The air was tainted with ash, drifted like ghostly whispers across the charred remnants of King’s Landing. The smell of burning flesh and stone filled the air as the Red Keep’s shadow stretched across the lifeless streets. Daėnerys stood atop the steps, her breath shallow and erratic, her face ashen with rage and disbelief. Drogon loomed behind her, his great wings spreading, dark and menacing like a harbinger of death.

Jon lay broken in the distance, his body crushed by the tail of her dragon, after Drogon saved her. His betrayal, his defiance, had cost him his life. She felt her heart broken as he was the last one she trusted, he was her blood, love... and now he was dead.

The city, once teeming with life, now echoed with nothing but the cries of the wind and the crackle of distant flames. She turned toward the ruins of the Red Keep, where her heart once harbored hope. Now, it was hollow—empty. The weight of her vision was clear.

*Her people would bend. Her enemies would break. Westeros would fall before her. She knew she would have to deal with the northmen as they would likely rebel against her for killing Jon and call her a mad queen. She walked down the steps from the Red Keep to the courtyard seeing her soldiers hail her as a Queen. She needed allies but how could she trust someone again? *