As Tyrion had suggested, Daenerys agreed to offer Cersei the chance to surrender. She wanted the exchange to be made in full view of the city, so that her people could see for themselves how Cersei would not protect them and that she was unworthy of the title she had claimed for herself. Images of grandeur flickered through Daenerys's head, imagining herself finally walking up the throne room to take her place on the Iron Throne as her brother Viserys had always dreams. He had been a fool. A pathetic fool with a fool's gold crown. He would never have been able to accomplish even a fraction of what she had done, and her only regret was that her brother was not alive to see her succeed where he would have failed. Her moment was coming, Daenerys could feel it. Even now as she faced Cersei Lannister who stood over the gate with her retinue of soldiers, including that giant monstrosity, Daenerys felt oddly calm even when she saw Missandei standing before them, shackled and bound. It seemed cruel for her to have been freed from her life of slavery only to end up back in chains.
When the gates opened Daenerys saw the old maester who wore the pin of Cersei's Hand upon his robes. Very well. If Cersei will not treat with her directly, then Daenerys would send her Hand too. Glancing towards Tyrion, the smaller man was already starting forwards in order to begin to entreat with the enemy. Part of Daenerys was uncertain how she wanted these discussions to end. Surrender would be ideal, but then again, part of her longed for the fire and blood she had promised to deliver to her enemies. It was no less than what they deserved, after all. Cersei had broken her word to send her armies north, and because of that, had left them vulnerable. Perhaps if the Lannister army had been there, Ser Jorah might not be dead. The consideration fuelled Daenerys once more with an unending rage. At that moment the two Hands met, the maester greeting Lord Tyrion formally though Tyrion cut directly to the point, not wishing to waste time on frivolities. "Queen Daenerys demands Cersei's unconditional surrender and the immediate release of Missandei of Naath."
"Queen Cersei demands Daenerys's unconditional surrender. If she refuses, Missandei of Naath will die here and now." Tyrion twitched in irritation, glancing to the young woman standing atop the gates with her life hanging in the balance. Rhaena had asked him to stall for time for her, making him believe that she had some sort of plot of her own but since Rhaena had chosen not to share the details with him, Tyrion felt a little exposed. He did not enjoy using his wit when he did not know all the cards that were in play.
"Qyburn, you're a rational man…"
"Or so I flatter myself, my lord."
"We have a chance here, perhaps our last chance, to avoid carnage." But still Qyburn did not shift in his stance, agreeing with Tyrion but making no effort to see that in the end, Cersei's struggle was pointless. There was nothing worse than dealing with stubborn, blind fools. "Help me. I don't want to see this city burn. I don't want to hear the screams of children burning alive," Tyrion was desperate to end this in a peaceful manner. There had already been too much bloodshed over the years, far too many wars, but now that there was a way to finally end things without risking the lives of millions of innocent people, it appeared very few people cared to do so. "I…I don't want to hear it. Help me save this city."
"My lord, I am only a mouthpiece for our queen."
"Your queen," Tyrion corrected.
"Cersei is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You are her subject." Frustrating. So frustrating. If Rhaena was going to do something, Tyrion hoped it was soon. Talking to Qyburn was like talking to a brick wall, utterly pointless and Tyrion suspected a wall might even be more prone to listening.
"Her reign is over. You understand this. Help her understand it."
"We understand nothing of the sort. Your queen's last dragons are vulnerable. Your armies are battle-weary and depleted, while ours have been reinforced with the Golden Company…" It was enough. If Tyrion could not make this disgraced maester see sense, then he would go directly to the source. His sister. There had never been any love between him and Cersei, but Tyrion still would not see her burn with the rest of her armies and people if Daenerys Targaryen was not delivered what she wanted. Tyrion could not understand it. He had known Daenerys long enough to know that in her true character, she was kind and gentle towards those who needed her protection, and yes, ruthless towards her enemies, but it seemed that Daenerys could no longer tell friend from foe. She was willing to sacrifice a city of more than a million people just so that she could rule over their ashes and bones. Perhaps Tyrion had misjudged her. Perhaps it was not entirely her fault. Her life had been harsh and cruel. Many a man would have been driven mad to endure what she had, and yet Tyrion also knew of others who had endured equal amount of pain and suffering, more so even, and did not display such alarming degrees of insanity. It was too late to change anything now. All he could do was try. So, when he stalked past Qyburn, Tyrion looked up directly at his sister who towered over him the way she always had. Her soldiers prepared their bows with knocked arrows, drawing them back as her guards shifted in preparation for any threat. Threat? Tyrion would have laughed. He was the least threatening person here if one only considered physical might. All the same, he was relieved when Cersei closed her fist and lowered her arm to order her men to stand down, deciding to hear him. Taking a deep breath, Tyrion began to negotiate.
