Maegor’s Holdfast had no windows, but Cersei Lannister was not interested in sight, only sweet sound. When it finally came, rumbling through the foundations of the Red Keep, sending shivers from the Wall to the Arbor, she let out the smile of relief. “First Stannis, then the High Sparrow, and now the Targaryen bitch. How did my enemies fall for that same trick thrice?”
Gregor Clegane’s silent visage gave her only company. Cersei looked at him with pride. He was her mad dog, and Father’s when he was alive. Mad dogs won wars, Father had taught her, but they needed to be used well. The Targaryen bitch was foolish. She had an army of mad dogs, not knowing they could be tempted by juicy bones.
The door creaked open behind her, bringing in a waft of chill. Cersei turned to see the panicked messenger. “Your Grace,” he was saying hurriedly, “Flea Bottom is in flames!”
“I know.” Cersei’s calm countenance worried him further. The fool mistakes green flames with red. “How many Dothraki were caught in the fire?”
The messenger struggled to gather his bearings. “A lot,” he stuttered finally. “They had gone to rape and pillage the district. All that remains of Daenerys’ army now is a handful of Dothraki, the five-thousand untouched Unsullied and Sand Snakes at the Mud Gate.”
The mention of the cunt Ellaria vexed her further. “Littlefinger had promised me the Windblown would defend the Mud Gate!” she yelled at the messenger, even though it was of no use. Maybe she was wrong to assume the snake had teeth. “How many men do we have left?” she said trying to keep her calm.
“Not much, Your Grace,” the messenger replied cautiously. “Five-thousand Arryns inside the Red Keep. A handful of Windblown are fighting the Sands… but I doubt any of them will hold up against the dragon. Qyburn’s crossbows have been useless.”
The momentary lapse of joy she had had vanished. It was all she could do to not fling the wine on the messenger’s face. “Bring me Jaime now,” she told the man, before he left. Bring me Jaime. In this world of ashes, bring me the one thing I did not ruin.
She stared into the crackling fireplace, all hope forlorn. She had done all she could, but it was not enough. The Windblown were getting eaten alive by the Sand Snakes. Daenerys Targaryen knocked at her doors with five-thousand cockless cunts and a dragon. Euron and his friend, her only hope to defeat the winged beast, were unheard of, probably drowned in the seas.
Cersei Lannister had fought with fear, fought with compromise and with lust, but it changed nothing. She knew this moment may come. “If I am to die, it will not be waiting at the hands of that righteous cunt.” She turned to Ser Gregor. “You know what you have to do when Jaime arrives,” she told him. “You’ve always known.” The eight-foot man looked down at her with dead, obedient eyes, and nodded.
The door behind creaked. “Jaime?”
Instead, she heard a thick rasp. “Not your bloody golden boy-toy, no,” the voice barked. Cersei turned around in alarm and saw the heavily scarred man. When he spoke, the scabbed skin cracked, and gooey yellow fluid oozed. “Leave my dear brother for me, girl,” the Hound said, licking away the pus.
Cersei Lannister looked at the girl with horrified, disbelieving eyes. “Arya, little animal,” she said. “Whatever are you doing here?”
The girl’s eyes did not move from her, as the sword unsheathed.
“I owe a gift.”
*
End of episode – S08E07 will be published on Sunday, 18th November 2018, 8:30 am GMT
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