The Fox Hole

Chapter 88:

– Cersei –

Cersei Lannister sat upon the Iron Throne, the harsh, jagged blades digging uncomfortably into her back and thighs. She shifted slightly, annoyed at the constant pinch and discomfort. It was a damned ugly chair, truly awful to sit upon, but it was hers now—entirely and undeniably hers. Even if she had to bleed a little to keep it.

From the towering windows of the Red Keep’s throne room, Cersei could still see thick pillars of black smoke rising from King's Landing, blotting out parts of the pale sky. The air outside smelled like burnt flesh and ashes, drifting in even here, settling bitterly on her tongue.

Let it burn, she thought, with cold satisfaction. Let them all burn. The Tyrells were dead, their pitiful rose banners reduced to ash and rubble. Those pompous, arrogant fucking roses should have known better. Should have known not to challenge her—Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She felt a thin smile curl her lips. Her plan with the wildfire beneath the Sept of Baelor had worked beautifully, perfectly, even better than she'd imagined. The entire sept had gone up in emerald flames, swallowing Margaery, her pathetic brother Loras, their father, and all those smug fools who stood with them.

And yet…there was always something. Always something else that had to go wrong, to steal her triumph from her.

Poor Tommen. Poor, sweet, gentle Tommen. Her youngest son, her little boy, who she'd only tried to protect. She never imagined he'd do something so desperate, so foolish. When she'd been told, it had felt like a cold knife twisting inside her gut, ripping her apart. Tommen had simply stepped out from his window, quiet, without any fuss. He hadn't even cried out. Just stepped silently into empty air, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The guards who witnessed it said he'd barely seemed to blink.

Cersei clenched her jaw tightly, pushing away the memory. She couldn't bear thinking of him, broken and bloodied, lying dead in the courtyard beneath his chamber window. She'd always done everything to keep him safe. Now he was gone, just like Joffrey. Both her sons dead, stolen away by fate or betrayal or stupidity.

Now, only her daughter Myrcella remained. Beautiful, gentle Myrcella—her last surviving child, now more precious to her than anything left in this wretched world. She too had almost been ripped away, poisoned by those damned Dornish snakes. Those Sand Bastards had tried to take her sweet girl. Luckily, Jaime had managed not to be completely useless for once, bringing a full collection of poisons and remedies on his little rescue mission. He'd saved Myrcella’s life, though only just. Now Myrcella was alive, though forever marked by the attempt, wary and a little colder than before.

But at least she was alive. Cersei clung desperately to that thin silver lining.

A scuffling sound snapped Cersei from her dark thoughts. Varys shuffled nervously into the throne room, his usually calm face tense and pale, eyes darting around as though looking for a place to hide.

Cersei scowled, her patience instantly evaporating. "What is it now, Varys?" she snapped harshly. Her voice echoed sharply off the cold stone walls. "Can I not enjoy my new throne for at least one fucking hour before receiving more terrible news?"

Varys bowed awkwardly, apologetic, eyes lowered nervously. "My sincere apologies, Your Grace," he began hesitantly, hands clasped tightly before him. "But ravens arrived late last night. The news they brought is...alarming."

Cersei rolled her eyes impatiently, waving her hand dismissively. "Out with it, Varys. What fresh misery have you brought me?"

"The Twins, Your Grace. The Frey stronghold has been utterly destroyed. Completely burned, everyone inside slaughtered. There is nothing left of the Freys."

Cersei's brows raised slightly. That one didn't upset her so much; she’d always despised the Freys and their smug arrogance. Walder Frey was an old fool anyway, treacherous and repulsive. His death hardly moved her. "Good riddance," she replied flatly, "one less thorn in my side." she had no doubt he would have turned on her family at some point after what he did to the Starks.

"There's more," Varys continued nervously, shifting from foot to foot. "The Citadel in Oldtown...it was burned to the ground as well. Completely destroyed. They say thousands of priceless books and artifacts were lost."

