Tyrion did not even look away when Daenerys' head fell, when the last of the Targaryens, the last of the dragons, died.

The Daenerys he had loved, the one he had listened to talk for hours and hours about broken chains and wheels with her eyes shining, that one had died long ago.

Sometimes he even wondered if she had really existed, or if it had just been another of his dreams, another of his illusions, which he had clung to so tightly that in the end he had been convinced that it was real, that facade, which had served to hide from the eyes of the world for a long time that this girl had indeed inherited her family's infamous character trait.

He turned his eyes to Sansa, who smiled at him.

He hadn't yet mentioned the kiss she had given him when they had finally left the Red Keep, and deep down he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He preferred to believe that she had done it because she truly loved him, more than Daenerys had ever loved him, and that it wasn't just out of emotion.

He hoped, in his heart of hearts, that it was that.

He should have told her right away that he was in love with her.

He had known it as soon as he had seen her.

When her father had forced him to marry her, she had been little more than a child, a terrified child, a child who knew that much of her family had been decimated, a child who had already witnessed far too many of the horrors the world was capable of at such a young age.

He had felt guilty, he had not wanted to do that, she deserved better than him, much better, she deserved a handsome knight who would know how to love her, a handsome knight worthy of the songs all girls her age dreamed of, a handsome knight worthy of her.

He had promised himself, he had promised her that he would not be cruel like Joffrey, that he would not be violent like Robert had been with Cersei, that he would not force her to do anything she did not want.

He loved her too much, had too much respect and consideration for her to put her through all those things.

He had even felt a little guilty, feeling something for a girl so young, he was too old for her.

But when he saw her again in Fossedragon, everything had changed.

She had changed.

The girl had become a young woman, a beautiful lady with blue eyes and fiery hair, and once again, he had fallen completely under her spell, to the point of almost not thinking about Daenerys, and betraying her by helping Sansa to escape when she had been in danger, even if it meant dying himself.

After all, the life of a young woman guilty of the only crime of having wanted to protect her family and her own against the life of a not so innocent dwarf seemed to him to be a fair deal.

With Sansa, he understood, at least in part, how Jaime felt about Cersei.

He would have done anything to make sure she was safe, the unimaginable, the unthinkable, just to make sure she was okay.

He returned her smile.

They had won. Sansa was alive and well.

The people cheered as the last of the dragons died, they had had enough of the fire and blood, they still preferred the gold and scarlet of the Lannister dynasty, at least the lions were not dragons, the lions did not breathe fire.

oOo

Euron Greyjoy's lips twisted into his perfectly unpleasant toothy grin when he arrived at the patio where the map of Westeros was painted.

Jaime Lannister was there, contemplating the map, looking lost in thought.

A meeting of the small council was to take place, to decide on the rebuilding of King's Landing, but apparently they were the only ones there already.

Euron came to stand at Jaime's level.

''And where is your lovely sister, my beautiful queen ?''

At these words, Jaime restrained himself from swinging his golden hand into Euron's jaw, and breaking it.

He was Cersei's, and Cersei was his.

And nobody else's.

He knew perfectly well that she had no desire to remarry anyone but him, let alone Euron Greyjoy, but if they wanted their plan to work, she had no choice.

But he still didn't like the idea.

The only thing that made it bearable for her was the fact that after this, he would be able to make her pay for everything he had put her sister through, and pay her back tenfold.

After all, a Lannister always paid his debts.

Nevertheless, he could not help but retort:

"She's not your queen.''

And Euron took great pleasure in reminding him:

''Oh, but she will be. That was our deal. I would help her win the war, and she would marry me. And now the war is won.''

Jaime gritted his teeth so hard he thought his jaw might explode. The urge to hit Euron was growing, and if he continued to provoke him, he might just end up doing it.

''I will marry your sister, the queen. And if she still can, I will put little princes and princesses in her belly, in addition to the one she is already carrying.''

The moment Euron started talking about his little lion cub as if it were his own, Jaime didn't hold back anymore.

He sent his golden hand into his cheek, making him stagger.

He had never felt such satisfaction as he did when his prosthesis made contact with the skin of that damn pirate.

Euron Greyjoy brought a hand to his face, his smile still hanging on his lips.

Without adding anything more, he left the room.

If Jaime had felt an immense pleasure in finally putting this exasperating Ironborn in his place, he soon regretted it.

Euron had not hesitated to hurt Cersei to get his way. If he was as stupid and as violent as Robert was, and Jaime had no doubt that he was capable of it, he would do as the fat king did, and take revenge on his sister.

He shook his head.

He wouldn't have time for that. He wouldn't live long enough to lay his dirty hands on Cersei, Jaime would make sure of that.

oOo

The throne room, which had been cleared of rubble, was absolutely packed.

It seemed as if every living person in the capital had gathered in the half-destroyed room, trying to get a glimpse of the royal wedding.

The Sept of Baelor was obviously no longer an option, so it was decided that the ceremony would be held in what was left of the Red Keep.

