The cold clink of chains was the only sound besides her footsteps as Cersei descended into the dungeon. Dark halls of steel and stone and water lined the way, with forlorn faces peering from behind the bars as her torchlight passed. The gaoler had been busy these last two months. Treason, regicide, murder. She had survived it all, and she would survive still. She recognized some of the faces that peered up at her, but she paid them no mind. They had tried to dethrone her and they had failed. Why should she feel malice or pity for them, when they would have done the same to her if given half the chance?
Murder, regicide, and treason. Was that not how she had come into power in the first place? There was no shame in admitting to it. Cruelty was a tool every king or queen had to use if they meant to rule. If they meant to live. She stopped and turned.
"'Cruelty is the tool of kings.' It was you who taught me that, was it not?"
The prisoner's chains rattled and he rose, coming closer to the torchlight. He was thin, thin, and gaunt as a skeleton. His beard had grown patchy and wild. The only part of him that had remained the same were his eyes, hard and cold and cruel. Father. Some small part of her did feel pity, but it was gone soon enough. He had taught her better than to be sentimental. His weakness hurt her more than his pain.
"Family first," he spat. "That was the first lesson I taught you, the foundation on which everything else was built. If you failed to learn it, there's no use in any of the others."
Once such a barb would have pierced her heart and sent her running down the hall in fear. But his raging green eyes did not make her run anymore. "Ah yes. We are all to give up everything for the glory of House Lannister, that was always what you taught me. Well," She chuckled. "This time it's your turn."
"Everything I did-"
"Everything you did was for your own fucking self," she spat, her tongue hot. "I see that now. I bled and suffered and died over and over again for the Lannister name while you drank wine and counted dragons in Casterly Rock. Then as soon as I got powerful enough to threaten you even a little, you cast me aside like I had been your enemy and not your own daughter. You sent that imp to scourge me, you married my son to that whore Margaery, and in the end, you were going to marry me off to some minor lord to get me away from the Throne, get me away from my children."
"I made you queen," Tywin growled. "I gave everything."
"You left me with nothing. You left all of us with nothing. Joffrey dead, Kevan dead, the Tyrells growing bolder every day, turning Tommen against us. Oberyn scheming and poisoning in the wings while you hid from Robb Stark in the capital and refused to even consider terms of surrender? Robb Stark will have thirty thousands now, how many do we have? Ten? If we can persuade them to stir from their keeps?"
"The Tyrells have-"
"The Tyrells hate you even more than me. When I came to them they were speaking of annulling the marriage between Tommen and Margaery. It was only when you were cast aside that such talk ceased. I have saved House Lannister from you, Father."
Tywin's hands lurched forward, gripping the bars until his bony knuckles turned white. "Do not pretend to tell me how to politick, girl," He seethed. "I had everything well in hand. If you had even-"
She let the words roll over her. Why had she even come here? Father was always like this. Had always been like this. Did he spend his every waking moment in the dark thinking of schemes that never could have worked? While Baelish had sided with them, perhaps something might have been done, but that bird had flown.
At last, Tywin finished his raving, his voice giving way to a fit of coughing. She sighed. "I come with good news, father. Do you remember the Hound? We hear that he has killed Petyr Baelish and abducted Sansa Stark. Where in the Hells she sprang from we can only guess, but it seems Sandor seeks to buy his way back into our good graces. Besides this, Garlan has seen off the Targaryen pretenders in the Stormlands."
Tywin recovered at last and glared up at her. "I suppose that you think you have saved House Lannister? A petty Lord, a pretty girl, and a few thousand miserable mercenaries, what does it matter?"
"Mercenaries and dragons, you imbecile."
Tywin scowled. "If there were really dragons, Saint Garlan would have fared no better than Tarly or Gilbert Farring. Perhaps next Saint Garlan can rid of us of the grumpkins and the snarks that infest the Red Keep!"
Cersei's heart grew rancid with contempt. It was not grumpkins and snarks that burned Tarly's host, and he went south on your orders. Tywin was an utter fool. This had been a waste of time.
"I have said what I came to say, and now I will leave," She said, and turned on her heel, walking up toward the sun. She ignored him as she climbed upwards to the regular cells, and soon his cries were nothing but a memory.
