Stannis sat on the throne forged from countless swords, feeling the pain of their blades.
He believed that pain kept him clearheaded.
Thunderous cheers still echoed through the Throne Room.
The nobles and merchants kneeling on the floor kept their heads bowed low.
They were afraid.
They feared the man on the throne, and feared the skeleton stripped clean on the floor even more.
Stannis waved a hand.
"All of you, leave."
His voice carried an authority that brooked no resistance.
As though granted a pardon, the nobles scrambled out of the Throne Room.
Soon, only Stannis, Davos, and a few fiercely loyal commanders remained in the cavernous hall.
"Dispose of that pile of worthless bones."
Stannis pointed at the High Sparrow on the floor.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Two Holy Fire Knights stepped forward, wrapped the skeleton in a rag, and dragged it out like refuse.
The smell of blood still hung in the air.
Davos Seaworth watched it all, his heart sinking.
He stepped forward, his voice hoarse.
"Your Grace, what should we do next?"
"King's Landing has little food left, and... the people of the city feel..."
He did not finish.
But everyone understood what he meant.
Fear could not sustain a reign forever.
He believed that Lynn's refusal to deal harshly with the Vale and the Riverlands was precisely why they had submitted to him.
War only cost a ruler the people's support.
A king's skill and eagerness for war might prove his valor, but it was never what ordinary people wanted to see.
All the common people wanted was peace.
They would support whoever protected their rights, fed them, and gave them stability and peace.
Yet Stannis did not seem to understand that.
The divine power of the Lord of Light had long since blinded him