Margaery POV
Perhaps in the future, I can be alone without fear of being killed, Margaery thought as she watched everyone who sat in her solar that had been cosied up with lush pillows, heavy curtains and green floral tapestries to ward off the chill. She hadn't been alone in a room for over five minutes since she married Joffrey.
Near the window sat Alla, Merry and Alyce who were cooing over the newly born Tywin. Near the fire sat the older septa Nysterica who was trying to teach something to a very inattentive Alysanne. The girl's gaze kept darting to the window.
Margaery couldn't blame her. She did too. Her embroidery had barely gained twenty new stitches in the ten days since part of Aegon's army arrived at the gates, far enough to be out of shooting range, close enough to lock down the roads. Food was only getting in via a few ships, but most didn't make it through the sea blockade.
Tonight, the siege would end at seven, the same time it began almost a fortnight ago. Only two hours were left, then the battle began. She could almost taste her freedom, but she knew that before she got there, she'd have to jump through five burning hoops. A battle, after all, never went according to plan, Garlan and Loras had been very clear about that.
Margaery just hoped the Targaryen troops kept to their promise to spare most of the civilians. The Faith Militant had been confident in her and Tommen, and thus had sided with them. It had taken her many tense months of appeasing the Faith with donations, regular sept visits and a drastic reduction of their signs of wealth to ensure the High Sparrow favoured them. She knew the High Sparrow would use any move against the commoners and against the Faith as a reason to put his many zealous followers against them.
But if they ignore me, it isn't my problem anymore. I'll be far away in Dorne. If King's Landing was burned in protest because the new king ignored the cries of his starving religious people, she'd only hear of it in a letter three days later. The chances of her being killed by a mob or stealthy sparrow assassin would be as big as her chance of being killed by one of Cersei's cronies while being constantly guarded: abysmally small. The thought spread some warmth through her chest. She was tired of watching her back and bending herself in a million directions to keep the fragile peace. Sansa had warned her for Joffrey, but she hadn't told her about the viciousness of King's Landing. Corruption, intrigue and hatred pulsed through the thousands of secret tunnels and passageways that twisted underneath the city. Even with the Tyrells controlling the small council, the Kingsguard and putting quite a few men in the City Watch she could not feel safe. She'd known it was a pit of vipers, yet she'd still underestimated it.
Garse and Garret Flowers, Uncle Garth's sons who had joined the City Watch the moment he became Master of Coin, entered the room. They'd been guarding the Maidenvault in which Margaery had been living this whole time.
'Your grace, the meal has been prepared in the royal dining room.'
'Of course, thank you.'
Dinner was not such a cosy affair as the gatherings with her family. It was one of the few times she could still see Tommen and Myrcella, as Cersei kept a close watch on them in Maegor's Holdfast. No one except those working within the castle knew that since the trials, the two houses had separate households.
As her guards went back outside, Tyene slipped in together with Ser Mullendore who was all armoured for the first time since the Battle of the Blackwater.
'Good afternoon, Your Grace. How are you all today?'
'Is it time already?' Margaery asked. They had planned to make the Tyrells disappear over time, instead of all at once, less suspicious.
The gentle looking blonde nodded.
'I have limited time. Only as long as it takes you to have dinner with her. I have to report back for duty immediately afterwards to accompany her to her chambers. It will already be tight.'
'How is she?' Margaery asked as Alyce, Septa Nysterica and Alysanne picked their tiny bags which had been hidden within a bench. They had to travel light, and big bags aroused suspicion.
Tyene's eternal gentle smile faded.
'I don't trust it. She's very silent. She visited Qyburn again, for an ailment which she refused to disclose. And Robert Strong always guards the doors so me and the other novices and septa who have to watch her, have to wait at quite some distance away.'
'She's up to something. I know she is', Margaery said. She'd never trusted Cersei, but since she put Margaery on trial, she outright distrusted her. She might have put on a penitent and docile façade after her own trial, but Margaery didn't believe any of it.
Tyene nodded. 'Neither do we. But rest assured, once the battle starts, Nym and I will take care of everything, then King's Landing can peacefully capitulate. Limiting the bloodshed.'
There were so many plans: A, B, C. Every plan could go wrong and another would be waiting. Personally, Margaery was a big fan of the first one. The battle would begin, the Tyrells would turn on the Lannisters and help some of Aegon's men enter the tunnels as Cersei and Robert Strong were killed, the gates would open for Aegon, and her father would surrender the city. The move would immediately endear the Tyrells to the public again.
Margaery arrived in the dining room situated in Maegor's Holdfast. The dining room was exceptionally filled that night. Her father, her uncle, Lord Tarly who would be riding out for battle soon, Queen Cersei, Tommen, and Lady Nymeria were already present. Margaery took place together with Alla. She could not help but notice one strange absence.
'Your grace, is something wrong with our dear Myrcella, that she cannot join us?' Margaery asked.
'She has her moon's blood, she's not feeling well enough for supper, but she'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure. Thank you for your concern', Cersei smiled, poison dripping from her lips.
Margaery did not dispel the notion. Myrcella had turned ten this year, and some girls got their blood that early. Although it was rather rare.
As they started eating, the new Master of Whisperers informed them of the upheaval in the lower levels of the city. Houses had been lit aflame, people had been killed, there were accounts of cannibalism and they had tried breaking through the layers of protection to get to the castle.