Light of the morning filtered through the windows making the red stone of Maegor's Holdfast even redder than it was. This castle had never been touched by war amidst all the fighting, somehow. That should not have felt remarkable, and yet it did. The war had raged across all the Seven Kingdoms and yet somehow, here at the center of it all, the stained glass windows had been left untouched.
Footsteps fell in behind her and she did not have to turn to know that it was Jaime and his guard.
"Sister," he said quietly. "How was he?"
"Miserable," She said without emotion.
Jaime sighed. "He should be grateful he's still alive."
True enough. The King had accused him of no smaller crime than treason. But perhaps they could let him out of the Black Cells in a few months. "You have heard the news?"
"It's not precisely an end to our troubles, but… yes, the best news we've had in months."
"It's a way out," she replied. "Robb Stark is still a callow boy, he will not be able to stand still. He will march straight for King's Landing to meet you and Garlan in the field. We can end him with a single stroke. The Vale lords are rich, and we can take ransoms, perhaps enough to keep the Iron Bank and the Faith away."
She did not speak of Stannis, or Jon Snow, or the Greyjoys, or Oberyn, or the High Sparrow. Jaime and she had enough strife without borrowing more from the future. She could not bear to even think of them. Perhaps they would all fight amongst themselves and die, just to oblige her. Cersei had grown tired of strife, tired of war, but she now wondered if she would ever know the end of it.
Who had been her enemy at the start of all this? Eddard Stark and Robert? She had felt so invincible then. She had been such a cocksure young fool. Even then she had walked the edge of a knife, and even after so many battles and successes and losses she still felt no closer to victory. After Eddard and Robert had come Renly and Tyrion and Robb and Stannis. Of them all, she felt most favorable to Renly, who had dressed well and died before accomplishing anything. Tyrion, she hated the most, but at least the man who had killed her son had the good grace to die and stay dead. Stannis though, Stannis still vexed her and Robb was even worse. She would give all the gold in Casterly Rock to kill the boy if she thought it would work. First, the Freys and Boltons had botched the job, then Kevan had met with setback after setback. She almost laughed. Kevan had died believing Baelish was riding to his aid.
The Reach had been almost as bad as Baelish. Worse than useless. Always filling the court with their sycophants, always smirking and smiling and poisoning Tommen against her. Any time Tywin would demand their help they would have some excuse. Sieges in the Stormlands or Ironborn on the Shield Islands or Dragons sighted in the South over Dorne. Well, their lies had become true enough at the end, when Aegon and Daenerys had landed along with the Golden Company and three dragons. Tarly had burned in his armor and left the war against the Dragons to Garlan.
...and through all this, what had her father done? What had the mighty Lord Tywin done? Nothing. He kept pushing on as though nothing had happened, as though the realm was not falling through his fingers like so much sand, as though he could borrow forever and not repay. He had tried to force Mace to pay off the Royal debts! She smiled darkly remembering that scene. In the end, her father had left her with a choice of siding against him or dying in a coup… and she had chosen life.
In the game of thrones, you either win or you die. She had said that to Eddard Stark so many years ago, but now she saw how naive she was. In the game of thrones, you win by living and she had outlived them all. Baelish, Renly, Daenerys, Eddard, Robert… Just a few more enemies rotting in their graves and her victory would be complete. Just a few more.
"Whatever happens next," Jaime said at last, "At least we will be together."
She stopped, smiled, and turned to him. They were almost to the door of the keep now. A thousand men and women would be in the courtyard, gathered to hear the news the Queen had gathered them to hear, but she would treasure a private moment with Jaime beforehand.
"I know," she said. There had been a short time, just after his return, when she had doubted his loyalty, but that time had passed. He had stayed with her to protect her against Tywin, and the bond they shared had never been stronger. He, at least, would not fail her. She wanted to kiss him, but there were too many guards, too many witnesses, so she simply turned and walked out the opening doors into the sun.
A great sea of humanity greeted her, filling the courtyard with livery and color and laughter. She would have felt proud of them, had they not all been Tyrell Bannermen. Even many of the guards were their men now. But there was nothing to be done. She would have to tolerate Margaery's smug smiles a moment longer. At least she was the first to be able to spread the good news. Pycelle's loyalty ensured she was always the first to read any ravens that came to the Red Keep, and for that, she would thank him.
