The Dragon Queen

Vōre Ampā

Stannis Baratheon's scream of horror and grief filled the keep, his brothers both holding him as he practically collapsed in their arms. Neither wanted to look at the severed head of their good-sister. The entire small council watched on in horror, their faces tinged with shock, one or two members running out to vomit. The note that had accompanied the head sat on the table: 'Heed my warning, cousin.'

Robert was pale. The girl had made it into Dragonstone without a sound; the only news of her arrival was the head of his brother's wife. Just when he thought it could not get any worse, Stannis began to heave.

 "Where is my daughter? What has she done to Shireen?!" Robert felt his heart drop at the thought of his young niece alone with the Dragon Queen. Beside him, Renly seemed to pale. "She wouldn't kill a child, would she?"

Robert suddenly felt a chill. He had tried to kill Daenerys when she was a baby—would the Targaryen Queen repay the favour? He looked to the Master of Whispers, who seemed quite pale and almost faint. If Varys did not know, then who did? He watched as the Northerner and the Dornishman both rose to their feet and bowed. "We would like to resign from the small council."

Looking at them, Robert could see them shaking. They were too weak to be on his council. "I accept your resignation." The two men fled the room with plans to leave King's Landing before nightfall.

The other members of the small council seemed too horrified to move. Robert watched as Renly escorted their brother out of the room. Bile rose in his throat as he turned to the table and saw the head. "Please remove it," he ordered, his voice breaking, before he left the room in haste to help his brother. 

By the time he entered Stannis' chambers, his brother was dry heaving. "Surrender, please—I can't lose Shireen," was all Stannis managed to say before he passed out from the stress.

Renly watched as Robert clenched his jaw and softly whispered his apologies before leaving. Renly was horrified. "Robert, you aren't serious. She is your niece!" Renly screamed after the king, who merely turned back and spoke the words that caused the rift in the Baratheon family. "She is lost to us. I refuse to surrender over a princess with grey-scale."

As the king finished speaking, Renly watched him in absolute horror. Robert Baratheon walked off, uncaring of his brother's pain. Stannis, who had awoken just long enough to hear the argument in the hallway outside his open door, let out a weak chuckle. "He is the king, and we are just his banner men—pawns to be sacrificed."

Renly turned back to his brother, who simply let the tears fall as he got out of bed. The two men shared a look, and Renly closed the door. "I'm sorry, brother," he murmured, his head hanging low, but Stannis said nothing, merely repeating the words of his house: "Ours is the Fury."

They did not expect another voice to respond.

"In Fire and Blood."

The two men spun around, facing the balcony, where a young girl of about fourteen stood with a small smirk and familiar grey eyes. "Arya Stark. You are rumoured to be dead."

The girl merely tilted her head before gazing at the two men. "Well, not all rumours are true. I bring a message from your daughter." Arya handed Stannis a letter, watching as he read it, his shoulders finally relaxing. "Her Grace has no intention of killing her?"

Arya scoffed before grabbing the letter and throwing it into the flames. "Her Grace is not a kinslayer—unlike your brother, who killed his own cousin over my aunt, who willingly left him."

The two men listened in shock as the young Stark girl disappeared into the shadows, leaving them alone once again. "If one of the Dragon Queen's people can enter the keep so easily, should we still support Robert?" Renly asked hesitantly.

Stannis sighed and looked out at the sky. "Pack up. We return to the Stormlands."

That day, the two Baratheon men left King's Landing without a word to their brother. Robert, watching his brothers and two of his small councilmen leave the city, seethed with anger. While they had not betrayed him, they were clearly afraid of the Dragon Queen.

Unbeknownst to him, his decision to call the noble houses to war would destroy his reputation in history.

Arya Stark slipped through the streets of King's Landing and made her way into a brothel. Her eyes were on one person—someone who sat in the shadows, a hood covering them. She collected the information they had given her and softly whispered, "House Martell has sent a ship for you. Return to your home."

The hooded figure nodded and made their way out of the brothel, while Arya slipped into the back alleys and out of King's Landing. As she entered the forest, a figure stood waiting for her. Eddard Stark, tall and imposing, held two horses. "Her Grace said I should expect you."

Arya looked up at her father and smiled. "I believe it's time for me to return home."

The glimmer of mischief in her eyes told him that he wanted to be as far away from King's Landing as possible—and soon. The two Starks quickly mounted their horses and rode off, knowing that in the next three towns, a ship would be waiting for them.

Daenerys Targaryen had a few more things to do before she could completely clear the board of her enemies. She wondered how Robert would respond to the Iron Bank calling in his debts early—even though she had already paid them all. However, the payments had been made under the name of Daenerys Targaryen, who was not the current ruler of Westeros. Robert would be too busy cleaning up his messes to realise she had already begun dismantling his allies.

The woman in question was beyond the Wall, her eyes fixed firmly on the man in front of her—his skin blue, his form made of ice. Behind her, three dragons stood tall as she smirked. "Hello, Uncle Aemond."

The creature looked stunned. It had been a long time since he had been called by that name. He watched as the girl smirked. "I would prefer to have no problems when I conquer the kingdom our ancestors foolishly lost with that ridiculous Dance."

She levelled him with a glare before drawing her sword, allowing flames to engulf it and circle the man. "I refuse to have my reign questioned by beings who have long departed and found ways to avoid death. Goodbye, uncle."

As she spoke, her sword pierced the heart of the man who had once been Rhaenyra's younger brother. She smirked as she watched the White Walkers collapse in on themselves before allowing her flames to consume everything, turning them to ash to be scattered by the snow.