Cersei paused at this, slightly surprised. "The Citadel?" She felt an odd satisfaction, tinged with curiosity. "Who would destroy those old fools and their dusty nonsense? No matter, it hardly affects me. Is that all, Varys? Can you leave me in peace now?"

"No, Your Grace," Varys said, visibly uncomfortable. "There was a massive battle off the shores of the Iron Islands. According to reports. And now, it seems the Ironborn themselves are in open religious revolt! They claim—" He hesitated nervously, swallowing hard. "They claim the Drowned God himself was slain in battle, and his corpse left openly on some remote island for all to see. They claim his killers cooked and ate portions of it… Some type of Fox Deities…"

Cersei stared at him blankly, incredulous silence hanging thickly in the air. Then she burst out laughing—a harsh, mocking sound that echoed sharply through the throne room.

"That's the stupidest fucking lie I've ever heard!" she spat scornfully. "Killed and eaten a god, Varys? Have you finally lost your fucking mind?"

Varys opened his mouth, flustered. "Your Grace, the reports—"

"Shut up!" she snapped viciously. "I don't want to hear any more ridiculous tales about god-killers eating cooked god-flesh. Tell me something real, Varys. What other news from MY kingdoms? Something actually believable!"

Varys hesitated, clearly dreading what came next. His voice trembled slightly. "The North and the Riverlands...it's confirmed. Sansa Stark and her mother, Catelyn Stark, now rule them openly. They've declared independence from your throne, Your Grace."

Cersei’s fists clenched the throne’s edges so tightly her knuckles whitened painfully. Rage boiled violently inside her. "They've declared independence? The North and Riverlands ceded from me? The Queen of the fucking five kingdoms, is that it now?" she hissed dangerously. "I won't have it. I'll burn their lands to ash before I accept it."

Varys nodded meekly, visibly shaking. "There is one more thing, Your Grace. It seems Lady Sansa and Lady Catelyn have openly announced their betrothal to… the Fox Deity that killed the Drowned God. A being said to possess immense, impossible power."

Cersei’s fury exploded. "Get out!" she screamed, voice cracking in violent rage. "Get out of my sight! I'm tired of your ridiculous stories! Go tell someone else your idiotic fantasies!"

Varys bowed quickly, visibly relieved at his dismissal, and hurriedly exited the throne room, leaving Cersei alone upon the cold Iron Throne, breathing heavily with anger.

She stared at the great doors he’d exited through, teeth gritted, hatred and frustration burning through her veins. They were mocking her—all of them. Her own advisors, the remaining kingdoms, even the very gods themselves, making her throne seem small and weak.

But they were wrong. She was Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and she would see every last person who mocked her turned to dust. Starting with those damned Starks and their northern allies, and finishing with anyone else foolish enough to doubt her.

She settled back harshly against the uncomfortable throne, ignoring the sharp blades digging painfully into her skin.

Let them laugh, let them whisper nonsense. She was queen, and she’d make every last one of them pay dearly for their insolence.

They would learn to fear her, one way or another…

– Haru –

I groaned deeply, my head sinking further back into the pillows as Catelyn moved above me, her hips rolling steadily. 

The warmth of her body enveloped me completely, her slick, velvety pussy sliding up and down slowly, squeezing rhythmically around my cock. Gods, she felt so fucking good. 

I’d never get enough of her!

My ten golden tails spread lazily around me, draping over the tangled sheets. Each of them trembled slightly in pleasure with every subtle clench of her around me. 

The early morning light was just beginning to creep through the windows, casting everything in soft, gentle illumination. 

Catelyn’s red hair was loose and messy, wild strands framing her flushed face. She’d long since stopped worrying about how she looked, her cheeks were flushed pink from hours of pleasure, her eyes hazy with lust and exhaustion. 

To me, she had never looked more beautiful.

Her breasts bounced enticingly with every movement, soft and heavy, their perfect curves captivating me completely. My eyes followed them hungrily, drinking in the way her nipples stood out proudly, pink and swollen from my eager attention.