She stepped forward to speak at the balcony, on the little raised stage that had been constructed for that purpose…
She never made it to the balcony.
As one man the guards stepped and surrounded her and Jaime. She opened her mouth to speak but a guard struck her, driving her to the floor. The world swam, and she found herself gasping for air. Jaime, Jaime was cursing somewhere behind her. The guards, Cersei realized. The guard must have betrayed her. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a sound like a great drum beating. Whum, whum, whum. She looked up.
Margaery stood on the raised area just in front of the balcony looking down at her. She wore a green dress with flowing ribbons of golden chiffon weaved about the bodice and the nape of her neck. Her face was impassive, unresponsive, as if the girl had hidden somewhere deep within her heart. Is this how I looked when Ned Stark fell? She opened her mouth to snarl an insult but no words came. That distant sound like a great drum grew louder by the moment. What was happening? Her mind whirled, refused to collect itself, then finally managed, "Why?"
Why now, when they had finally made steps toward victory? Why not six months ago or three?
Margaery opened her mouth slightly, as if to speak, but turned away at the last moment.
"People of Westeros!" She called, raising her high voice as much as she could. There was power in her voice but also fear and uncertainty. "Baratheon, Stark, and Lannister have brought nothing but war and trouble to this realm in the name of their ambitions. They have starved your children, raped your sisters, and killed your brothers. They have failed to live as Kings and Queens are told to live, they have failed to provide the Father's justice, the Mother's charity. The Tyrells for a time bowed to Baratheon and Lannister, yes, and that is to our shame, but no longer!"
Cersei struggled to rise as she spoke, to fight her way up to the platform and claw out the girl's eyes, but two of the guards had taken her by the arms. She wished, not for the first time, that she was a man, that she could fight, but then Jaime behind her was just as helpless. She opened her mouth to scream but rough hands covered her mouth. Whum, whum, whum, the sound from before continued on.
"There are some among you who think I mean to name myself queen!" Margaery continued. "There are some who think I will name my father! But no! Enough with pretenders! There is only one house that has ever sat the Iron Throne rightfully, and-"
Margaery's voice trailed off. Cersei followed her gaze upward, up, up, above the tops of the buildings.
Her heart dropped out of her chest.
Whum whum whum, the sound was louder than ever now, and finally Cersei could see the source. Three huge creatures, with bat's wings the size of a galley beating in a steady rhythm. Black and Green and White, huge and terrible and invincible. Dragons. The rough hands fell away from her as the guards turned to stare dumbfounded at fire-made-flesh. Cersei could do naught but join them.
Cries broke out amongst the crowd as the three great beasts fell toward the square. The center of the court had been clear, to begin with, but even so, men and women rushed to flee, as though that would save them from the monsters. Others stared, open-mouthed and gawking, only to be crushed to the ground by the force of the beating wings. The greatest of the dragons, the creature as black as sin, crawled forward on its wings and extended it toward a quavering Margaery. It could eat her in a single bite. Cersei could feel the creature's hot breath wash over her like a blast from a furnace. Its tiny black eyes gleamed with hate. But Margaery held. Margaery stood and faced the dragon.
Only then did Cersei see the dragon's rider. She was dressed in white and black with short-cropped silver hair framing her face. She climbed down the creature's neck and slid down onto the balcony, an amused smile playing on her lips. She came to Margaery and laughed, taking up her hands in her own.
"Have no fear, Lady Margaery. Drogon will hurt neither you nor your husband. All is well."
"We only got your message a very short time ago, my Queen," Margaery managed, her voice unsure. "We managed… we captured the Queen- the former Queen. Cersei Lannister. And her brother, and all the rest."
Daenerys' eyes settled on Cersei then, and Cersei rose to her feet. The girl was tiny, shorter even than Margaery, and though she stood on the raised area just in front of the balcony, Cersei looked down at her. Daenerys chuckled, and another furnace blast of hot air washed over them, and Cersei almost wondered if the dragon was laughing along with its master.
"Are you afraid of me?" Daenerys asked, her voice sweet. Before Cersei could collect herself enough to reply, Daenerys laughed again. "You should be. But it is more your father who should be afraid, I think. My nephew, the prince, has some unsettled business with him."
