350 AC

Three days had passed until the knocking came once again. Outside the cell, Darius could hear two voices squabbling outside. The doomed knight dared not answer the visitors, but it mattered not, as Ser Arstan Grandison's boot came soaring through the wood.

"Come with me."

"Am I going to like where I end up?" asked Darius, broken.

"That's not for me to decide."

Arstan and three other Lannister guards walked Darius up the staircases of the dungeon tower until they eventually came to ground level. Exiting the tower, the sunlight once again blinded him, as he had not seen light in days. They shuffled through the main courtyard, past highborn lords and ladies with looks of scorn upon their faces. Arstan led the group across the moat into Maegor's Holdfast, and the familiar dragon sculpture overlooking the foyer was a grim omen of what he might see next.

They came to a rest at the small council chamber, where Lord Andrew and Grand Maester Ashe sat, their expressions dark. Ser Arstan took a seat opposite Ashe, while Andrew sat at the head of the table.

"Thank you, Lord Commander," said Andrew.

"Her Grace isn't here… Has the battle not happened?" Darius asked.

"Your army of traitors was crushed," Arstan said steely.

"Now now, Ser Arstan, we mustn't lie to my brother. Aemma's loyalists gave us a hard fight, I won't lie. Lord Tyrell is a shrewd battle commander, and Lord Baratheon is sharp as well. We met them on the field, mostly our own men, but some from Rosby, Duskendale, and Harrenhal. Ser Samwise Taylor led the van… Valiant Ser Sam, a sight to behold. He fell in the first hour of fighting. Hours passed, and by sunset, we drove our lines to your camp."

"You say we," said Darius softly, "Were you on the field?"

"The royal we, Darius. Ironically, as it so happens. I am not a royal, no, because my betrothed was slain in the fighting."

"What did you do to Her Grace?" Darius muttered.

"Nothing. She saw us coming and took her own life. Poison, most likely; no stab wounds. Maester Ashe has been examining her corpse before we lay her in state."

"My lord, I suspect the Strangler," Maester Ashe added.

"A bit of poetic justice? Darius, you remember the stories of King Joffrey the Illborn, yes? The stupidity of our forbearers brought forth the demonic whelp, and we were lucky enough that drunken Robert Baratheon let Joffrey share his name so our lord father would not have to bear the shame of association. Joffrey was the King on the Iron Throne, but his detractors called him a king with no claim all the same. He too died in the Strangler's grasp."

"Do you mean to compare Aemma Targaryen to a bastard born of incest?"

"Gods no. I was merely making a point. Unfortunately for you, we must come down to the reason of our meeting. With Princess Aemma dead, Lords Tyrell and Arryn heading back for their castles, Lord Baratheon broken and friendless, Lady Baratheon in our hands, and Perros Blackmont on the run, who is there to blame? The smallfolk want vengeance against the rebels, but most of the rebels are gone or no longer rebellious."

Darius swallowed, understanding the situation. "I see."

"Darius, brother, if you had just stood by my side, we could have ruled the Seven Kingdoms as brothers. I could have given you the name of our father. You could have shared in this power, but instead you betrayed not only me, but the realm."

"I don't want your power. I want the real heir to ascend the throne."

"Don't you see? There is no real heir, and the throne is a smoking ruin. This mummer's farce of a rebellion has fractured the country, the last of a 350-year dynasty is dead, and the small council grows ever smaller. I needed a right hand, someone I could trust, but I was given an adversary I needed to defeat. And here you stand, defeated."

"Kill me already, Andrew. Just do it. My life has no purpose any longer."

"May the gods have mercy on your soul."

"Fuck the gods, and fuck you."

The guards dragged him out to the moat of Maegor's Holdfast, and a smith swiftly fetched a block. All the highborn gathered around the scene to see the Iron Throne's enemy be decapitated. The captain of the guard threw Darius's head down, and the crowd grew silent.

"Before you is Ser Darius Hill, an anointed knight, son of Lord Tybolt Lannister of Casterly Rock," announced Grand Maester Ashe, "He stands guilty of high treason against the crown."

Hushed whispers ran through the crowd before Andrew stepped forward.

"This man betrayed the Iron Throne, the Faith of the Seven, and his family in one fell swoop." Andrew turned down to face Darius. "In the name of the Crown of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, I, Lord Andrew Lannister, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West, sentence you to die. If you have any last words, please speak them now."