“Oh, gods, Haru,” she whispered, panting softly, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and desire. “You feel incredible…please, don’t hold back. Finish inside me, my love.”

I growled softly, the sound vibrating through my chest as my hands slid down her back, gripping her soft, firm ass tightly. Her skin was damp beneath my fingers, slippery with sweat from our long night of passion. The slick sounds of our lovemaking filled the room, each wet slap of our bodies joining together sending another thrill of pleasure racing down my spine.

Her hips moved more urgently now, grinding down against me harder, faster, her eyes squeezing shut as her body tightened around mine. Her nails dug gently into my chest as she chased her release, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

“Fuck, Cat—!” I groaned, my body tense with pleasure. “You’re squeezing me so damn good…I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Don’t,” she urged softly, leaning down to kiss me deeply. Her tongue slid into my mouth eagerly, tangling hungrily with mine as her body continued to ride me insistently. “Let go, Haru. I need it—I need you to fill me.”

That was all I needed to hear. With a deep, shuddering groan, I thrust up into her, burying myself deep as my orgasm erupted. White-hot pleasure shot through every nerve in my body, my cock pulsing powerfully inside her as my cum spilled forth, filling her deeply, completely. Catelyn’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as she came with me, her pussy tightening like a vice, milking every last drop from me!

Her hips jerked erratically, body trembling as her orgasm tore through her. Finally spent, she collapsed against my chest, her breasts pressing warmly into my skin, her heart hammering against mine. My cock continued pulsing gently inside her, my seed filling her in warm, thick spurts, the overflow trickling slowly down my shaft and onto our thighs.

I wrapped my arms gently around her, holding her close, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. My lips brushed tender kisses along her forehead, cheeks, and finally her softly parted lips. “You’re amazing, Cat,” I murmured affectionately, stroking her sweat-dampened hair.

“Mmm, love you…” she mumbled sleepily against my chest, voice heavy with exhaustion. “But gods, my love, I need sleep now. You’ve worn me out completely… And Sansa, she didn’t even wake up.” Catelyn sighed lazily.

I chuckled softly, still breathing heavily as my heart slowly calmed. “You’ve earned it, Cat. Sleep as long as you need.”

Catelyn shifted slowly, reluctantly sliding off me, a soft sigh escaping her lips at the sensation. She sank down onto the bed beside Sansa, who was still deeply asleep, her lovely face relaxed and peaceful, red hair spilled across the pillow. 

The two women curled up almost instinctively together.

I sat up slowly, stretching my limbs and tails languidly, enjoying the dull ache of satisfied muscles and the lingering warmth of their bodies. A quiet, satisfied smirk spread across my lips at the sight of the two beautiful redheads sleeping tangled together.

Slipping silently from the bed, I made my way to the adjoining bathroom. A long, hot bath wwas needed for sure…

–

I finally made my way down to Winterfell’s dining hall almost half an hour later, feeling significantly more refreshed. It took longer than expected to thoroughly scrub all ten of my tails. They’d gotten quite messy last night, and it took some serious effort to make sure I looked and smelled decent enough for company. 

Especially family with strong noses.

Yawning quietly, I stepped into the dining hall. The large stone room was filled with the comforting aroma of fresh bread, sizzling bacon, and strong coffee. Winterfell's serving staff bustled efficiently around the long table, carefully laying out trays of hot food, fresh fruit, and steaming drinks. 

Nothing of the quality I could make, but this was vacation after all and I wasn’t expected to cook every meal.

Across the table sat my family, already comfortably settled in for breakfast—or breaking their fast, as everyone called it here. 

Kunou glanced up immediately, her bright golden eyes locking onto mine as a mischievous smile spread across her face. “Onii-chan!” she called loudly, bouncing excitedly in her chair and waving me over. Her tails swayed happily behind her as she tilted her head curiously. “You sure took forever waking up today. What happened last night? There was a whole bunch of noises…”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks as I took my seat, coughing awkwardly. “Uhhh….” Damn, the kid had fox ears sharper than mine sometimes. 

