King's Landing was silent beneath its blanket of ash. The air still shimmered with heat. People wandered the streets like ghosts, eyes wide with disbelief.
Tyrion walked among the ruins, counting the dead. Davos followed him, silent, grim. They stopped at a pile of broken stones that once held the Great Sept.
"This is not peace," Tyrion said. "This is silence born of fear."
Meanwhile, in the Red Keep, Daenerys and Andrew sat alone. She stared at the Iron Throne, untouched since she claimed it.
"Do they hate me?" she asked.
"They fear you," Andrew replied. "And fear is a seed. It grows into reverence—or rebellion."