"I know you don't care about your people. Why should you? They hate you and you hate them. But you're not a monster. I know this. I know this because I've seen it." He began delicately, appealing to the only part of Cersei that had been good. The part of her that was a mother. "You've always loved your children. More than yourself, more than Jaime more than anything. I beg you. If not for yourself, then for your child. Your reign is over, but that doesn't mean your life has to end. It doesn't mean your baby has to die." If anything could persuade Cersei to give up, it would be to protect the unborn infant in her belly. He had not shared this truth with anyone, not even with Rhaena, though he was not certain why. Maybe it was his own way of apologising for everything that had happened between them, a small way to repay her for what he had taken from her. It was Tyrion's greatest hope that he might have been proven wrong about Cersei, that she might finally allow herself to concede defeat.
He should have known better. Hearing his sister murmur to Missandei to speak her last words, a cold wash of dread came over Tyrion as Missandei breathed deeply, realising that her end was coming. To her credit, she did not weep. Merely spoke out a single word with ferocity and courage. Dracrys. Helpless, Missandei listened as the giant knight behind her drew his sword in one smooth movement, closing his fingers around the hilt in order to draw back and prepare to take the swing. Everyone could only stand and stare uselessly, watch as Missandei went to meet her death. Grey Worm felt fear unlike he had ever known, and would rather have faced the army of the undead alone than face the knowledge that Missandei was going to die and he was powerless to save her, even after all his promises. As the Mountain took his swing, Grey Worm looked away. Cersei stood watching as her prisoner met with her execution, admiring the glint of the sword under the sunlight as it travelled closer to the girl's admittedly slender neck. A pity, but there were many slender necks in the world. One less would not matter any.
Cersei intended to fully savour this moment she took something precious from her enemy, the so called Dragon Queen, however even as the Mountain swung his sword, something fell from the sky above. It was slim, sleek and black with white feathers, thudding into the wooden beams of the dais with such a sickening crack it sounded like breaking bone. The Mountain immediately held off his swing and instead moved to the queen in order to shield her as the arrow burst into flame, gold, white and purple wreathing together in a spiral as Missandei gasped and staggered forwards as Cersei's soldiers shouted and searched for the source of the arrow. When a shriek came from the sky, Cersei recognised the sound of a dragon. She had wondered where the little dragon bitch was, now it appeared she had finally arrived. The huge shape of the green and bronze dragon descended from the clouds and spread its leathery wings in order to land beside the phalanx of Unsullied, the creature chittering and hissing as two figures sat atop its back. At first Cersei did not recognise the other, frowning as she steadied herself from almost being knocked over by her men rushing to their duty to protect her, but once she was upright and focusing, she recognised a tumbled cascade of golden blonde curls which could belong to only one child in the entire world. Her child. Myrcella. Cold fear gripped at Cersei's heart as she gasped.
Rhaena dismounted from Rhaegal and assisted Myrcella down after her, letting the girl slide until her hands could catch her waist and lower her gently to the ground. Myrcella smiled to her unsteadily, nodding in thanks before hastily beginning to brush herself down from dust. "Come, sweeting." Murmuring softly, Rhaena took Myrcella lightly by the hand in order to lead her forwards. Knowing Cersei as she did, Rhaena realised that perhaps the only person who might have any effect on her would be her own daughter. It would be a test of Cersei's character, and even Rhaena could not predict what she would do, but as she walked forwards to join Tyrion, Rhaena could not deny she enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing the wretched expression on Cersei's face. Another small victory. "Cersei." Greeting her coldly, Rhaena presented Myrcella to her. "It has been some years, but allow me to reintroduce Myrcella, Princess of Dorne, betrothed of Trystane Martell." Unable to help but enjoy this moment, Rhaena smirked at Cersei cruelly. "Did you forget that we had your own child, Cersei? Do not fear, we never harmed Myrcella. In fact, I suspect she was happier in Dorne than she ever was here, but that is a debate for another time. You know what we demand. Surrender now and return Missandei to us unharmed, and we shall be merciful." Pressing her lips into a thin line, Cersei pulsed with rage.
"Do you think to use my own daughter against me? I know you are too soft to threaten her with harm."
"True, I would not harm Myrcella. She is innocent of all this, however I hoped that you might listen to her reason." Releasing Myrcella's hand, Rhaena gently touched at her back with a whispered promise that she was perfectly safe and not to fear anything. Myrcella was not afraid. Although her feelings towards her mother had grown cold over the late years, Cersei was still her mother. She understood that neither she nor her brothers had any right to the throne, and that it seemed fighting to keep it was fruitless. They would lose, and the death which followed would have been all for nothing. Myrcella was a gentle creature, but she was not stupid. She was perhaps the best combination of her father and mother of all her siblings. So, lifting her face up and stepping forwards, Myrcella began to plead with her mother.
