Red Keep, Second Level of the Dungeon
Tyrion Lannister stood by the narrow window, staring blankly at a small bird outside.Everything that had happened lately left him in a daze.
He had married a beautiful Stark wife.Then his whore-lover became his wife's handmaiden.And at last, his monstrous nephew had died during his own wedding—pointing at him as the murderer with his final breath.
Tyrion didn't know why so many calamities had struck all at once.But there was one thing he did know—Someone was deliberately framing him.
"Could it be Dorne? Or Dragonstone? …No, most likely Highgarden," he muttered to himself, a faint glimmer of realization flickering in his eyes.
A cold, heavy voice suddenly sounded behind him."So, our Lannister upbringing wasn't a complete failure after all. At least you haven't put the blame on your dear sister."
The chilling tone made Tyrion's heart jolt.It was as if some beast had set its gaze upon him.
He turned, meeting the sharp, frost-cold eyes of his father.Expressionless, he asked in a low voice,"So, my dear Lord Tywin—since you already see the truth, why are you still doing this to me?"
"Because once again, you've disappointed me." Tywin's voice was calm, but each word struck like a hammer."I planned everything for you—every path, every alliance. Yet you threw away your noble wife, continued your filthy affair with that whore, and dragged our family name deeper into the mud.
I've had enough of you, Tyrion.
This time, I can finally conduct a fair trial—and you shall die bearing your 'sins,' without further shaming our house."
Tywin's words dripped with disgust and hatred.
Truth be told, Tywin hadn't been entirely dissatisfied with Tyrion after the Battle of Blackwater.Despite knowing about the "small conflict" between Cersei and her younger brother, he hadn't cared much.
To secure the North and reward Tyrion for his service, Tywin had arranged for him to marry Sansa Stark.He had thought Tyrion would be grateful.
But instead, the imp had dared to dream of inheriting Casterly Rock.
To Tywin, he had already been far too generous to this deformed son of his bloodline—yet Tyrion had only ever brought him disappointment.
This time, Tywin truly meant it.
"B-but… I'm your son," Tyrion finally broke down, disbelief flashing across his face.He knew his father despised him, but he had never truly imagined that Tywin Lannister could hate him just like Cersei did—wishing for his death.
In that instant, Tyrion's world turned gray.
"Hmph! You are merely a dwarf who happens to share my blood," Tywin spat coldly. "And tell me, why would a lion care about the opinion of a mangy half-blood cat?"
He turned away sharply.To him, this trial was an opportunity—to show the realm the fairness and discipline of House Lannister, laying the foundation for the new king's rule.
Without another glance, Tywin strode out of the cell, ordering the guards to watch this "criminal" closely.
Tyrion remained standing there, dazed.Hopelessness weighed on him so heavily that he didn't even notice the soft footsteps approaching.
"To be honest, Lord Tyrion," came a smooth, oddly neutral voice, "perhaps because I was once an orphan, I can't truly grasp your pain. But I think we should discuss… how you're going to survive."
The familiar tone, tinged with perfume, made Tyrion lift his head sharply.
"Varys? How did you get in here? And why in the Seven Hells would you help me?"
Varys offered a weary, almost wry smile."If I were to tell you that someone foresaw everything that has happened to you—and asked me to find a chance to save you—would you believe it?"
Tower of the Hand
Inside one of the chambers, Jaime Lannister stood before his father, speaking urgently.
"Father, you know Tyrion could never have killed Joffrey.If he wanted to strike, he'd never choose that place, or that way.He's too clever for such stupidity."
Tywin looked at his golden-haired son with a steady, unreadable gaze."You can't guarantee he didn't intend to, either.Still, don't worry. He is my son—I will see to it that he receives a fair trial."
Jaime frowned. "Father, he is your son. Why can't you just… let him go?"
Tywin's eyes hardened."If I spare the man accused of murdering my grandson, then how can I rule this kingdom?I cannot allow a killer—and a dwarf—to tarnish our dynasty. That would be a stain on House Lannister."
Jaime lowered his head, silent for a long moment. Then, with quiet anguish, he said,"Father… please. Let me carry on our legacy instead.I'll resign from the Kingsguard, become your heir again.Just… let Tyrion live."
For the first time, Tywin's expression softened into the faintest smile."Deal."
Jaime blinked. "...What?"
Dragonstone – Great Hall
Before the carved weirwood map table, Stannis Baratheon stood holding a raven scroll, disbelief flickering in his cold eyes.Even his stone-like face trembled with shock.
He handed the parchment to the Red Priestess Melisandre, then staggered back to his chair, muttering incoherently,"Dragons… they have dragons!But I—I was supposed to be the one to awaken them!What in the seven hells is going on?"
The more he thought, the angrier he became. His gaze turned suspiciously toward Melisandre.Ever since burning the statues of the Seven, everything had gone wrong.