The City Guard didn't patrol the lower levels anymore. They were almost instantly attacked by commoners trying to steal their cloaks and the bread they carried with them for their shift on the wall. Nowadays, the guards just rushed through the small streets on their way to the city walls, from which they watched Aegon's army for any sign of movement. Atop the wall stood catapults, trebuchets and fires to boil water to pour down the wall.
'It is high time we install some order, after this fraudulent pretender is dealt with', Cersei said.
'Quite right. We cannot abide lawlessness. But what do you suggest we do with them? Imprisoning them will only incite them. I don't even think we have enough cells to deal with them all', Margaery's father said.
Ser Boros started tasting Tommen's food. He normally tasted Myrcella's as well, just for good measure. Margaery had her own taster, she would not trust the Kingsguards loyal to Cersei to do it. Poor Myrcella, Margaery couldn't imagine being bedridden during a battle, the amount of anxiety she must suffering, being unable to move a lot when the castle could be sieged. Not that she would ever make it out of the castle alive, as she would be killed by the Sandsnakes, but the girl did not know that.
Margaery couldn't remember the last time she was bedridden for more than a few hours because of her moon's blood. But the girl was young, Margaery also suffered the most from it in those first few years… Actually when had Myrcella started having her moon's blood? She remembered that when Myrcella was promised to Trystane she still didn't have it. And after Myrcella had returned, but without the expected Trystane Martell, Cersei had stated that as Dorne did not return the curtesy of allowing her to meet her future goodson, that she would not entrust Myrcella to their care again until Myrcella was physically ready to wed. Which meant that she still hadn't had her blood then. That had been a little over two months ago. Since then, no word had been spoken about it anymore. The arrival of the moon's blood of a highborn lady was almost impossible to keep silent.
Was Cersei lying? She had to be. But where was Myrcella? And for what reason was she truly absent today?
'Doing nothing will only encourage them to continue their behaviour. If a dog acts out of turn, you beat it. We should make an example of them.'
'We do a lot for charity, perhaps we can find a good mix of measures. The sparrows distribute food with the donations we give them. And those that steal food can be punished. It would encourage people to do things the right way. But we will tackle that issue once this battle is over, alright?' Margaery suggested.
Cersei threw her a wary look, suspicious she chose her side. But Margaery had always chosen the most prudent side of an argument. She was the queen, and as queen, she believed in encouraging her people to act on their better impulses. Compassion was good, but telling right from wrong was too.
'I favour a strong hand, but perhaps helping the people would decrease some criminality. Though I believe most men who steal or use violence are criminals who need to be treated thus. But I'm not the king or Master of Law, I occupy myself with war. That being said, dinner came too late for me. I must go to my men. I beg your pardon, goodbye', Lord Tarly said, wiping his mouth with a napkin before leaving the dining room.
Margaery turned away from the conversation and stroked Ser Pounce, who'd comfortably installed himself on Tommen's lap. Ser Boros stepped back after having tasted everything.
'Did Ser Pounce have a nice nap today?' Margaery asked. Tommen beamed at her. 'He didn't wake up at all until I lifted him up to come here. He was very sleepy.'
'Mhm, sometimes I wish I could sleep all day too', Margaery confessed with a smile. The boy grinned at her. God, it was such a shame there was no chance of him making it out alive. He was such a sweet boy. Margaery fed the cat a sliver of meat from her plate. In the distance she could hear Cersei fuming at the wish of the people that King's Landing surrendered instead of fought.
'Are they truly so foolish they believe they will not get murdered and raped if we capitulate? The fools. Have more troops come in yet?' Cersei asked.
Mace shruged.
'No. It was to be expected with all the blockades. We'll have to make due with what we've got. But don't worry. We have a strong position. These walls have never been conquered. We have a good army and the Goldcloaks. We have good defence mechanisms on our walls and Aegon's fleet is much smaller than Stannis' once was', Mace calmed Cersei.
'Does he?' Cersei asked, standing up and walking to the window overlooking the harbour. Margaery had her back towards it, and could not see it. She turned around in her chair, her mouth falling open. There were even more ships on the horizon, coming straight at them.
'Is that…'
'The royal fleet', Mace said. 'So Aurane Waters did not just disappear', he concluded, looking at Cersei.
'What do you want to imply?' Cersei hissed. 'I can't help it that pirate ran off.'
'I don't mean to imply anything, Your Highness, but you did appoint him.'
As they were bickering Lady Nym, who sat across from Tommen, spilled her cup, red wine flooding across the table to the plate of the boy. It spilled onto his lap but Margaery and Alla, who sat beside him, managed to draw their chairs back just in time. The servants flocked to him as Cersei critiqued Nym for being too drunk. They dabbed at Tommen's clothes and swept napkins across the table, his cup and his plate before retreating.
Cersei briefly looked at her son before turning back towards Mace.
'Do you know what this means, you oaf?!'
'I beg your pardon? Your Highness, I will not let myself be insulted. I do not see what this changes. Even if Aegon has as many ships as Stannis, why should we worry? Stannis still lost and he had much more experience than this boy king.'
Margaery looked at Nymeria, who threw her a warning glance. Poison. She'd started executing her murder plot. This was too soon. Why now? Why not wait until they were back in their chambers? This was not the plan. They were only supposed to die once they were back in their rooms.