"Mother, I know that you want to keep the memory of Joff and Tommen alive, but dying for something as trivial as a throne is not how it should be done," Myrcella began, lifting her voice so that it rang clearly for all to hear her, even those standing at her back. "What use is power if you are dead? What use is a crown if it only adorns your skull? Please mother, if not for Joffrey and Tommen, then for me. Surrender and open your gates. Let this end peacefully. I have been promised that you will be treated fairly and come to no harm. I will plead with whoever I must to see that you live the rest of your life in wealth and splendour. Perhaps you might even come back with me to Dorne. It is beautiful there, especially at the Water Gardens. We will be happy together, you and I. I should like that very much." Myrcella began to sniffle, tears streaking down her face as she continued her endearing plea. "I need my mother. I…I am to be married soon, and I shall have children of my own. I will need you there, I want you there, mother. I do not know how to be a mother, I am not certain if I will be any good, but if you are there with me then my heart would rest easy. Please. Please think of your life, and of mine." With such heartfelt and tender entreating, Rhaena wondered what type of mother would be unable to answer such a daughter's cries. For a moment, it seemed to her that Cersei wavered, a hint of a tear rising from the splinters of motherly love that still remained in her heart…but then her heart froze over, and her face became was impassable as stone.
"You have sided with the enemy," Cersei announced clearly with never a waver in her voice. Myrcella blinked at her. "You are no daughter of mine." A tortured gasp and sob tore itself from the golden princess at her mother's words, Tyrion staring blankly in shock as Cersei turned her back on her daughter and nodded to the Mountain. His sword raised once more and Missandei flinched. Reacting purely upon instinct, Rhaena seized her bow and knocked an arrow, drawing upon the string with such a swift and sure movement that the archers below did not even notice or react until the arrow was already flying. Rhaena could have aimed for Cersei. It would have perhaps been wiser if she had, but in the heat of the moment with less than an instant to take aim, Rhaena had turned her arrow towards the Mountain instead. The arrow tore through flesh directly through his wrist, causing the sword to drop though the knight never made a sound of pain, as if unable to feel it. With a bellow in High Valyrian, Rhaena called for the Unsullied to bring forward their shields as she moved to cover Myrcella who had ducked down as her uncle pulled her, beginning to drag her away to safety as the Lannister archers shouted and took aim. Rhaegal roared and bellowed a plume of flames, allowing them to stretch across the field and scatter over their heads as Missandei staggered, still bound by the shackles. When she heard Rhaena shout to her to jump, she obeyed blindly, intending to cast herself from the top of the gate no matter the pain which awaited her. even if she were to die, she would rather it be on her terms.
Rhaegal's flame had caused panic and confusion, Cersei cowering away as the archers scattered, but the Mountain remained focused and unafraid. He had dropped his sword, but this did not stop him from drawing his knife and driving it into the prisoner's gut. He heard the delicious little gasp as she twisted, instinctively drawing away from the pain as several screams sounded from below, whereby Missandei tripped and staggered backwards only to fall. Rhaena had seen the knife and cried out Missandei's name as she fell, quickly shouldering her bow in order to lift up her arms and run forwards. She tackled Missandei as she fell, breaking her fall with her own body before they struck the ground and Rhaena rolled, taking shelter in the arch of the gates where the archers could not reach them. "Missandei!" Feeling the woman trembling in her arms, Rhaena hurried to lay her on her back and press her hand against the wound in order to stem the flow of blood, attempting to judge where it had impaled and what the blade could have struck. By that time, Tyrion had pulled Myrcella to safety and a twinned flank of Unsullied had run to them with their shields lifted over their heads, protecting them from the rain of arrows as Grey Worm led the way. When he reached them, he dropped to his knees and immediately gathered Missandei into his arms, calling to her mournfully.
Using torn strips of her own clothing in order to make a temporary bandage for Missandei, Rhaena instructed Grey Worm to carry her to Rhaegal so that she could fly her back to Dragonstone to be treated by the maester. It was only because of his many years of training that Grey Worm did not succumb to panic and despair. Lifting his lover into his arms like she weighed nothing, he ordered his men into formation as another soldier took hold of Rhaena and covered her with his shield, moving her into the formation so that she would be protected as they retreated back. Rhaena paused only for a moment, and that was to send bolts of flames from her fingertips to light up the scorpions which lined the walls. As they began to burn, Rhaena looked up at Cersei and smirked, vowing silently that this was not over and that very soon, Cersei would be at the mercy of her blade. Turning away, Rhaena pushed aside all other thoughts and focused only on what mattered, and that was getting Missandei the help she needed. Cersei could wait, Missandei could not.