That afternoon, Daenerys found Tyrion in the Council chamber, where he informed her of the cost of rebuilding the city. Jon entered in turn.
"So, what do we do about the Iron Fleet?"
Daenerys shook her head.
"Rebuilding the city must be our priority, and yet I can't leave Euron out there and Rhaegal's murder unavenged. I'll have Yara bring her fleet east."
"And you'll grant them their independence?"
Danaerys paused.
"I still intend to... but not now."
Tyrion was about to speak, but Daenerys cut him off.
"Euron is still loose. Until he is slain, the Iron Islands might fall to him again, and I'd have to start all over. Once he's dead, then I will grant them their freedom. She must see the truth of this."
Jon and Tyrion nodded slowly, but both looked uneasy.
"And the North?"
Danaerys sighed.
"Will they follow me?"
"Will you grant them their freedom, as you promised?"
"And who will they rally behind if I do? A king?"
Jon looked her straight in the eye.
"It won't be me."
Tyrion coughed as diplomatically as he could.
"There is the question of what you will afterwards. If it only involves Euron, the North will probably agree to help. They still remember Winterfell being attacked by the Ironborn."
Jon nodded. He had told Theon- not that long ago, though it seemed ages now- that he was a Greyjoy and a Stark, but the damage Theon had caused in his doomed quest for fatherly approval would not heal so easily. Jon idly wondered what Theon would be doing right now had he survived the battle of Winterfell. Would he have jumped at the chance to fight against Euron and redeem himself in death? Would he have stood by his sister as the true queen of the Iron Islands?
"I... I will think on it. For now, the city must be rebuilt."
Daenerys stood up and left the council chamber. She was halfway up to the throne room when a voice exploded behind her.
"Dragonqueen!"
Daenerys took a deep breath, her fists balling on their own. Inside the Red Keep, she could not call up Drogon. She had no choice but to put up with the Wolf's overbearing presence.
"Ser Wolf. What do you want."
"It's about the whore-queen's soldiers."
Daenerys remembered that they had been spared on the condition of defending the city from Euron. With that threat gone, what could the barbarian want with them?
"What of them?"
"They're still in your cells. I understand if you have too much to deal with right now, so I'll take care of it for you."
"Take care...? What... exactly do you intend to do with them?"
"Kill them."
The Wolf continued, paying no attention to Daenerys' reaction.
"Worm had gotten a start on it the other day, but Snow thought they had better wait for your return to do so. I disagreed, but having reflected on it, he was right: it's far more entertaining if you see them being butchered in your name rather than merely hearing about it once it's done."
"You- you think-"
She spluttered with rage. That the Wolf honestly considered her to be willing to order such a massacre was as galling as his previous insinuation that she would enjoy torching the Iron Fleet.
A treacherous little thought surfaced. She would have enjoyed seeing Rhaegal's murderers burn.
"So just have word sent to the Worm so that he and his men can start pulling them out of their cells and into the streets or wherever it pleases you that their blood be shed. He is somewhat lacking in imagination, I fear, he'd just have them killed at once and be done with it."
"I don't want them killed!"
The bastard was probably capable of terrorizing the prison guards into letting him do his grisly work right there in the cells if she didn't put a stop to it right now.
"You don't?"
The Wolf looked genuinely confused, looking down at her.
"They served the whore-queen, they resisted you, their very existence is a threat to yours. And with the rust-born fleeing, you don't even need them to guard the city."
"That is- It is none of your concern!"
No highborn man of Westeros would have dared stand before his ruler if he took such a tone, no native of Essos could have stood before her when she was so visibly furious. The Wolf, of course, took no notice.
"It seems very much my concern, Dragonqueen. Some of them still have spirit enough to fight back. They present a threat to your rule that must be torn out root and stem before it can harm you."
The Wolf shook his head.
"Why don't you want them killed? I assure you I can have it dragged out for days, and even get them to scream all through the night to lull you to sleep. You'd be surprised at how long a man can burn without dying, if you take care not to light more than half at a ti-"
"ENOUGH!"
The Wolf jerked back. Daenerys panted after the outburst.
