"...And we came straight here, milord. I do not believe that any of the Faithful marked us leaving, but it is possible." Stannis' spymaster had delivered news of the Queen's cuckoldry with all the pomp and circumstance of a man reading off the list of a lineage.

The words echoed in the near-empty throne room. All had been made to leave except for Selmy, Seaworth, Jon, and Stannis himself, and for a moment none of them spoke.

"Am I to understand," the King finally growled, the words short and clipped, "that as we speak, my Queen is whoring herself out to a member of my own Kingsguard?"

Davos coughed. "I believe so, your Grace. I have known for some time that the Queen favors Ser Florent and Ser Trant with these times of prayer, but infrequently, and neither go to pray if they are not with her. I thought nothing of it before now, but having seen the room myself..." Davos winced. "Too many of Lady Lyanna's observations ring true. Either way, I have seen to it that I will be sure before too long."

Doubtless, Davos had some pot boy of Flea Bottom on a nearby tower with spyglass, or something equally ridiculous. Regardless, he could be depended on to find the truth of the matter. Lowborn, but trustworthy, with that latter fact being all the rarer as days went by. Trust. He had not trusted Cersei, but this, this was beyond what he could have ever expected. His bowels twisted, full of bile and hate.

"We should act cautiously, Your Grace." Jon Arryn stepped between him and Davos. The Old Falcon's face was proud but strained. He was as shocked by this as anyone. Good. A man who reacted to this news in stride could not be trusted. "Adulterer or no, Cersei is still the daughter of one of your most powerful vassals. If we accuse her without ample evidence, it will mean war. At this junction, that would be disastrous. Half your Stormguard and the might of the Stormlands are fighting in the marches, the fleet is up by the Bite, hunting pirates, and relations with half your vassals are still poor. This matter requires delicacy."

Curse the Hand for being a troublesome fool. Curse him for forestalling justice. Curse him most of all for being right. Stannis rose from the throne, thunder rolling between his ears. "Delicacy, perhaps, but decisiveness as well. Tywin does not mewl at weakness, and with every moment we risk the Queen learning of what we know."

"True," Jon replied. "But hot blood breeds rash decisions. If this testimony is true, the Queen's treachery follows a pattern, visiting this same place; with care, we can entrap her in such a manner that no man, not even Tywin, can contest the claims of her infidelity."

Stannis glowered at the Old Falcon. Caution and restraint. Was this what he had counsel he had offered Robert, offered his own heir? It did not matter. The Hand's advice could be blessed wisdom from the Gods themselves and still Stannis could not make himself heed it. To hide the truth from the Queen? To lie with her with nothing but hatred in his heart? He was ill-suited to such mummery.

"And should the truth slip?" Stannis gnashed his teeth. "No, I will not stomach that risk. She is in the act now, and if we move we can catch her. You, I, and a hundred Stormguard should be witness enough."

"And if your Whisperer is wrong?"

Stannis' lip curled as he rose from the throne. "Then we shall make obeisance at the shrine of the Father and return. If I am to play at mummery, that is at least an act I'm familiar with." Long strides bore him past Jon and down from the dais.

Jon nodded in reply and began to walk with him. "You, I, and Selmy should all go, so as to make the accusation unquestionable." Jon paused and turned to Barristan Selmy nearby. "Ser Barristan, what do you make of these accusations?"

Selmy fell in behind them. "I would like to say that no member of the Kingsguard could do such a thing, your Grace, but Meryn Trant is not a person of high moral character. I am surprised to hear that he has done this, but more because I would have thought him too cunning than because of any belief in his character." Barristan hesitated. "If you will recall, I spoke against his nomination to the Kingsguard after Mandon Moore's position came open."

He had, and all the lords had thought him loyal to the dragons. No, Meryn was one of the few appointments he had allowed Cersei to make, and he was sly and cruel. Stannis could easily believe him capable of such a thing. Enough. "Seaworth, see to it that my Masters of Law and Coin are brought to the SmallCcouncil room to await me, and if they try to leave, insist on the importance of the meeting. The Lord Hand and I, along with the Stormguard, Kingsguard, and Lady Lyanna will return to the Sept and witness whatever the truth of the matter is. "

"Lady Lyanna, ser?"

"She is the accuser, here, is she not? We need witnesses and we need a guide, and she is a Stark, whatever else she is." Venom entered his voice, but he would not apologize for it. For nigh on a year she had suspected this, and only now she spoke? Davos' account hinted at dark things; witchcraft and visions. Stannis wondered if he had ever truly known her at all. What other secrets might she know, might she be hiding? Had she remained silent for so long because of doubt, did she nurse a grudge over Jon Snow's imprisonment, or was this all some part of a larger scheme? Enough. Her slowness could be considered later. For the moment there was greater treachery with which to be concerned.

