Winter's flight speed was absolutely absurd.
The massive silhouette of King's Landing rapidly vanished over the southern horizon.
The colossal dragon violently tore through the heavy cloud cover, hurtling dead north.
Lyanna and Margaery clung to Lynn in an absolute death grip, burying their faces completely into his back, absolutely terrified to look down.
Brienne and Cersei gripped the iron-hard scales of the dragon's back, their bodies frozen as solid stone.
Brienne, especially, felt like her heart was about to violently explode straight out of her throat.
This fucking thing was flying way too fast!
An unknown amount of time passed before Lynn's voice finally echoed over them.
"We're here."
The women slowly, cautiously opened their eyes.
A massive, ancient gray fortress aggressively dominated their vision.
Winterfell.
Winter let out a heavy, vibrating rumble, methodically dropping altitude before touching down flawlessly in the fortress's absolute largest courtyard.
BOOM!
The absolute second the colossal dragon hit the dirt, the entirety of Winterfell violently shuddered.
In the courtyard, Ned Stark, his wife Catelyn, and several Northern bannermen were already actively waiting.
Lynn flawlessly vaulted down from the massive dragon's back.
"Lord Ned."
Ned stared at Lynn, then shot a highly loaded look at the massive, snorting leviathan behind him, his mouth violently twitching.
This bastard. Every single time he showed up, it was a massive, apocalyptic spectacle.
Ned offered a rigid nod in greeting.
Then, his dead gaze locked onto the flock of women awkwardly scrambling down from the dragon's back.
Sansa, his eldest daughter.
Lyanna—wasn't she supposed to be Joffrey's Queen? Why the hell was she with Lynn?
He absolutely recognized those two.
But the others...
Margaery?
The absolute jewel of House Tyrell, the most delicate little rose of the Seven Kingdoms...
And who the actual fuck was that impossibly massive woman? She was literally taller and broader than he was!
She towered over him by a full two heads...
And that woman draped entirely in crimson red, radiating an incredibly toxic, mystical aura...
Ned's brain completely short-circuited.
Wasn't this bastard Lynn supposed to be in King's Landing acting as Hand of the King?
Why did it look exactly like he had just gone on a massive shopping spree and actively hauled back half the women in the realm?
Was he genuinely planning to aggressively hoard every single beautiful woman in Westeros?
Ned violently cursed him in his head.
"Father!"
The absolute second Sansa spotted Ned, she sprinted forward, throwing herself into his arms for a massive, desperate hug.
"My child. Thank the Gods you are safe."
Ned heavily patted his daughter's back, the apocalyptic anxiety in his chest finally dissolving.
Right at that exact second, Catelyn's gaze violently, permanently locked onto Cersei Lannister.
Of course she recognized that face!
Every single person in the Seven Kingdoms absolutely knew the face of Queen Cersei!
"Why... why the hell is she here?!"
Catelyn's voice violently shook. She pointed a trembling finger dead at Cersei, her face plastered with absolute, paralyzed disbelief.
Ned noticed it too.
He stared at the golden-haired woman standing passively near Lynn, his pupils violently dilating.
Cersei Lannister?
Joffrey's actual mother?
Tywin Lannister's daughter?
Why the absolute fuck was she traveling with Lynn?
And looking at her deeply submissive, entirely broken demeanor... where the hell was her usual highly toxic, arrogant royal attitude?
Ned felt his entire understanding of reality violently shatter.
"She permanently belongs to me now."
Lynn's voice was dead calm, casually delivering the statement like it was absolutely nothing.
But to Ned and Catelyn, those words detonated like a literal, apocalyptic thunderbolt!
She belongs to you?
You violently claimed the King's wife.
And now you've aggressively claimed the King's fucking mother, too?!
Ned opened his mouth, completely, physically incapable of forming a single syllable.
He finally, absolutely understood exactly why King's Landing was currently mutating into a chaotic, apocalyptic warzone.
With an unhinged, absolute lunatic like Lynn running loose, it would be a fucking miracle if King's Landing wasn't completely destroyed!
"Lynn!"
Right in the middle of the suffocating, heavy tension, a crisp, highly familiar voice rang out.
Myrcella, dressed fully in heavy, traditional Northern furs, ran aggressively out of the fortress.
The absolute second she laid eyes on Cersei, she froze completely.
She frantically rubbed her eyes, genuinely believing she was hallucinating.
"Myrcella..."
Cersei stared at her daughter—the exact child she had been desperately, psychotically missing every single day—and her eyes violently flushed red.
She entirely abandoned whatever pathetic shreds of royal dignity she had left. She aggressively hiked up her heavy skirts and sprinted directly toward Myrcella.
"Mother!"
Myrcella finally snapped out of it, sobbing violently as she threw herself straight into Cersei's arms.
The mother and daughter violently clung to each other, sobbing heavily, completely breaking down.
Watching the deeply emotional scene unfold, Ned's mind was an absolute, chaotic mess.
He shot a highly loaded look at Lynn, and then at the massive, highly diverse harem of women standing behind him.
A headache.
A massive, apocalyptic headache.
"Enough."
Lynn aggressively shattered the heavy, emotional atmosphere.
He stepped directly in front of Ned.
"Stannis's apocalyptic army should have already violently breached King's Landing."
"I've actively ordered Robb to aggressively harass his supply lines, and the Blackfish is currently violently tearing through the Westerlands. Make sure you are completely prepared on this end."
"Winterfell is absolutely secure for now. You just need to keep a dead eye on the Iron Islands to the west."
Ned gave a rigid nod.
"And exactly where are you going?"
"I have absolute business to handle. I need to take a trip to Essos."