Yasaka—my dear mother—was no help at all. Her own golden eyes sparkled knowingly as she shot me a teasing, foxy grin over the rim of her teacup. “Indeed, dear son. You must learn to keep it down when surrounded by other people. Did you get any sleep at all?” Yasaka purred smoothly, clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

I sighed heavily, knowing I couldn’t escape their teasing. “... No, I didn’t sleep. But I’m perfectly fine...”

I was pretty tired actually, but I wasn’t going to ruin Kunou’s day.

Mom arched one elegant eyebrow skeptically. “Hmm, if you say so. You do look rather tired though, dear. Perhaps pacing yourself a bit more might help in the future.”

“Coffee should fix me right up. Speaking of…” I glanced down the table toward Tanya, sitting quietly beside Kunou.

Tanya already had three empty mugs sitting neatly stacked beside her, with a fourth one pressed firmly between her fingers. She looked deeply focused, sipping methodically from the steaming cup. Tanya wasn’t much of a morning person, so it wasn’t exactly unusual, but the shadows under her eyes seemed even darker than normal today.

“Hey, Tanya,” I called out gently. “Rough night for you too, huh?”

She raised her eyes slowly, regarding me flatly over the rim of her coffee mug. “I’m not the one who kept half the castle awake with those loud noises, Haru. I’d appreciate it if you could keep it down next time.” She paused deliberately, taking another slow sip. “Some of us actually want to sleep.”

Kunou giggled again, hiding her mouth behind both hands. Yasaka just smiled serenely, clearly amused.

“Fair enough,” I muttered sheepishly, quickly pouring myself a generous mug of coffee. I took a deep, savoring gulp, feeling the warmth flow through me, melting away some of my lingering tiredness. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Tanya rolled her eyes slightly, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, softening her grumpy morning demeanor. “See that you do.”

Kunou bounced restlessly in her seat, her impatience obvious. “Hurry up and eat, Onii-chan! It’s finally my turn to pick where we’re going today! Remember?” Her tails swayed excitedly, almost knocking into Yasaka beside her. 

I couldn’t help smiling warmly at her enthusiasm, nodding quickly as I reached for some toast and bacon. “I remember, Kunou-chan. It’s all up to you today.”

“Yes!” She nearly vibrated in her seat, ears twitching happily. “I want to go to King’s Landing! I want to see the Red Keep and the city and all the princesses and knights!” Her expression became suddenly serious, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

– Myrcella –

Myrcella Lannister sat alone in her lavish chamber within the Red Keep, quietly staring at her own reflection in the ornate silver mirror across from her. Her golden-blonde hair spilled loosely over her shoulders, carefully brushed but otherwise left undone. So much had changed—and in so short a time.

She was still trying to grasp the reality of it all. 

Her brothers were both dead. 

Joffrey…well, good riddance to him, honestly. Myrcella had always despised her eldest brother’s cruelty and his vile temperament.

But Tommen…sweet, gentle Tommen. He had deserved far better than what fate handed him. Tears stung briefly at her eyes as she swallowed hard, pushing down the grief. 

Crying never helped anything. Her mother had taught her that.

And then there was Dorne…

Those Sand Snakes, those treacherous Dornish bastards, had murdered Prince Doran—her beloved Trystane’s uncle. And Trystane himself…Her heart squeezed painfully, fresh grief clenching tight. He had been so gentle, so sweet with her. They had loved each other genuinely. 

She had even dared to dream of happiness with him—only for that happiness to be poisoned, quite literally. Those snakes had tried to kill her too. She was supposed to be dead alongside Trystane, but by some miracle—or sheer luck—her fa…her uncle Jaime had brought antidotes. He’d saved her life, but not her heart. Trystane was gone forever, stolen cruelly from her by his own cousins. 

Kinslayers—monsters, all of them.

Her room was silent except for the occasional distant muffled voice of a guard outside her door. Her mother had ordered half a dozen Lannister men to stand watch at all times, making sure nobody but trusted family disturbed Myrcella’s grieving solitude. She hadn’t asked for the guards, but there they stood, armor clanking softly whenever they shifted. She’d considered ordering them away, but hadn’t the energy. 

