"Loras?" she whispered at the figure emerging from the penumbra like a handful of dust whipped up by the wind.
He peeked under his arms that were trying to shield the most part of his body, but that did nothing to hide the blood still on his forehead.
"Loras, it's me," she tried to avoid it, but she couldn't help it. She ran at his side, crouching on the dirty floor in front of him.
"M…Margaery?"
He didn't call her sister.
"Yes, it's me," she reached out to touch him, to hug him, but he crawled back, scared at the mere hint of touching.
She ignored that.
"I'm getting you out," she whispered at his ear as she managed to drape her arms around his body.
"What?"
Margaery turned to see the Sparrow's reaction at her brother's too loud word, but the man must have took that as a sign of surprise for the news of the baby, so she went along with that.
"I know, it's all very sudden and unexpected, but that's how things are," she smiled at him, fighting back the tears naturally forming in her eyes seeing the state of Loras's face when he looked up at her and past her, at the threatening figure of the Sparrow.
"Why don't you get up? We can walk and talk a little," she got up and basically dragged him on his feet. It was already hard to balance him like that, with him leaning against the wall, she didn't even want to imagine how it would've been to reach the horses that were ten miles away.
"Your Grace, I'm afraid to contradict you, but you really shouldn't leave this place."
"We're obviously not going far," she couldn't erase a hint of harshness in her voice, and the monk had the decency to look away.
"Come." Margaery tried to covey a certain softness in the word, but that wasn't easy under those circumstances.
"Actually, Your Grace, you really shouldn't…"
"This place's not healthy for me," she put her hand on her stomach, looking around at the filthy cell where it was almost impossible to breathe right or to even see something for how dark it was. Restraining from screaming at the men was the most difficult thing she'd ever done.
"Well, in this case… But stay inside the building," he granted. The new addition to their ranks wasn't actually in the right state to escape, and there was no need to endanger the royal baby.
"That's really kind of you," she passed her left arm around Loras's back and grabbed his right hand, leading him toward the door. As soon as she realised the Sparrow wasn't following them anymore and had returned to his duties she picked up her pace and hurried up down the corridor as much as Loras allowed her.
"What…where…?"
"I told you. I'm getting you out of here now," she stated trying to make him move faster, but he was already faltering.
"But you…"
"I know, it looks like we've abandoned you, but that was the plan. It had to look like we'd turned our backs on you."
"Plan?" he didn't even sound upset or surprised. He simple sounded… tired. Almost uncaring, as if the matter didn't concern him at all.
"Yes, there was a plan. And it backfired spectacularly. You got caught in the middle, but there's no time for this now," she grabbed his wrist with her left hand and started to run.
She didn't care if he couldn't keep up with her, she would've dragged him. And that was what she was doing: dragging him, pulling at his arm while following back the path she'd traced with the chalk.
They had to leave that place as soon as they could, there was no room for explanation or care; she knew Loras was suffering, that every step was torture to him, but leaving him in there would've been way worse.
They almost made it to the first corridor, to the door, when they saw a Sparrow turn the corner; he wasn't still looking in their direction but it was a matter of seconds. Margaery turned around, desperate to find any sort of concealment, and she couldn't believe it when she spotted a dark passage just a few steps at her right.
She yanked Loras to force him to follow her, but he looked petrified in the middle of the hallway. There was no way to make him move, and when a hand popped out of the passage to tug her away she had to let go of him.
"It's us," whispered a voice at her ear, and she recognised Willam's voice.
"I have to…"
"Not now," he held her back and she was forced to watch silently as the Sparrow approached. Loras was shaking, alone in the middle of the corridor, abandoned once again by his sister.
"Look what the cat dragged in. What are you doing here?" the monk barked, and Loras stiffened, "You know you can't stay here," he passed the little passage Margaery was hiding into with a couple of her men; she could see now that some of them were peering at the scene from an opposite hallway, but she had no idea if the rest of them was in the same passage or scattered somewhere else.
"I thought you knew better than contradicting me," the Sparrow was now towering over Loras, making him look even more shrunken that he already was. Suddenly the man seemed to realise that Loras's presence could be the sign of something else, so his voice changed from the snarl it had been until that moment, "Look at me. I said look at me," he wasn't shouting, but his tone was so harsh that Loras was forced to obey; Margaery could recognise one of his gaoler in that man, or he wouldn't have behaved in such a way.
