Daenerys walked ever so slowly towards where the Iron Throne had been. She was still covered by her clothes, despite the onslaught of dragon fire. She had Bruda to thank for that, as usual. He had told her about a charm he had placed on her black dress that made it resistant to the substance. Although he had then advised her not to purposefully stand in the way of fire, just to be on the safe side. She mentally chose not to tell him about that side of her victory. Because that is what it was. A victory. Her victory. She had travelled from the far off lands in the East, been derailed by rebellious citizens in Meereen, chosen to battle against Death itself. All to get to this moment. After all those delays and problems, she had begun to think that it would never happen. But she had to believe it now. The ruins were in front of her. There was a hole in the wall just behind the melted carcass of the Throne, a beam of sunlight streaming through, illuminating what she had just accomplished. She heard Drogon fly off behind her; his presence would understandably inform everyone that she had overcome the now dead king. She expected to hear the noise of the bells ringing any moment, signalling the city's surrender. Although she didn't know yet what had happened on the ground, the worry still inside her that one of her council members had fallen in the final push to earn her her place on the seat of power, she was proud that they had managed to take the city with minimal civilian casualties. There had been a brief time, after Tommen had ordered the attack on her ancestral home at Dragonstone and she had not known the fate of the people she cared for, when she had contemplated simply flying over to King's Landing and razing it to the floor, regardless of the cost. He would have deserved it. He would have brought it upon himself. That was the reasoning behind her fury and temptation. She had even given into that side of her character, the trait that seemed to infect all members of the Targaryen family. The rubble that was once the Twins, where Walder Frey had perished in the flames of Drogon, lay testament to that. But then she had arrived at Winterfell and realised that Jorah and Bruda were still alive. That fury had melted away somewhat. She still had that hunger and strive for power but she was no longer blinded by that passion. In a sense, their survival had ensured the survival of everyone in the capital. She couldn't put into words how thankful she was of the fact that they had saved her too in the process.
She reached the Throne and placed a hand on one of the few hilts of a sword that still remained. It was hot to the touch as she grasped it like a long dead soldier must have done centuries ago. It made her think of the stories her brother had told her when he wasn't too busy insulting or abusing her. He would wax lyrical about how high the Throne was and how, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how long you spent, you would never be able to count the number of swords that had been melted down to forge the seat. As a child, she had envisaged it like a mountain and had dreamt of being the first person to reach its summit. Now, it was nothing more than a mound. It wouldn't take very long to count the swords now as well. The only difficulty would be in trying to determine what pieces of the mess were blades. She had once had a vision about this moment. She had been in this very room, alone with the throne. What concerned her was the abundance of ash that surrounded her, a thought that had fuelled her worries of succumbing to that dark side of her character. But now it all made sense as she looked upon the small pile of ash that had been the young man who had faced her in his final moments. She was never destined to burn the city, not with the support of her council. It was destiny to burn the Throne and everything it stood for, she realised, as she watched the ash get picked up by the wind that flowed through the two gaping holes either side of her. As she observed the last remnants of her predecessor disappear, she spotted a figure waiting by the door. She couldn't make out who it was since they were hidden by the dark shadows in the corner. But, as she stepped closer, leaving the throne, she realised who it was and let out a sigh of relief.
Stannis walked into the centre of the room and she let out a gasp at his appearance. One side of his face had a horrible burn that was blistering. She could only sympathise with how much pain he must have been going through. She stepped closer to him but stopped herself from reaching out and touching the wound, knowing how it would have made it worse.
"My Lord," she said. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I knew the risks when I offered to lead the fleet," he responded. It stung to talk but he continued through gritted teeth. "I was one of the lucky ones. I managed to get off the ship just as the wildfire took hold but it still got me."
"I commend you for your service. Without you and your men, I wouldn't have been able to do this with so little damage." He observed the room, taking in its demolished state, and wondered what her definition of damage was. "You will be suitably rewarded for your efforts, more than just Storm's End."