"There will be no executions of the kind you clearly take such joy in, Wolf. The matter is closed."
"Closed my hairy arse, Dragonqueen."
The Wolf pointed a finger the size of a sausage in Daenerys' face, and yet his tone was not hostile in the least, speaking as though to a friend about to make a grave mistake and trying to point out the error of her ways.
"One of your own trusted advisers turned on you, tried to have you poisoned. And here you would let armed men openly disloyal to you off with their lives instead of burning them to ash? What will your enemies think? What will they say of you, that you willingly surround yourself with potential assassins and turncoats?"
The Wolf shook his head. Daenerys found herself actually listening to what he was saying and struggling not to.
"They will see it as weakness, I tell you. They will think themselves able to count on your mercy, and backstab you the first chance they get. No, I shall give them deaths such that your name will be spoken with fear and dread for a thousand years to come. They must die, and die they will. Innocent, guilty, strong and weak, honest and deceitful, ALL OF THEM!"
The Wolf's voice echoed around the corridor.
"They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose, but that you might revel in their pain. None will ever dare think of crossing or failing you again. Their deaths will guarantee the loyalty of the others, along with those of the Deathbound."
Daenerys' mind was certainly pulsing with thoughts of murder and bloodshed, only mostly directed at the self-satisfied monster standing before her. She seized the opportunity to change the subject at hand and clear the vision away.
"The? Who?"
"The bloodriders who failed you at the battle against the dead, covering their cowardice when they should have been fighting and dying. Most of them survived the assault on the city, I awaited your return to execute them as per your wishes."
"I gave you no such order!"
The Wolf nodded.
"True, but they were condemned by your words. They failed to find glorious death in battle the other day, they will suffer the ignominy of being bound, gagged and beheaded before your eyes to remind all your servants of the price of failing you."
The Wolf's eyes went to Daenerys' face and clearly misinterpreted her expression.
"Oh that's right, decapitation is the death of nobles in the South, I had forgotten. Of course they will be killed in the way that you deem most appropriate to their crime, Dragonqueen. Hanged like common thieves, fed to your dragon, drawn by their own horses, boiled alive, their heads stepped on by elephants, since you have a few around the place..."
"Would you prefer them at the beginning of the grand execution or will they be its final spectacle? The Lannisters to teach the consequences of opposing you, the Dothraki of serving you with anything less than perfect obedience."
Daenerys' eyes goggled, even as her mind filled with images of cities falling before her, their trembling citizens begging on their knees to be spared the hideous tortures the Wolf mentioned as casually as if he were discussing the contents of the kitchen larder.
She shook her head to dispel the vision. It was just as bad as when Cersei's spell had caused her to give in to her darker impulses, to simply burn down everything that opposed her, even her own morals.
Daenerys felt nauseous. After breathing deeply, she felt calm enough to look the Wolf in the eyes, who was looking expectantly at her.
"The Lannisters will not be killed, Wolf. Not by any who serve me, and certainly not by you. I have conquered this city, its inhabitants now serve me, and I will not have my servants fighting amongst each other."
"That. Is. Final."
She would have commanded him to go, but felt she would not be able to prevent her voice from rising to a hysterical shriek.
The Wolf stood in silence for a long time with a calculating look. Finally he nodded.
"As you wish."
His voice was not sullen in the slightest, his expression resigned rather than angry.
"In that case, I will make them an army worthy of you."
Daenerys was flabbergasted. After all that, he changed his mind so easily?
"They are near worthless, I warn you. They'd have been more useful as living torches for a night of endless screams. It will take time, but I will beat them into a halfway-competent force if you truly deem them worthy of it."
Daenerys stared at the Wolf for a while.
"You- you wanted to kill them just now, and now you want to train them?"
The Wolf nodded.
"If it is your will that they be spared, Dragonqueen. The least they can do is make themselves useful."
"But you wanted me to kill them because they were a threat to me!"
The Wolf grinned slowly.
"Not once I'm through with them. They will learn obedience, from you out of gratitude that their lives were spared, from me out of the knowledge- no, the certainty of the fate that will befall the ungrateful."