"Tell me what you're doing here and I can consider avoiding any retaliation for this disobedience."
Loras eyes darted past his shoulder just to meet Margaery's pleading ones.
He remained silent.
"I'll repeat it just once: what are you doing here?"
The queen exchanged a look with her soldiers: they were all holding their breath waiting for the possible outcome.
"I… Nothing," Loras stuttered, looking down.
"Nothing? Are you sure?"
"Yes. I… I… was doing nothing."
"Is this your final answer?"
Loras nodded, unable to speak anymore.
"So you're here, doing nothing, and yet you know it's forbidden to you."
Loras remained silent.
"What're you hiding, uh? I thought you'd learnt your lesson a while ago, but apparently I was wrong. Should I refresh your memory?" The Sparrow grabbed Loras's chin, making him shrink back.
"One final chance to tell me what you're doing out of your cell, you filthy sinner."
There was silence in the hallway, except for the thundering noise in Margaery's ears.
"I'll have to assume you're disobeying me then. Not only leaving your cell, you bloody foul, but you're also refusing to answer me. Maybe I should call the others to help teach you the lesson you seem to not have learned," his grip moved from Loras's chin to his throat.
"Please, not again," was the panicked whisper that came out from Loras's mouth.
Margaery physically felt the blood streaming away from her face, leaving it deadly pale.
"Why not? I thought you enjoyed that."
She couldn't see it, but Margaery could feel the sneer on the man's face.
"I'll call them and they'll help me teach you how to behave. Maybe they'll help me until you learn what's your place now."
The expression on Loras's face was something Margaery had never seen before. Not when the High Sparrow had allowed her to visit him, not at the trial when he was repeating that parody of a confession by heart, not even when a bigoted symbol was being carved on his forehead, not even when he'd risked to drown years ago trying to prove he was better than anyone else at swimming, just to be fished out of the water within an inch of his life; it was something completely different, terror in its primal form, pleading in his eyes.
She could feel the soldiers tensing behind her, ready to do something and at the same time unsure about what to do. It wasn't their place to decide the next move, and at the same time they couldn't stand idly by while their lord, their friend, was being treated in such a way.
Yet she could do nothing.
She was petrified where she was, her teeth grinding, her expression unreadable for the soldiers on the opposite side of the corridor.
Only her hand moved, travelling down her dress.
"Why are you making that face?" the Sparrow's hand moved again to Loras's chin, the movement a foul mockery, "You don't like it from us? Aren't we good enough for you?" he stepped closer, almost closing the gap between them, his voice more threatening than ever, "You only like it from traitors?"
That was the final straw.
Margaery leapt forward, her little dagger ripped from its sheath. She was in the hallway before anyone could realise that, before anyone could even think of stopping her. The dagger was in her hand, her fingers firmly around the hilt.
"Could you kill something?"
"I don't know, Your Grace. Do you think I could?"
"Yes."
She leapt forward and her dagger sank in the Sparrow's kidneys. He didn't even had the time to scream that she was tearing him away from her brother, kicking him in the crotch with her leg, and when the men fell on his knees she started sticking the dagger in his face, in his eyes, in his mouth, in any place she could find, as long as the bastard suffered.
She kept hitting him, unable to stop, blood squirting on her dress, and all she could think about was the beautiful sound of that man's agonising gasps.
He was trying to breath, to scream his pain, but she must have hit the back of his throat with the tip of the dagger or severed his tongue from his mouth, because he could do nothing but choke on his own blood.
Something rang in her head, reminding her she couldn't just keep stabbing that man, so she turned around and grabbed Loras again by the wrist, sprinting toward the door under her brother's shocked stare.
"Go!" Was the shout coming from their soldiers, and in a matter of seconds they were all running toward the door, some of them helping Loras to the tune of ""C'mon my lord, it's us!"
Someone ripped the door open and they all bolted out, turning into the first alley possible as someone made sure to bar the door to prevent the Sparrows from following them.
Margaery, bloodied dagger still in hand, pushed Loras against a wall and started cutting off the filthy robe he was wearing, passing it to someone as another soldier provided to make him wear other clothes; she helped him with his shoes, and as someone helped Loras wear them she started slashing her own dress, revealing the brown one she was wearing under her queenly clothes.
At least this one wasn't covered in blood.