"I thank you, my Queen. I knew you would be here when I saw that great beast outside. Its arrival seems to have scared off most of the soldiers in this place, which was why it was so easy for me to get here." Her face scrunched up at that comment.
"I must ask...why did you see fit to come here? The battle must have been taking place down there. I don't know how you avoided it." He began to smirk, a disturbing sight when it was compounded with the burns on his face. Most of his teeth were now black and she prevented herself from gagging. She took a few steps back away from him, bumping into some of the melted metal.
"Isn't it obvious. You said I should be rewarded. I've come for what I deserve."
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Down on the streets of King's Landing, the cleaning up process had already begun. After the surrender of the Kingsguard, the fighting had instantly stopped and attention had turned to treating any people who had been injured in the brief but hectic battle. Bruda was crouched down next to such a person, one of the opposing soldiers who had a serious gash running down his leg that was likely to become infected if he didn't deal with it promptly. He had taken some cloth from a stall that had been destroyed in the fight and was now using it to wrap it around the leg, applying sufficient pressure. The soldier grimaced as the wound stung even more.
"Oh come on," the warlock muttered with little sympathy. "It's barely a scratch." He received an angry look in response and his expression softened. "Fine. Close your eyes. Oh, and bite down on this." He handed him a stick of wood and his patient reluctantly did as he was told. Now that he wasn't looking, Bruda felt safer in healing the injury with his magic. A golden glow began to blossom from his hand, sending a gentle warmth over the soldier's leg before the bleeding stopped and the other man opened his eyes. He was about to ask what he had done when Bruda put a finger on his lips. "Hush. Don't go questioning what happened. Just accept it and toddle off. Go help anyone else in trouble. And be careful...you're going to have a scar and I don't want to have to treat you again." With a satisfied sigh, Bruda stood up from his crouching position and surveyed the scene. Despite what had just occurred, there was a general feeling of happiness in the streets. Some of the residents had even felt safe enough to come outside, lending supplies that would be useful to help the injured or make the dying more comfortable. That was the only issue facing them at the moment. He spotted Davos helping another soldier up and walked over to him. The smuggler smiled at him as he approached.
"We actually did it," he said, a hint of surprise in his tone.
"Hmm. It seems so."
"You don't appear too happy with that."
"It's not that. How many casualties are we looking at?"
"On our side...no more than one-fifty. The Kingsguard didn't have the space to properly attack us once we were in the streets."
"Civilians?" Davos grimaced at the question.
"Unknown. The explosion has understandably caused quite a bit of significant damage in that area. The buildings nearest to the Sept hardly stood a chance. It will be a while until we get to them anyway and see if there are any survivors inside."
"Make sure the message gets across that that's the main priority now. We've got plenty of men just wandering out, looking for something to do." Bruda sighed as he rubbed his face, running his fingers through his beard. When he looked at the hairs, he could swear he was definitely greyer than he had ever been. "It could have been worse, I guess. Daenerys won't be happy though still."
"Queen Daenerys knew the price that victory came with." They both turned around to see Tyrion hobbling over to them. The top and left side of his face was covered in blood and he had a few fresh scars to match the ones he had got in the Battle of Blackwater. They noticed he was favouring his left leg slightly.
"Merciful gods...Tyrion! What happened to you?" Davos asked, taking in the sorry state the imp was in.
"Have you not noticed? We were in a battle," he responded through a wince. Davos scowled at his sarcasm. "I'm fine. Truly. I bet my father would actually be proud if he could see me now. His son surviving three battles against the odds. Undefeated. Well...if he could feel anything other than hate and disappointment towards me."
"I'm glad you're okay, Lannister," Bruda said. "She's going to be relying on you quite a bit in the coming months. To steady the ship and all that."
"For once, I should show some humility. I'm not as important as you to her. We wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for your actions. You had the most difficult task, after all."
"I must challenge that. The man who had the most difficult job was the one who had to put up with me. Someone I bet you'd like to see, Davos." Gendry was leaning against a stone wall, trying to clean some of the blood on his warhammer. When Bruda beckoned him over, he tentatively followed the direction. Davos stepped forward and shook the young man's hand.
