Cersei Lannister had lost count of the number of days she had been held in this hell of a prison. Every day was the same. In the morning, she'd be rudely and violently woken up by a mountain of a woman. The only blessing that gave was the light that surged into the dirty and stink-filled room when the door was opened. At least she was able to make out what the walls looked like, rough grey stone that provided little comfort, as well as the large wooden door. Because, once the door was shut, all she knew was darkness and would try to imagine what the cell looked like but would slowly feel the image slip away from her memory. Darkness. Imprisoned in this cesspit, she had two options to pass her time, neither of them pleasant for her. She could stay awake, staring into the empty darkness that surrounded her. If that didn't mess with her mind enough, that option left her solely with her thoughts, which were turning darker with each passing day. Her other choice was to attempt sleep but she frequently found that restless; her dreams would be filled of Tommen befalling tragedy on the throne, her reaching out to help and guide him but he was always so tantalisingly close yet far away from her arms. She would see Myrcella's lifeless body on the sands of Dorne, blood turning the sand a murky red. That's when she would wake up, sweat drenching her face as she gasped for air. It was a torturous place and she knew that this was what it was designed to do, just like the awful cells in the Red Keep or the sky cells of the towers in the Eyrie, testing the person trapped inside, messing with their mind. Forcing them to slowly lose any will to live and then you would die or confess. The people who held her wanted a confession of sin, that's the only thing they rattled on about when she was blessed with their presence. She hadn't lost all of her will though, despite her growing weakness. Darkness.
Her thoughts, when she gave into them, often drifted to what the situation was in the Red Keep without her presence there. She wondered whether she was actually being missed by anyone there. In truth, she had no one. Jaime was gone, abandoning her to save himself, the unloyal coward that he was. Her father was dead, at the hands of her own brother who had vanished in the night afterwards. Her children had, in one way or another, been taken from her, the only people she truly cared for now. She wondered what lies and plans Tommen was being fed whilst he was away from her clutches. That was the only explanation for his actions towards her. She had only ever treated him with love and care. The boy who had spoken to her was not the son she had known. His eyes were darker, his words now scathing and cutting. She needed to see him, to show him how wrong he was. She would be sympathetic though of course, otherwise he would not consider crawling back to her. She would tell him how it wasn't his fault, how he had been manipulated by people who only put their needs first but she was willing to help him get rid of them. And he would be so grateful and he would weep in her arms, being so apologetic to her, and he would vow to take her from this prison, from the darkness, and give her a seat next to him by the throne. She knew that was the only outcome that would happen.
He hadn't been to see her at all so far. That hurt the most. He didn't care. He actually wanted her to be here, getting her out of the way. All she had done for him and he repaid her by throwing her in this pig sty. At first, she hadn't believed that to be true. Her own blood wouldn't do that to her. But the darkness had messed with her thoughts over time until the uncomfortable truth had settled upon her. She was no longer needed, her power was gone and she was likely to befall the same fate as her father. Unless she could speak with him, convince him of her honest agenda. Hope burns eternal but it was beginning to singe her hands.
This morning she was awake early. She was glad that she would not give the woman the satisfaction of being abruptly woken this time. The door swung open after a brief sound of jingling metal keys. Of course she didn't see the door open, just the painful flash of light. A large shadow was cast in the middle of the doorway, the large woman standing there once again. Cersei couldn't see her expression but hoped it was one of disgust and annoyance. Her only joy now was getting one over the beast. Septa Unella wordlessly crossed the room, holding, as she always did, a clay jug of water and a ladle. Cersei, although not wanting to appear weak or needy, scrambled to sit up in the hopes that she would get a drink. Unella towered over Cersei, amplifying the idea of the power and control she had over her prisoner. She brought the ladle right to Cersei's mouth; the wounded lion desperately reached her arms out to grasp it but it was quickly taken away from her.
"Confess." Always the same instruction. Every morning she was told to do so and every morning she had met the order with silence or a scathing the remark. The latter always resulted in a new bruise forming somewhere on her face but she had lost the motivation to care about the pain that was caused.
"You say the same thing every time we meet and get the same response. How stupid are you, thinking I will give in if you beat me enough? You are nothing compared to me and you would be served well to remember that." Unella chucked the contents of the ladle into Cersei's face, making her cuts and bruises painfully sting. Then came the expected slap, not lacking in any of its usual strength. I pity any man who lays with her.
