Targaryen's reborn

Regret is a useless currency.

The realm lay eerily quiet, as if it had weathered a tempest and emerged unscathed. King Joffery bore a body seared beyond recognition, some of the maesters who weren't there with Daemon burn the citadel to the ground where trying to help him but their efforts were futile against the relentless agony that consumed him. Perhaps this was Daenerys' designa cruel retribution for Queen Mother Cersei, a reckoning for the pain inflicted upon her in a past existence. Daenerys reveled in the spectacle of the queen witnessing her beloved son's suffering, a poignant reminder of her own impotence.

The small council seethed with unrest. Their belief that they had eradicated all of House Targaryens lay shattered, for remnants persisted. Not only had they survived, but now they have full-grown dragons on their side.Those who had thought on forged alliances with the Lannisters were now grappled with doubt. They are reconsidering their stand on joining them. Now that House Targaryens has returned, the very name whispered through the halls a reminder of power and vengeance.

Among those plagued by doubt is Lord varys, once an instrument in dismantling the formidable house, now grappled with uncertainty. His machinations to place young griff on the iron throne from the shadows had been meticulously laid out, but the revelation of House Targaryens surviving altered the landscape. The council's heated debates echoed through the chambers, each word a weight upon his conscience. The ancient house, once thought extinguished, now loomed like a specter. Lord, vary was not the only who was worried. Lord baelish or little finger, as he is commonly known as a man who thrives on chaos in order to make people indebted to him, couldn't have seen this. Although he was not there at the time of the attack as he was busy smuggling Sansa out of King landing. But he felt the shaking and could see the demand that the dragons had done. His sources had told him what had happened during the young king wedding. As all his plans he had made have to be remade. How frustrating he thought. It was annoying enough as it was since his late wife, " accident" of throwing herself through the moondoor poor thing. She has always been sick of the mind.

Back in Kingsland.

Amidst the castle's hushed corridors, the anguished cries of Joffery echoed, a haunting symphony of suffering. Cersei can be heard and seen screaming at the useless maesters to do something. But do no avail. Nothing can be done other than ease his pain to make his dead bearable.

But beyond his torment,Tywin lannister the patriarch of the lannister lineage lay paralyzed, a victim of the dragon's wrath. The creature's tail had struck him with brutal force, shattering bone and sinew, rendering him broken from neck to toe. His once-proud form now crumpled, a monument to pain.

Into this grim scene, step Tyrion, the youngest son, is the very embodiment of his resentment. His hatred for him simmered, a fire fueled by years of bitterness. The maesters, their faces etched with fear, delivered the grim prognosis. Yet, in the son's eyes, there danced a perverse delight, a secret pleasure at his father's downfall.

The patriarch's visage twisted a mask of fury and despair. His voice, raspy and venomous, cut through the air: "I care not for gold or the lives you extinguish! Spare no expense, unleash any force, but obliterate that wretched woman!" His rage reverberated, a tempest of impotence and vengeance, as if the very walls trembled in fear.

" What kind of wrenching thing attack people at their wedding?" Tywin voice laces with venom.

Tyrion tried to hold his laughter back, but he just couldn't ." It a bit ironic, dont you think? You who orchestrated the death of Rob stark at his uncle wedding . What was it that you said to me, "Oh yes, what the difference for a man to be murder at the battlefield or at a feast? Or does that not apply to you? Tyrion asked, mocking as he watched his once great father, a man he once feared tried with every fiber of his body to will it to move. Tyrion moved as the small council was called again.