Thoughts rushed through Darius's mind. He was not afraid of death, but he wanted his final words to be powerful. Andrew had changed, Darius realized. He was not the shrewd lordling of old, he was a power-hungry high lord, and he had come out on top in the game of thrones.

"A crown does queer things to a man's head, brother. Only the wisest of rulers can handle the pressure of ruling, only the most capable of politicians can handle the stress of politics, and only the most effective of monarchs can handle the responsibility of representing a monarchy. I knew you once, but the Andrew Lannister I see standing above me is not the brother I knew. I hope this new Lord Lannister is wise, capable, and effective. If you don't mind, please be all three when chopping off my head."

As Andrew raised the sword, a few things came to Darius's mind. Not many men who passed the sentence swung the sword, or at least, not down south. It was a northern custom, and an honorable one at that. Second, Darius thought of all the people who would be affected by his death. He thought not of Lord Endrew, who had been a great ally, or Lady Valkyrie, who had been a great friend, but of Lady Lily Tyrell. His induction into Aemma's Kingsguard had taken a toll on her, but Darius hadn't paid much mind to it. Is she afraid of losing me? It was a silly thought, one for fairy tales, but the closer the blade came to severing Darius Hill in twain, the more it made sense. The final thought was the blade. The hilt was golden, with a lion-shaped pommel and rubies glittering in the quillons. It was Lord Tybolt's sword. How ironic that Lord Tybolt's bastard would be executed by his own blade, albeit post-mortem. Or perhaps it was far from ironic.

The blade had struck. It didn't hurt, surprisingly. Well, it didn't at first, but the blade sliced through quickly. Darius could hear cries of "Kinslayer" in the crowd as cold metal broke apart his spine. And that was it.

Hi there, it's me, Boltstriker. See, while Ser Darius's death must be very jarring for those of you at home (or probably not, considering you're probably not invested in the lives of fictional characters all too much), it seems we're at an impasse. Unfortunately, I don't do well with multiple POV characters telling stories concurrently, as evidenced by the distinct lack of other POV characters. Now we must find one more. I will be linking a Strawpoll below, because I want this decision to be up to you, the readers. I will admit, I am already leaning toward a certain character, but I have ultimately decided it should be your choice. Here are the choices:

Lady Valkyrie Baratheon, Lady of Storm's End

Lord Endrew Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End

Lady Lily Tyrell, Lady of Highgarden

Grand Maester Ashe, Maester of the Citadel

Vote here: strawpoll me/10436869 (Add the dots)

So, why I have included such a wildcard as Maester Ashe, but not someone as integral as Andrew, or perhaps more interesting as Maester Pylos? Well, Ashe is not a schemer (spoiler alert), he's just a loyal servant who's good at his job. He could provide a window into the landscape of King's Landing without breaking the Martin rule of "Don't make kings POV characters." Andrew, while not technically a king, is still Protector of the Realm. Think Cromwell, or Richard of York. Maester Pylos may or may not know more than he lets on, since he did serve Stannis and all, and I believe his canonical story may not be done yet. So, that's my reasoning for the fourth choice. Of course, the Baratheon twins and Lady Lily would give a window into the aftermath of Aemma's councilors, and ultimately these three characters will be more integral to the plot. So, as we mark the end of Phase 1 and begin Phase 2, I'd like to thank all the readers up until now. I apologize for writing in blocks (this is the last of the second block of writing), and hopefully the story will make up for it. Of course, criticism is always welcome; I always seek to better my writing. Please leave a review if you have any concerns, criticisms, theories, or ways you think I could better the plot. Or, you could be like my good friend illuminatemmie and just leave a review saying "wow o3o good job u did it." Anyway, thanks a million.

Additionally, I would like to apologize to real-life Andrew for portraying you as a power-hungry kinslayer in my fictional fanon. You will never read this, and we won't speak of this in real life, but I hope giving you control of the Seven Kingdoms makes up for you being a colossal literary dick. Also, sorry to CrestfallenHeart for giving you an offscreen death. You'll be back in flashbacks, I promise.

That about wraps it up! Thanks for reading, once again. Remember, when you play the game of thrones, you either win or you return your copy of Crusader Kings 2.