Chapter 26. Plans Unfolding.

And this is the beginning of the end.

--Guy Kawasaki.

6th Moon.

Red Keep.

Elia sighed softly as she looked out the balcony of her personal bedchambers that lovely afternoon, staring out into King's Landing.

Almost distant in how it appeared, making her look like a giant staring at their domain below.

Her eyes strayed towards the Blackwater Bay by the side, stretching the horizon and beyond. Elia loved to believe Mother Rhoyne was watching her most fateful whenever she could.

A wistful yet fond smile settled across her face. It had been close to a moon since Aegon and Lyarra left and she had suddenly realized just how… lonely, the Red Keep had become.

During the time of Aerys' reign, she had been with child in less than 6 moons of her marriage and she had her close friend Ashara with her. She had not been alone.

And as much as she had come to appreciate Rhaegar over the years and even love him, it hadn't been that way in the first years of their marriage.

Him being lost in his mind, trying to find a way to peacefully depose of his father, and then there was his obsession with prophecies and all they entailed.

He had caught her attention with his sweet words and lovely harp music, but beyond that, there had been a wall between them. But when sweet Rhaenys was born, the wall cracked a little, and Rhaegar was able to smile easily whenever his little girl was in his arms.

But the wall between them crumbled completely one night while heavily pregnant with Argon and feeling a little weaker than usual. She had sort Rhaegar out in his own bedchambers, only to see him in a disturbing nightmare as he shook, pleaded and cried out her name and Rhaenys' and Aegon's.

She hadn't been able to stop herself, rushing to his side as softly bringing him out of it. That night, as he woke, she saw his eyes… filled with so much dread, horror and mournfulness, even as he brought her into his arms, his head resting on the crook of her neck as he sobbed and apologized.

That night changed everything between them. She never did ask what had shaken him that much. She feared what she would find out. But indeed, that night did change everything.

"Elia?"

The soft and whispery tone of her King Husband brought a smile to her face as she turned to see Rhaegar walking towards her, laying a kiss on her forehead.

"Rhaegar. Finished with the council?"

Rhaegar sighed ruefully.

"They are grown men, Elia… but sometimes I do question that. Perhaps it would be better for Aegon to cultivate his own Small Council from now, so when the time comes he doesn't have to question the sanity of those charges with the protection of the realm and the crown alongside him."

Elia laughed softly as Rhaegar hugged her from behind, both staring out the balcony as the air blew softly.

"Aegon is not sitting stop that monstrosity for a long time, husband. You will just have to carry the burden for my son."

Rhaegar huffed though he smiled wryly.

"Choosing your son before me?"

"Of course. I birthed him in fire and blood."

Rhaegar chuckles.

"Of course, my very own warrior queen. In any case, some of them still grumble at the thought of a woman on the small council. They forget that in my family history, some women have sat on the council. It matters not. She is not a regular fixture at the meetings. They just have to keep their tongues to themselves and perhaps she would not reveal whatever secret it is that she seemingly has on them."

Elia laughed, shaking her head.

"I would love to meet this Chataya, Rhaegar. Can you make it happen?"

"As you wish. Though I shudder to think what you two women could come together to discuss."

Elia shrugged.

"I have no duties to attend to for the time being. And I miss our children. Oberyn and his daughters are back in Dorne, and only two of my ladies are at court now that Aegon has taken one from my sight."

Rhaegar smiled.

"You will have to get another Lady, it would seem."

Elia made a noise at the back of her throat.

"She is not married to him yet. And besides, I don't think I will take another lady anytime soon."

She then sighed.

"In any case, I will just have to wait for Rhaenys and Aegon to give me grandchildren and perhaps I will feel fulfilled once more."

Rhaegar shook his head amused.

"Perhaps you feel what the Maesters call 'empty nest syndrome'. It still baffles me though… in a few years, I will be a grandfather. I never put much thought to such a possibility."

Elia rubbed her hand comfortingly where it rested across her stomach.

"You will be a much better one than your father Rhaegar. That I know."

He said nothing, though his smile widened across his face as they both stared out into King's Landing from above.

