of those who scoured Dorne."
Daenerys listened, and nodded once, and turned to her scribes. "Record that We have agreed to the Dornish terms. We will not provide mercy or pardons to those convicted of crimes against the Dornish."
The Imp, Elaena thought, and couldn't help a nasty smirk.
Yara Greyjoy had long anticipated this trial. Along with Princess Elaena, Lady Shiera, Archmaesters Valyn and Marwyn of the Citadel, Daario Naharis, Grey Worm, Ser Daemon Sand, and Lord Leyton Hightower, she had joined the Empress as part of a panel of judges, three at a time, trying and sentencing the traitors, who had served the Three-Eyed Raven. Over the course of several weeks, more than three hundred had been sentenced to death , and more awaited trial. Most had been executed by hanging or beheading, the worst offenders by burning, impalement, or drowning in sacks. Some had been acquitted, or received lighter sentences. The Prince of Dorne, for example, had written on behalf of Lord Brynden Tully, who had briefly served as Hand to the King, yet had punished his soldiers' excesses in Dorne. Therefore, his sentence had been commuted to exile, along with his nephew, Lord Edmure. The Tully lands however, were forfeit to the Crown, along with those of the Starks, Arryns, Royces, and other lords who had supported the regime.
She wished that Jon Snow was facing this tribunal as a defendant, but this day, an even greater monster would appear before her, Daenerys, and Archmaester Valyn, in the Great Hall. She couldn't resist a smile as it was dragged in from the Black Cells, hands bound in iron fetters, bearded and filthy, wicked little tree stump that it was. Most of the trials took less than an hour, but this would take more than a day, so extensive was the list of its crimes. A notary from Oldtown presented the charges; multiple counts of treason, from the time that the Empress had made him her Hand in Meereen; conspiracy to murder her; murder of prisoners; unlawful torture of prisoners; murder of the inhabitants of Dorne, the Iron Islands, and Kings Landing; multiple counts of rape of women who had whored themselves to save their loved ones, and enslavement, both in his capacity as a member of the Small Council, and in relation to his invasion of the Iron Islands. And then one charge which Daenerys had insisted on adding out of pure devilment; forcibly wedding Sansa Stark. It took nearly two hours to present all the charges. Plenty of others were in attendance, including the Dornish delegation.
After that, the witnesses gave their testimony; freed slaves, noblewomen, Dornish civilians, survivors of the prison camps. Only a fraction of its victims and their relatives. Had they all attended, the trial would have taken months. Grey Worm, too, testified that the creature had attempted to reinstate slavery in Meereen, in Daenerys' absence. And then the final surprise, to most of those gathered to watch the proceedings. Jon Snow himself appeared, to give evidence, that yes, the Imp had persuaded him to murder the Empress, in order to save its own life, and had told him a pack of lies in the process. Once again, she wondered why the man was not facing trial for this himself, but this was a matter for Daenerys, not her. Then finally, Sansa Stark, brought from her custody in the Maidenvault in order to testify against the Imp. Yara wondered, too, what Daenerys had in store for her. The woman was a traitor, and should suffer a traitor's death, as far as she was concerned. Not to mention her crimes on the Iron Islands. Not as bad as what she had in mind for the Imp, but she'd happily see her hang. Still, Daenerys seemed unsure what to do with a deposed Queen. And, there was Arya's reaction to consider too. Yara had no love for her either, she seemed a deadened and dangerous woman, but she had proved her loyalty to the Empress.
Yara had simply wanted the vile stump to be put to death in the worst manner possible, but she had to admit, there was something satisfying in seeing it having to confront some of its victims. Daenerys had been clear that she wanted the regime's crimes recorded for posterity. The Imp was forced to stand before its victims, unable to meet their gaze. It was early evening by the time they had finished, and the case would resume on the morrow.
The following morning, they continued. The monster was given the opportunity to speak in its defence. And how predictable it was! It blamed its crimes on other members of the Small Council, on its subordinates, claimed it had acted under duress, and denied ever having committed treason towards the Empress. It flatly accused both Grey Worm and Jon Snow of lying, insisting that the latter had committed regicide on his own initiative. It had wanted to put him to death for it, at the meeting at the Dragonpit, but King Brandon and Queen Sansa had refused. A stupid falsehood, given that she had been present at that meeting. There was no need even to bring Sansa back to give evidence on that point. She sensed Daenerys' mounting irritation as she heard the monster utter one lie after another. They withdrew to consider their verdict.
"Obviously guilty on all charges, Your Majesty, Your Grace," commented Valyn. There was no real dispute about that. The only real discussion was about the sentence. The Archmaester favoured burning at the stake. Yara herself wanted the filthy creature flayed alive in public, after first being blinded and gelded. "Not drowned, Yara?" enquired the Empress, sounding amused.
"You think I'd want that turd serving the Drowned God throughout eternity?" she responded. "Uncle Aeron would call it heresy", she added, laughing. Then Daenerys reminded them of her promise to the Dornish. They returned to the Hall, to pass judgement.
"Tyrion of House Lannister", pronounced Daenerys "You are found guilty on all charges. On an evil day, I rescued you from bondage. You repaid my trust with treachery and murder. Yet, this was but a foretaste of crimes you would commit under the Three-Eyed Raven. You are the very worst of traitors, but treason is not even the worst of your crimes. You are a slaver, a murderer, and a rapist. The sentence for any one of these offences is death. You have earned a thousand deaths. The entirety of the property of House Lannister is forfeit to the Crown. In turn, the Crown grants Casterly Rock, Faircastle, The Crags, The Shield Islands, to Queen Yara Greyjoy of the Iron islands, and her heirs for all time, to hold as a fief. " Yara grinned at the look of indignant fury on the Imp's face. Lannisport would be retained by the crown, but it was still a mighty gift of lands, and would provide the Ironborn with the rich farmland they lacked at home.
"Yet it is not fitting that the sentence be carried out in the capital. Our judgement is that you be handed to the Dornish, to use as they see fit." Yara glanced at Lady Gwyneth and the Dornish, seeing their faces light up with joy. Oh, how she wished she could travel with them to Sunspear to witness the creature's death! She'd insist that Gwyneth write to her, giving her a full, and detailed, description of how the beast met its end. The Imp fell to its knees shrieking "You spared Jon Snow – spare me and I shall be your most loyal subject!" cut off with a good, hard kick in the face from one of the guards. The Dornish took him, and dragged him from the Hall, still raving.
Notes:
1. There are some very old stories of the classic noble sovereign who rejects an offering of the head of their enemy, and punishes those who presented it, for the disgrace of killing Lordly or Noble blood.
2. the Dornish will be subject to Westeros, but only in the loosest of terms. This is more a protectorate, than vassalage. Meanwhile, Yara will have to do homage for her lands on the mainland, but not for the Iron Islands, which shall remain independent. The situation is similar to the King of England also being Duke of Acquitaine. The revenues of Yara's fief might actually exceed those of the Iron Islands, as those of the Duchy of Acquitaine sometimes exceeded those of England.
3. The lands of the Starks may be forfeit to the Crown, but that doesn't mean that Arya won't have them restored to her personally as Daenerys continues her administrative actions; that is a symbolic way of dispossessing the family and regranting it under her own terms, perhaps with many of the old Stark Lands permanently under an Intendant, giving their revenues to the Crown, even if Arya has the High Lordship.
4. Both Alicent Hightower and Helaena Targaryen were treated with humanity by Rhaenyra when she took Kings Landing. Royalty may kill each other, but generally don't treat each other with indignity.