"Confess." This time the instruction was said with slightly more anger, having to be bitten out between clenched teeth. Cersei stopped herself from rolling her eyes at her persistence. Unella stood there a few moments, waiting for a response, not caring whether it was positive or negative. When one didn't come, she smirked and poured the water out of the jug onto the stone floor. Cersei watched it happen sadly. It always ended this way. The Septa walked out of the cell and Cersei looked at where the water was pooling on the ground. She hated doing this but she had to in order to survive. She crawled to where the liquid was and begin to take up as much as she can, not caring about the dirt that tainted it. Tears filled her eyes as she thought about this humiliating husk of a person she had been rendered to. She had been a Lannister once. She didn't know what she was anymore.
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They were led into the main throne room by three stern-looking guards equipped with frighteningly long and sharp spears. Sam eyed them wearily, a light sheen of sweat apparent on his forehead as they were made to walk forwards. Marwyn didn't appear to be feeling much better about the situation but that might just have been the result of staying in a cell for a number of days. They had been treated fairly well and Sam understood why they had been locked away; a precaution, especially because of the creature that travelled with them. After the egg had hatched in the Hightower, a small lizard-like animal had emerged. It had clambered tentatively towards them, seeking out the first people it saw for comfort. They had both been amazed at its behaviour - it was as if the dragon hatchling knew that Marwyn had been the one to cause it to be born. Similar to the egg that it had come from, the little dragon was mainly a burnt orange in colour, resembling the flames it would likely breathe, although it had a row of scales along its sides in the middle and on the tip of its snout that were a deep black. It made Sam think of the destruction it would possibly cause one day, transforming land to ash in an instance. He had fretted that they had made a mistake, unleashing another monster into the world when it was already becoming overrun by the undead. But then it had crawled up Marwyn's arm, perching on his shoulder, looked at Sam and then blown warm smoke into his face. He had laughed at that. Dragons weren't monsters; they were simply animals that had grown to a mythical status. Marwyn had given it the name of Hidebyo; he explained that in some ancient language that he had studied as a young maester, the word meant 'by day'. He had thought it apt since it had been born during the light of the sun.
They had quickly left the Hightower and had searched the docks for a small ship to hire or to board. Once one was found, Sam had sent off a note to Gilly, telling her to stay in Old Town with Little Sam for their own safety. It had been a difficult letter to write but he had known it was the right thing to do. It was likely that he would not survive the approaching war; he would not let that fate befall them too if he had anything to do with it. Marwyn had provided the captain of the ship good coin for their passage to Dragonstone, so much in fact that the captain had not even bothered to ask why they wanted to go there or what was making the noises emanating from a large wooden crate they were carrying.
Their arrival at the Baratheon stronghold had been less smooth. The few guards that had been there had met with them understandable caution. They had asked them who they wanted to see and they hadn't been able to give a proper answer since they didn't know who was currently ruling there. It was common knowledge that Stannis Baratheon was off fighting in the North - they had hoped some of his advisors would have remained to help them in their task. Things had been made worse when, after being forced to open the crate, Hidebyo had nipped at a guards hand. He had grown rather quickly during their journey, surprising both of them, so his teeth were especially dangerous. They heard that he had lost a finger on his left hand.
This had led to them to this point. They had heard a large party arrive at Dragonstone from their underground cell but didn't yet know who that had involved. Sam looked at the person sitting on the throne and was slightly surprised to see a young woman there. This was an unexpected development. They stood at a respectful distance, gently lowering the crate to the ground. He watched as another young woman, with darker skin and curly brown hair, took a step forward.
"You are in the presence of Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons and the future ruler of Westeros." Sam's eyes widened. Him and Marwyn had spoken of a woman in the East who had supposedly raised a group of dragons. They had considered travelling to her, to seek help with their own new addition. But a strange twist of fate had brought them together by accident. She didn't look too happy about it.
Daenerys eyed the two men suspiciously. They didn't look at all dangerous; one fat, one old. Her eyes turned to the wooden crate, the object peaking her interest. She knew what was inside, she could tell. Feel its warmth even across the distance they were separated by. "Open the crate." Her voice was stern, not brokering any ideas of defying the order, although Marwyn did hesitate for a moment. The metal clasps were undone, with the sound reverberating around the large room. As soon as he lifted the lid, Hidebyo poked his head out of the box, curious eyes surveying the new environment. Daenerys's expression softened at the sight as she was reminded of when her own dragons were that small. She tore her eyes from the magnificent beast to look at them again. "How did you come across him? I thought mine were the last of their kind." She was more curious than accusatory, her voice quiet and soft now.