The King and Queen of Westeros.

Westerlands.

Ashemark.

Myrcella Marbrand shivered slightly as she dimly escaped her brothers unwanted attention for what seemed like the hundredth time, biting down on her lip to stop the tears.

She was a Marbrand! And according to her father, Marbrands burned bright in the face of challenges.

She couldn't help herself though… ever since her Lord Father died moons back, things had changed in the Keep. Her mother had taken over much of the controls and became regent for Joffrey who left everything to her, thinking himself too high for them.

He'd turned 15 not too long ago, and he honestly scared her more now that their father was not around to hold his leash. Just yesterday, he had made poor Tommen cry! And she couldn't do anything about it. He would come after her even more than he usually did.

Perhaps… perhaps she could have a talk with her mother. She seemed to be in a better mood for days now ever since some of her distant Lannister cousins began to fill Ashemark.

There was house Lanny and house Lantell at the moment as well as multiple distant Lannisters, and Myrcella usually found heads of golden hair at the feast hall at nights while dining there for special occasions.

Myrcella dodged into a small alcove as she heard footsteps just as she turned towards her mother's apartments which she used to share with father. Many thought her a quiet and shy girl, and perhaps she was. But she was also sneaky and resourceful as well, and over time, had cultivated her ability to sneak about and avoid attention when needed.

Learning from some of the maid servants who had secret doors which they accessed to do their duties. She docked through one, stifling her breath at the dank smell that wafted through her nostrils as she practically ran towards her destination.

She pushed a small brick and moved the wooden door aside, coming out opposite of her mother's apartment door. Thankfully no guards at the station at the moment.

Odd.

Wasn't there to be a Lannister cousin as her mother's new guard?

Ser Lucion Lannister to be precise. His grandfather had been Myrcella's grandmother's elder brother.

If mother knew he was skiving off of his duties, she would dismiss him immediately!

It wasn't her business though.

She softly opened the door and entered the sitting room of the apartment. So much gold and Lannister livery.

Her father had never denied her mother of what she wanted and her mother had always been proud of her Lannister heritage. She even referred to herself as Cersei Lannister, which was understandable as the Lannister name was more important than the Marbrand name. It still disturbed Myrcella though.

As she moved towards the bedchambers, slowly opening the door, about to call out to her mother, she froze…

The sound of moaning and grunting filling the air slightly and she swallowed tightly as she recognized not just her mother's cries, but that of her Lannister relatively, Ser Lucion, who was supposed to be at his station outside.

She turned green, stifling a gasp as she stumbled back, tears building once again as she turned and does the room as quietly as she could in her distress.

Her father's body hadn't fully rested yet, and her mother had invited another man into THEIR bed!

Later that evening.

Cersei Lannister sipped her wine of arbor gold, relishing it's chill as it went down her throat, letting out a pleasing moan which the seedy looking disgusting man was obviously affected by where he sat opposite her in her solar.

Well, the Lord's solar, but she controlled Ashemark now. She was it's Lord until her heir could take over, and so it belonged to her.

The stout man had a piggy face with little pig eyes, and a high, thin voice as he stared at Cersei's bust like a man drinking water for the first time in moons.

Not that Cersei cared. It rankled her a bit, seeing as he was nothing impressive unlike her Lannister relatives. She sighed, wistfully thinking on her sweet Jaime. Even Lucion could not compare though he was an absolute animal in the sheets.

It mattered not though. Staring at the pig seated in front of her though, she reminded herself that it was part of her plan after all.

"The Marbrand traditional mourning period is now over with, and I am allowed my freedom without the Septas, Septons and distant Marbrands hounding me like the wretch they are."

Cersei stifled a sneer before putting a beautiful smile across her face that would have affected many a man if in her presence, just as it did the piggy man before her who nodded excitingly.

"Of course, my Lady Lannister."

Lady Lannister.

Cersei loved the sound of that. In fact, she preferred LORD Lannister.

She was her father's true heir after all, not that thing in Casterly Rock and his bastards.

But she would gain her father's lands back. She would win the game. She only need take her time.