She secured the dagger at the belt, not even cleaning it before relocating it into its sheath, then she grabbed Loras's hand and started moving.
"What… what are you doing?" He asked, squinting in the sunlight.
"I told you. I'm taking you home," she slid into the mob crowding the streets, hoping no one would've noticed her blood covered hands. She eyed their soldiers, who tried to follow them blending in the crowd. They had abandoned their green capes revealing ordinary clothes under them; what they didn't reveal were the weapons concealed in the folds.
"No, I… I can't."
"Don't be daft, of course you can come home."
"No, I don't belong there anymore. I… don't belong with you anymore."
She turned around, looking him straight in the eyes while still walking, "I'm not hearing anymore of this nonsense. You are coming home. Now."
"No no no, it'll be worse if they find us, we can't…"
"If they manage to put their hands on us we're doomed. Both of us. They will execute me, Loras, do you understand? Is that what you want for me?"
He shook his head no.
"Then move, for gods' sake."
"You run. Leave me. Leave me here."
"I'm not leaving without you. Now that's up to you," she stopped in the middle of the street, but no one seemed to mind; except for their soldiers, who froze, unaware of the contents of the conversation.
"You decide. We stay and we both die, or we follow my new plan and hope to get out of here. Do you really want me to die, Loras?"
She had just the time to finish the sentence that bells started ringing. It was the alarm, much sooner than what they'd expected.
Loras looked her in the eyes, those eyes that were the replica of his own, and it was all it took him to decide. He grasped his sister's hand more firmly and started in the direction Margaery was following before.
He knew she wasn't saying that lightly, he could read that kind of determination in her eyes that had often put them into trouble when they were children. He wasn't that sure of her words, words he'd barely heard in his dazed state, but the sentiment conveyed by her eyes was unmistakable. She would've really died rather than leave him behind, and he couldn't tolerate the idea of the Sparrows doing Margaery the same things they'd done to him.
Margaery smiled briefly, then she started running.
As people started looking around to understand what was the reason of the ringing of the Sept's bell another bell made its voice be heard; an obnoxious sound, a sound every citizen of King's Landing knew very well and dreaded terribly.
A sound that meant fire.
"Ignore it, Loras, it's part of the plan," Margaery explained, her mouth already close to his ear since she'd leant in to support him in the now halting crowd. She kept pushing him forward, helping him to limp in the middle of the swarm, "Keep your eyes down," she secured the hood so that it wouldn't slip revealing the forming scar on Loras's forehead, "And move faster, we have to take advantage of this moment of chaos, they'll soon remember what the other bell was for."
It was working, actually.
As soon as they'd heard the alarm all the people in the street had started moving frantically, scattering in the alleys, running to and fro trying to gather a piece of information from the other passers-by. No one was paying much attention to those two hooded figures hurrying down the street, completely ignoring everyone around them.
"C'mon, honey, please," Margaery intended to go as far as she could when the people surrounding them were distracted, and she had no time to respect Loras's pain. People were already starting to question why there had been two different bells ringing, and very little time would've passed before some of the Sparrows would've come for them.
She knew very well that every single moment was vital to them, that they couldn't spare an instant to let Loras catch his breath.
They were midway on the street when they heard the second fire bell ringing in the whole city, sending new waves of panic through the crowd; that was the sign that already too much time had passed, and it was just a matter of seconds before the Sparrows would've found them.
"Hurry up, there's no time."
"I can't…"
"You very well can, and you must."
"No, I…"
"I've no time for your whining. We must be out of the city in a handful of minutes, and I couldn't care less if you feel you should rest a bit. Move," she knew she was being harsh and that Loras deserved to be treated way better by his sister, but if she were to get them both out of there alive she couldn't take care of that too.
She sprinted down the road, clasping Loras's hand in hers, shoving people out of their way; she was basically dragging Loras with her, feeling him stumble behind her. She was about to consider a halt when she was forced to stop.
A group of the faith militant, about ten men, was coming in their direction.
She quickly pushed Loras against a wall, retreating behind a curtain made of human bodies, but they still had to move. The presence of the Sparrows would've rose questions, and they were way too recognisable; maybe not Loras, not with his hair cut and his face so thin Margaery could see his bones under his skin, but her disguise wouldn't have done much to someone who cared to look a little more closely.
"Go," he whispered to her ear.
"Where?"
