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Outside King's Landing, Grey Worm and the Unsullied stand in formation in front of Kingdom. Jaime and the Lannister forces survey them from atop the rampart. Bronn walks the length of the rampart, overseeing the men. In the courtyard, soldiers work, boiling pitch, filling barrels, and rolling them up to the defensive wall. "Oil?" Bronn asked.
"Pitch, my lord," the soldier answered.
"How many barrels?" Bronn asked.
"Five hundred, my lord," he answered.
"Get five hundred more," Bronn ordered.
"Yes, my lord," he said, then left.
Bronn walks the wall to Jaime, "I still enjoy it when they call me my lord." He admitted.
"The thrill will fade," Jaime said.
"If we live that long. Men without cocks. You wouldn't find me fighting in an army if I had no cock. What's left to fight for?" Bronn asked.
"Gold?" Jaime asked.
"I spent my life around soldiers. What do you think they spend that gold on?" Bronn asked.
"Family," Jaime answered.
"Not without a cock, you don't," Bronn pointed out.
"Maybe it really is all cocks in the end," Jaime said.
"Yet your brother and niece choose to side with the cockles," Bronn said.
"Yes, they've always been champions of the downtrodden," Jaime explained. Then all of a sudden, a trumpet blares. Men howl and whoop in the distance, accompanied by thundering hoofbeats. The Dothraki crest the hill behind the disciplined unsullied army. They are savage and shrieking as they ride through and past the Unsullied.
"I think we're about to be the downtrodden," Bronn said.
"Archers, stand tall!" a soldier yelled.
"Cover that wall!" another yelled.
Outside King's Landing, an Ironborn fleet rests next to the castle as more Ironborn ships approach. Tyrion, Theon, and Varys stand on the deck of one of the ships, looking in the distance as their ship sails in. Tyrion joins Valen, Jon, Missandei, and Jorah on the foredeck. "How many people live here?" Jon asked.
"A million, give or take," Valen answered.
"That's more people than the entire North crammed into that. Why would anyone want to live that way?" he asked.
"There's more work in the city. And the brothels are far superior," Tyrion answered with a smirk. Below the deck of the Ironborn ship, Sandor descends a staircase into a dark hold, bearing a lantern. He advances carefully and stops at a crate. He gives one knock, and the Wight screeches in a frenzy, shaking his prison. Satisfied that the Wight lives, Sandor turns and leaves.
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The Lost Stag
FanfictionValen was the firstborn child of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. But a terrible sickness ripped her from their arms.....or did it? Sansa Stark X Oc All seasons