It hardly mattered. No one could ease her pain. She had no friends–

“Hi there! I’m Kunou! Who are you?”

Myrcella jumped sharply at the sudden, high-pitched voice echoing cheerfully through her quiet chamber. Her gaze snapped up instantly, eyes wide with startled confusion. 

Sitting cross-legged atop her neatly made bed was a young girl she had never seen before. A child, perhaps ten years old, with vibrant golden hair and striking, clearly inhuman features. Her eyes gleamed brightly, golden and slitted like a fox’s, and atop her head perched two fluffy fox ears. Behind her swayed nine incredibly soft-looking tails, golden fur shimmering gently in the daylight streaming through the windows.

Myrcella froze completely, blinking rapidly, utterly speechless at the unexpected sight. Had she finally gone mad from grief? Was this some kind of strange hallucination?

The fox-girl tilted her head slightly, smiling in friendly curiosity. “Hello? Did you hear me? Who are you?”

Myrcella swallowed, forcing herself to regain her voice. Her reply came out hesitantly, carefully neutral. “…Hello. Who…who exactly are you?”

“I just told you!” The girl bounced off the bed easily, landing gracefully on bare feet. She stood smiling brightly, tails swishing lazily behind her. “My name is Kunou. Who are you?”

Myrcella cleared her throat awkwardly, still staring openly. “I’m…Princess Myrcella. Myrcella Lan–Baratheon.” she corrected herself, although she knew it wasn’t really true.

Kunou’s eyes immediately widened, excitement radiating from her small body. She let out a delighted squeal. “A real fairytale princess! I’ve always wanted to meet another princess!” She darted forward, halting only inches away, peering up at Myrcella eagerly. “Will you be my friend? You can hang out with me and Tanya-chan and we’ll all have so much fun!”

The innocent joy in Kunou’s voice was so genuine, so earnest, that Myrcella felt herself softening despite her initial confusion and wariness. Perhaps this was a dream after all? A strange, vivid dream—but maybe not an unpleasant one.

“You are also a princess?” Myrcella asked gently, unable to keep curiosity from creeping into her voice.

Kunou nodded enthusiastically, golden ears flicking cutely. “Mhm! My mom’s the queen of the yokai, so that means I’m definitely a princess.” She said it proudly, puffing up slightly with adorable pride.

“The…yokai?” Myrcella repeated uncertainly, tasting the strange word.

“Yes, that’s us! We’re yokai—Kitsune to be exact.” Kunou lifted her fluffy tails as evidence, giggling. “We’re on vacation right now, visiting Westeros.This is our second castle already. Well, technically our third. But my nii-chan destroyed the Twins so that castle doesn’t count anymore.”

“What? Second castle…? D–Destroyed?” Myrcella echoed faintly, trying to keep up.

Kunou nodded eagerly, frowning briefly as she sniffed the air. Her small nose wrinkled slightly. “Yes! We were in Winterfell yesterday. It’s super cold there! This place…” She paused, sniffing delicately again. “Your city smells really bad, Princess Myrcella. Does it always smell like burning poop?”

Burning poop? No. 

Does it always smell like poop though… Sadly yes.

Myrcella felt a rush of embarrassment. “Um…No. Well, not usually this bad,” she admitted awkwardly, suddenly feeling the need to apologize. “It’s been…rough lately.”

Kunou looked at her, expression suddenly sympathetic. “You seem really sad, Myrcella-chan,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “Did something bad happen?”

Myrcella’s throat tightened unexpectedly. “Lots of bad things,” Myrcella admitted quietly, sinking onto the edge of her bed beside Kunou. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “My brothers died. And the man I loved…he died too. People keep dying around me. Everything’s changed.”

Suddenly Kunou’s small hand shot out and grabbed hers firmly.

"Enough sadness!" Kunou declared enthusiastically, squeezing Myrcella’s hand in both of her tiny palms. "You need to cheer up, Myrcella-chan. And nothing cheers someone up like going out and having fun!"