"Inform Ser Gregor Clegane that plans are to be set in motion. Now."

The man licked his lips in anticipation.

"Of course. Of course my Lady. And where should we begin?"

Cersei smirked as she poured herself more wine.

"I think it poetic justice that you both send a message to the whore's village."

Her sources had been absolutely wonderful. Finding out the whore who had married her monster of a brother was from the village of Oxcross, which was a 3 day ride to Lannisport felt like music to her ears.

The pig smiled in front of her.

"Wonderful pick, my Lady. Gregor always wanted to test the girls of that town. This would be a glorious opportunity for him."

Not that she cared about the lot there. The common people were not her concern. Only her son's birthright. Her birthright.

"And the children?"

Cersei waved him off.

"Kill them all."

Amory Lorch's sinister smile grew.

Summertown.

"Thank you for accompanying me, Brienne. I won't take long."

Lyarra smiled at Brienne who blushed lightly, nodding where she stood guard by the Sept entrance so as to bar entry to others while the betrothed of the Crown Prince prayed.

A little further away, many children gushed as they eagerly awaited the curious lady with silvery blonde hair almost like that of the prince, and men and women stared interestedly even as she entered and vanished from their sight.

Inside, Lyarra looked around quietly. The Sept was small and quaint, compared to the one in King's Landing, but certainly better than the one in Winterfell.

It was circular and bright, with 5he sunlight peering through from the seven pointed starry windows up at different directions of the building. At the front, were seven mini figures of the seven. Well carved and made with obvious precious stones, each with their alters and the Father in the middle as usual, with the Mother on his left and the Warrior on his right.

Without wasting much time, she quietly began the usual praying ritual, grabbing a light stick and lighting all 7 candles, before kneeling and looking at the statues, not sure where to begin or even how to start.

She had followed Elia a few times to the Great Sept, but that was mostly for events and when the Queen was involved in donation works and orphanage visits. The royal family had their own personal Sept in the Red Keep which they used.

In any case, it had been a couple of days since her arrival to Summerhall, and she could very well say she enjoyed Summertown quite a lot. It reminded her so much of Wintertown. The people going their way, the children running across the streets laughing and playing. And though she could not move around as freely as she used to, she took an interest in visiting the little orphanage Aegon had commissioned the first few moons of him being the official prince of Summerhall.

The children there were lovely and it made her a little sad to realize majority of the children there were so-called 'bastards' who were abandoned so as not to face the shame or suffering it would take to raise them.

She wouldn't be able to help them out in such a situation, but being one of the patrons was a better idea.

The other place she knew she had to visit was the Sept, and so she came. Having grown up worshipping the Old Gods, she had no problems with the New Gods because they were the gods her mother worshipped while alive. But sometimes, it worried her what they thought of someone like her.

The Mother and Father apparently frowned on bastards and how they're conceived, and yet here she was in their holy grounds.

If only Lady Catelyn were here, she'd develop a look on her face bordering between a sneer of disgust and horror. She never did like Lyarra anywhere her Sept and Septa Mordane had once banished her from her sight after inquiring on the holy book of the Seven.

But… she was here now. Alone.

And as she looked at the statues, she couldn't help but wonder… if her mother died in the birthing bed for the sins of trying to bring a sinful incarnate into the world?

She glanced at the statue of the mother, the soft carving of it's warm face as she stared down as if looking at a child.

But then her eyes slid over to the least worshipped figure of the Seven. The Stranger. A hood covering most of his face while he held an oddly shaped staff with gnarled fingers.

Had HE been there watching.. as her mother took her last breath?

A disturbing feeling went through her as she stared at the statues of the Seven, and they suddenly looked like they were staring at her with varying degrees of hostility. She breathed in and out shakily, getting back to her feet as she smiled bitterly, turning to leave in that instance.

"Your Grace!"

The silvery blonde turned, slightly startled as a small cubicle door on the side opened and out came a younger looking Septon in his late 20s thereabout, his eyes widened in slight surprise, a seven pointed star necklace hanging around his neck and over his Septon robes and the holy book in hand.