Except, perhaps, because it was through skin contact, it would be slower than if it was ingested orally.
'Tommen, are you alright, my sweet king?' Margaery asked.
Tommen picked up a wine-covered carrot from his plate.
'Yes. But my food might not be', he said, looking sadly at the meat floating in remnants of dabbed wine.
'You bloody fool! We will fall. With Stannis we used wildfire, had your entire bloody army and over double the amount of Lannisters and Crownslanders we have now! May I remind you that if Tommen falls, your daughter falls as well? How come my dwarf of a brother could protect this city and you can't? If you were in any way a man you'd take the wildfire reserves we still have and light up the blackwater and the surrounding environment!'
When Margaery looked back from Cersei, she saw Tommen bringing back the fork from his mouth. She froze in horror. No, no, no.
Looking at Nymeria and seeing the same horrified expression in her eyes, she knew what time it was.
No, don't let it all go wrong now. I want to go home. I want to leave.
'Do not insult me. It would be advisable to remember I am the hand and the Lord Regent. I still have the final say, and I have experience in warfare as a lord, which you, as a woman, cannot have. Besides, where am I supposed to get wildfire? Everything was either used during the Battle of the Blackwater or removed. And even if there was some left I could not use it. Our own people are fighting outside as well. It would kill them! And wildfire is wildly unpredictable, it could burn even stone. We'd risk burning our city and our people. I assure you the armies of the Reach have crushed armies of a bigger sizes, even when being attacked from the back.'
'Yes, of course, naturally. What does a woman know of war?' bit Cersei. 'A victory sometimes requires a sacrifice. Besides, it's clear the people of the lower levels, if the fire would get that far, don't have any love for us. They're no big loss.'
'No big loss?' Mace spluttered.
Tommen brought his hand to his throat, throwing Margaery a panicked look. His chest shook, making Ser Pounce jump off his lap.
Oh no.
'They will take this city over my dead body. I rather see the city burned to a crisp than in that filthy pretender's hands. So what if some of our men die? Or some of the people? That's what a true ruler does, he makes sacrifices. He does everything necessary to remain in power. What is it with you? Are you truly so weak? One would almost say you rather see the city falling into Aegon's hands than –'
Tommen let out a choking noise, instantly cutting Cersei's monologue short. With the speed of a lightning bolt, she was at her son.
'What have you done?!' she cried to Margaery, dragging her son up.
'N-nothing', Margaery gasped.
'What have you done! Tommen, Tommen? My boy? What's wrong?'
Tommen started shaking, his pupils growing wide as his face paled.
'Tommen! Someone help me!'
Margaery rose, her knees wobbling.
'Not you', and with one shove of Cersei, Margaery was floored.
'My daughter is innocent! How dare you, first insulting me and now the queen!' Mace demanded. 'I could have had you sent to Casterly Rock if I wanted to.'
A guard came to Cersei, holding the boy as Cersei slapped him on the back.
'Not again', she cried. 'Tommen!'
His eyes grew distant. And Margaery could feel tears escaping her eyes.
Three husbands, three corpses.
Ser Pounce came to Margaery, looking at Tommen in worry as Cersei tried to pry into his mouth and slap on his back with increasing force.
Wheezing sounds filled the dining room, everyone was too shocked to do anything, and then it was over, as sudden as it started.
The young king's body grew limp and was lowered to the ground beside Margaery, eyes unseeing, face pale except for the burst blood vessels on his cheeks.
Ser Pounce mewed, moving over to his owner and giving him head bumps.
That's when Margaery broke out into sobs.
Cersei wiped her hands on her black dress.
'I think that clears things up. I will do what is necessary for this city. It's a good thing I already sent Myrcella to the Rock this morning. Ser Boros, see to it they don't leave this room. I'll send you extra guards. Ser Meryn, take his highness to his chamber. No one is to see him or hear from this until tomorrow morning.'
'It was not us! Ignore her!' Mace ordered the guards, puffing up to his biggest size. 'I demand you take Her Highness the Dowager Queen to her room instead!'
Dread filled Margaery's stomach as her husband's corpse was picked up and carried out.
Mace moved to the door, but was barred by a soldier.
'Don't bet on a trial this time', Cersei promised Margaery as the door locked behind her.
'There will be repercussions!' said Mace to the locked door.
Everything was ruined.
'That was not the plan', Nymeria admitted. 'How will Tyene find us?'
Jon Connington POV
Jon Connington looked at the towering walls of King's Landing, his gaze sticking to every defensive structure on the battlements. He was glad there was a way they could cheat their way in. He could only admire Stannis Baratheon who tried to break through the gates in a fair and normal way. But that was Stannis, cleaving a straight path through every obstacle with gritted teeth. He was like that too, once, doing things the way he should. But that was not the way battles were won. He was wiser now.
As his gaze slid over the Tyrell, Crownland and Lannister regiments that had taken in their positions, he noticed something peculiar. At the far edge of the Lannister regiments, the darkness of the wall disappeared, revealing glowing torchlight. The gates were opened.
It was half an hour before the battle was supposed to begin. Why open the gates now? That was suspicious.
Riders moved to the Baratheon camp installed in front of the walls. Things were happening, but they were too far away to notice in the murky light of dusk.
The Mudd brothers and Strickenland started wondering what could be happening out loud, but Jon just waited. Whatever happened or changed, he would see to it that King's Landing fell. He'd failed Rhaegar, he would not fail Aegon.