It was Marwyn who responded. "I had the egg for a number of years. A friend of mine sent it to me, thinking my work as an archmaester in the citadel would equip me well to study it. He was called Illyrio but, to be truthful, I haven't heard anything from him for a few years. We weren't very close so I was surprised when it arrived in my office." Daenerys gave Jorah a look at the mention of Illyrio's name. He had gifted her three eggs as well as a present when she was married off to Khal Drogo. What had he been planning? Had they just been innocent gifts?
"He's beautiful." Bruda stepped away from his place in front of the throne and walked towards them. When he got to them, he looked Sam hard in the eye before clicking his fingers. The chains that bound their legs unlocked and fell to the ground with a metal bang. They looked at him with surprise in their eyes but he just winked in response.
"There's no chance she'll want you locked up now. Although we're all wondering why you're here," he said.
"Bruda is right, although I wish he would start to ask me before he takes matters into his own hands." Despite her words, her tone was still playful. Sam plucked up the courage to speak.
"Your Grace...we arrived here wanting to speak with Stannis Baratheon or one of his advisors because we were under the impression that he rules this keep."
"Stannis Baratheon handed me back my family's old home as a sign of good will when we began an alliance together. Why did you wish to meet with him?"
"The archmaester here told me that Dragonstone holds an incredibly large amount of a rare material that we need for the future."
"Wait a minute...Dragonglass!" It was Bruda who exclaimed the answer. "Why didn't I think of it? That's brilliant, by the way. Made from dragon fire so of course the house of Targaryen would sit on top of a great ruddy pile of it! That might just work."
"Can you explain to me what's happening?" It wasn't unusual for her to be perplexed by Bruda's actions and words but Daenerys was annoyed that she didn't know what they were talking about. Tyrion answered her.
"There are tales from the people of the North that you hear whispers of across Westeros. During my time at the Wall, they often spoke of creatures of the night that killed men with ease. Men would go missing without a trace. They bring a dreadful cold with them."
"They're just tales made up to scare children," Jorah responded with barely hidden scepticism.
"But what if they're not," Bruda spoke loudly, trying to emphasise his point by directing a finger at the knight. "Why would two grown men come here looking for help? It would either be a rather complicated and stupid trick or...they're scared…" He ended on a whisper, directing his gaze now on Sam, who wilted under the intensity.
"I've laid eyes on them myself. They're real. Ask anyone of the Night's Watch, they'll tell you. They're coming back, I swear."
"Daenerys, you need to listen to me. I spoke to you about another, greater war that you will be involved in. If this man speaks the truth, then we currently sit on the only chance we have of saving people and arming them properly. It's all making sense. You formed an alliance with Stannis, who has just taken Winterfell. Winterfell is where it will happen. That same fate bringing us together, bringing this news to us. Always driving us to Winterfell"
"You never told me who we would be fighting against in this great war. You look so pale just talking about it. What are these creatures?"
Bruda didn't hesitate in answering. He'd accepted his fate a long time ago and knew what would face them. "The dead."
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Jon was enjoying the relative peace that had settled over the Northern castle. The Bolton men that had survived the battle hadn't been stupid enough to challenge Stannis and so had gladly, although forced to, joined his ranks. It had left Winterfell full with people, with many of them having to move out towards the nearby areas where the Winter markets were held. For once though, he was slightly confident about their plight and knew that they had to build upon this if they were to have any chance of gaining victory. What had also bolstered his confidence was receiving a letter from Sam, who had detailed his next steps in figuring out a way of killing a white walker or wight. He would make sure to inform Stannis in their next meeting, which he was currently on his way to. The message had seemed urgent so he had wasted no time in getting ready. He had also been told that Mance, along with the strange Red Priestess and Stannis's family, had made his way down to the castle; it would be interesting to see what spirits the wildling king would be in.
He walked into the main hall of Winterfell. He remembered it with fondness, thinking back to the meals he had in there. There were always so many men and women in there eating. Naturally, he had also been at the back of the room. Catelyn Stark had never wanted him towards the head table, where the actual Starks, of true and noble blood, sat. She didn't want him tarnishing their reputation too much and she had made that abundantly clear throughout his life. He didn't resent her for that but it still hurt. Despite that, he had enjoyed watching people from time to time, especially the large knights that often frequented the castle.