His blood was sulfur, his mouth was ash, and he could not say why. His marriage had never been one of love. They shared hatred for each other, and at other times a bed, no more. No, her cuckoldry did not surprise him. Her boldness surprised him more, but surprise was not sufficient to explain what he felt. Such thoughts could wait.

The children would have to be disinherited. The girl was his, but no child of a whorish queen could sit the Iron Throne. Of Steffon, the boy who he had named after his own father, he was less sure. Green eyes and black hair, but the boy's feature were not his. It did not matter, though. Whatever love he had spent on them was wasted, both of them would be bastards by morning, victims of their mother's wantonness. How many babes would grow up in the Maidenvault? Stannis swallowed the hatred toward her that welled up in him and rode on. They could worry about succession when Cersei occupied a Black Cell.

Stannis strode out from the chamber, pulling Lyanna into his wake. Jon followed just behind, speaking with a low tone. "Your Grace, t'would be expedient to send a smaller party than what you initially stated. A hundred Stormguard entering the Sept of Baelor will not do so quickly or quietly, and we do not want to give them warning. Moreover, a party of highborn knights will serve as both guards and as witnesses."

"Highborn knights such as cluster in my keep are full of ambition," Stannis growled. "How many can we truly trust?"

"A few are sound," Jon stated. "Whatever choice is made, we must make it quickly."

"Very well. Gather them." Haste, they required haste, and a hundred Stormguard could not be gathered quickly or quietly. There were dozens of knights loitering about the keep, and as they went down to the stables, Jon pulled them aside as they walked through the keep; men practcing at arms, already prepared for action. Fossoway, Bracken, Piper, Caron, Royce, second sons of second sons or worse, but they would serve.

Within half an hour they were riding up Visenya's hill, two dozen knights along with Barristan Selmy, Preston Greenfield, Richard Horpe, Jon Arryn, Lady Lyanna, and himself. It was no great host, but they were not riding to war just yet. The only force in the city that could match them was the goldcloaks, and their captain was Stannis' own man. Ser Florent had some pull amongst their number, but he could not have gathered enough of them quickly enough to make a difference even if he had known of this, and Seaworth should have found him by now in any case.

Ratmen bearing Davos' seal accosted them as they rode, bearing news from their spying. The Queen was in the sept, the Queen had dismissed her attendants, the two of them had actually entered the Shrine of the High Septon. His fury rose in tempo with each one of them. What purpose did the queen have in doing this? What end did this serve, other than spite or lust? And if lust, then why should she set upon a fool like Imry Florent? Why… but no, it did not matter why. Her fair head would roll for this, damn her. His teeth ground against each other at the thought. Stannis had put his cloak over her, vowed to protect her, and he had meant it - and now he must kill her. That terrible truth danced before him, but he pushed it aside. Curse them all, could they not get to the Sept more quickly? He needed less time to think.

Finally, they came to the plaza. The crowd parted between them, but slowly, for Stannis would have no formal announcement of his presence. He and Jon both had donned simple armor and ridden forth with no heraldry, his crown beneath a great hood. The White Cloaks had donned simple tabards over top of their usual wear. Stannis would not have any well-meaning merchant's words wafting up to be heard by his treacherous queen.

They left the horses outside the sept and with them a few knights there to guard the exit. Other knights he sent around to guard the various exits, lest the Queen attempt to flee. Selmy and others he sent to the High Shrine of the Father, where Meryn Trant was supposedly worshipping. The main force marched through the sept toward the shrine of the Maiden, their steel ringing out in the sanctuary. Carrying weapons was not forbidden here, but such numbers of knights would be a rarity, and Stannis could hear the murmuring of the crowd rising as everyone stared at them. Well, they would have enough to murmur about soon enough.

"Ser," An aged septon called out as they drew near to the Shrine, "SER! Ser, the high shrine is reserved for use of the-"

Stannis stepped forward, lifting the hood from his shoulders so that the man could see his crown. "It is now reserved for use of the king, devout one. I have urgent need to make prayer to the Maiden. Stand aside." The septon nodded meekly and moved away.

"The KING?" A nearby septon screeched. "The KING is HERE?" Stannis' eyes whipped to the man. A short, shrewish man, whose eyes held more fear than surprise. A lookout of Cersei's, trying to warn her. The Septon got one more yell free before a mailed fist knocked him to the floor. One of Arryn's knights. The knight had no doubt come to the same conclusion as Stannis had, but Stannis cursed him for the action he took.

No time. Things had become yet more urgent. They rushed into the High Shrine, and as promised it was empty of the Queen, but not of the passage Lyanna had described. Stannis' long legs ate up the ground at a vicious pace, the clattering of everyone's mail filling the passageway with noise.