'Griff,' Aegon asked, still uncomfortable with using his true name. They had dressed the boy as much in red and black as they could, given there was no time to paint his armour. Thick strong armour, that had been more important than hastily made and painted armour. 'What do you think is happening?'
'No need to think, we will soon hear', Connington said, nodding at the sole messenger that was riding their way.
The messenger was blond, wearing red and gold exclusively. He didn't even wear armour. He must have come straight from the castle.
'Her Grace, Queen Cersei, has decided not to accept your offer of surrender. Instead, she offers you a choice.'
Queen Cersei? Queen Cersei decided ? Jon Connington could feel the numbness of the greyscale suddenly extending from his fingers, straight to his heart. She should no longer be making the decisions. What happened to King Tommen? What happened to Lord Mace promising to barely put up a fight?
'You can either retreat back to the Stormlands, and disband your army, after which repercussions will only follow for those responsible for leading the insurgence.'
'Or?' Aegon impatiently asked.
'Or you can try to take the city, but Her Grace warns you that if you do, the city shall burn. She… has installed fires in major parts of the city. If you attack, she will make sure your people die.'
'What is this? A queen burning her own city!' Connington demanded to know.
'You need to leave before dawn', the messenger only said before leaving.
'My people… I was going to… liberate them', Aegon said.
'She has to be bluffing. Fire can not so easily turn a city to dust', said Jon Connington. But then he remembered a conversation from long ago. He'd been talking to Ser Myles Toyne about how he'd once upon a time failed to capture Robert Baratheon in Stony Sept because the people had been hiding him.
His soldiers searched every hole and hovel, he offered pardons and rewards, he took hostages and hung them in crow cages and swore that they would have neither food nor drink until Robert was delivered to him. All to no avail.
'Tywin Lannister himself could have done no more.'
'There is where you're wrong. Lord Tywin would not have bothered with a search. He would have burned that town and every living creature in it. Men and boys, babes at the breast, noble knights and holy septons, pigs and whores, rats and rebels, he would have burned them all. When the fires guttered out and only ash and cinders remained, he would have sent his men in to find the bones of Robert Baratheon. Later, when Stark and Tully turned up with their host, he would have offered pardons to the both of them, and they would have accepted and turned for home with their tails between their legs.'
Was Cersei Lannister her father's daughter? After hearing some of the stories about her, he would not be surprised. But still, what kind of fire could kill a city? Perhaps some houses and people would burn, yes, but nothing his army couldn't snuff out. They could even help people escape. Then Cersei would look all the worst for it, as she would protect herself by burning her people, and then his king, King Aegon, would look all the better for entering it and saving them.
'But I cannot risk people's lives over calling her bluff', Aegon said. 'I was offering them the choice to surrender so they would be that bad ones if they decided their people's lives were worth less than theirs. What will that make me, if I sacrifice them instead?'
'You do not sacrifice them, she sacrifices them to keep herself safe. That is an important difference', Jon Connington spoke.
The young lad shook his head, so like Rhaegar now that his hair barely held a hint of blue. He had the same sad eyes and love for his people. He would be a good and gentle king. But good and gentle kings needed hard generals who would do what was needed and dirty their hands for the good cause. Jon's hands would quite soon lose their worth, hardened and numbed by greyscale. He needed to devote them to Aegon while he still could.
If they retreated now, the blocked roads could be opened, Lannister men could lock them in and attack them from the back as the City Guard of Westeros attacked them from the front. The betrayal of the Tyrells would be found out, and the young Willas Tyrell could be forced to retreat his forces if Cersei threatened his father, sister, and the Father knew what other Tyrells were currently in the capital.
No, retreating was no option. He would not make the same mistake twice. There was only one way forward.
'I say we attack as planned, extinguish the fires that may be lit, and save as many people as possible. If we're fast, the fires will still be in their infancy and few lives and homes will be lost. We limit the civilian losses and repair the city afterwards. Your Grace, the people have starved many times due to the Lannisters. They will not hate you if you help them.'
'Doesn't this change mean that those armies in front of us, the Tyrells and the Lannisters, will both fight us instead of just the Lannisters?' Aegon asked. 'How will we even get to the tunnels?'
'Get the Spider', Jon Connington ordered his squire before turning to Aegon. 'We do not know what the Tyrells will do. It goes against what we agreed upon. I believe, Your Highness, they are no longer in power. The Tyrell soldiers got their orders from them and they knew they would turn on the Lannisters. They knew their lord had switched sides. Why suddenly side with the Lannisters again just because a Lannister guard orders them to?'
'Perhaps they fear if they refuse that something happens to their liege?' asked Mudd. 'Tyrells, as do the rest of the Reach, turn with every change of the wind.'
'Then, we have some extra enemies', said Jon. 'But I think the Lannisters are currently in trouble. The majority of their army was going to turn on them. But removing them from the scene would mean they left the city walls entirely unprotected.'
'What do we tell the Reach armies that are with us instead of in front of us? They will expect their people to fight with them, not against them', said Strickenland.
'Once we attack the armies, with our full strength, they will no longer support the Lannisters. They will see we have the upperhand.'