Nobles and poors alike had gathered in the ruined hall and were waiting.

Euron Greyjoy was already standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, his insufferable vulture flying over their heads.

Sansa and Tyrion were in the front row. Sansa felt a shiver of disgust as she looked at Theon's uncle. She almost felt sorry for Cersei for having to marry him, if she wasn't convinced that she had something on her mind.

After all, nothing could force her to marry Euron Greyjoy if she didn't want to. She was the queen. She did what she wanted to do.

If she married again, and this time of her own free will, it was either in her immediate interests or she had some plans for the Ironborn.

Personally, Sansa was leaning towards the second option.

Everyone turned their heads towards the wide wooden doors, which were still standing tall as they opened to let Cersei through, who, since her father was dead, was on Jaime's arm.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

Her long, deep red dress, embroidered with gold threads, beautifully enhanced her short golden locks, on which her silver crown shone.

The two twins walked towards the Iron Throne, graceful, feline, followed by their daemons-lions.

For the first time, Sansa realized how well they fit together.

While they looked less alike than when she had first seen them, they had aged differently, and yet that didn't make them any less well matched.

Jaime wasn't thrilled about having to lead Cersei to the altar that had been set up in front of the Iron Throne, he wished he never had to do it, but he consoled himself by telling himself that this would be the last time, and that, if Cersei was willing, the next time it would be him waiting for her at the bottom of the stone steps.

He struggled to let go of her arm, not wanting to leave his sister with the arrogant and stupid Ironborn, but a simple caress on his flesh hand from Cersei, and he resolved to do so, thinking of what would happen next.

Cersei joined Euron, who grabbed her hand, looking at her from head to toe, leering at her like a piece of meat, something she didn't appreciate, but she said nothing, and walked with him up the steps, to arrive in front of Qyburn, who was in charge of pronouncing the vows, and uniting them as one body, one flesh and one soul.

Jaime returned to Tyrion's side, watching in disgust as Euron touched and then kissed Cersei when they were declared husband and wife, King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

oOo

The banquet that followed the wedding ceremony was unfolding in a manner unpleasantly familiar to Cersei.

Euron drank his heart out, and did not hesitate to look at every woman, noble or servant, young or old, who passed under his gaze, despite his wife sitting next to him.

But, in a way, Cersei was absolutely delighted that he was not more interested in her than that, and that he left her alone.

She watched him with satisfaction drinking an umpteenth glass of wine.

She held back a smile, then exchanged a pleased look with Jaime.

The more the fool drank, the easier it would be to implement what they had planned for the future.

When it was time for the bedtime ceremony, Jaime stopped everyone who tried to touch Cersei to undress her, helped by Aramis and Sercilia.

She had already paraded naked in front of the entire population of King's Landing, dragged through the streets like a common whore. Never, as long as he was alive, would he let them see even a little of what was his since their birth.

So it was fully dressed that Cersei entered her chambers, where the wedding night was to take place.

She was joined by Euron, by her husband (oh, gods, just the thought of it repulsed her) shortly after.

It was obvious that the idiot was completely drunk, you could tell by the way he stumbled through the door, almost completely naked, and this vision had the bitter taste of reminiscence for Cersei.

It was exactly as it had been with Robert.

Except that this time, the night would certainly not end the same way.

It was out of the question that Cersei would shed a single tear for this miserable man.

She refrained a grimace of disgust when he approached her, kissing her full mouth, kneading her breasts without any delicacy, and without taking care of her belly which was blooming more and more between them.

He was thus astonished when, of a more powerful movement than he would have waited for it of his share, she turned over it on the back, pushing it on the bed, still completely dressed, and began to stand above him.

Her cocky smile widened even more at the sight.

This was going to be a very good night, much better than anything he could have dreamed of.

But his smile froze on his lips when he felt a sharp pain between his legs.

The only thing he saw as Cersei stepped back was the silver glint of a blade in her hand, dripping with blood.

Without saying a word, a smirk on her lips, she walked to the door and knocked three times.

At this signal, Jaime, who had remained posted at the entrance of his sister's apartments, entered.

Euron tried to get up, but the pain was sharp, terrible, and all he managed to do was stagger for a few steps, before stumbling and collapsing to the floor.

It didn't take long for the two lions to feast on the kraken.

They both finished him off, Jaime's hand on Cersei's, joined on the hilt of Jaime's sword, which they drove into the pirate's heart, as Jaime had so long dreamed of doing, savoring every moment of his suffering.

As soon as the last breath of life left Euron Greyjoy's body, Jaime dropped the sword to the ground and, grasping Cersei's face, kissed her tenderly, much more than Euron had done a few minutes before.

When they parted, Jaime teased her:

''So we're both Kingslayers now...''

Crushing her lips to his again, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip, as they loved, she trailed kisses to his ear, where she whispered:

''He was not a king... He was never a king...''

Then, kissing him again on the mouth, she declared:

''I have only one king, and he is in front of me...''

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