"Gendry. It is good to see you. I didn't know whether he'd find you. Thought you might still be rowing." Gendry let out a small laugh at the comment.
"I kept my head down once I got here. Just like you told me to."
"Good. That's what I like to hear. Was he where I thought he would be?" he asked the eavesdropping warlock.
"Oh yes. The street of steel. Looked like he'd been busy but he instantly dropped everything to come with me. I doubt it was all down to my charm and charisma."
"I've been waiting. I never knew what for but I knew that something would come up one day. Did you think I was happy, making weapons for the family that killed my father? No. Every swing of the hammer, I was thinking about the escape. I prepared myself. And then he turned up and I just...knew it was that moment."
"You don't have to go back, you know," Davos pointed out. "The Queen owes you a large debt of gratitude for what you've done for her. You could finally be comfortable after all these years."
"It's never been about comfort. I want that excitement again." Davos looked at Bruda and Tyrion.
"Well, I'll be sure to speak to the new queen and put my recommendation forward. We could do with men like you in the council. She doesn't just want it to be made up of lords, as you can tell by looking at us." Gendry was about to accept the proposition when a loud roar came from the sky. They looked up to see Drogon flying from the Red Keep, which meant only one thing. Spotting Jorah in the crowd, who was also looking up in the same direction, Bruda shouted over to him.
"What are you waiting for, Mormont? We've got a queen to crown."
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"I don't know what you mean," Daenerys said as Stannis paced in an arc in front of her. She was all alone with this man. He'd already told her that there were no soldiers remaining in the Keep. She wondered if he had lied about that too; had he killed on his way to get to her? Her protectors were far down below in the city, too far away to get to her in time to stop him in whatever he was planning. They might already be on their way or still oblivious to her momentary victory. It didn't matter either way. Drogon, the one thing that had protected her against Tommen, was now gone too. Stannis had planned all of this and it had worked. Nothing was standing in his way from removing her and claiming the Throne as his own, even if it was a pile of molten iron at the moment. She had worked so hard to get here and it was going to be taken away from her the instant she claimed it. Hadn't her vision foretold this to happen? She had woken up from the dream just after she touched the throne. Maybe it was her destiny to fall short.
"Ha! Of course you know what I mean. My brother was king. His children weren't his so I was the rightful heir. I fought numerous battles in the pursuit of what was owed to me whilst you pretended to be a princess in some foreign land."
"You're forgetting that your brother stole the Throne from my father so my claim is stronger than yours. I am willing to forgive your transgressions if you stop this foolishness at once."
"You're missing the point. Your father lost the kingdom. Meaning your family was forsaken of ever having it back. That's how the system works. You can dream about having the perfect world you thought this would be but you have not been paying attention since you got here." Daenerys gulped and thought of other approaches she could take in this argument. It was all about stalling him now, in the hope that someone would come to her rescue. Jorah swore to protect her. Bruda had never let her down before. They wouldn't fail her now.
"You submitted yourself to me back at Winterfell. You swore an oath. Everyone saw. Do you think they would follow a king who broke the most vital of promises?"
"Do you really think that matters to them? They'll blindly follow where the money is. These people only think about themselves. All they strive for is to better their position. When I'm king, I'll be the only one who can make that possible for them."
"My men are not like that. They are loyal and have stood by my side through everything I have been through."
"You really are naive. They're playing the game. They've always been playing you because it was easy. I even managed to do it in the end. They won't mourn you when I'm gone. They'll turn to the next one in line. Just look at Seaworth - he was my Hand but then saw you as the better option and abandoned me. That had nothing to do with him believing in you." His words were beginning to sting and she had to grip a piece of metal to steady herself as Stannis slowly closed in like an animal hunting its prey. She was beginning to worry that they had been involved in his plan too. She was over analysing every conversation she could remember taking place with them, trying to see if she could find any hints that that was true. She wouldn't believe it. Jorah would never do that to her. He loved her. Cherished her. Or had that just been his way of securing his place? The lonely young woman falling for the caring, handsome man. Why had Bruda appeared out of thin air to support her? Did he want a taste of the lavish life as well? She was trying to stop these thoughts from consuming her. Stannis smirked as he saw the effect his words were having on her.