'Our plan can't work. Our Dornish and Reachian forces are still marching this way, and the boats haven't landed yet. Once they become visible, the Lannisters will know we won't retaliate. They will start the fires. After that, we have to fight our way through the Lannisters outside the gates, get in the tunnels, and reach the fires. We're talking at least an hour and a half, probably more, between the moment the fires will be lit and the moment we'll be able to put them out. I've seen entire homes go up in smoke before anyone could be saved', Aegon said.
'You've seen fires during a hot summer on a hot continent. Everything burns at the slightest spark there and then. But snow lies on the ground, and the roofs within the city are probably wet. The air is cold. It won't spread as quickly now', Connington calmed Aegon.
'We need to be faster than planned. I won't risk too many innocent lives. I cannot start my reign with blood.'
'I don't know what this is about, but that sounds very wise', said Varys, appearing from between the shadows. He was dressed entirely in black, a veil ready to be thrown over his face so that, too, was obscured from view. The situation was quickly explained.
Connington groaned. New plan. But the battle had to happen. All generals were called over.
'We focus our strengths on one part of the wall, right behind the Tyrell part of the army. Everyone else can catch up once they get here. We storm the wall. We put our shields above us, and fight just as long as is needed to get everyone in the tunnels. Then –'
'My lords, if I may. I said we had to reach the tunnels. There are multiple tunnels we planned on taking, yes. A fight has to happen to reach them so we can access them safely, yes, but we don't need to reach the walls, although it would have been ideal as it allowed our soldiers to reach the city gates sooner. But we only need one tunnel. If the passages within the walls are impossible, we could go to the harbour. There's a tunnel, within the rocks. It's closer to the castle, and further from the gates, but it can be used by all those intended to sneak into the city.'
The harbour would be the easiest point to take. They had over thirty war ships to attack the harbour and it was virtually empty aside from some fishing boats. Given the Baratheon army was here, and the walls were far away from the harbour, it was all but guaranteed the Targaryen forces could take the harbour in under ten minutes.
'In the rocks? And you're only telling us this now?' Connington asked.
'A man is allowed his secrets. It is one of the most secret tunnels, barely used or known. I wanted to keep it that way, for our future king's safety, should the need have ever arisen', the Spider delicately explained, nodding at Aegon.
'Right, sound the horns. Alert the ships, alert the army. The plan goes on as planned. Let the armies defeat the Lannister host and move to the gates. They shall be opened, only a bit later than planned. The only change is that those meant to take the tunnels will follow you to the harbour instead, Lord Varys.'
'But I will focus on helping people out, instead of getting to the throne room. I am already crowned after all', Aegon decided. 'I want to show them I'm a king who puts his people first.'
'And they will love you for it', Connington nodded. He took in the boy, including his helmet with a modest iron crown molten around the top at the very last minute by Dragonstone's blacksmith. 'Take care. I will do what is necessary.'
'It is time to put on black, Lord Connington. We need to move through the tunnels unseen. I suspect there could be some movement. Prince Oberyn's daughters were meant to smuggle the Tyrells out, after all.'
Jon Connington released the wolf cloak around his shoulders, revealing a black outfit of darkened chain mail and plate armour.
'I'm ready.'
He would not let Aegon down. He would take the city.
Margaery Tyrell POV
'She is not going to find us, is she?' Margaery asked.
Perhaps others had spoken in the time between the door being locked and her finally getting over the shock of Tommen's death, but she had not heard.
Margaery dragged herself upright, moving to the windows and looking down. The fall was deep and steep. Lethal.
In the distance, she could see nothing of the armies anymore, everything was painted black. Only the ships were visible in the faint moonlight. But though she couldn't see, she could hear. On the streets, people were shooting and screaming. A civil uprising. But the poor alone would never succeed at making the Red Keep fall. Margaery turned away.
'No. We only know the tunnels we were told about', Nymeria admitted, a sarcastic smile gracing her red lips. She rubbed her hand over hair, her widow's peak standing out. She picked up her cup of wine, Dornish Red, and drank from it miserably.
'And I'd told the old bore I loved snakes', the sandsnake muttered to herself.
'It might not be ideal, dear. But we will be fine. There is no reason why that Aegon boy would not be able to conquer the city. He still has the bigger army. All those ships, all those tens of thousands of men, whyever would he fail? And they still know the ways to sneak into the city even! I know you wanted out, for safety, but if he takes over the castle, he will let us free', Mace said, comforting his daughter. He patted her head where she sat on the ground. 'Come come, my little rose, it'll be fine.'
Aegon would, Margaery knew. She'd doubted for a couple of days what would have been the wisest, to stay here or leave, potentially risking that the people thought she had abandoned them to save her own hide. But, if she was no longer queen, who cared that she disappeared? There was no reason to fear Aegon. But it would still be quite some hours before he would reach them. Hours in which they were guarded by Cersei's men, in a castle filled with armed guards… including Robert Strong. Including Cersei who already tried to have Margaery killed before.
Margaery had considered staying in the circumstances that the Tyrells ruled the castle while Cersei was killed by the sandsnakes. She would have been relatively safe then. But in a castle under Cersei's rule?
'You know I was always meant to stay behind, to surrender the castle to him. Naturally, in that situation, I would have been in charge of the castle and capitulated to him without the army even having to bash in the front gates, but well… a pair of gates can be replaced. And once the castle is taken I can still surrender. Officially, I am the regent and the hand. I am still the highest official, whatever Cersei Lannister may believe herself to be', her father continued.