"Run. They… they'll stay for me."
For how much it cost her to avert her eyes from the upcoming threat she turned around to face him, "Together. We leave together."
"No, save yourself."
She turned again to monitor the monks' coming, using her own body to press him even more against the red bricks and to shield him, feeling his body shiver at the prospect of what he'd just suggested, "I'll only leave with you."
They were about to see them.
The passers-by didn't know what to look for so they still hadn't recognised the Tyrell siblings, but those men knew exactly that Loras had escaped helped by Margaery, and just a quick glance would've revealed them. One of the soldiers had left their clothes next to the Red Keep, that was true, but if they were to see them in the middle of the street there was no trick that could've possibly worked.
Yet there was nowhere they could hide.
The crowd had separated them from the few soldiers who'd stayed behind with them instead of rushing light the fires, so there was no one who would've come to their aid. It was just the two of them now.
Instinctively Margaery reached for her dagger.
They were closer and closer, their only hope was to mingle in the crowd. So Margaery started slithering against the wall, pushing Loras forward to be sure his face remained hidden, but when she heard the voice of one of the monks she froze.
"Good people of King's Landing! I know this is not the right moment to ask you a favour, but we promise we'll help you with these unfathomable fires and with the reconstruction after them. We need your help to find the queen and her brother, who seem to have lost their way back to the Sept. We know you are true followers of the Seven, and the High Sparrow offers a great prize to those who'll help him found his lost sheep."
Margaery looked around, desperate. She had to think quickly, to find a loophole or something to get them out of that situation, but she couldn't come up with anything.
They would've been captured, tortured and killed at the hands of that scum.
She couldn't allow that. Not when she'd promised Loras his freedom. She could feel him pondering the idea of launching himself toward the Sparrows to grant her a chance of escaping.
She was about to scream when she felt someone grabbing her wrist.
"Come with me. Lord Baelish sends me."
Margaery rose panicked eyes to a woman, clearly a prostitute, coming out of an alley just on her left. She'd been so focused on keeping track of the Sparrows' movements she hadn't even noticed it.
"Come now. Lord Baelish offers his help. There's no time."
She didn't need to hear that twice.
With her hand still firmly clasped around Loras's wrist she let the prostitute drag her into the dark alley, then the woman started running in the middle of the diminishing crowd, and so did Margaery.
Loras was right behind her, trying to stifle the protests of his body.
Margaery knew that move was daring, but nothing could've been worse that lingering where they were just seconds before, not even trusting Littlefinger. That could've easily been a trap, but it still didn't seem a worse scenario.
They kept moving in dark passages, narrow streets that had never known what a ray of sunshine was, but at least the people in them were too hungry to question who they were. Usually someone running in that maze of huts meant stealing, and stealing meant a chance of food being shared, so they were all used to stay out of the way to allow their comrades to escape the bright main roads.
"We have to go to the…"
"The Mud Gate, I know," the woman cut her off turning slightly around, "It won't be long now," a look of sympathy appeared on her face.
She wasn't lying. After a few more turns in that maze they reconnected with the end of the Kingsroad, the Mud Gate just across the square.
"Go now," the woman had to push Margaery out of the shadow. She knew what she had to do, but now she was reluctant to abandon the protection that the alley provided.
"Stay with me now. For any reason don't let go of my hand," she quickly kissed Loras on the cheek to convince him, then without waiting for any protest she tugged him along into the main street.
After the dim light of the alleys the main road seemed way too bright.
"Don't look around too much and keep your head down," Margaery reminded her brother once more, but there was no need for that. Loras was already looking down, as if he couldn't find the strength to raise his chin a bit.
She would've dealt with that later.
Margaery slid once again in the crowd, looking around for possible signs of the Sparrows, but apparently they'd remained where they'd left them, still asking people about their whereabouts. Margaery knew that wasn't the safest thing to do, not with the possibility of someone having heard the Sparrows' tirade in the nearby, but that was the plan; she looked up, searching the rotting roofs with her eyes.
The hint of a green cape, that was all she was praying for. They'd decided to have the last checkpoint on higher ground, so the soldiers appointed for the task would've used Loras and Margaery themselves as signals.
As soon as they would've spotted them in the mid of the crowd they would've lit the last fire, providing them the chance to escape.
People were still screaming for the other fires, but Margaery couldn't hear them.