"You won't kill me," she spat out. "You are too much of a coward."
"Now, now. We are really clutching at straws there. Have you ever seen any evidence to support that theory? Destroying the Bolton name from history without a second thought so that they would no longer be able to challenge me? What about killing my own brother because he dared to think of taking power away from me? I don't think killing one woman will weigh too heavily on my conscience. I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"How long have you been planning this?"
"After we defeated the White Walkers. You are the one who gave me the opportunity to accomplish all of this. I hope you realise that. You wanted to trust me so refused to listen to your council's advice. You brought me into your company because you needed me. You wanted to show the kingdom that you were willing to work with the noble houses. So you told me all your plans, asked me for any suggestions. Why do you think I suggested risking my life on that ship? To help your cause? No. Because I knew I would get off before it blew, giving me the freedom of the city to get here while everyone else fought in the streets. I want you to know, before you die, that this was all your doing."
"They'll kill you, you know. You might kill me. You might sit on the Throne, or whatever you may call it now, for a few moments. But Ser Jorah, Bruda, even Davos...they will not stop until they have struck you done."
"The funniest thing is that you actually believe that nonsense. Once I'm king, my men will seize them and they'll never see the light of day again. It'll be easy since my soldiers make up the bulk of the army right now, since you left yours behind. Wasn't that one of my ideas too?" He grinned as he took out a dagger from his coat pocket. "Now...I'm tired of talking. I know you'd prefer to wait longer in the hope your dashing knight will save you. I knew that was what you were doing, by the way. I've been one step ahead of you this whole time." There was nowhere for her to run. She was backed up against the remnants of the throne. She was going to die on the one thing she wanted. He plunged the dagger towards her, aiming for the chest.
But his arm stopped. He looked down at it in confusion, as she did. His arm was beginning to shake and he tried to grip the dagger tighter so he wouldn't drop it. He gritted his teeth through the pain coursing through his arm. He had no idea what was going on. He wouldn't let go of the weapon. He tried pushing it towards her again but ended up with the same result. He looked at her in anger.
"What have you done to me?"
"No...nothing," she choked out, as clueless as he was. The pain was becoming worse and, eventually, he dropped the dagger. He stumbled backwards. The pain wasn't stopping. He opened his hand up to look at his palm and saw the imprint of the hilt burnt into his skin. The fresh scar began to glow as he traced it with his finger, a familiar golden and blue colour. The energy grew brighter before it covered his arm, making him cry out and drop to the floor on his knees. He took one last look at her, Daenerys still standing in the same position in fear, before a torrent of energy surrounded him, spinning around like a small whirlwind. He could no longer see past it as it picked up speed. His vision went blurry as he screamed out in pain and rage. It was burning him alive. He tried to move but to no avail. Daenerys watched as his skin began to flake away, making her cover her mouth in horror at the sight. With one last shout, his body crumpled. The energy stopped and Daenerys was left alone in the room once more, looking at a pile of steaming bones.
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Jorah was the first to enter the decimated throne room, quickly followed by Bruda and Davos. He ran over to Daenerys as soon as he saw her, her hand still covering her mouth in disgust at what she had just seen. The warlock stopped as he soon as he entered, a grim look on his face as he took in their surroundings, noting the destruction and, more importantly, the remains on the floor. Davos walked around the room in amazement, carefully looking out of one of the holes, while still holding onto the wall, to see the city down below. Jorah directed her head with his hand so that she was looking at him, fear still clearly evident in her eyes.
"What happened?" he asked, the obvious question to put forward. She had to keep telling herself that she was alright now. Daenerys had been so convinced that she was about to die that she had lost all hope that she would see her love again. But, here he was, cradling her protectively as he waited for her answer. The other two men were also listening, although neither had stepped any closer.
"Drogon destroyed the Throne," she answered. "I wanted him to. It needed to be destroyed so that we can move on."