In theory. In theory Kevan Lannister had been the most powerful man before him. In theory Tywin Lannister had been a very powerful and cunning hand before he was succeeded by his brother. Ned Stark… Jon Arryn… Four hands, three of which had died under suspicious circumstances within the walls that were meant to protect them whilst they were the most powerful men in Westeros. Aside from the kings, who had all been men uninterested in politics, so Margaery did not truly count them. They squandered their chances to realise change and help the people they had the power to help. Margaery would have done so much good with the power. Three kings in, and she as a queen had still barely been able to realize her passion projects due to the constant war and others pushing her into a corner without power.
'Cersei Lannister may believe that once I get out of here, I'll kill her. If Tyene isn't on her way to her chambers right now because she did not find you where she expected you to be. If I were her, I'd go and kill Cersei first before looking for you', Nymeria spoke.
'Are you armed though?' Margaery asked.
Nymeria grinned, Pulling blade after dagger from her sleeves, her boots, her skirts, her back, between her breasts, and even a sharp long pin from the braid in her hair. Fifteen in total. Good to know, Margaery decided. At least they could protect themselves a little in here.
'That will certainly not be necessary', spoke Mace. 'Cersei will be killed.'
Margaery looked up at her father. He generally let every insult slide, determined to show his strength and control by remaining his calm at all times. But Cersei had pushed him one last time. She'd prevented his sons from freeing the Reach from the Ironmen, had sent his son to Dragonstone for a dangerous mission instead, then allowed them to go to Oldtown but only at the very last moment. She'd imprisoned his daughter for a crime punishable by death. And she'd kept scolding him, and had now threatened to have them all killed. Even his legendary patience and perceived softness had run out.
'How?' asked Margaery softly. 'Father, she has taken over the castle. She said she'd take care of Aegon. We are locked and guarded. Who will kill her? If I were her, I'd take a tunnel far out of this place the second I saw an army marching up to the castle.'
'Who says she knows any tunnels?' asked Mace. 'I know she locked herself up with the other highborn ladies during the Battle of the Blackwater. I even heard gossip she had a dagger on her.'
'She? I did not take her for the type to do her killing by hand', Nymeria said.
'I do not believe it was meant to hold off an attacker', said Mace to the Dornish woman, still clearly preferring to ignore her.
The talk of killing made Margaery look back to Tommen's chair, which still lay knocked over on the floor. Perhaps it was good Myrcella had already been shipped out. Seeing your younger brother die in such a manner would have surely been horrifying…
Myrcella was out of the city.
Why was Myrcella out of the city?
Cersei had already suspected something was going to happen. But then why not stage a coup sooner? Why only when Tommen died? Clearly, she did not only develop the idea at dinner if she'd already sent Myrcella away hours before. Cersei had had the exact same plans as the Tyrells: to leave before the city was taken. Perhaps Cersei, like Mace, had wanted to ensure her children were safe in case anything went wrong. But then why had she and Tommen still been here?
Gradually leaving, her brain told her. It was what the Tyrells had planned, leaving over time so as not to rouse suspicion.
Cersei would have killed herself before surrendering. She would have let the city die, letting the soldiers plough through them before they got to her. Why was she still here if she valued her own life so much and clearly knew a way to escape? Why even bother staying for pretence? Why say she was going to take care of Aegon if she didn't care about the people of King's Landing?
Perhaps it was her need for power, she thirsted for it. She'd tried clutching onto it, and even putting Margaery on trial just to get her own power back. Cersei had promised her no trial this time around. Margaery's heart froze.
No trial meant… Murder. And she believed the Tyrells had killed Tommen. High treason. She could have them executed for high treason. And there would be no fair process, no arguments could be offered to plead their innocence.
Cersei had promised them death. And here they were, locked in a room full of women with two rotund lords, two guards and fifteen daggers. Outside waited at least a handful of guards with swords, years of experience, and back-up at the ready. Cersei could have them killed at any time. It was still hours before Aegon came. Did they even have that long?
'We need to find that tunnel. There must be one here somewhere', Margaery cried, running to a wall and bringing her hands to the stones. She didn't know what she was feeling for, but she hoped she'd know it when she found it.
'My dear, I told you, we only need to wait.'
'But what if we have no time to wait? Cersei is accusing everyone in this room of high treason: kingslaying. Punishable by death. She told us there'd be no trial. She's taken over the castle. Who will stop her?'
This shook Mace up.
'She can't have us killed. I'm the hand!'
'Sorry to say, that didn't protect the last four… or maybe even more? I don't keep count', said Margaery's uncle, who had seemingly awoken from his stupor.
'How do you recognize a tunnel?' her uncle asked.
'I don't know', Margaery answered.
'Seek for irregularities in the wall, the ceiling, the floor. Pull on everything, hook your fingers in. Push. Pull, seek if there's a slight breeze coming from between cracks in or underneath a wall, pull at heavy furniture. Things like that are clues', spoke Nymeria.
Nymeria and Margaery went to one wall, Margaery's cousins to another, and Mace and Alla to a fourth. They all rubbed their hands over rough stone, looked behind tapestries, shoved at bookcases and cabinets, before all sinking to the floor and sliding their fingers underneath. The tender skin of Margaery's fingers was scratched and bleeding. But she continued.
In her head she prayed to all the gods, anyone who might listen.
