Only ruins remained of the Great Sept of Baelor.
The once-towering sept of the Seven had long since collapsed beneath the gales stirred by dragon wings.
The broken columns and shattered statues had been cleared away, leaving an open space so vast it seemed almost desolate.
Wind swept across the clearing with a low, mournful howl.
This had been a forbidden place that the common folk of King's Landing avoided at all costs, for the Three-Headed Dragon had made his lair here.
His body dwarfed anything in legend, too immense for any shelter. Only these flattened ruins offered barely enough room for him to coil up and rest.
Now he lay in the center of the ruins.
Pale golden scales covered his mountain-like body. His three heads rested lazily on the ground, their slit pupils closed, yet the cold gleam that occasionally escaped through the gaps remained terrifying.
The dragon's shadow blotted out the sky, covering nearly half the ruins. His invisible might bore down like a tangible weight upon the world, plunging everything into deathly silence.
The commoners who normally dared not come a single step closer had been ordered here today, led to the outskirts of the ruins to quietly "witness the ceremony."
No one dared speak loudly or move without permission. Terror filled every face as they gazed from afar at the Giant Shadow, a pale golden behemoth at the center of the ruins, scarcely daring to breathe.
Through the deathly silence, the metallic clatter of armor drew steadily nearer.
A squad of black-armored soldiers escorted a disheveled figure slowly toward the ruins.
Jaime Lannister trudged forward.
The empty sleeve of his right arm swayed in the wind. His wound had long since gone numb, its pain smothered beneath the heavier anguish in his heart.
His newly