She has waited. She has observed. And she has watched the woman's every move. She has followed her. Stood guard for her. And served her. Now she is ready to kill the woman that has been on her list for so long.
She has worn many faces of many people. Servants, guards, even stable boys and squires. All to know all there is about the woman she is about to kill. She is even ready to portray the woman and to make up for all the wrongs done by her hand.
Now she wears the face of one of the Queen's Guard, the black armour a little loose around her body. She stuffed the bigger parts with loose cloths to prevent herself to get caught. Now a girl is ser Boros Blount and is posted right next to the queen's bedside. She remembered ser Boros vaguely but knew for certain he was there when they captured her lord-father. For that fact alone, his death was a slow one.
The queen lay asleep in her bed, after drinking the wine that stood on the small table by the window she was out cold. A girl knew, because she dripped a little milk of the poppy in it. Now, all there was left to do, was to prepare the room for taking the queen's face. She spends time laying out the various vials and knives. Once she is done, she rises and walks to the door. When she opens it a little she sees there is only one guard, a relatively new and eager one. She doesn't show, but inside she smirks at the ease this will make her task. "The queen requests you to bring her dress for tomorrow for the tailor. I will stand guard while you are away. Do not enter without the queen's permission or your punishment will be executed by the Mountain." The man's face pales considerately and he nods.
"Does her grace request anything else?" He answers.
"Yes, she wishes for the finest wine in the cellars, served perfectly at the drop." She closes the door before he can ask any more questions. She waits until his footsteps are far enough before she advances towards the sleeping queen.
She grabs the queen by her jaw and tilts her face from side to side, wondering where to cut. She hears the breathing of the queen become less regular and knows the woman will wake up soon and is quick to gag her before she can make any sound. Once the fabric is secured, the blonde's eyes flutter open and her eyebrows furrow as she finds her Queen's Guard standing over her.
She tries to talk but finds she cannot and her frown deepens and she starts trashing. Her hands and feet are bound and tied to each end of the bed.
"It's no use." A girl says in the voice of the man, as she takes off the helmet. "You have lost, before your reign can truly begin." She grabs a thick cloth from behind her and lays it underneath the queen's head before grabbing a thin blade. "You don't even feel sorry for the things you have done. Only those that led to your children's deaths. You are different from the first time we have met, yet all the same. We have both gained scars throughout the years. Only I learned from every hurt and you didn't." Cersei mumbles something incoherent.
She places the blade behind the queen's ear and draws the familiar line she has drawn so many times. Cersei whimpers and shakes, but she pays it no mind. "You were the first on my list after Joffrey, you know. For killing my father, first. Then after I figured it out, for my little brother. For my mother and oldest brother. For doing so much damage to my family." She has drawn the blade all the way to the other ear. Only deep enough to go through the skin.
The confusion is still clear as day even as it is mixed with fear and pain. She decides it is time to reveal herself and puts the blade down. She grabs the skin underneath her chin and wills it to let go before peeling it off, removing face and hair. "Do you remember me?"
She watches the emotions flicker through the queen's eyes. Fear, wonder, confusion, recognition, anger and more fear with a sharp intake of breath as she realises who it is, standing before her. Then, she starts trashing more than she did before and starts cursing through the gag.
"My name is Arya Stark and I think you know that." She calmly continues and presses the blonde's chin to the side. "I have waited for this a long time and have learned a few tricks along the way." She picks up the knife and resumes cutting along the hairline in her neck.
She stood in front of the window of her chambers, a chalice of dark red wine in her hands. She knew this was an important day. One where many from all over the realms would meet, to discuss whatever treaty the dragon queen wanted to ensue. She wondered what she would look like, the Targaryen girl. If she was as beautiful as the rumours told or if she was as ruthless as others did. She wondered who all would be there, who she would know and how she would need to react to.
"Your Grace, they're here." The small man at the door said. Qyburn was his name. An odd, yet interesting man.
She nods and finishes the rest of her wine before turning around to the arena where the meeting was to be held. The heavy black dress flowed a little as she took resigned steps down the stairs to the tunnels leading to the arena.
Rows of guards wearing black or red and gold, flanked her as they made their way through the dark, torch-lit tunnels. It doesn't take long before she sees light at the end and muffled voices cutting through the rhythmic marching of the steel booted guards.
When she steps out, the light blinds her for a second or two, but she makes sure her face does not contort. Once her sight is restored, she takes in the guests. She has to make sure to prevent herself from gasping or showing any emotion towards certain people.
She holds her breath as she walks past the first number of people, throws a glare at Tyrion and faces the chair set out for her. Once she sits, she takes a double check at the people gathered and can't believe most of them are alive and well.
The hound steps forward and she has to remember herself not to give anything away, no matter how hard it is. The mountain meets him and after the hound has given him a piece of his mind, he turns around and leaves. She follows him with her eyes until he is out of sight.
She takes a deep breathe to steady herself. "Where is she?" She asks, referring to the absent dragon queen.
"She'll be here soon." The imp replies.
"Didn't she travel with you?"
Tyrion looks away. "No." His answer is.
She lets out a sigh, impatient. She is already good to get this over with. She looks over to the other side, at Brienne who is wearing furs around her shoulders. She must have found Sansa then. She sees the way Jamie and her keep exchanging looks. She turns towards Jamie with a questioning look, when they are interrupted by loud noises.
The flapping of wings, the screeching, the wind caused by the wings, it is everything she imagined as a child and more. No matter how curious she is, she remains seated and only moves her eyes in the direction of the noises. Shadows fall over the ruins of the arena, before two enormous dragons enter her vision. It's intriguing and she strains her neck to see the beasts.