He eagerly bowed in her presence and Lyarra found she could not leave without properly introducing herself to the man.

"We were not told of your arrival to our holy grounds. We would have prepared—"

"It is nothing, Septon…"

She tried to assure him while looking for a way to ask for his name which he quickly gave out with another welcome smile as he finally stood a few feet away.

"Septon Hilliard, Your Grace."

Lyarra nodded.

"Well met, Septon. And you have no need to refer to me as Your Grace. I am no princess."

"But you will soon. We have heard of your visit to the orphanage as well. We try to visit them as much as we can. They may be orphans but they do deserve to know the teachings of the Seven."

"Even the bastards?"

She subconsciously spat out, a tinge of bitterness in her tone which startled not just the Septon, but Lyarra herself as a feeling of embarrassment settled in her chest and she bowed respectfully.

"My apologies."

The brown haired and brown eyes Septon waved her off.

"You meant no offense by it. Many of my brothers and sisters have taken the things written in the holy book and twisted much of it."

The man sighed much to Lyarra's confusion.

"The issue of bastards has been a rather… touchy subject amongst followers of the seven for hundreds of years now, Your Grace. What does it mean to be one? What does it mean to be addressed as one… why is it that children of such unions are usually looked down upon so much for something they had no control over?"

Lyarra said nothing, but she herself had asked herself such questions back when she was a child in Winterfell, crying on some nights and wondering why the gods took her mother away from her.

"It is not stated in the holy book that bastards are sinful and evil, Your Grace."

Lyarra's eyes widened at that as her head snapped back to the Septon who had a smile on his face.

"Indeed! The writings said bastards are born through sinful union of unmarried pairs. Perhaps it is rather harsh, but at the end of the day, the blame is placed at the feet of the pair involved and not the child. Why blame the person who didn't ask to be born. Why not call the true sinner just that?"

Lyarra swallowed, looking away from Septon Hilliard and back at the statue of the Mother.

Could Lady Stark ever do that with her Lord Father? After all, she'd focused all her aggression on the seeming blight on her household while forgiving Lord Stark and blaming her own mother. She might not have said these things, but it was clear to Lyarra.

And yet…

"And yet… I never met my mother."

She finally spoke up bluntly. A truth that had been eating her up for years. Had her mother not been good enough? Did she have to suffer for her decision?? They had been promised to each other before her Lord Father's elder brother died in battle. They had LOVED one another before the Lady Catelyn was betrothed to the next Stark.

But… They had known of the obligations expected of them too.

"Perhaps my mother was punished for trying to bring me into this world."

Septon Hilliard's eyes widened in surprise and Lyarra smiled wryly.

"I was born on the wrong side of the sheets after all."

Even though her Lord Father and Lady Catelyn had not been married at the time she had been put in her mother's womb.

"Your grace… if you believe what you say, then why do other mothers who birth bastards live? Why do whores who enjoy the carnal pleasures of life stand today? Why do some rapists and murderers who deserve the punishments of the seven still live today? Some call it the will of the gods. Some say they have to atone. Some say they're lucky. Do you know what healers, Maesters and midwives will say about your mother?"

Lyarra shook her head.

"They would talk about complications of childbirth. Perhaps she wasn't prepared, perhaps it was an early birth, maybe induced… mayhaps she caught a sickness while birthing you… maybe even loss of too much blood? Those things are factual evidences to why many women do not live past childbirth. It is the way of life. If we all start blaming circumstances of life at any and everything the gods could mean, then we would not be able to live how we are meant to."

The silvery blonde said nothing for a moment, before a small and amused smile grew across her face.

"You sound so much like a Maester, Septon."

Septon Hilliard laughed and suddenly the whole place felt lighter than it had been, and as she stared at the statues… they didn't look so scary anymore.

Lyarra walked out feeling lighter than she'd never known, Brienne straightening up.

"I have kept you waiting for long, Brienne."

The warrior maiden who was but 2 years older than Lyarra shook her head.

"It is my duty as your sworn shield. It matters not how long I wait."