Meryn Trant's sword nearly took his head off.

Stannis never saw the blade coming, pure reflex saving him before he even registered he was being attacked. He ducked to the side and the blow glanced off of the mail on his shoulder. His shoulder throbbed as he drew his mace, sidestepped another blow, and thrust his mace directly into the man's belly.

Meryn Trant coughed and heaved, falling to the ground in a heap. He was not armored, he was barely even dressed, and Stannis's gall rose at the idea that he had nearly died to such an ill-prepared man. Reckless fool. But this was a distraction. Meryn Trant was unimportant. "Find the QUEEN." Stannis hissed. She could not have gone far. There were three more passages leading away from this place. According to Lyanna, one of them led further into the great sept and the other two led back into two of the other high shrines.

"Horpe, take four men and go into the sept to find my whoring wife. Greenfield, secure your White Brother and bring him with us. Everyone else, with me."

"Hold, hold!" A voice called, and Barristan Selmy came up the far passage, along with four of his knights. Between them, defeated, angry, and half-dressed…

His Lady Wife.

Her fine red dress had clearly been hastily thrown over her head moments before. She stepped over her own smallclothes as she drew near, her face twisted with rage. Bruises from the short scuffle in the passageway were already blossoming on her arms, and her hair fell in a tangled mess about her shoulders. Still, she walked with haughty pride.

She would die for this. Stannis knew that, cold, inescapable truth. She had to, or else justice would not be done. A hundred other cruelties she had done, but this one could not be forgiven. She had not slighted him, she had slighted the whole realm, undercut its stability with her wanton disrespect for duty. There would be blood over this. Dozens of men at least would die for her sins. More likely, thousands would die, and women Cersei's better would lose sons and husbands. And yet, and yet... "Cersei Lannister..." His voice trailed off, not knowing what to say for a moment. "Why?" he said finally, blurting the word in wonder. He grimaced. "What reason could you have for this?"

Cersei showed her teeth in a snarl. "If I have kept paramours, what of it? Many men do. I see my handmaiden Lyanna with you? Has she been yours this whole time? Is that why you move now against me, because you wish to supplant me and throw my children out?"

"Do not now presume to play at innocence with me, woman. I have ever been faithful to you, and if Lyanna was the first to denounce you, she will not be the last."

The Queen's eyes flashed and she pulled fiercely at the knights restraining her. "I could have made you powerful, Stannis. I could have shown you things… but you had to oppose me; you had to be my enemy."

"And I would have been king in name only, leaving my realm the domain of a madwoman."

"And you, Lyanna, I taunted my women, but I gave them the best too, I could have made you great, but I see now that-"

Enough talk. "Knights!" Stannis shouted, overriding Cersei's voice with his own. "Take this one to the Keep. We will hold her until the time comes for a trial. Kingsguard, shed your drab tabards. Let men know what the queen has done here." With the testimony of Jon Arryn, Lyanna Stark, Selmy, and himself, along with dozen knights of the realm, even Tywin would be unable to question them.

In a moment they were out in the sanctuary again, and the murmuring crowd had turned into a shouting one, merchants and knights and maidens all yelling and pointing, any semblance of sacred worship having been completely lost. Darkly, Stannis wondered how many of the Septons were in his wife's pay; how many of them might have been inciting the crowd against them since they first entered here. Knights dragged the queen between them, even as she screamed and pulled at them.

"Form up around the king! Protect him at all costs!" Jon called, and the knights collapsed into a block around Stannis and pushed through the crowd. The crowd was not as thick as it could be, nor was it violent, but all of that could change in a minute. Stannis cursed that overeager knight and his mailed fist.

They pushed through to the plaza, pushing with their elbows and shouting. Horses were mounted, Cersei's hands were bound with a rope tied to the saddle of Horpe, and the same was done to Trant. By the time they were ready to ride, the plaza before them had filled with merchants and alchemists and smiths and nobles, all emptying from the various gardens and shrines to gather before them. Stannis ground his own jaw. His force could push through, perhaps, but he would not like to chance it. Very well, he would have to remind the rabble who he was.

"Come, Greenfield. Come with me and unfurl the banner." Stannis ordered, and he turned in his saddle, looking over the mass of people grimly. The banner was released with a great rolling flap, and a shiver of excitement carried itself through the crowd, silencing them for a moment.

Stannis turned his horse and made it walk in front of the masses. "This woman, my queen, Cersei Lannister, stands accused of committing adultery with a member of my own Kingsguard, on the very grounds of this sept, desecrating this holy place. I myself witnessed her doing this." To Stannis' own ears his voice was as harsh and toneless as the cawing of a crow, but these folk would listen nonetheless. He was their King. "She will be taken now for judgment in the eyes of the Seven, whose temple she has defiled, and she will face justice."

