Alaric watched her for a moment. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the tight muscles in his back stretch after the brutal fight. He didn't feel sorry for her, but he didn't see any need to kill them.
"Take them to the lower dungeons," Alaric ordered the Blood Knight. "Or whatever cells are left standing at the bottom of the hill. Keep them under heavy guard. make sure no one touches them."
The giant knight nodded. He gathered the children and pulled Cersei to her feet. She didn't fight back or scream. She just kept her head down as they dragged her away from the crater.
Alaric turned his back on them. He walked over to the massive dragon skull and climbed up the jagged bone. He stood near the top, looking out over the thousands of kneeling soldiers and lords.
He scanned the crowd and spotted a small group of Dornish guards standing near the back. Prince Oberyn Martell was with them. Oberyn wasn't kneeling, but he wasn't talking either. He leaned on his spear, watching Alaric with a hard, quiet stare.
Alaric raised his voice. It carried clearly over the silent, smoking crater.
"The Iron Throne is gone," Alaric said flatly. "The Lannisters are finished. From this moment on, I am the one and only King in Westeros."
He let the words hang in the air. He rested his hand casually on the hilt of his dark sword.
"Does anyone have an objection?"
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The absolute silence of a hundred thousand men was his answer. Even Prince Oberyn just slowly bowed his head in a silent show of respect.
...
Several hours passed. The sun set, and the deep, dark night settled over the ruined capital.
With the Red Keep completely vaporized, the army had nowhere to sleep. The Tyrell and Northern soldiers spent the evening hauling thick canvas and wooden poles up the Street of Seeds. They built a massive military camp right on the edge of the smooth green glass crater. Hundreds of campfires lit up the dark, casting long shadows over the giant, dead dragon skull in the center.
Alaric spent the first few hours of the night with Sansa, Margaery, and Roslin. They had watched the massive green explosion from the Tyrell camp outside the walls, and the sheer scale of the blast had terrified them. They had practically tackled him when he finally walked into their tent. He spent a long time calming them down, letting them see that he wasn't burned or hurt.
Once the panic settled, they had to get to work. Margaery kissed him quickly and left to help her father and grandmother organize the chaotic supply lines for the new camp. Sansa stayed a little longer, but eventually took a deep breath and left to find Ned Stark. She had a lot of explaining to do to her father.
Now, it was very late. Alaric sat on the edge of a large, comfortable bed inside his command tent.
Roslin sat right beside him. Her legs were pulled up onto the mattress, and she rested her head heavily against his shoulder. The tent was quiet, warmed by a small iron brazier burning in the corner.
Alaric reached up and gently rubbed her arm. He could see faint, dried tear marks on her face in the dim light. She had cried the hardest when she realized he was alive.
"Are you going to sleep?" Alaric asked quietly.
Roslin shook her head slightly. Her soft hair rubbed against his black tunic.
"Not yet," she whispered. Her voice was still a little raspy from crying. "Every time I close my eyes, I just see that green fire shooting into the clouds. I thought..."
She stopped, swallowing hard. She gripped the fabric of his tunic, her knuckles turning white. She didn't want to finish the sentence.
"I told you," Alaric said softly, resting his chin against the top of her head. "Fire doesn't hurt me."
"I know," Roslin murmured. She finally looked up at him, her brown eyes catching the light from the brazier. "But seeing a mountain explode is different than knowing it. I was so scared, Alaric."
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer. The sounds of the soldiers outside felt very far away. Right now, it was just the two of them.
He rubbed her back slowly. The quiet warmth of the tent began to push the cold fear away. Roslin shifted her weight, moving so her body was pressed completely against his side. She tilted her head up. Her eyes were still a little red, but the panic in them was fading into something much warmer.
She leaned in slowly and pressed her lips to his.
Alaric kissed her back. It was a soft, slow kiss to ground her. When she pulled away, he offered a small, teasing smile. He wanted to chase the last of the fear out of her head.
"Did you miss me that much on the road?" he asked, his voice low and playful.
Roslin nodded, a faint blush warming her pale cheeks. "Every single day."
He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time. His hand moved up to cup the side of her face. Her breathing hitched, and her hands slid up his chest to grip his broad shoulders.
Alaric pulled back just enough to look at her. He brushed a stray dark curl behind her ear. "I know you missed me," he whispered. "So... how do I repay you for making you worry?"
Roslin's blush deepened. She lowered her head, shyly hiding her face against the crook of his neck. Her breath was warm against his skin. She let out a small, quiet sigh, her fingers tracing the heavy fabric of his new tunic.
"Do you remember what we talked about when the army was marching south?" she asked softly.
Alaric ran his hand down her back. "I remember."
Roslin shifted closer, her lips brushing lightly against his pulse. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to get pregnant while we were riding into a war. a baby would just make me a burden if something went wrong."
She paused, her fingers slowly reaching up to unlace the top strings of his black tunic. She tilted her head back to look at him again. The sadness was completely gone from her eyes, replaced by a deep, heavy heat.
"But the war is over now," she whispered, her voice dropping into a lower, warmer tone. A small, dirty smile touched her lips. "And told you I wouldn't stop you when it ended. sooo....."