"That's not what has concerned you though. Where's Tommen? What happened to him?" He already knew but he wanted confirmation.
"He was sitting on the Throne when I ordered Drogon to attack. I gave him one last chance to surrender but he kept saying that we were going to lose together."
"Tommen had decided to take the city with him if he was going to fall," Bruda said from his corner of the room, speaking for the first time and reminding Daenerys that the others were there too. "He tried to use wildfire."
"I saw from up here. Is Hidebyo...is he still alive?" Although he wasn't necessarily her dragon, she couldn't stand one of those beautiful creatures perishing in her name.
"Just. Some nasty injuries by the looks of things when he impacted with the sept. He should be fine." She smiled slightly at that, some reassurances at last.
"I feel like we're getting off track," Davos interrupted with his usual bluntness. "So is that Tommen then?" he asked as he pointed to the pile of bones on the floor.
"No. That's what's left of Stannis Baratheon." Jorah and Davos' eyes widened at her answer, although she noted that Bruda didn't look remotely surprised. "He arrived just after Tommen died. At first, I wasn't worried but then he made it clear he was there to take what was his." They all knew what that meant.
"So you told your dragon to burn him to a crisp," Davos put forward hopefully.
"Drogon had already left to inform you that the plan had worked. I was all alone. He wanted to kill me. He tried to." Jorah looked over her body, checking for wounds, but she stopped him as she continued. "But he couldn't."
"A change of conscience at the last minute," Jorah suggested.
"No. He physically couldn't. His arm wouldn't move and then this...force took a hold of him." She looked over at Bruda, who still hadn't moved.
"That will have been me," he answered her unspoken question. "Back at Winterfell...when he made all those promises to you. I took matters into my own hands and basically bound him with a magical contract. If he never broke his vow, he would never have known I'd done anything to him. But, because he did...you can see what happened. I'm sorry it was so gruesome. I was probably a bit too forceful. But just ask Melisandre. She was the only one there who saw me do it." Daenerys moved away from Jorah and walked over to the older man.
"You went behind my back. You cursed a man I had felt necessary to trust and you didn't even tell me!"
"It was insurance," he responded defiantly.
"It was...the only reason I am still standing here," she said, a smirk growing on her face as he realised she had been messing with him. She had become too good at that, he realised, over their time together.
"You had me worried there for a second," Bruda admitted as she enveloped him in a grateful hug, not seeing the helpless expression he was sending to the other men.
"Once again, I am forever in your debt. You saved me. Just like the other times. As you all have." She turned to look at Jorah and Davos, who bowed their heads, not wanting to accept her praises. "And now I can reward you however I deem fit. Because I am, as I was always destined to be, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Congratulations...your Majesty," Davos said with a sly wink.
"We always knew it would work out in the end," Bruda sighed. "You're too bloody stubborn to give up."
"I would have. If it wasn't for the efforts of my advisors."
"This is all you," Jorah said with a serious tone. "We wouldn't be here if we didn't believe in you. You're the reason we have fought on numerous occasions. Because we know you are the ruler all those people need." He pointed out towards where the hole was, the city now coming back to life as people came out of their homes after the battle. "And we're not done yet. There are bound to be many more battles to come."
"Just more wars of words," Bruda added. Daenerys smiled, trying to accept that she had finally done it.
"But your first port of call has got to be to sort this mess out," Davos said, gesturing to the room they were in. Daenerys laughed and then shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, thankfully, I have a very handy and dedicated warlock who can sort all of this out in no time. Isn't that right?" They turned to Bruda, who was now wearing a disgruntled expression.
"Sure, sure. Win her the throne, after infiltrating the most heavily guarded city in the kingdom. All this, after I helped defeat an undead foe, dying in the process! No, I don't deserve one small break. Not at all." The other three laughed, Daenerys kissing him on the cheek, as they walked out, leaving Bruda standing in the room. He cracked his knuckles, stretched his arms with a loud groan, kicked a stray piece of stone away, and got to work.