She'd been so close. Please, let her live another day. She still had so much to do. She still had so many plans. She'd lost her shot at helping everyone, but she was going to settle for helping the Dornish. Willas had always said they were quite alright upon getting to know them better. There were poor everywhere. If she died now the world would never know her plans, would never see what she was capable of. She would just be a bride passed from king to king who had nothing to her name but her beauty and some small shows of kindness, generosity and piety.
The Flowers took away the table and everyone tore at the carpet, and then at the mortar between the tiles.
Anything, anything. Please, Margaery begged. I'll sell all my crowns and use it to buy everyone bread. Just please, let me live and see my family again. Let me live.
'Yes!' Alla cried.
Immediately, Nymeria and the Flowers were upon her, digging their nails into the stone Alla had been pawing.
It gave way.
'Thank the fucking lord', said her uncle Garth. 'Let's get the bloody hell out of here.'
'But we don't know where it goes', Mace protested as he looked in.
Nymeria took one of the candelabra's from the dining table, and Garth took the other. His sons each took a torch from the wall, and both handed a second one to Margaery and Alla.
'Well, a chance is better than death', said Garth before he took the plunge, only to end up a foot lower.
'It's a damned crawl space', he said.
Margaery winced. A small dark space, probably full of dust webs. Not what she'd hoped for, but she'd take it.
As long as they got out.
'Let's go', said Margaery.
They all got in, Nymeria in the front, carelessly wiping away any webs she encountered.
'But, urgh, we don't really know where we're headed, are we? Argh', said her father from the back. For Margaery, the crawlway was spacy, although the rough ground was hard on her knees and crawling in a long dress was impractical. But for the portly Mace Tyrell and his just as corpulent uncle it was a lot more challenging, especially at their age.
'To somewhere that'll allow us to get out ali-aagh!'
Nymeria disappeared in front of Margaery.
'The crawlway stops and leads into a bigger tunnel, about a foot deep. If you're careful you can sit on the ledge and just step into the tunnel. This one is high and wide', Nymeria explained.
Margaery slowed down, carefully sliding her hands across the floor until she felt it disappear. One by one everyone got out of the crawlway and into the tunnel. Garrett Flowers held his torch to Nymeria's candelabra so her candles could be lit again.
'I support this venture, but I do wish to warn you all. When the Tower of the Hand was burned down, over fifty tunnels and crawlways were found, including spaces only children could move through, rooms filled with rats and human bones, and deep shafts of which the ending could not be found. We need to be very careful with where we go. We might not find an exit and die locked inside, we might fall and die if we don't watch our steps.'
'We'll see, now that we can stand and decently investigate the place we're in, where exits can be found. Once we can situate ourselves within the castle, we can go back in the tunnels and find a path safe and hidden from the view of the Goldcloaks. Or we may try moving through the castle's halls as long as they're empty. Or I could find the way to the tunnels I know?' Nymeria suggested.
'Let's decide depending on where we'll find an exit', Margaery decided. 'We need to get going.'
'Calm dear', her uncle told her.
But Margaery's patience was waning by the minute. She could not rest easy until she was out.
They went into the tunnel, feeling for drafts and crevices in the walls with their hands. The tunnel went on and on and twisted a couple more times, down a flight of partially broken stairs, and then they finally saw some light cracking through.
Nymeria gave her candelabra to Margaery and took a dagger in hand before she opened the exit, only to end up face to face with a tapestry, the light had flooded in only at the ground, where the tapestry had ended.
They all waited with bated breath, straining their ears for every tiny sound, before Nymeria risked moving from behind it.
'We're near the Queen's Ballroom', Nymeria explained.
Margaery couldn't puzzle together how, after all those twists and turns and long straight paths, they had ended up straight underneath the dining room they'd been in. But it didn't matter.
'Then we're near the drawbridge', Margaery said, as the room was close to the entrance.
'I don't think we can take it. The Kingsguard guards that bridge', her father said.
'Not always, right? Who says Cersei is here? And Tommen is dead and Myrcella is gone.'
'Yes, but she keeps up the pretence her son is alive', her father told her. 'And besides, we are in here. Guards can guard in two ways.'
'But there's only one way out of the Holdfast', Margaery said.
'No, Varys explained a secret egress was built at the behest of King Maegor.'
'And you know where that is?' asked Margaery as Nymeria got back to the tunnel.
'Yes.'
'And how can we get there?'
'There's a tunnel going from the kitchens to the Godswood. And from the Godswood, there's a tunnel leading to a place beyond the River Gate.'
'Beyond? But there is practically no beyond there, there's not even a mile between the River Gate and the harbour, and they'll be fighting there', Margaery said.
They should have long since been there. They should already have been on that boat, sailing to Dragonstone. This wasn't the plan.
'You want to stay inside a city under attack? There should be a boat for us there. Do we look like soldiers? There's no mistaking us', Nymeria said.
Margaery could feel a gentle cold hand around her wrist. Alla.
'She's right. Look at us, in our fine dresses. And the men… Oh. Garse, Garrett… You'll have to ditch those uniforms.'
'Once we leave the tunnel', her uncle spoke. 'If someone bumps into us along the way, I cannot imagine no one else knows any tunnels, then it would be useful if we pretended to be escorted by some Goldcloaks.'
'Okay. Show us the tunnel, please. Let's get going. The sooner we leave, the better.'
But Nymeria was not paying attention.
'I could still get her', she muttered.