Myrcella blinked in surprise, taken aback by the sudden energy radiating from the strange fox-girl. "Wait—Kunou, slow down," she protested weakly, her voice hardly above a murmur. "I can't—my mother won't allow—"

"Nonsense!" Kunou interrupted cheerfully, already pulling her effortlessly toward the door. "We’re princesses, remember? We can do whatever we want! Now let’s go!"

Myrcella stumbled forward, astonished by the incredible strength the small girl possessed. For a moment, she tried digging her heels into the rich carpet, but Kunou didn't even slow down. It was as if Myrcella weighed nothing at all.

The massive wooden door to her chamber was bolted shut, barred securely from the outside. Her mother had made sure of it, determined to keep her safe, or imprisoned, depending on perspective. 

But Kunou seemed oblivious to the heavy iron bolt holding the door firmly shut.

"Wait, it's locked!" Myrcella gasped desperately, expecting Kunou to stop.

Kunou didn’t stop.

She simply placed one small palm casually against the solid oak, and shoved.

With a thunderous crack, the thick wooden door exploded outward, the iron bolts and hinges snapping like brittle twigs. Myrcella stared in mute disbelief as splinters and pieces of iron scattered loudly across the stone hallway floor.

Standing directly on the other side, a towering figure clad in dark armor slowly turned, his massive bulk almost filling the hallway completely. Myrcella instantly recognized him—Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain himself. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly; he had always frightened her deeply, his dead, soulless gaze making her skin crawl.

He loomed menacingly, his enormous hand instinctively reaching toward the hilt of his sword. The massive blade was larger than most full-grown men, and easily capable of slicing anyone clean in half.

"Intruder…" the Mountain growled darkly, the sound guttural and disturbing, echoing off the stone walls.

Myrcella’s blood ran cold. Panic rose swiftly in her chest. "Kunou, wait, he's dangerous—!" she began desperately.

But Kunou paid no attention at all. She simply stared up at the massive armored man with innocent curiosity, completely unfazed. "I'm kidnapping the princess!" she announced cheerfully, pointing proudly at Myrcella beside her. "We’re going to have fun, and you're not invited!"

The Mountain made a low sound of irritation, his gauntleted hand gripping tightly around the handle of his enormous sword as he took one menacing step forward, clearly intending violence.

But before he could fully draw the blade, Kunou stepped calmly forward herself, and placed a single tiny hand squarely against the Mountain’s chest plate. She smiled sweetly, innocent and untroubled. "You should probably move out of the way," she advised politely.

Then, with a casual, effortless shove, Kunou pushed him.

Myrcella’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in shocked amazement. 

Gregor Clegane—one of the strongest, largest men she had ever seen—was lifted clean off his feet by the petite fox-girl's gentle push. The Mountain flew backward through the air, slamming heavily into the thick stone wall of the hallway with a massive crash. Stone cracked loudly beneath him, fragments raining down around his enormous, prone body. He lay still, unmoving and silent, clearly knocked completely unconscious from the single push.

The guards standing at their posts along the hallway stared in stunned disbelief, jaws hanging open, swords halfway drawn. No one dared move a muscle, every pair of eyes wide and staring directly at Kunou. The little fox princess didn’t seem to notice their astonishment—or perhaps didn’t care.

"There, that's better!" Kunou said cheerfully, brushing off her small palms casually, as if she’d merely dusted off her hands. She immediately grabbed Myrcella’s trembling hand again, gently pulling her along once more. "Now, let’s hurry up and have fun!"

Myrcella’s heart hammered wildly inside her chest, adrenaline flooding through her veins. Her mind was a chaotic mess of confusion, disbelief, and a strange exhilaration she'd never experienced before. Who was this little girl, exactly? How was any of this possible? Was she dreaming? None of this felt real, and yet somehow—it very much was.

"Wait—Kunou, hold on! Where are we even going?" Myrcella protested faintly, though her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.