Essos?
Ned completely froze.
"What the hell are you doing there?"
"Finding someone."
Lynn absolutely refused to offer a single extra syllable of explanation.
He silently repeated that specific name in his mind.
Daenerys.
His woman was currently actively waiting for him on that distant continent.
Having delivered his orders, Lynn flawlessly spun around and vaulted right back onto the dragon's massive back.
"My Lord!"
Melisandre aggressively vaulted up right behind him.
She was currently Lynn's absolute, most devoted fanatic. Wherever Lynn went, she violently followed.
"Lord Lynn!"
Margaery desperately scrambled forward, attempting to follow.
But before she could even take two steps, Brienne aggressively grabbed her arm, completely stopping her.
"Lady Margaery, you absolutely need to rest right now."
Lynn threw a dead look down at the women staring up at him with highly desperate eyes. He slowly shook his head.
"Every single one of you stays here."
"Wait for my absolute return."
He didn't waste another fraction of a second.
"Winter, move!"
Lynn heavily patted Winter's scales. The colossal dragon let out an apocalyptic roar, violently snapping its massive wings downward, instantaneously shooting straight into the heavens, hurtling east toward the Narrow Sea.
The group was left standing completely dead silent in the freezing courtyard, staring blankly at each other.
---
Blackwater Bay.
Out on the churning sea, a heavily dense, apocalyptic armada of massive warships completely blotted out the sun.
The flaming heart and crowned stag banners violently whipped in the freezing ocean wind.
Stannis Baratheon stood rigidly at the bow of his massive flagship, Fury.
He stared directly at the towering silhouette of King's Landing, his face an entirely unreadable, dead-calm mask.
But deep inside his eyes, a violent, unhinged, apocalyptic hellfire was aggressively burning.
Lynn!
You absolutely pathetic, false god-worshipping heretic!
Joffrey!
You brain-dead, bastard child actively stealing my absolute throne!
Today, I will violently use the sacred fire to completely, permanently incinerate every single one of you and purge your rotting sins to ash!
"My Lord!"
Davos Seaworth aggressively approached his side, his face heavily etched with profound anxiety.
"Are we... are we genuinely going to launch a direct, head-on siege?"
"King's Landing's walls are unfathomably thick. A direct, violent assault will result in absolutely apocalyptic casualties."
Stannis didn't even turn his head a fraction of an inch.
"The Lord of Light is permanently with me."
"There is absolutely no wall in this world capable of stopping the violent march of the sacred fire."
His voice carried an ironclad, unhinged, undeniable fanaticism.
Davos desperately wanted to argue.
But looking at Stannis's completely rigid, psychotic demeanor, he knew perfectly well that every single syllable would be violently ignored.
He could only silently, desperately pray to the Seven in his heart.
Praying that this apocalyptic war wouldn't result in an absolute massacre.
"Relay my absolute command!"
Stannis aggressively ripped his heavy longsword from its scabbard, pointing the razor-sharp steel straight at the Red Keep!
"Full amphibious assault!"
"Primary target: The Red Keep!"
"Capture Lynn alive!"
"Capture Joffrey alive!"
"FIGHT FOR THE GODS!"
"FIGHT FOR THE GODS!"
Tens of thousands of heavily armed zealots let out an apocalyptic, bloodcurdling roar!
They aggressively drove their landing craft straight toward the beaches of King's Landing!
However.
The absolute second they violently hit the shores and aggressively charged the city walls...
Every single man completely froze in absolute, paralyzed confusion.
The massive city gates were completely, totally wide open.
There wasn't a single goddamn guard on the towering walls.
"What... what the actual fuck is going on?"
A veteran commander stared at the bizarre, completely dead scene, his brain violently short-circuiting.
"It's a trap! It absolutely has to be a highly lethal trap!"
"That bastard Lynn has absolutely stationed a massive, heavily armed ambush inside!"
Stannis's brows violently locked together.
He genuinely, absolutely refused to believe Lynn would completely flee without a fight.
But what exactly was the meaning behind this dead, empty city?
"Deploy an elite vanguard. Breach the gates and confirm."
Stannis issued the absolute order.
A heavily armed squad of a hundred elite scouts cautiously, aggressively slipped through the massive gates.
Moments later, they violently sprinted right back out.
"My Lord! The city... there is absolutely no military presence inside!"
"The King fled! The Gold Cloaks vanished! Even the Red Keep is completely, totally empty!"
What?!
Stannis's brain completely, violently blue-screened.
He had expended absolute, apocalyptic effort to rapidly assemble thirty thousand elite troops, planning to execute a massive, violent surprise attack while Lynn was entirely unprepared.
And he violently hit absolute, empty air?!
Where the actual fuck was Lynn?!
A toxic, highly violent wave of absolute humiliation and rage aggressively surged straight to Stannis's head!
How the hell could Lynn possibly have perfectly anticipated his absolute movements?!
Stannis shot a lethal glare at Davos and violently roared.
"March in!"
He aggressively led the charge, violently stepping straight through the gates of King's Landing.
But the absolute fraction of a second his boots hit the cobblestones inside...
An emaciated, barefoot old man draped in a filthy hemp tunic, aggressively backed by tens of thousands of heavily armed, wildly fanatic smallfolk, completely, violently blocked his path.
It was undeniably the High Sparrow.
"Halt."
The High Sparrow stared dead at the heavily armored, bloodthirsty "King" standing in front of him, absolutely refusing to show a single fractional ounce of fear.
"This is the absolute domain of the Seven."
"Heretics of the Lord of Light are strictly, permanently forbidden from entering."
---