She kept looking at the clouding sky, hoping to help their soldiers recognise them; maybe she couldn't see them from that sea of human bodies, but they had a better shot at finding them if they could recognise her face.
The square was getting closer and closer, way too close for her taste since they had no diversion yet, but she certainly couldn't just turn around and run in the opposite direction, right into the Sparrows arms.
Something finally caught her attention. It was just a sparkle out of the corner of her eye, but that was enough; she abruptly turned her head in that direction, recognising the Tyrell's green.
In a matter of seconds people were screaming again.
Fire spread quickly, devouring the fuel that had been poured on the ground during the night, destroying everything and using everyone who was caught in its way as a tool to reach even more people, to claim more victims.
The square in front of the Mud Gate was turning into a living hell.
The market booths, all of them made of old wood, turned into torches in just a few seconds, the merchants behind them in fire spectres only a heartbeat later.
Margaery started running.
She could feel her nails sinking in Loras's flesh, drawing blood even, but she wouldn't have loosened her grip for her life. She tried to contrast the crowd pushing, panicking, kicking and punching to get away from that burning nightmare, but when the bell started ringing for the fourth time in a handful of minutes she must face the reality that she wasn't in control of their movements anymore.
She couldn't decide the direction anymore, she could only let the crow drag them along trying to keep up with it; in any case, they were all heading to the only opening presenting in front of them.
There weren't soldiers guarding the gate anymore, some of them gone into the fields as the people intended, some, definitely fewer, disappeared in the square in the futile attempt of subduing the flames.
That was exactly what they'd wanted.
No one was looking at the people next to them, they wouldn't have cared if a dragon had landed at their back as long as they were still able to escape certain death.
No one cared about the escape of the Tyrell siblings.
Margaery kept feeling elbows sinking in her ribs, legs kicking her, feet crushing hers, people suffocating her, and she couldn't even imagine how painful that was to Loras, with his body bruised and battered.
She couldn't dwell on the thought, though, not if she wanted to survive the mob.
It would've been rather down turning to be able to evade from the Sept, disappear into the streets and almost destroy the city only to die trampled underfoot.
The gate was closer now for what she could see over the heads of the people in front of her, but she had no way to know if someone was following them. She could only hope they weren't.
She could get a glimpse of the road appearing in front of her, but people around her were almost swamping her, and the possibility of suffocating under the feet of dozens of people was becoming more real with each passing second. She managed to turn her head around and catch Loras's eyes.
He was trying not to succumb to panic, to follow her and to keep steady in the screaming waves of human bodies crushing him, but he was about to lose it. He would've have hadn't Margaery turned to look at him.
As soon as he met his sister's eyes he tightened his grip, letting her know he would've been by her side, even if that meant being crushed by the crowd.
There was no way to use words to communicate, but their eyes were enough.
It wasn't only the gate to be getting closer, but fire too. Margaery could feel the growing heat behind her, and so did everyone else, and the door was so small…
There was no way of breathing now, not with all that people pressing against them, not with the smoke polluting the air and making everyone cough in the falling ashes.
Margaery opened her mouth, her face turned to the sky, her chest convulsing for the lack of air; she couldn't feel her right arm anymore, and with that the hand which was keeping Loras with her. She fought with all her remaining strength, sacrificing what little air remained in her lungs to the last chance of freedom.
She could feel tears of pain running down her ash stained cheeks, the way they almost felt cold in the burning heat surrounding her, and then suddenly there was an open space in front of her.
They had passed the Mud Gate.
The plan had worked.
They were out of the city.
She didn't allow wonder cloud her judgment and she yanked Loras forward and out of the way. Once she was sure no one would've stepped on them in the attempt of escaping she collapsed in the mud with her brother.
Margaery was on her hands and knees trying to catch her breath, but Loras didn't even seem to have the strength for that; he'd just keeled over, lying on his stomach in the mud.
"Loras, there's no time," Margaery sputtered, "We need to move. We can't stay here."
"I can't move."
"We made it through that hell now you're going to get back on your feet," she sat up and clasped his hand in hers.
"No…"
"Please, Loras. Just get up."
"I'm not strong enough. I … I told you."
"That's not true and you know it. We made it through the gate and through that mob, we can't give up now."
"Just … let me rest just a bit."
"We have to go, there's no time to rest."
Loras wasn't listening though, he'd closed his eyes.