The black one lands on the far wall and roars. On top of the dragon, she catches the sight of a silver-haired woman, who slowly descends down its scales. She walks towards the stage in a dress and cape scaled like her dragons. She makes her way over next to Tyrion and sits down, before she turns to face her.
"We've been here for some time." She tells her mockingly.
The silver-haired woman look unfazed. "My apologies."
After a shared glance between the Targaryen and Tyrion, the imp steps forward. "We are all facing unique-."
"Theon!" Euron Greyjoy interrupts him. "I have your sister. If you don't submit to me now, I'll kill her." Theon does not respond and several confused glances are shared among the group.
"I think we ought to begin with larger concerns." Tyrion continues.
"Then why are you talking?" Euron jokes. "You're the smallest concern here."
Before he can continue, she cuts him off and tells him to go back to his seat. A few snickers go around, but she wants to get this over with. "Why are we here, Tyrion?" She asks in a bored voice.
"We are a group of people who don't like one another." Tyrion continues.
She cuts him off again. "Just cut to the chase already."
Jon steps forwards and tries to explain of some army of the dead. It sounds ridiculous. "I don't think this is serious." She replies to his earlier statement. "I think this is another bad joke. If my brother Jamie has informed me correctly, you are asking me for a truce." She continues towards the dragon queen.
"Yes. That's all." The woman replies.
"That's all?" She questions in an angry manner. "Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt. Or while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back until you return and march on my capital with four times the men."
The silver-haired woman looks her right in the eyes and answers without faltering. "Your capital will be safe until the northern threat is dealt with. You have my word."
She looks at the woman with thoughtful eyes, waging her. The value of her 'word' and the truth behind it. She is much more sophisticated and calculating than the rumours let on. "The word of a would-be usurper." She sees the woman flinch at the word. No doubt one she has used for the western crown-bearers.
"There is no conversation that will erase the last fifty years." Tyrion interrupts. "We have something to show you."
As if on cue, the hound returns with a seemingly heavy chest on his back. He grits his teeth as he walks up the stairs of the stage. He sinks to his knees and drops the chest, then stands up and takes off the locks. Cersei looks at Jamie. There is no way they would bring explosives, for that would harm their own leaders. Then what is it? The hound shoves off the lid of the chest and steps back.
Nothing happens. His hand unconsciously drifts to the hilt of his sword, before he kicks out and the chest tips over. A skeleton crawls out of the chest screeching as it goes. Then runs towards Cersei who is paralysed in her seat. She is sure fear was written all over her face as Jamie and her guards all step forward, drawing their blades.
The hound pulls hard on the chain connected to the skeleton and it falls back, turns and runs towards him. He stands with his sword held high and cuts through the skeleton. It separated in the top and bottom part, yet it continued moving. He cuts off his hand and Qyburn walks forward to pick it up and stare at it in amazement.
Jon Snow steps forward and grabs the hand from him, then holds the torch given to him by one of his lords she doesn't know. Once the torch is lit, he speaks up. "We can destroy them, by burning them." He demonstrates it as he talks. The skeleton's top half screeches as if in pain as the hand burns. "And we can destroy them by dragonglass." He pulls out a black dagger from his belt. "If we don't win this fight, than that," He points at the crawling skeleton, "is the fate of every person in the world." He slams the black dagger in the chest of the skeleton and both halves stop moving right away.
He walks forward again. "There is only one war that matters. The Great War. And it is here."
"I didn't believe it until I saw them, either." The dragon queen speaks up again. "I saw them all."
"How many?" Jamie asks.
"A hundred thousand, at least."
Cersei takes a deep breath and stands up, straightens the non-existing folds in her dress and rolls her shoulders. Silently she curses its tightness but she has no time for that. "Ser Jamie, your sword and your dagger please." The skeleton does not leave her eye.
From the corner of her eye she can see him frown. "Your Grace?"
Instead of replying, she holds out her hand and waits for him to place them there. He stands up and removes his dagger first, laying it in her hand. She shifts it into her right hand and waits for the sword. He pulls it out of its scabbard with very confused eyes and places it in her left hand. "Good." She says. "Now step back." He goes back to his seat.
She throws the sword in the air a little so she can hold it properly, then swings it in a circle at her side to feel its weight and movement. She takes a deep breath and looks around at the lords and ladies, who are all looking at her in confusion and a little fright. Then, out of nowhere, she turns and swings the sword with all her might. Gasps go around to area as clumpy blood flows and a head rolls towards the centre where it meets the skeleton.
The enormous body of the mountain falls forward as the sword detached its head from the back of his neck. The black armour clangs against the ground as everyone looks in silence at the queen-gone-mad.
Qyburn is the first to react. "What did you do? My masterwork!" He walks towards the headless body, but before he reaches it, his throat is sliced open. Next is Euron Greyjoy, stabbed through the heart.
"Cersei! What are you doing?" Jamie hisses from his seat.
"A girl is not Cersei Lannister." She says in a different voice and faces the Queen's Guards that are standing with confusion etched in their faces and their blades drawn. She rips the neat stitching of the dress, making it easier to move. One corner of her mouth lifts as she waves them to come at her, which after a while, they do. With caution they walk forward and she has no problem cutting through them. She twists and turns as she draws both blades through the holes of their helmets and slices throats. As the last one hits the ground, she turns towards the dragon queen.
She throws the blades away from her and kneels on one knee. "A girl has seen the way you care and negotiate. A girl wishes to offer her services to the Dragon Queen." She says as she looks her in the eye. Behind the wall of multiple of her guards who came to protect her as soon as she had asked for a sword, she stood.
"Who are you?" She frowns.
"A girl is no one, Your Grace. A girl is whoever you wish her to be."
"Zafra ki athdrivar!" The Dothraki whisper amongst each other.
The Targaryen queen seems to have heard it and asks. "Tell me, why do my Dothraki call you slave of death?"