[Westeros, several weeks later]
The sun had set behind the walls of King's Landing, casting the gardens into quiet stillness.
There, seated alone, Ned Stark waited in silence, leaning uncomfortably on his new cane.
A figure emerged from the shadows, walking with steady steps toward him. Their eyes met before a word was spoken.
—You're in pain —said Cersei, her voice cold, her smile even colder as she observed him closely.
Ned used his cane to slowly rise, the movement clearly causing him discomfort.
—I've had worse, my lady —he replied, barely flinching.
A gentle smile touched Cersei's lips, though it didn't reach her eyes.
—Perhaps it's time to return home. The South doesn't seem to suit you —she said, her gaze fixed on him.
The air grew heavier. He didn't look away, his eyes deep and serious, already knowing what had to be said.
—I know the truth behind Jon Arryn's death —Ned stated, without hesitation.
—Do you really? —she replied, raising an eyebrow, her face calm, though a flash of fear flickered in her eyes—. Is that why you summoned me, Lord Stark, to pose riddles?
At that moment, he noticed something on her face: a bruise, still dark purple across her cheek.
—Has he done this before? —he asked, pointing at the bruise.
She averted her eyes, fully aware of what he meant. Her tone was calm, but laced with defiance.
—Jaime would've killed him. My brother is worth a thousand of your friends —she said with disdain.
The accusation was clear, but Ned didn't waver. His gaze remained fixed.
—Your brother... or your lover? —he asked bluntly.
She smiled smugly, knowing he had struck a nerve.
—The Targaryens married for three hundred years to keep their bloodlines pure —she answered with a proud glint—. Jaime and I are more than siblings. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong to each other.
He frowned, unwilling to let her words go unanswered.
—My son saw you with him —he declared, relentless.
Cersei looked at him for a moment before responding with unsettling calm.
—Do you love your children? —she asked, as if the answer were obvious.
—With all my heart —Ned replied without hesitation.
—No more than I love mine —she countered, a flash of restrained fury in her voice.
Silence fell between them. He wasn't willing to let it end there.
—And they're all Jaime's —Ned said firmly.
She laughed, a bitter, cold laugh.
—Thank the gods. On the rare occasions Robert stumbles drunkenly into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. By morning, he remembers nothing —Cersei said, without a trace of shame.
—You've always hated him... —he murmured, almost as a realization.
—Hated him? I worshiped him! —she said with vehemence—. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, and he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day at the Sept of Baelor—slim, fierce, black-bearded—it was the happiest moment of my life. Then that night, he climbed on top of me, stinking of wine, did what little he could do, and whispered in my ear: "Lyanna." Your sister was a corpse, and I was a living girl, and he loved her more than he ever loved me.
The weight of those words cut deep, but Ned didn't show it. He responded coldly.
—When the king returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth. By then, you must be gone—you and your children. I don't want their blood on my hands. Go as far as you can, with as many men as you can. Because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow —he said, without mercy.
Cersei didn't flinch, as though his words had no weight. Her face remained unshaken as she spoke.
—And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? —she asked in a dangerous tone—. You should have taken the realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day King's Landing fell: he was on the Iron Throne, and you forced him off it. All you had to do was climb the steps. What a tragic mistake.
—I've made many mistakes in my life, but that was not one of them —he replied firmly.
She laughed, but there was no joy in it. Her voice dripped with venom.
—Oh, but it was... In the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground —Cersei said with a defiant smile.
She turned and walked away, leaving him there, watching her with a mix of caution and resignation.
[Sea of Grass, at the same time]
Vlad had spent several days in bed, enjoying Daenerys's company and feeding the dragons. In truth, it had been something of a vacation—one he was deeply grateful for, as he hadn't had a moment's rest since arriving in this world.
There had always been something to deal with: problems to solve, enemies to face, and above all, the looming threat of the Long Night—a threat he would have to defeat if he ever hoped to enjoy his immortality without concern. Now recovered, it was time to set the next phase of his plan into motion: conquering Slaver's Bay.
Slaver's Bay was made up of three major cities: Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. All of them thrived on the slave trade, a practice deeply embedded in their culture and economy.
Unlike the Dothraki tribes, these cities were fortified, equipped with organized armies, and ruled by wealthy, proud, and brutal elites.
Historically, Vlad knew these cities had been founded long before the Valyrian expansion, by ancient empires and Ghiscari merchants who survived the fall of Ghis to Valyria's power.
For centuries, their inhabitants had clung to slavery as a symbol of power, resilience, and tradition. Now, Vlad intended to rip that legacy out by the roots and replace it with something new.
But before he could begin with Slaver's Bay, Vlad's first target would be Qarth. The city was immensely wealthy and backed by the House of the Undying.
Vlad had no doubt that the House of the Undying would cause trouble if he didn't deal with them immediately. In the original timeline, the warlocks of Qarth had rushed to invite Daenerys with the intent of killing her and using her dragons as magical batteries to maintain their immortality.
Truth be told, he was curious about the House of the Undying. They were the first and only vestige of magic that had remained active even before the passing of the red comet.
Even with his book, Vlad knew that Valyrian magic—and magic in this world in general—was ritualistic in nature and highly unpredictable. For that reason, eliminating the Undying Ones ranked high on his priority list.