Hi. I just wanted to say that I am doing my GCSEs right now, so I would be lucky to update this story even twice in the next few weeks, but I will definitely try. Please stop telling me 'It's too similar.' Like I have said before, there wasn't anything to change in the first few chapters, but you'll notice, in this one, there are some changes. Also, about the title, I just realized how they all sound so related but aren't at all. Okay bye.
Dickon Tarly emerged from the river, pulling up a fatigued Jaime Lannister, and that fucking golden hand. They lay on the pebbled beach, gasping in gulps of air.
The mountain stood silently against the wall of the dungeon, a wreck of a man just barely patched together, underneath the heavy armor that was only required of him so that Cersei Lannister would not retch every time she saw him. She stood, pleased, standing on the thin layer of straw that was supposed to cushion the cold stone floor when the prisoners slept. But of course, that luxury would not be afforded to the traitor standing, exhausted to the point of collapse, in front of her. But then again, they deserved it.
She adjusted the tiara that sat proudly on her head, and winced when she felt the shorn curls. Of course, not so long ago, she had been locked in one of these cells. Forced to parade naked, with not even her own hair to cover herself with, through the entirety of King's Landing. Before Tommen's death, when her hair was only blonde curls that exuded wealth, perhaps Cersei Lannister had a shred of sanity. Kept behind the line by her father, and the love she felt for her children. All dead now, of course. She stepped forward, a cold smirk dancing on her lips.
"I want you to know; I understand. Even though we are enemies you and I." In front of her, covered in dirt and grime, stood a women, who stood with her head high, as high as the chains would allow. Both hands were chained to the wall, in such a way that she would never be comfortable.
"I was there the day Ser Gregor crushed your lover's head." Cersei closed her eyes and inhaled with satisfaction. "If I close my eyes, I can still hear the sound of Oberyn's skull, breaking. And the sound of your scream. I never heard a scream like that. I thought, that's true love." Elliara Sand's eyes glistened, and evidence of her crushing sense of defeat threatened to appear. But she couldn't let that bitch see her cry. The gag, a dirty piece of roughly torn cloth that had been stuffed in her mouth, prevented her from at the very least, protecting Oberyn's memory.
"Oberyn looked beautiful that day. He really did. No one moved quite like him. No one had such skill with a spear. Even Ser Gregor couldn't stop him. If only he hadn't taunted him. He could have just walked away, and simply left poor Ser Gregor there to die. But that wasn't your lover's way, was it? Now he's buried somewhere." Cersei cruelly smiled. "And here's Ser Gregor, stronger than ever. That must hurt."
"When my daughter was taken from me, my only daughter, well, you can't imagine how that feels unless you've lost a child. I fed her at my own breast even though my father demanded I hand her to the wet nurse, I couldn't bear to see her in another woman's arms. I never got to have a mother, courtesy of the Imp you allied yourself with, but Myrcella did. She was mine. And you took her from me. Why did you do that. Doesn't matter now." "My advisor here was clever enough to figure out what poison you used to murder Myrcella. The second I find your daughter...The Long Farewell," Cersei hissed.
In the ruins of the Dorne Palace, a towering structure demolished by wildfire, stood a man. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater stood triumphantly, and marched into the depths of the city, checking every face, every girl who didn't even resemble Tyene Martell, before throwing them aside.
"Come on lads, still gotta find the cunt daughter!" he rallied. Soldiers were terrifying, intimidating the peasentry of Dorne into an even greater state of submission, raping young girls and boys alike. He walked down a cobbled beach, where two suspicious characters were hurriedly departing.
"Oi!" he shouted. There was a brief reaction, a pause, before they started to flee towards a small fishing boat, hidden between the rocks. He ran after them, much faster than the injured man, with the character who was aiding him. Gaining upon them, he shoved the useless man down, and grabbed hold of the girl. And that is when he saw the pure fear in Tyene Martell's eyes. She knew she was going to die. At least she would finally meet her mother. But no. Bronn could see a young boy, begging the guard to let him pass. The relief, the knowledge that he would live another day. And so, he pushed Tyene towards the fishing boat. Her amazement rendered her incapable of speaking. "Go, you idiot!" he said as he saw a guard walk down the beach towards him. "Ay Hartwold! Keep searching, you lazy fuck!"
Tyene quickly hauled up the man, powered by sheer adrenaline, and she stumbled into the fishing boat, almost carrying him. 'Damn, that man is strong.' her thoughts whispered. He had basically knocked out the last remaining member of her guard, though he had already been stabbed in the thigh. "To the Mother of Dragons," she declared determinedly, starting to row.
Tyrion walked through the smouldering remains, his nose wrinkling at the air smelling of acrid corpses. He seemed dejected, watching the lake at a distance, knowing that there was no chance of Jaime's survival. His golden hand would inevitably become his murder weapon. 'Why Jaime? Why do you always have to be the hero?'
The Dothraki horde surrounded the subdued soldiers, all of whom had been stripped of their weapons, leaving an army of dishonourable idiots. The Dragon Queen stood at the top of a hill, addressing the Prisoners of War. Behind her, Drogon roared loudly, suffocating any spark of morale.
"I know what Cersei has told you. That I've come to destroy your cities. Burn down your homes. Murder you. Orphan your children. That's Cersei Lannister, not me. I'm not here to murder. All I want is to destroy the wheel that rolls over both the rich and poor, to the benefit of no one.. but the Cersei Lannisters of this world. I offer you a choice. Bend the knee, and join me. Together, we will leave the world a better place than how we found it. Or refuse." The unsaid words murmured themselves. A few knights bent the knee, knowing the consequences of the latter choice, but the majority stood almost proudly, until a heavy roar forced them all down. All except for one.
"Step forward, my lord." Randyll Tarly wove through the kneeling knights, coming to stand, unobstructed, in front of Daenerys. "You will not kneel?" she questioned.
"I already have a queen," came the gruff reply.
"My sister," interjected Tyrion. "Though she wasn't your queen until recently, was she? When she slaughtered your rightful queen, and destroyed House Tyrell for all time. So it appears your allegiances are somewhat flexible."
"There are no easy choices in war. Say what you will about your sister, she was born in Westeros. She's lived here all of her life. You, on the other hand," he said, addressing Tyrion, "murdered your father, and chose to support a foreign invader. One with no ties to this land, with an army of savages behind her back."
"You will not trade your honour for your life. I respect that." Daenerys nodded, simply. She motioned to two Dothraki soldiers, who pulled Randyll away from the other knights. "Lord Randyll Tarly, I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of my name, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, sentence you to die. Dracarys." A jet of flame doused Randyll, screams emanating from the horror scene.