"We have to go home," Margaery was almost begging him now. There was despair in her voice, every moment they spent there was a moment of advantage so hardly gained wasted, "We have to go home, Loras," she tugged his arm, forced him to roll over on his side, and when he winced in pain she hauled him up, passing his arm around her shoulders, "C'mon."
"I'll just slow you down."
"I told you: if you stay I stay. So since I'm not moving alone there's no way I'll be slower with you," she stumbled to get up, slipping in the mud under her brother's weight, but with some help from Loras they managed to gain an upright position.
They started limping in the sludge heading toward the river when she saw them.
The unmistakable robes of the faith militant, the clinking of their chains almost deafening to her ears even though they were but a particle of the articulated noise of the people screaming in pain and fear, but they were everything to her.
"Loras. They are here."
He turned around slightly, for what his bruised body allowed him, and he immediately started shivering. He looked at her in despair, questioning her with his eyes about what to do now.
"Move."
They started limping faster, mingling once again in the crowd.
For how much the situation scared her Margaery didn't feel the same breathtaking fear she'd experienced when they'd run into the Sparrows earlier. With their faces covered in mud and ashes no one would ever have recognised them as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the firstborn son of the Lord of Highgarden.
Yet there was no need to assume a foolish risk.
She headed to Blackwater Rush with everyone else, all of them knowing that if fire were to spread to the fields outside the city is was a better idea to be wet and on the other side of a river.
There was nothing to say, they only had to walk.
Loras opened his mouth again when they reached the river bank.
"I can't cross it."
"Of course you can, the water is not deep. And thank to you and Renly so can I."
Loras started hearing the name, yet he said nothing, but he didn't protest either when water touched his feet.
The water was freezing cold after the heat of the burning city, but there was no time to get used to it.
Margaery stopped only for a second at the bite of the icy stream, but she quickly stepped into it before someone started paying attention to them.
She supported Loras in the water, trudging against the stream until water reached their waists; from then on they were forced to separate, each of them on their own devices since continuing to stay close would've meant an almost impossible degree of difficulty.
That sensation, water against her legs, wasn't foreign to her, and yet it seemed so distant. A long time had passed since the last time she'd had a chance to swim. She still recalled those joyous summer days at Storm's End, when she used to dive into the sea at any given moment. Loras had already been staying there for a couple years now when she'd been allowed to visit him and spend a few months at the Baratheon's stronghold; officially she'd been sent there to be presented to the nobility by the King's brother himself, in reality she was there because she and Loras missed each other so much it was unbearable to see them parted.
Margaery considered that time like the happiest of her life.
She'd been hesitant at first, fully aware of her inexperience compared to Loras – let alone Renly who'd spent his entire life into the natural pools of seawater of Storm's End – so she'd preferred to stay on the shore, enjoying the feeling on warm sand on her bare feet. It had been Renly who'd encouraged her to give it a shot, promising her he wouldn't have let her drown. Loras had sarcastically snorted at that.
It wasn't like Margaery had never tried to swim before, but it was different in HIghgarden: there were canals over there, still water where no hidden dangers were to be expected. Maybe it was the idea of salty water that startled her, but after the first few moments of hesitation she'd got rid of her dress and with only her petticoat on she'd started swimming with the boys. Only where she could feel sand under her feet if she were to stretch her legs for the first few days, but after that she could swim pretty decently. She was no match for Renly for sure, but not even Loras was, so she was happy with herself.
It was bittersweet how that skill was coming in handy now.
It was almost like a part of Renly was still there with them, helping them escape, and at the same time it was hard to reconcile those fond childhood memories with the screaming, the pain and the unbearable situation they were facing now.
Margaery was lost in those thoughts when her foot slipped on a round rock sunken in the riverbed, but before the water could wash her away separating her from her brother something caught her by the arm; she looked up to see a man, an unknown man escaped by the fire just like them, who'd been quick enough to catch her before she fell underwater.
She saw something else too.
She saw reckoning.
That man had looked her in the eyes and had recognized her.
He was now gaping at her, suddenly releasing his queen as if he was aware he had no right to touch her majesty, and there was shock in his eyes. He'd probably heard the speech of the Sparrows and the tolling of the bell of the Sept of Baelor, and here was his queen, the fugitive.