As much as Lyarra had tried to make Brienne relax in her presence, she still held herself only as a guard and nothing else. It was just a few days though, so she didn't mind much. It was that way with Missandei… and she remembered her former handmaiden, the sweet Sarah who had died because of Aelora Mopatis.

A bitter feeling went through her in remembrance of the older lady. It had taken longer for her to realize Lyarra had wanted a genuine relationship with her, and they had been becoming friends… just before that night struck.

"Yes well, I would love to get to know you more someday Brienne. Gendry is the closest thing to a brother Aegon has. I would love for us to understand each other as well."

Brienne said nothing even as Lyarra waved at a group of little children, one breaking through the crowd and running over to stand in front of Lyarra, a huge look of awe on her grinning face. And Lyarra was suddenly reminded of Arya and Bran when they were younger and both lost their two front teeth around the same time. It was hilarious but adorable, just like the little girl in front of her, a front teeth missing and the second on looking loose and dangle.

"Your hair is so white!"

The little girl gushed before looking behind Lyarra, eyes popping out as she took in Brienne.

Lyarra stifled a smile as she saw what captured the young girls attention. By now, the other children has slowly began moving closer in curiosity and hesitation while some adults around looked on interestedly.

"This is my friend, Brienne of Tarth. She is my shield. She looks very nice, doesn't she?"

"Yeah! Can I be a shield too? What's a shield!"

Another child had stumbled over though Brienne ducked her head sheepishly.

"Yeah! Can I be your shield princess?"

"Can I too?"

"Can I marry you?"

Everyone paused, turning to stare at the young boy at the back, looking like he had done no wrong even as his cheeks turned red.

"W-what??"

He cried out defensively and some of the girls turned to tease him even as his face turned red. Lyarra shook her head with a smile before she felt a small tug of her gown and looked down to see the girl with a loose tooth holding out a single white water lily towards her. The lily was a little bit rough handled, probably due to the children, with a little mud on it, but the silvery blonde didn't care as she took the lily in hand with a smile and the file looked down bashfully, scuffing a toe into the ground while looking demure and Lyarra missed little Rickon even more.

"I took it from the pond in Ol' granny's garden. D-do you like it?"

She turned hopeful wide brown eyes on Lyarra who had to stifle a small coo even as she nodded.

"It is absolutely beautiful. And you're a positive delight. Thank you."

The girl let out a little squeal of laughter before a woman in the crowd called out.

"Penny! Leave the princess be!"

The stern voice called out and the children scattered in varying directions before Lyarra could do or say anything. She just stared at the lily in hand with an amused smile.

"My Lady, perhaps we should leave now. It's not always so safe outside."

"Very well, Brienne. I was just lost in the feeling of Winterfell there."

Lyarra assured as they both walked towards their horses guarded by two Summerhall guards who had also come along as extra security.

"You must miss your home a lot."

"I do. The North is a closeted kingdom because of its traditions and different gods and so we look out for each other more than usual. I hear Dorne is that way too in some aspects due to its allowance of some religions. What about you, Brienne? Did you enjoy growing up in Tarth? How did you meet Mya Stone?"

Brienne suddenly looked stuck in the past as they began their short journey to the castle in a soft trot.

"Tarth is beautiful, My Lady. It's called the Sapphire isle because of the beauty of the blue seas spreading around it. It is… breathtaking. As for Mya Stone… she's very clever and strong. Sharing much of her features with the Lord Baratheon."

Lyarra nodded with a small smile as she listened to Brienne who seemed more relaxed as she talked about home and her friend.

"She would have loved to meet you, My Lady, but she has some duties she does in Storm's End. She is the closest thing to a sister that I have. Didn't make fun of me the first time she saw me as well."

There was a sad tint to get blue eyes now and Lyarra frowned.

"People can be evil and vicious when faced with something they do not like. Something they think is abnormal. We might have has different issues but I do understand some of what you went through."

Brienne said nothing, only nodding slightly embarrassed and so Lyarra left her to her quiet. It wouldn't do to push her after all.

As Summerhall grew nearer, Lyarra pondered where Wylla had gone off to. Having gotten over her little cold, she had taken to exploring everywhere as much as she could.