Highgarden siding with that Lannister bastard…His fleet destroyed at the Blackwater…And now, dragons in another's hands.
Melisandre finished reading the letter, her expression serene, voice filled with conviction."My king, you are still the strongest sovereign—the true prophesied prince.Those dragons they boast of? False idols' spawn.If you doubt the Lord of Light's greatness, come—witness His guidance once more with me."
She moved behind him silently, wrapping her arms around his body, pressing her cheek to his.Soon, her eyes flared red—and so did his.
Together, they stared into the flames roaring in the hearth.
"My king," she whispered, voice low and honeyed, "tell me, what do you see?"
Her tone was intoxicating. Even Stannis's heart—cold as iron—trembled.
"I… I see a castle burning… a white tree weeping blood… banners fluttering in the wind… and dragons roaring above."He paused, startled."And I'm standing there—smiling."
"You see? My king," Melisandre said softly, "your destiny lies in the North.White Harbor awaits. The strong warriors of the North await.Conquer them, and you will reclaim the Iron Throne.Now, you know what must be done."
The red light slowly faded from his eyes, leaving them blazing with determination."Yes… I need a stronger army. Perhaps the Iron Bank will fund me.And the East has mercenaries aplenty.This time—I will not fail."
Flame danced on Melisandre's palm, swelling into a golden fireball."My king," she said reverently, "the power of the Lord of Light grows stronger by the day.Your faithful soldiers will sweep aside every heretic and win you the Iron Throne—bringing salvation to this world."
Essos Continent – Slaver's Bay, Astapor, Pyramid Hall
The Queen of the Andals and the First Men,Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm,Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons,Breaker of Chains, Princess of Dragonstone,Queen of Magic, Daenerys Targaryen—sat upon her throne.
To her left stood Ser Jorah Mormont, Ser Barristan Selmy, and the warlock Pyat Pree.To her right, the masked shadowbinder Quaithe, her herald Missandei, and the commander of the Unsullied, Grey Worm.
Behind her, three young dragons—already the size of hounds—rested quietly.To Quaithe and Pyat Pree's eyes, magical energy flowed ceaselessly between Daenerys and her dragons, bright and divine, like sun and moon orbiting each other.
They had once come to seize her and her dragons for their own factions.But in Qarth, Daenerys's sheer power had subdued them.
Despite her short time studying sorcery, her strength within the House of the Undying had shattered the warlocks' spells—proving her unmatched potential.
She had even shared copies of her arcane scrolls with them—her generosity and majesty left them in awe.Their hunger for knowledge and magic, combined with the power radiating from her dragons, bound them to her willingly.
Soon after, Daenerys led her followers to conquer Qarth itself, proclaiming herself its Queen of Magic and establishing her first realm.
But wealth alone was not enough—she needed an army.At Ser Jorah's counsel, she journeyed to Slaver's Bay to purchase the Unsullied.
Yet when she learned of their cruel training, she resolved to free the slaves instead.Through cunning and battle alike, she took Astapor.
Now, three remaining Good Masters knelt before her.Behind them stood five others—slaves, scholars, and healers—people Daenerys had deliberately spared.
"I've told you," Daenerys said softly, "you may rise.
Though you were once slave masters, both the freedmen and the Unsullied regard you as good men.You never took part in the training of slaves, and you have long urged others to abandon the practice.
I am a just ruler.I will not spare a single villain—nor will I harm a single good man.
From today, you eight will form the Queen's Council of Astapor.In my absence, you will govern this city in my stead."
Her eyes glimmered as she continued, voice full of fire and promise:"This shall be my granary and my dragon-breeding city.I will fund Qarth's hunters and mercenaries to bring wyvern hatchlings and dragon eggs here.Here, I will rebuild the Valyrian Dragon Legion.
Astapor shall become a city of grain, of trade, of dragons—forever thriving.And under my rule, my people shall be free, never again enslaved or sold.
So tell me—will you help me build such an Astapor?"
"O great Dragon Queen—we will!" the eight answered in unison, their voices ringing in the vast hall.
When the council had departed, Daenerys turned to Pyat Pree and Quaithe."My two arcane advisors—what do you think of my plan?"
The two exchanged a glance, eyes glimmering with excitement.Pyat Pree spoke first."My queen, your magic grows stronger every day. Following your vision, we may indeed birth more dragons.But we will need far greater wealth. And remember—the masters of Yunkai and Meereen will never allow us to rise unchallenged."
"Then we'll conquer them too," Daenerys declared, rising from her throne. Her voice rang with the power of destiny."I will build an army mighty enough to reclaim Westeros.Ships, soldiers, food—everything begins here, with the conquest of Slaver's Bay!"
"Yes, Your Grace, Dragon Queen!"
Her six loyal followers responded in unison.Her three dragons roared excitedly, as if echoing her will.