The man's eyes diverted from her just to land on Loras, who'd moved forward to try preventing Margaery from falling and was now by her side, and returned to her.
"Please," was all Margaery could mutter.
The man looked at the both of them for what seemed hours. They were almost unrecognisable: the magnificent queen and her valiant brother who had once adorned the rooms of the Red Keep like prized jewels were now covered in mud, ashes, and blood. Queen Margery could still be glimpsed under that layer of dirt, but he would've never been able to recognise Ser Loras without her by his side. There was nothing of the proud gallant young man who used to triumph in jousts and had had a major role in the defence of King's Landing in that hollowed figure; he looked disfigured, not only for the horrible cut on his forehead, but it was like something was broken inside him.
Those two had nothing to do with the royal siblings who'd once entered the city with much fanfare, they were only brother and sister fighting for their lives like anyone of them. They looked like startled fawns who were trying to escape into the woods to hide from hunters.
"Go," he nodded, turning around not to draw further attention on them.
Margaery let out a sigh of relief and grabbed once again Loras' hand
She leapt forward so quickly she almost dived into the stream, water now reaching her armpits. She'd thought them safe, not completely but not so exposed, and now she had to face the fact that anyone could recognise them. Her disguise was so poorly made it had worked as long as someone wasn't looking at them. The first person who'd cared to look a little closer had promptly recognised them for who they were, and they had only been lucky to find a good hearted watcher.
They were swimming now, trying to contrast the strength of the stream pushing them toward the sea and much more perilous waters, and the opposite bank was getting closer and closer; they soon managed to feel something solid beneath their feet, and that meant they had passed the first half of the river. When they emerged from the water Margaery grabbed once again Loras's arm, passing it around her shoulders to support him and to prevent him from stopping.
"I need your help now," she said when water still reached their knees, "There is a path here, I don't know where but I remember you talking about it."
Loras was panting, not really paying attention to her words.
"A hunting path, Loras. You know it well. I need to know where it starts."
They got out the river and shook off a little water while they were still slipping in the mud.
"I know we have to go north for a bit, but I've no idea where the trail starts. Loras," she called him again, this time more firmly, "I relied on you for the plan to work. I told our men you would've been able to lead me in the right direction, so don't you dare let me down. And don't pass out on me," she exclaimed noticing his eyes starting to close.
"I can't, please…"
"You can rest a bit as soon as we are sheltered by the trees, not here in the open. We are too exposed."
Loras was trying to listen to her, he was really trying hard to be helpful, to not be a burden for his sister, but doing all those things together was almost impossible: listening to Margaery, keeping his legs steady and an arm around his sister's waist, ignoring the pain in his body, keeping his eyes open… it was too much for him right now. The last hour had overwhelmed his senses with all the light, the noise, the space allowed to him; he wasn't used to that anymore.
"You used to go there with Renly," that was her last resource, but it worked again. Renly's name did the trick once more, catching Loras's attention.
When Margaery saw her brother's eyes opening a little wider she went on talking, hoping to keep him with her long enough to know what she needed.
"You told me that, remember? You used to go hunting somewhere in the nearby in the rare occasions you managed to get Renly out of the Keep. He always complained about that, but he did that with that small laugh of his on his lips; I think he secretly enjoyed that, being in the woods with you while you had fun riding and frolicking," she said softly, "You told me sometimes you still came here on your own, just to have a taste of what had been. You must remember where the path begins then. You have to lead me there, for I don't know where to start searching. Help me, Loras."
Loras found the strength to snort, "Help you."
"What?"
"You don't need anyone's help," he paused to breathe, "Let alone mine."
"Underestimate yourself as much as you want, but I need you to point me the right way. The meeting point is down that hunting path, so if you want to stop walking and rest you have to focus and help me."
"Fine," he uttered, gathering every remaining strength to find the right direction. It was hard to focus, it was like his brain was on fire, "This way, I think."
The actually headed north, distancing the remaining crowd now scattered on the whole river bank, when something made all of them turn around and freeze.
It was like a thunder, the sound of a thousand buildings collapsing on each other, and suddenly the three fires were swallowed by a green light so bright to outshine the sun itself.
In a heartbeat part of the city was gone.
They had just the time to start screaming that the shockwave toppled them over, sending them to land in the mud once more.
The two siblings looked at each other, but they couldn't find an answer in the other's face.