"And how do you intend to train them?"
"As all men are trained. Constant, unending combat. They will take beatings at first, casualties even, but after the spirit of defeat is pounded out of them they will be bloodspillers to match the Dothraki."
The Wolf seemed to remember something.
"Speaking of which, I would ask that you stay the Deathbound's executions until after the Lannisters have been trained to your standards. Not out of any wish that they should go unpunished for their cowardice, mind you. It's simply a question of having enough men for them to fight against."
"I pardon them as well."
Now the Wolf's eyes widened, a sight that pleased Daenerys more than she thought possible.
"You cannot be serious, Dragonqueen! A pardon, how will that motivate them to exceed themselves? They will think themselves absolved of all failures past and future, and-"
"They fought for me to take the city. That is enough to redeem them in my eyes."
"But they failed you, they fled from the enemy!"
The Wolf held up a warning finger.
"Forgiveness invites complacency, Dragonqueen."
"That is for me to decide. Their lives are mine, and I choose to spare them, as I do the Lannisters. You will not lay a hand on any of them, is that clear?"
Danaerys managed to force her features into queenly indifference. The Wolf's hands closed and opened, then fell to his sides.
"Then there is nothing holding me back here. I will settle my accounts with the Shield-slayer, and go to kill the rust-born."
Shaking his head, the Wolf trudged off. Daenerys watched him go. The barbarian might have his uses in wartime, but he was clearly a liability in times of peace, forever seeking to exercise his base needs at the expense of others. She would soon put a stop to that.
They filed into the throne room one by one, Tyrion at her side to tell her their name and function. Merchants, guildsmen, healers, fishermen, minor nobles, craftsmen, laborers, all figures of authority in their neighborhoods, and now brought together before Daenerys. She waited for silence, then stood up from the throne and walked towards them.
"I came to you as a liberator, to free you from Cersei's grasp."
"You all know what she did, to goad me into destroying the city if she could not keep it for her own. For this, for the destruction I have caused, though it was not by my own will, I can never apologize enough."
Silence followed, but none of the jeering that she had feared.
"And now, having caused so much ruin, I can only do what I can to repair it. The pillagers who took advantage of the chaos have already been punished. I will see this city restored to what it was, to what it should have been, what it should be! Will you help me?"
There was silence again, until one man stepped forward, reeking of oil and sulfur despite his clean clothes.
"I, Wisdom Hallyne of the Guild of Alchemists, will do so!"
No sooner had the man finished that the others all joined in to proclaim their loyalty to Daenerys. Finally she asked for silence.
"Euron's Ironborn have fled, and I have sent word to Queen Yara that she send her fleet to protect King's Landing. We are safe from attack now, and the soldiers will be released and pardoned. I pledge that this city will be rebuilt to what it was, and that you will never again fear me!"
There was some rejoicing, which increased as Daenerys immediately set to business, asking for details on the areas which needed the most urgent repairs and determining what manpower she could send there. The sight of a competent and concerned ruler was a welcome one after Cersei's self-centered reign.
Finally all matters were settled for the day, and Daenerys was alone with Tyrion as the sun was beginning to sink into Blackwater Bay. The sight brought a happy thought to Daenerys' mind.
"Tyrion?"
"Yes?"
"The Wolf told me he plans to leave the city and go after Euron."
Tyrion's face lit up.
"Though he wants to settle accounts with you first."
Tyrion's face fell on remembering what it would cost the city.
"Ah."
"How much did he charge to be your bodyguard?"
"… Three coffers of gold, and expenses."
"Can we afford that right now?"
Tyrion hesitated.
"I wouldn't say we can afford to lose so much as a single copper coin right now... but on the other hand, it seems a small price to rid us of Euron."
"You don't think facing the entire Iron Fleet will be enough to kill him."
"Do you?"
Daenerys smiled.
"No, I don't. He can prove useful, in his own way, if we send him far from the city for months at a time. And for less than four coffers... You're a good Master of Coin, Tyrion."
Tyrion grimaced.
"Don't remind me."
He sighed.
