Game Of Thrones: Khal Pollo (GOT)

The silence after the battle was the most terrifying thing. Thick smoke that smelled of burnt flesh and molten metal billowed from the blackened fields, obscuring the sun and turning daylight into a sickly twilight. On the ruined command hill, Tywin Lannister sat upright on his horse.

That was when Acnologia landed.

The black dragon descended from the smoky sky with a roar, its enormous wings sending a storm of ash and dust across the hilltop. Tywin's remaining personal guards screamed and fell, their horses neighing in terror. Vekho and a hundred Dothraki warriors emerged from the smoke, surrounding the last remnants of resistance.

Tywin did not move. He stared at Khal Pollo as he dismounted from the dragon's back. Inside him, there was no fear. There was only cold, frozen rage, an immense humiliation at having been defeated by not a strategy.

Pollo walked closer. "You've lost," he said.

Tywin looked into his conqueror's eyes. "You have unleashed hell on this world, Boy," he said, his voice hoarse. "You will drown it in blood."

"This world was already drowning in blood," Pollo countered. "I am just speeding up the process." He gestured to Vekho. "Take him."

That night, in the inner courtyard of the Red Keep, Pollo was not sitting on the Iron Throne. He was seated on a makeshift chair made of dented Lannister shields, surrounded by his commanders and thousands of torch-bearing Dothraki warriors. This was a Khal's court, not a King's.

Tywin Lannister was dragged into the center, heavy chains shackling his wrists. Beside him, Cersei was also forced to her knees, her face a rigid mask of hatred. Daenerys stood near Pollo, her face pale under the dancing torchlight.

Pollo did not hold a long trial. He looked at Tywin. "You ordered the murder of Elia Martell and her children. You masterminded the Red Wedding. You brought war to this land for vanity."

Tywin raised his head, his pale eyes full of contempt. "I did what was necessary to protect the name of my house."

Pollo nodded slowly. "So did I." He turned to Vekho. "Take him to the block."

Tywin Lannister was forced to his knees at the same execution block where Ned Stark had died. Cersei was forced to watch, her arms gripped tightly by two warriors.

Daenerys stepped forward, her hand touching Pollo's arm. "Pollo, please," she whispered, her voice urgent. "This is not justice. This is vengeance. Show them we are different."

Pollo turned to her, his eyes cold under the torchlight. "Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford. Weakness now will invite a hundred more wars. This is the end. The end of his war. The end of his house."

He stepped forward, taking a heavy executioner's axe from a guard. With a single, powerful, clean, and emotionless swing, he beheaded Tywin Lannister.

Cersei did not scream. A strange, horrible choked sound came from her throat, her green eyes wide with a pure hatred that had surpassed the bounds of sanity.

Pollo walked toward her, the axe still in his hand. "Your father is dead. Your armies are broken. Your house is finished." He looked at Daenerys, then back at Cersei. "You are no longer useful as a hostage."

Daenerys stepped forward again, this time placing herself between Pollo and the terrified Lannister children, Tommen and Myrcella, who had just been dragged out. "The children are innocent!"

Pollo looked at the children, then back at Cersei. His cold logic was at work. "Her children will grow up," he cut in. "And they will seek revenge. I will not leave a serpent's seed to bite my heel later." He paused, considering Daenerys' plea. "However," he said, pointing to Myrcella. "A daughter can be a useful tool." He gestured to a guard. "Take her to her chambers. She is a prisoner of the house."

His cold eyes then fell on Cersei and Tommen. "But you... and your male heir... are threats that must be eliminated."

He gestured to Garo. "Finish them."

Garo drew his arakh. Daenerys turned her face away in horror, unable to watch. The wet, final sound of a slash echoed in the silent courtyard, silencing the last roar of the Lannister lioness and her heir forever.

=====

On his flagship, the Fury, which swayed in the gray waters off the coast of Storm's End, Stannis Baratheon stared at a map of Westeros. A soaked captain had just finished delivering the news brought by an intercepted merchant ship: Tywin Lannister and Queen Cersei had been executed.

Davos Seaworth, standing at his side, saw this chaos as a bad omen. "The city is held by an unknown demon, Your Grace," he said carefully. "With dragons and eighty thousand savages. Perhaps it would be wiser to wait..."

Melisandre, staring into a small, burning brazier in the corner of the cabin, smiled faintly. "R'hllor is clearing the chessboard for you, Azor Ahai," she whispered, her red eyes gleaming. "Darkness has consumed darkness. Now, your light must shine."

Stannis's rigid conviction hardened into steel. "He is a usurper. A foreign savage sitting on my throne." He looked out the cabin window, toward his massive fleet. "Ready the fleet. We sail for King's Landing at dawn. We will take back what is mine."

=====

In the Red Keep, Pollo sat alone in his private chamber, the Black Book of Houses open before him. He was not planning the next war. He was purging his own house, looking for potential betrayals. His finger stopped at the entry for Ser Jorah Mormont. The book did not just detail his exile for slave trading. It detailed, with brutal clarity, Jorah's unrequited obsession and love for Daenerys.

Pollo's super mind processed the information. He did not see it as loyalty. He saw it as a weakness, a dangerous "NTR motif." A man driven by unfulfilled lust could not be trusted. He was an unstable variable. A threat to be eliminated.

In the Queen's chambers, Daenerys stood by the window, staring at the dark city. Ser Jorah entered. "Khaleesi," he said softly. "What he did... it was an atrocity. He butchered them. This will make all of Westeros hate us."

Daenerys turned. "And what makes us different from a monster now, Jorah? Pollo executed a child and his mother."

It was then that Pollo entered the room, his movements silent as a panther. He had heard enough.

He walked straight toward Jorah. The older knight, startled, tried to stand tall. "Khal Pollo..."

Pollo's hand shot out, grabbing Jorah's neck. He lifted him off the floor with one hand, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.

Daenerys shrieked. "Pollo, what are you doing?!"

Pollo looked at Daenerys, his eyes cold and emotionless, while he continued to choke Jorah. "He is a traitor driven by lust," he said, his voice calm and deadly. "He wants you. He would betray me to have you. You are too innocent from lack of life experience to see it."

With a sharp, wet CRACK!, he broke Jorah's neck. He did not just drop the body. He turned and with one powerful motion, he threw the corpse of Ser Jorah Mormont out the high window.

Daenerys stared in horror and disbelief at the empty window, then back at Pollo. She could not speak. She could only tremble.

The next day, an exhausted Dothraki scout arrived, his horse frothing with sweat. He brought news: Stannis's fleet had been sighted off the coast, sailing straight toward them.

Pollo found Daenerys on the ramparts of the Red Keep, staring out at the sea. Her face was pale and her eyes were blank. A cold chasm of fear now separated them.

"Stannis's fleet is approaching," Pollo said.

Daenerys finally looked at him, her eyes no longer showing debate or plea. There was only a cold resignation. "I will not be a part of another slaughter," she said, her voice flat. "My dragons will not be your siege engines to burn another fleet full of men."

Pollo looked at Stannis's fleet approaching on the horizon, then back at Daenerys. "I am not asking you to burn them," he said calmly.

He looked her straight in the eyes. "I am only asking you to show them why they should be afraid of their Queen."