– The Seven –

Hidden deep within a dimension unseen by mortal eyes, the Seven—proud, divine beings who had guided and meddled in Westerosi lives for countless centuries—stood gathered in a tight circle. Their celestial forms glowed brightly, each deity crackling with barely-contained rage.

The Father stood imposingly at the head of their gathering, his ethereal white beard bristling angrily. “She blew up our fucking sept! OUR sept! Do you know how long it took mortals to build that place up? And she killed every single priest we had down there!”

“Thousands of years of worship, destroyed by a single arrogant mortal,” the Mother snapped irritably, golden robes fluttering dramatically around her ethereal form. “We can’t just let that stand! We must punish this Lannister woman immediately.”

“I agree completely!” the Warrior roared, slamming a ghostly fist into his open palm. “It’s been ages since I personally cursed a mortal. Cersei Lannister has it coming. The absolute nerve—who does she think she is?”

The Stranger hovered silently nearby, hooded face dark and unreadable, clearly indifferent to the outrage. 

Meanwhile, the Smith shook his glowing head tiredly, already exhausted by his siblings' bickering. “Please, can we just hurry it up?” The Smith muttered wearily. “I have more important things to do than listen to endless complaining.”

“Quiet, brother,” the Crone hissed, holding a long, spectral finger to her cracked, withered lips. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned the mortal plane. Her aged, gnarled face twisted suddenly in startled fear. “Wait—hold on. Shit! Something else is down there—right there in King’s Landing!”

The Father’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

The Crone shuddered visibly. “Them—the anomalies! Those horrifying fox-beings! The ones who murdered the Drowned God—who ate him! They’re there, right fucking now!”

The Maiden squeaked loudly, her usually serene, glowing face blanching pale. “Wait—wait, what? Those fox creatures are actually in King’s Landing? Our primary seat of worship?”

The Warrior’s shoulders slumped suddenly, his previously furious bravado instantly deflating. “Oh fuck. Those monsters ate an entire deity without even blinking. What the hell are they doing in our city? Didn’t they already fuck up the Iron Islands enough?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Mother snapped anxiously, visibly trembling in alarm. “They're here now, and if they discover us, we’ll end up just like that poor wet fool!”

“Fuck Westeros, honestly,” the Father declared suddenly, lifting his shimmering chin stubbornly. “Seriously, we’ve given these idiots centuries of guidance and they still blow up our churches and murder each other constantly. What’s the point?”

The Smith nodded rapidly in instant agreement. “Westeros sucks. Humans suck. I've been saying it for millennia. Let’s cut our losses and just go.”

The Maiden’s voice rose nervously. “But…where would we go? Westeros has always been our place of worship.”

The Warrior scoffed loudly. “Oh please. That ship has clearly sailed. These Westerosi assholes clearly don’t appreciate us anyway. If they’d rather worship drunken idiots and incestuous tyrants, let them.”

“Agreed,” the Crone said dryly, a hint of dark humor creeping into her ancient voice. “It’s time we move somewhere more appreciative. Perhaps Essos—the Red God seems to be doing pretty damn well over there. We could…share space?”

The Mother’s expression soured instantly. “Ugh, the Red God? You mean R’hllor? He’s so obnoxiously dramatic. Always burning things and screaming about fire. Honestly…”

“Yes,” the Father said irritably. “But I’d rather deal with R’hllor’s theatrics than end up as some fox-demon’s lunch. Fuck that entirely. We’re leaving. Now!”

“Fine,” the Maiden sighed sadly. “I’ll miss our sept, though. It really was pretty.”

“Was being the key word,” the Warrior grumbled sourly. “Now it’s just a smoldering crater. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Without further hesitation, the Seven raised their glowing hands in hurried agreement, shimmering divine energies swirling around them as they hastily prepared their escape.

“Farewell, Westeros,” the Father muttered bitterly. “And fuck you very much, Cersei Lannister. Enjoy your empty throne!”

XXX

…They ran away… 

At least Kunou made a new friend.