The hall lacked that vibrancy and charm as he stepped inside. Long tables were arranged with one at the top of the room and two more flanking it at either end. Many of the people though were out of their seats at the moment, standing in small groups across the room. Stannis was with Davos and Missandei towards the head table, discussing something apparently important in hushed whispers. Mance, now without a bandage on his arm, was scanning the room whilst Tormund, the only one sat down in the chair, picked at his teeth with a small dagger. His grin towards Jon made him resemble a wild animal. Jon was surprised to see Jaime Lannister also waiting in the room, along with his sellsword companion. He didn't fully trust the Lion because he had grown not to trust any of the Lannisters, maybe apart from the dwarf. But he couldn't help but think about Bran's words and how he had vouched for him as a changed man. He remembered how Tyrion had spoken kindly about his brother too, especially compared to his scathing remarks towards the rest of his family. Still, he made sure to stay clear of him whilst the verdict was out.
Jon must have been the last person they were waiting for as Stannis began to speak when he noticed him enter. "I'm sure you've all heard. The Targaryen girl has taken up residence at my holdfast, as I allowed her. But I'm still cautious in how I should approach this recent development. I've only just secured this place from one opponent; I fear she views me in the same light."
"In league with the last Targaryen? If I were you, I would not tell her I was here after what I did to her father. And, from my experience, it is a massive risk you're taking in trusting her. Madness runs through their veins," Jaime put forward.
"If I may, I believe that she is different from the rest of her family. From all accounts, she is trying to step away from their reputation. I'd wager she'd even thank you for killing her father. She'll know that, if that hadn't happened, she would have had little chance of getting the throne herself." This time it was Davos's deep brogue that filled the room.
"My Lord," Jon spoke up, "I think it best that you grow this partnership."
"And why is that, Snow?"
"I received a letter today from my friend Samwell Tarly who travelled to the Citadel in the attempt of finding a way to fight our true enemy. Somehow, he has found himself at Dragonstone, where he believes there is a large quantity of dragonglass. He's under the impression that this can kill a white walker."
"He's right." They all turned to Mance. "It's a rare commodity but there are plenty of stories. Some say the Night King himself was formed from it. It's a good bet."
"You expect me to expose myself on the basis of a bet?" Stannis asked him. Jon brought it upon himself to answer him.
"If there is any chance of it helping us in the war to come, then you have to take the risk. That means you need to build a relationship with her because she currently has access to all the stores."
"I have to think about my campaign though as well."
"Let me be honest here. You said it yourself - the war against the Night King has to take precedence over the fight for the throne first and foremost. That means you need to do this. Maybe it will help your campaign in the long run."
"You speak strongly about this."
Jon met his searching gaze. "I've seen what they're like. We're the only ones who will stop them so we have to find a way." He noticed the Red Woman giving him a curious look which sent a slight shiver down his spine.
"If that is the case, then I must stand by the vow I made to Mance here." Jon sighed in relief. "But...I task you to go to Dragonstone yourself and tell her the same thing you have told me. You have the passion of wanting to end this that will help persuade her hopefully." Jon was fine with that. It would be a long journey but he was willing to do it. He nodded his acquiescence.
"He'll need some help Stannis," Davos began. "If you permit it, I'll sail with him. The boy has no experience on a ship I presume so he'll need experience. You have enough people here," he sent a careful glare to Missandei, "to survive without me for a while."
"So be it. I expect you to set off as soon as possible, seeing as it is such a pressing matter according to Snow. But only you two will go. We need to keep this partnership as quiet as possible. Spies lurk in every corner and not all of them want to help us."
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When the door opened again, the same damned light blinding her as it roared into the cell, she knew that it was definitely not a new day. The monotonous routine that she had grown used to, although begrudgingly and not without endless complaining, seemed to be broken for once. Cersei expected to see the looming figure of the giant woman but, this time, the shadow that was cast in the doorway was much smaller yet just as unpleasant and unappealing. The High Septon. He calmly and serenely stepped into the room as if he was simply visiting an old friend. As usual, he was clad in a bare cloak and grey clothes with no shoes on his feet. She didn't understand how such a man, lacking in everything truly required to sit at the top of their societal hierarchy, held her captive. Once she was back in the Red Keep where she belonged, she would ensure that he would be the first to pay. Hopefully with his life. She detested the look he gave her, as if he pitied her. His gaze would trick any fool that he was sympathetic. She was not a fool.