Still though, Arya would love it here too. Perhaps it was time to send some more sweets to Rickon as well. Can't have him forgetting her after all.

Pentos.

Illyrio Mopatis' Manse.

"Illyrio, stop this madness at once."

Varys walked into his old friend's solar as he watched another representative of the Iron Bank leave with a satisfied look on his face.

One could tell the desperation in Illyrio Mopatis' eyes and that made him susceptible to getting duped.

His friend had changed in the weeks that had passed. The mournful desperation in his eyes fueled with only thoughts of revenge. He knew his friend had loved his sister Serra, and when she had died, Aelora had been the only thing left of her he had.

But now… Aelora was but a burned husk, slowly dying away in the room Illyrio had her sequestered in. The smell getting worse as the day passed by. Even those appointed to care for her had given up and the room was departed. Only a few days left and she would pass on. It wasn't like she had any use to Varys. His niece she may be, but she had proven useless to his plans and ruined decades of his lifework.

And now, his friend was proving just as useless. The small number of little birds he had been able to smuggle to him did not have as much news for him, and he was slowly losing his power.

The major Magisters seemed to have left him to his privacy and though he suspected them… they had not done anything yet. But he would have to play a game soon.

"Leave me be, Varys."

Illyrio grunted as he rearranged a document on his table as Varys walked forward, his eyes on said document and his eyes widened slightly.

"You are selling the majority of your properties? Old friend, what we have built—"

"Means nothing to me!"

Illyrio glared at Varys.

"My daughter is dead!"

"She still lives, fool!"

"No! That thing in there is no daughter of mine! She is dead! And I will not rest until my taste for revenge is sated."

Varys' eyes narrowed as his mind went through the different reasons for Illyrio's constant selling of his property.

"… Old friend… tell me you are not thinking of approaching the faceless men."

The answering silence was more than enough for Varys' eyes to widen as he moved to sit.

"Illyrio! Even with the amount you accumulate, your wealth will never be enough to request the death of Lyarra Dayne!"

A sneer appeared on Illyrio's face.

"I can offer my identity to them."

Varys swallowed at that, his heartbeat quickening at such a… despicable thought!

The house of Black and White are formidable in their ways mostly because of their ability to trade faces for another. But, they cannot forcefully take the face of another being except willingly given.

For Illyrio to do so… the rumors he had heard of how they took the faces… of being asked to go through a series of rituals to ensure the many faced god accepted the identity… and then the carving of the face which happened while the person lived.

No one knew how true that was… but Varys didn't care to find out—

"In any case… the faceless men are not the only ones capable of carrying out this contract. After all old friend, have you forgotten about the Sorrowful men?"

As Varys walked out of the office, shaking his head, he began to plan his own line of action.

He could stay here no longer.

Who knew the plans the Westerosi had for him? Perhaps a few moons in Qarth would give him enough time to plan his re-ascension.

Those dragons… they did not belong to Lyarra Dayne. They belonged to his line. And if he couldn't have them, then he would trust no one else with such marvelous creatures.

Who knew if another Aerys ended up being born in that line? With dragons at their beck and call.

Aerys had wildfire and madness in his eyes. The next one… the next one would have dragons with no one to stop him except another Targaryen. And all Targaryens were selfish in their own way or form.

No.

He couldn't have those dragons growing past their first year.

And perhaps… his friend has also outlived his usefulness. Actively going after the Targaryens would be a death sentence, and Varys' name would be tied to the deed, no matter that he had no hand in it.

It pained him slightly to think this way, but Illyrio had to be dealt with.

The small pitter patter of feet brought him to a stop as he turned to stop at the edge of the large and ornate flight of stairs.

A little bird stopped in front of him, as emotionless as they had been thought. Paler than usual with dark bags beneath their eyes. With their androgynous features, he sometimes could not tell if his birds were male or female and he preferred it that way as he too knew how to work his features that way.

"What is it?"

He demanded, only to be handed a slip of paper.

'Ah… perhaps an important news.'

He thought eagerly to himself as he opened it.

"Valar Morghulis."

Varys read, confused.

