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chapter 34 the bloody keep

As my amulet pulses a dark crimson, casting eerie shadows along the walls, I feel the gaping wound across my neck close, skin knitting back together with impossible speed. The Faceless Man's eyes widen, confusion flickering across his face just as I leap forward, driving my knee into his gut with brutal force. He doubles over, gasping, and I seize his arms, twisting until I feel the sickening snap of bone.

Before he can scream, I clamp my hand over his mouth and wrench his jaw open, searching. My fingers close on a small, sharp tooth embedded inside. Poison. Of course. With a harsh yank, I rip it free and toss it to the floor.

"So this was your plan?" I murmur, voice cold. The Faceless Man's eyes dart to the side, still reeling in shock and pain, before I knock him unconscious with a swift strike to the temple.

"Guards!" I bellow.

Two Dothraki warriors burst into the room, scimitars drawn, stopping dead as they take in the scene: me, blood-soaked, with a stranger in woman's clothing sprawled at my feet.

I fix them with a sharp glare. "Explain to me how this assassin got in here, past your watch?"

They exchange glances, unease creeping into their expressions. "No one passed through us, my khal. We swear it."

"Is that so?" My gaze flickers around the room, searching for anything I might have missed. "There must be a hidden passage. I grew complacent." I mutter the last words, a bitter reminder of the price of arrogance. Only the power of the amulet saved me, and now its energy is spent. It will have to be recharged—a gruesome task involving the deaths of a hundred men, their blood drained to refill its dark reserves.

I turn back to the guards. "Bring me Drogo and the Hound. Now."

They scramble out the door, and I drag the assassin to a sturdy chair, tying him down with care. This one won't die so easily; I'll have answers first. After gagging him with a rough strip of cloth, I slap him across the face, hard, and then again until he stirs, groaning in pain.

When his eyes open, fear flashes in them, an emotion I hadn't expected from one of the Faceless Men. I lean close, my voice low and steady. "You're a fool for taking this contract. Killing me would take more than a well-placed knife. You'd better understand that." I grip his jaw, squeezing until he winces. "I'll remove the gag, but if you try to bite down on your tongue, or do anything foolish, I'll pull every tooth from your mouth one by one. And then, I'll find every temple of your god and burn them to the ground."

He stares, wide-eyed, as I remove the gag.

"Now," I growl, "who ordered you?"

"Littlefinger," he whispers, his voice barely audible guess they really do care about their god.

I let out a slow, dark chuckle. "Of course. I should've guessed."

He shifts in his bonds, a hint of defiance flaring in his gaze. "You'll kill me anyway."

"Not if you cooperate," I say smoothly. "You will be my witness. Once this is done, you'll deliver a message to your leader. And a promise—a temple in every city that i conquer to honor your god if he wants to comply."

For a moment, a flicker of hope lights his eyes—not for his own life, but for the mission, the expansion of his god's influence. These Faceless Men truly are devoted, even as they face death.

Drogo and the Hound enter then, both pausing as they take in the scene. Drogo's gaze shifts to me, noting the blood smeared across my neck, the fresh scar left by the wound.

"My lord?" the Hound growls, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his sword.

"This man is an assassin," I explain, and their expressions harden, rage simmering behind their eyes.

Drogo steps forward, hand on his blade. "Shall I end him, my Khal?"

"No i have other plans for him." I raise a hand to stop him. "You two are to guard him while I go deal with the real threat."

They nod, and I slip past them, making my way swiftly down the hall to the Queen's chambers. Cersei's been far too quiet lately—too… compliant. A woman like her doesn't submit without reason. No, she thought I'd be dead by now.

Two Lannister guards step forward as I approach, blocking my path.

"The Queen has ordered not to be disturbed," one begins, his voice firm.

Before he can finish, I punch him hard, shoving his head back against the wall with enough force to crack his skull. His partner's eyes widen, and he barely has time to reach for his sword before I send him sprawling with another brutal blow. Blood spatters the walls as they slump to the ground.

With a kick, I send the doors flying open. Inside, Cersei and Littlefinger sit by the fire, wine glasses frozen halfway to their lips, both staring at me in stunned silence.

I stride forward, my gaze locked on Littlefinger. He starts to rise, but I'm faster. My bloodstained hand closes around his throat, and I lift him from his seat, his feet dangling as he chokes and gasps.

"Did you really think a Faceless Man could kill me?" I sneer.

His face contorts, desperately trying to muster some of his usual charm. "I wouldn't dare—"

"Silence." I tighten my grip, and he lets out a strangled gasp, blood trickling from his nose as he claws feebly at my arm.

"If you speak again without permission, I'll crush your skull right here. And then I'll have my horses drag your corpse through the city streets. Understand?"

He nods frantically, a faint stain of wetness spreading across his trousers. Pathetic.

I turn to Cersei, who has paled, her hand clutching the stem of her wine glass so tightly I think it might shatter.

"Tell me, Cersei," I say with a cold smile. "If I rip off Joffrey's head and shove it up his ass, would I be punished?"

She swallows, the color draining from her face. "Joffrey is the heir to the Iron Throne. If you—"

"Oh, Cersei." I laugh, a dark, mocking sound. "Do you really think Robert would lift a finger to punish me? No, he'd probably thank me for it. And when I tell him that I'll take Tommen and train him as a true king, he'll let me. I could take every one of your children from you, strip you of everything, and he'd just smile."

Her face twists, horror plain in her eyes, a realization dawning that I could—and would—destroy her if she crossed me again.

I shift my grip on Littlefinger, who whimpers as I drag him towards the door. "As for you, Baelish… you've meddled for the last time." He struggles feebly, but it's no use. I haul him outside just as a small cluster of guards arrives, staring at us in shock.

"If any of you try to stop me," I warn, my voice carrying a deadly promise, "I'll kill you all. And my grandfather will make sure your families pay the price."

They hesitate, glancing between me and the Queen, who doesn't even raise her eyes to meet their silent pleas. She knows she's lost. Finally, one by one, the guards step back, parting to let me pass.

"Good dogs," I say with a smirk, dragging Littlefinger back toward my chambers, his struggles growing weaker with each step.

Tonight, there will be no more games.

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