The Dragon Queen

lantēpsa

Robert stared at the map in horror. Three of his biggest allies had sided with the Targaryen Queen, and his forces were dangerously thin. The Lannisters had thrown their support behind him, but nearly all of them were wiped out in the first battle. The Scorpions had failed, as the dragons were covered with armour. 

His people were starving, and the Reach had refused to send any grain. Anyone who tried to sway the Dornish to his side was killed, and his brothers had long since abandoned him because of Shireen. He had not expected any of this.

Someone had wiped out the Freys and killed Pycelle. The Eyrie had gone eerily quiet, as though they were too afraid to fight. The North had turned its back on him. Ned's betrayal had stung when the man sent him a letter explaining that he could no longer support him after what he had done. The truth about his bastard being the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar, and the fact that the woman he loved hated him, weighed heavily on his conscience.

He had lost his strongest ally. Things were falling apart. He sat on his horse, anger burning in his eyes. The King had decided to go hunting, ignoring the crisis while his small council tried to fix things. Petyr had used his connections to petition the Vale, only for House Tully's refusal to come through clearly in the response.

Petyr rushed into Varys's chambers to find the man calmly staring into the fire as he burned letters. "Varys, why are you just standing there as we descend into chaos?" Petyr frowned when the man smirked and walked up to him.

"You have been known for your lies and blackmail," Varys replied. "It's a shame the Queen has no further use for you."

Petyr sputtered, "You've betrayed the King!" There was a brief silence, then Varys smirked and walked closer. "I am not Varys," he said before slitting Petyr's throat. The man staggered back, clutching his throat, trying to staunch the bleeding, choking on his own blood. He only managed to whisper, "Faceless man."

There was no one in this part of the palace to witness the body being hidden. A few maids came in to clean up the blood before bowing and leaving. The man known as Littlefinger was no longer among the living. The Queen had ordered his removal from the game, and the Faceless Men saw no reason to question her. They all despised the man who had kidnapped several girls to be sold in his brothels.

That night marked the beginning of the end. Most of their allies had been smuggled out of the city, and the soldiers had infiltrated the stronghold. At dawn, the Targaryen flag would be flying over the city once more. The assassin turned to the room holding the city's secrets, packed everything his Queen would need to know, and set the room ablaze.

When Robert Baratheon returned from his hunt, two of his council members would be dead, and his city would be swarming with Targaryen supporters. As the man left the keep, he walked through the streets to the Sept, where a few familiar faces greeted him. "Hello, old friend. Are you ready to welcome back the age of dragons?" Many seemed fooled by the head of the worship of the Seven. If only they knew he was a Targaryen supporter through and through, secretly worshipping the Fourteen Flames.

The Baratheon rule was about to come to an end.

Daenerys led Arrax to the battlefield. The Unsullied and the Dothraki had begun storming the Lannisters' stronghold. The soldiers fought well, but they didn't last long against her forces. She flew over Casterly Rock, where the Scorpions sat, and smirked. "Dracarys!" The men and weapons were engulfed in flames, and they didn't have time to scream as their only defence against dragons was incinerated.

Arrax landed and let out a loud screech before allowing his mother to dismount. Daenerys patted him, and he immediately took to the skies not far from her. Several of the surviving soldiers charged at her, but they stood no chance. Daenerys had been trained by the assassins of Braavos, the child soldiers of Astapor, and the warmongers of the Dothraki. The blood on her armour was all the proof they needed—she was Visenya reborn. She made sure every man who fought against her fell, taking her time to leave her mark.

As she made her way into the study, two Lannisters stood there, their faces filled with pride: Cersei Lannister and her father. They glared at her, but Daenerys gave them a bloodthirsty grin. "I have to leave you alive, but your daughter is fair game."

Before Tywin could speak, several Unsullied appeared behind their queen.

"Your Majesty, we have killed everyone. There are no survivors," Grey Worm reported.

Tywin paled as he realised his entire family had been brutally wiped out. "Don't worry, Tommen and Myrcella have been given very good marriage prospects. Unfortunately, they've disowned the Lannister name," Daenerys continued. Joffrey was dead, Jaime had left the King's guard, and it was unclear what he was up to, while Tyrion had long ensured he would inherit nothing.

The Dragon Queen seemed to know Tywin's thoughts and smirked. "Your son has remarried Tysha and willingly moved to Dorne; he's being well paid by the royal family to review their library and teach history to the small folk."

Tywin looked disgusted, but Daenerys only laughed. "You know, after the two of them found out how badly they'd been deceived, they dealt with their own problems."

She walked over to his daughter and kicked her down. "You thought you were better than Elia, but you had no beauty compared to her. She was intelligent, kind, and accepting." Several guards dragged the woman up while four soldiers held Tywin firmly, forcing him to watch as Daenerys taunted and hit his daughter before stabbing her multiple times.

"Drop her, let the Dothraki have their fun, and then let her bleed out," Daenerys ordered. As revenge for Elia and Tyrion, she made Tywin watch as several Dothraki raped his daughter while she slowly bled to death. The men finished just moments before she passed away.

"Tywin Lannister," Daenerys said with a wicked grin, "my uncles want a word with you, so prepare to be used as a poison test subject. I heard my uncle's paramour wants to test you."