There was no need to talk now. They scrambled back on their feet and started running again in the screaming crowd that was now moving again; some of the people on the river bank hadn't moved, only capable of staring at that monstrous inferno that used to be the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, some others had started running again to find shelter into the woods. They had no idea what that was, and they wanted to get as much away as possible from the unknown.
That was the same thought spurring Loras and Margaery to sprint toward the trees.
Even Loras was running as fast as he could, as if he felt no pain whatsoever. He had no idea what that was, all he knew was that that thing had been in the same place where they were up to an hour before. The realisation of the danger they had unknowingly faced was enough to make him run as he did before being locked up in the cells.
They ran and ran, thankful for the open space the river bank provided them, until Loras swerved left bringing his sister with him; that was the beginning of the path they were looking for, but that didn't stop them. They raced down the trail immersing into the wood until there was no sight of the city anymore, but they dared to stop only when screams ceased to reach their ears.
"What the hell was that?" Loras uttered collapsing against a tree trunk.
"I've no idea," Margaery answered, sitting on the ground next to him. There was no point in forcing Loras to move after that sprint, he wouldn't have managed even if he wanted to.
"I almost kept you in there…" Loras whispered.
"Excuse me?"
"All that time… to convince me to follow you… you almost got caught in… that. All because of me. Again."
"Nonsense," she hugged him, making him shift and lean his head on her shoulder, "You couldn't know. None of us could. We don't even know what that is."
"It would've killed you nonetheless."
"It would've killed you too."
He huffed in his sister's arms, as if disregarding the importance of such an event.
Margaery decided to overlook her brother's attitude for the moment, "We can't stay here long, we don't know whether someone is following us or not, and I sincerely don't want to find out."
"Please, just…"
"Rest a little more, I have to take care of a few things," she caressed his cheek before moving away from him.
She drew the dagger from her belt and started slashing the inferior part of her dress, throwing away the dirty part and rolling up what was left of her torn skirt; in the stamped that had engulfed them or in the run in the trees the wound on Loras's forehead had reopened, and he was bleeding again even though he didn't seem to notice. When she wrapped the fabric around his head she realised why: he was feverish.
There was not much she could still do for him now, not in the middle of a forest with no water and no herbs at her disposal; all she could do for her brother was help him get back on his feet and go meet their army.
"Loras, we have to go," she kissed his cheek, smearing the tip of her nose with the blood running down her brother's, "I know it's hard, I'm not denying that, but we have no other choice. We have to go home."
Loras's eyes were closed, his head reclined against the tree. Margaery wondered if he'd passed out while she was talking, but then he nodded slightly.
"Just help me," he whispered.
"Of course," she hugged him again, holding him closer.
"I need something… to walk."
"Don't worry, I'll figure out something," she got up, ignoring the pain in her ribs and in her legs. She had to find a sort of aid, anything would've done, so after a few minutes of searching she found the fallen branch of a tree in the nearby, long enough to allow Loras to rest on it and sufficiently straight to serve as a walking stick.
"Here," she brought it to him, helping him on his feet "This'll have to make do."
Loras grunted, then they were on the move again.
They stumbled and faltered on the trail, following it and at the same time being so cautious to look past their shoulders every two minutes.
It was torture to Loras, and Margaery knew it very well, listening to him panting and huffing beside her, but there was nothing she could do to ease his pain. They could only walk and hope for the best: for their soldiers to find them, for no one to follow them.
That wasn't what she'd expected.
She'd been promised the life of a queen since she'd been old enough to understand what that meant, and now here she was, covered in mud, blood and bruises after escaping from her own city, from her own people.
They would've paid for that.
Kindness and sweetness hadn't worked. The very same people she'd fed and sheltered had turned their backs on her, staying away from her pain and suffering as if she meant nothing to them.
Well, she was done with that now.
The people had been happy with her, they'd cherished the refreshing change of a monarch caring about them, but they hadn't respected her.
They didn't fear her, so there was no true respect to be found in their hearts.
But they had underestimated her.
All of them had.
Her father, the High Sparrow. Cersei.
They had no idea what she was capable of.
But they would've found out soon enough.
She was lost in these thoughts when Loras abruptly stopped.
"What's wrong?"
He silenced her with a simple gesture, so she started listening.
She could hear it too, now.
Hooves on the dead leaves, voices. Something that shouldn't have been heard in the middle of a wood.