"Septa Unella informs me that we still haven't made any progress with you and your repentance of the sins you have committed in your life," he began. She wanted to laugh but her throat was dry and it was a mighty effort to just talk.
"Save your words, old man. Surely by now you should realise that any ideas you have about me are false. If you acknowledge your mistake, I might deign to be lenient in your punishment."
"Once again you show me how you are the one with the misunderstanding. Only the gods can give out punishment."
"Yet you are the one who has put me in chains. Do you see yourself as a God? I'm sure vanity is much a sin as any."
His light chuckle infuriated her. "I work on behalf of the gods. I do so because it is often difficult for people to realise the extent of their wrongdoing and the impact this has on the people around them. I simply strive to help these people take a different path from the one they have seen fit to already take."
"You have no proof of any sins that I have committed."
"So you admit that you have, in fact, sinned? Surely that is so if your only remaining shield is that of the burden of proof."
A slight misstep. He'd use that against her if she couldn't rectify that slip. "Manipulating my words so that they fit into your agenda. How very noble." She spat out the last word.
"I have no thoughts about nobility. Many people of this world seem fascinated by the concept and their pursuit of it leaves their souls tainted usually." He appeared to have an answer to everything she threw at him. She wanted to be impressed. Cersei thought it apt to change approach.
"Is it these ideas that you fill my son's head with? Do your gods condone the use and abuse of a child?"
"You are once again mistaken, I'm afraid. King Tommen came to me, not the other way around. He sought my counsel on matters with regard to the city he immediately presides over. Although reluctant at first, when troubling matters were brought to our attention, he knew that there was only one way to deal with a growing issue."
"And what, if I may ask, is that issue?"
"You." She hadn't wanted to accept that truth. Didn't want to think of how Tommen could betray her like that. She slumped towards the wall even further, a sigh escaping from her lips. She still clung onto the hope that he had been fed lies by someone but her grasp on that idea was slowly slipping the longer she stayed in this place.
"Who brought this message to you?" She'd be able to add another name to the list of those she would seek vengeance against.
"Although it is not a matter of your concern, I don't see why I cannot tell you. The king's wife, on the bequest of the Tyrell matriarch, informed us of the matter." Olenna. What did she know? Unless...no, she wouldn't know about that, surely. No one could know. That wasn't feasible. With all these thoughts running through her head, she fought to keep her face expressionless. She didn't want to give the septon any indication that his words were having an effect on her.
"So you punish me, chain me in a cell, with little food or drink, on the basis of the words of a couple of people? There is no evidence again for any wrongdoing you have been led to believe I have committed. I demand you to let me out of here, as the Queen. You have no right to hold me here for no proper reason."
"As the Queen Regent. You forget your place so often. Any standing you have is solely down to the want of the king. And since he was the one who ordered your imprisonment to happen, I have every right to keep you here. Although you will be happy to find out that this situation should not last much longer." She knew she wouldn't be happy about the reason why that was the case.
"And why is that?"
"This was always meant to be a temporary solution. Simply a precaution so that justice could be reached more easily. But the time is approaching for the next step. I have seen and heard enough about your actions that you leave me with only one choice." He's trying to sound sympathetic and reluctant. He wants this as much as anyone. "You will be trialled in front of seven septons here in the Great Sept within the week. If you are telling the truth, and you have not sinned in any way, then the gods will look upon you kindly. But if you are found to be guilty of your crimes, and you fail to repent before the trial is finished, then the gods will give out only one punishment." She knew what that would be. Death. She wondered how they'd do it. Behead her like some common criminal or traitor? Maybe they'd burn her to purify her of her sins.
"Then it is a good job that I have not sinned." She remained resolute even in the face of poor odds.
He moved back towards the door. "Even if you have not done what the Tyrells claim, I know for a fact that you have sinned. I have seen it as clear as day whilst talking to you here and the gods will see it also. Your lust for power and your need for control has corrupted you. Listen to my advice. If I were you, I would greatly consider confessing before your time is up. Then the gods may be lenient towards you." With that, he was out of the room, quickly seeing that her door was closed. Once again, she was left all alone with her thoughts and one companion.
Darkness.