All men must die.

Why would—damned Magisters!!!

His face blanked for a moment before it rose in a fit of panic as he twisted, only for small bony hands to forcefully shove him down the long flight of stairs.

Varys rolled and rolled and rolled, his head bleeding and his leg snapping until he came to a stop at the end. His eyes open and staring blankly and his neck twisted completely while he looked bloodied.

The 'child' stared at its work, before nodding grimly.

"Valar Dohaeris."

All men must serve.

And it vanished towards whence it came.

Oxcross Village.

Westerlands.

(WARNING--SCENES AND MENTIONS OF RAPE, GORE AND DEATH)

The screams of terror that filled that air that night felt like music to Gregor Clegane's ears. The monster that he was welcomed it like battle drums as he cleaved a man in half with his great sword and an animalistic roar of glee as the spilt blood splashed against him like war paint in a battle.

The village of Oxcross was his to take and do with as he saw fit. He had not felt this energized since the death of Tywin Lannister.

As he cleaved and stabbed through the small folk brave enough to stand against him and protect their loved ones, he enjoyed watching the life leave their eyes. Their disembodied bodies falling to the floor which he stepped over with his heavy set armor, making the bodies squish or the bones snap.

All around, the villagers ran, chased by Gregor Clegane's men as huts and houses burnt, black smoke rising into the air.

Nearby, a small child of 5 ran, crying with all her small might as Amory Lorch ran after her with a delighted cackle, a dagger in one hand and his sword in the other.

Clegane cared not for that as he stood in front of the mayor's house.

Lady Lannister had been quite clear. Raze it all to the ground and finish off the mayor's family. He cared not that they were relatives of the imp's wife, all he cared for was satiating his lust for blood and battle.

As he walked in, he realized his men had gotten in before he had as the grunts and moans of a man filled the air. One of his men satisfying his lust for the lady of the house while her slowly dying husband watched on the floor, a stab wound in his gut and chest.

Nearby, 3 men teases a young lady who cried as they grasped at her clothes and slapped at her rump.

They straightened once they caught sight of him, and one of the men's eyes grew dark with glee as he grasped the girls wrist tightly, bringing her to her knees.

"Milord! We kept the beauty for ya!"

As the maiden caught sight of the giant of a man, whom she'd heard so much about, his emotionless face behind his helmet, she let out a cry as she knew she wouldn't live for long. She had heard much about him and what he did to girls like her!

Clegane grunted, staring down at the dying man, before placing a feet on the man's head and pressing down.

"Noooo!!! No!!! Stoop!!!!"

He ignored the crying girl even as the man beneath his feet twitched a little and a loud crunch was heard, he removed his bloody feet and grunted in satisfaction at the crunched face.

Nearby, the wife finally succumbed to her multiple injuries but the man using her did not stop as it only seemed to increase his libido.

Gregor marched towards the screaming girl, grasping her by her brown hair and towards a table even as she struggled with all her might.

It mattered not. He liked it better that way.

That night, Oxcross was filled with the terrific screams and shouts of the innocent as the town was razed, raped and pillaged till there was none left alive.

So that's it.

A rather harrowing chapter. I rather surprised myself with the bleak end as this story wasn't going to have such scenes but as I write the fic, I realize it was bound to happen. This is the world of Ice and Fire after all.

Varys is finally out of the picture. One less person to worry about, but Cersei is beginning to act out as well. If she can't have what she wants, then she'd take it with force and violence. As you can see, not much different from her canon counterpart, sleeping with golden haired men while at it.

Lyarra also had a talk with a Septon. Hopefully she starts warming up further to the seven. The Daynes followed the seven after all. They were Stony Dornish. Lyarra will worship the old and new gods. She's also trying to befriend Brienne too!

NEXT CHAPTER, Lyarra turns 17 in Summerhall and her relationship with Aegon becomes more intimate(For those of you asking for more… intimate sides of Lyarra and Aegon's relationship, next chapter is for you!). Ned Stark POV and Catelyn discusses matches for Sansa. News of Oxcross reaches Casterly Rock and Quaithe reaches out once more.