"The King means to take me away and have me killed, so that his Northern Mistress might become Queen! Save me, people of the Faith! Save me!" The queen had somehow broken free from her captors' hands for the moment, and though she was silenced as soon as she began, a thousand voices rose up to replace hers.

"What does the King know of the Seven?"

"The Queen is a devout woman!"

"Lies!"

"The King has defiled the Sept with this!"

Stannis grit his teeth. "Ride for the Keep," He hissed, and Arys Oakheart led them onward. They moved forward for a moment, the massive size of the warhorses intimidating anyone who got too close. The banner would give them some protection for the nonce, but he did not trust his life to it.

Stannis never saw who threw the first pot. It missed, horribly, shattering the skull of some apprentice, but it was only the first. Soon projectiles were flying everywhere, and bodies pressed hapless souls directly under the feat of the warhorses.

"RIDE FOR THE KEEP," Stannis cried, urging his horse into a trot. Every step of his horse, Saltspray, came up bloody from the cobbles. Some peasant grabbed hold of his saddle and he was forced to draw his mace and beat the man senseless. They would make it through. They had to make it through. Curse Cersei for bringing this upon them. She would be raped and dead in a gutter before the night was through if she had her way.

They had nearly made it through when Stannis saw them. Goldcloaks. Only a handful of them, but perhaps enough to quell the mob. That hope turned to ash in his mouth when he saw who was leading them. Imry Florent sat in their way, astride his dun-colored destrier with a cocky smile plastered on his face. Fool. He would not survive the month regardless of what side he took. Stannis' mouth filled with bile as the goldcloaks readied their spears against them.

"FOR THE KEEP!" Stannis urged, and their horses increased their pace. Then all at once they were amongst the goldcloaks. Barristan's horse went down and the knight came up fighting, his sword flashing to left and right, cutting the men to pieces. Stannis smashed the skull of another. Something inside him stirred, a strange thrill completely new to him. He shouted aloud and turned Saltspray, letting the beast trample a fallen Goldcloak and bite another. His heart pounded with exhultation. Was this how Robert felt? Robert was dead, and Stannis raised his mace to kill another man. They could not be stopped her, lest the mob consume them all.

His mace never fell. Saltspray died underneath him with a scream and the world tilted as Stannis crashed to the ground in a pile of steel. His breath escaped him in a rush and he struggled to move, but already a goldcloak was raising his spear to kill him. He gasped and struggled. Robert dies on the Trident to a dragon, I die in front of a sept to a mob.

The goldcloak's neck exploded in gore as a thrown spear caught him in the neck. A horse's hoof clattered on the cobbles on his right. Another clattered to his left.. "The King! The King!" They called, and Stannis grit his teeth and got his feet underneath him, straining with effort. He stepped into the stirrup of the rider that had saved him. Hands found him pushing him up. "GRAAAAH!" He yelled, and then he was in the saddle, rocking like a sack full of stones as he positioned himself behind the rider.

The rider, Lyanna Stark. "Hold on, your Grace!" She shouted, and pushed her horse forward.

He cursed, and held on to the side of the saddle with all his might, finding the other stirrup even as they clattered forward.. Lyanna had pushed herself so far to the front that there was nearly enough room for him, gripping the horse with her legs even as her skirts flowed out behind her. They clattered forward, every bone in Stannis' body aching with every step. Lyanna turned her horse to trample a man, deftly stealing a spear from him as they rode. She stabbed another man in passing, and dodged a throne. They pressed forward, they pressed forward, until finally the goldcloaks broke and scattered to the winds. If Imry Florent was dead, Stannis had not seen him fall.

They slowed to a trot as they reached the bottom of the hill, the shouts of the mob in the distance behind them. Stannis craned his neck and cursed. "Where is the queen?" She was not with them. "Where is the QUEEN?" he shouted, but he already knew. The Queen was gone.

"My fault, sir," Richard Horpe stated, his head bowed. "It was my fault. I had the rope Selmy had given me tied to my saddle, but the mob must have cut it when we broke through." The knight lamely indicated the loose end of the cord on his saddle horn. The other lead was still intact, tied to the hands of a broken and bloodied Meryn Trant. The man must have been dragged on the cobbles during the ride down the hill, but he still breathed.

Jon Arryn was in the rear, rolling on his saddle gracelessly without speaking. Selmy was cut in a hundred places, but had stolen a horse from somewhere. Stannis sucked in a breath of air. Others were in worse condition or missing entirely. "We ride back to the keep. Some man see to Lord Arryn!"