"I'll have to ask him how much his "expenses" amount to. I can only hope he'll agree that whatever he pillaged will be enough."
Jaime heard a key turn in the lock, and winced as he turned over in his bed. For days now he'd been taken from his cell and forced to fight the man with the iron skin, and every time he'd lost and a new iron arrow forced through his skin. His body was studded through with the tiny piercings, the pain from the newest one eclipsing the old ones. Now they expected him to fight without sleep?
He blinked. It was not the Wolf, nor was it the silent barbarian who'd brought him to the sparring room and back ever since. The moonlight was bright enough to see, but even then the figure seemed to glow from within light. It was a woman, entirely naked, whose straw-gold hair obscured her face.
Jaime sat up immediately, his throat dry as a desert. She stepped up to him, and brought both her hands up to push her hair behind her ears. Jaime looked up into the face he had seen in his dreams. Was this some new trick of the Wolf's to further break him?
"NO! She's dead!"
Cersei approached, embracing him with both arms. Even the smell was intoxicating.
"N-no-"
Cersei blew gently into his ear and started nibbling at it.
"No! You're dead! You're dead!"
He pushed the apparition back, hard. Cersei fell with a yelp and lay sprawled on the floor. She looked up at him with an expression of utter hatred that looked quite familiar on his sister's features, but as Jaime stared in fascinated horror, the face changed and shifted.
The woman's body expanded and grew on one side, the breast shrinking into solid muscle, while the chin squared out and sprouted a beard. The androgyne stood up and slapped Jaime with a hand that looked as delicate as a courtesan's yet had the muscles of a warrior, driving him back to the bed. The creature spat words at him that Jaime did not understand, then grabbed the prosthetic hand he'd taken off for the night. He scrambled up, but his feet were entangled in the silken sheets.
"What are-"
The androgyne turned around and left the room, slamming the door behind it, looking for all the world like a disdained joygirl storming off in a huff. Jaime collapsed on the bed again. He forgot even the pain the nails were causing him. Try as he might to ignore it, the air still smelled of Cersei.
The morning found the Wolf walking up to Tyrion in the Red Keep. The barbarian looked quite cheerful, perhaps from the perspective of sailing out to sea and be free to commit whatever gruesome slayings he wished.
"Well now, Shield-slayer, the city belongs to the Dragonqueen, Brenn Backside is nowhere to be seen, and you are still safe and sound. I don't believe you have reason to complain about my services?"
Tyrion forced a glib smile on his face, though his fist curled.
"Indeed not. I have had your fee brought to the Council chamber."
They set off, the Wolf walking just slowly enough that Tyrion did not have to trot to keep up.
"So what will you do now, Ser Wolf? You still plan to... er..."
"Bring the land into the hand of the gods?"
The Wolf sighed heavily.
"I have done all that they demanded of me, and yet, as you can see, nothing has happened. There must still be some difficulty to overcome, but it has not yet been revealed to me."
"And what... manner of gods are these?"
"Gods of courage and valor, of life and death, of cruelty and hope."
Tyrion shrugged. These at least did not sound too different from the gods he knew of.
"Any goddesses of love in there? I've heard the south islands have one with more tits than fingers."
Tyrion chuckled at his joke, but found himself the only one. He looked up. The Wolf had stopped walking and was staring wide-eyed at him. He'd clearly struck a nerve with the barbarian. Then the Wolf grinned.
"Do they now? Can't understand why she's not more worshipped around here. I could easily imagine you as her first priest."
The giant laughed. Tyrion laughed along, though somewhat guiltily.
"And Euron?"
"I sail after him, yes. The Dragonqueen will have to rebuild her fleet before she can face him, and that day..."
The Wolf looked out the window, apparently lost in contemplation. Tyrion opened the door to the Council chamber.
As per his instructions, three chests of gold and several plump purses lay neatly stacked next to the long table. He noted that one of the side doors was still ajar, but a quick look in the chests confirmed there was nothing missing.
Only when he'd closed the last chest and stood up did he notice the door was opening, too late even to cry out as Bronn Blackwater advanced towards him, his crossbow pointing straight at Tyrion's face, his expression murderous.