'What? Who?'
'Who do you think? I could kill her', Nymeria said.
'Please, we don't know the tunnels. And I don't want to wait until you've found her and killed her. She could be anywhere in the Red Keep', Margaery begged. 'If the city falls, she'll get her due.'
Margaery still replayed Cersei's words over and over in her head.
'I will do what is necessary for this city.'
It just didn't sit well with Margaery. She got a bad feeling. Cersei had never cared about the people or the city before. Why start now?
'Indeed, let us just focus', said her father.
'We'll have to be quick and quiet when we go through the halls. We don't know how many people we'll encounter, and who'll support us. Everyone still has some daggers? Okay, good. Let's go.'
Nymeria breezed out, no louder than the wind on an sunny day. Margaery went after her, skirts fluttering like bird wings. Alla ran alongside her, slippers skidding over the polished floor. But then came her father and uncle, grunting with every foot that landed, and her cousins, their armour clattering like metal pots falling down the stairs. Margaery winced, but naught could be done.
Her eyes darted through the tall hall even Balerion could fit in. She saw and heard no one. Nymeria paused at the start of another corridor, looking around the corner. No one. She signed for everyone to follow. Thus they ran, halting again at a new T-shaped intersection. The kitchens weren't far now. They were in the left corridor. Wordlessly, Nymeria held up her hand to them and beckoned them to be quiet before taking three daggers.
She threw one, and a startled scream flowed to them through the corridor. Footsteps came their way. She threw another and cut off a screaming woman, reducing her to gurgles before Myrcella could hear something large and soft fall. Then another was thrown, and all was silent.
Nymeria went around the bend, Margaery following close behind, seeing three kitchen workers dead on the ground in a pool of their own blood.
'I couldn't risk it. We don't know their loyalty. They could have sounded the alarm. Now, come on.'
Margaery stared at them in horror as she passed. She didn't know them, couldn't even remember seeing their faces before. They had nothing to do with the Lannisters, they had probably worked here since Robert at least. She could only hope they had little to no family members. She sent up a prayer to the Crone and the Stranger to send them on their way towards heaven peacefully.
The kitchens were empty aside from some cats and one lazy dog in front of the fire. The servants had probably just come out for a break after cooking dinner.
'Perfect, now quick', Nymeria ordered, shooing everyone into the hearth after stamping out the fire. There were some holes in the back of the chimney, but everything was burning hot to the touch, and filled with smoke and soot. Margaery could almost vomit, before she found a dark crawlspace. It was indeed a great safe and secret passage, but to get there was awful. After some seconds of crawling, she felt the ground under her disappear. A ladder. As the smoke went up in the tunnel, Margaery went down, and though the air was still hot and dirty, she could breathe easier. Her hands were black, and her dress a sooty grey in most places, but finally, she allowed herself to hope she'd make it out.
'It's a bit uncomfortable to think someone could sneak in and out Maegor's Holdfast this whole time', Mace said as they got off the stairs and into a damp tunnel. 'Like finding out how the bedroom of the Hand had four secret tunnels. It's nice if you need them yourselves, but knowing others could have known about them… quite disturbing.'
'Some safety is possible, but true safety is an illusion', said Nymeria. 'All it takes is guts and determination, and enough arms… enough men… no one is out of reach.'
'I would not like to cross you', laughed Alla.
'No, I bet you wouldn't.'
As they walked, Margaery suddenly saw weeds sprouting up between the walls, and ivy crawling between the stones. Was this a sign they were nearing the Godswood? The roots of a tree perforated the ceiling of the tunnel. Where would they even come up? Wouldn't it be very noticeable if there was a hole in a tree or a dry unplanted patch of ground in the woods?
'Alright, now I need the strongest to help me', Nymeria said.
Garse and Garrett came over together with their father.
'There's a big heavy statue above the entrance, there's a wheel here that has to be turned to shove it to the side.'
The men started pulling on the old creaking wheel until the statue groaningly went aside, letting in the frosty night air.
Removing the statue also unleashed the sounds of the capital. The sea, people screaming, swords clanging together and –
'The bells. The bells are ringing', Alla said.
'We're being attacked', Mace concluded. 'Thank the Warrior. Whatever she tried doing failed.'
'I suggest we keep two candles burning. Snuff out the rest and light those again once we're in the next tunnel. More light in the Godswood would be noticed', Nymeria said, completely ignoring that a battle had erupted outside the keep.
Everyone did as told and took the stairs out of the tunnel. They crawled through the grass, and Margaery used the opportunity to wipe the soot from her hands with the moisture that was on the grass.
The next tunnel was hidden behind thick bushed that tore at Margaery's soft outer dress, breaking the weave of the fabric and pricking apart her hands as she followed Nymeria through, careful not to let her candelabra droop because then the candles would fall out of it.
Behind the thick bushes was the outer wall of the castle. Margaery paused as Nymeria started picking away the stones that had apparently not been secure.
What had Cersei tried doing to save the city then, she wondered? Evidently, what she tried hadn't worked.
They dove into the next tunnel. Unlike last time, this tunnel wasn't quiet. In the distance, she could swear she heard the clattering of armour. Were they just hearing it from exits that lay ahead? The tunnel had many intersections with other tunnels. She was particularly glad she'd be leaving King's Landing. She'd been even less save than she'd ever believed possible. Those were a lot of tunnels, and all leading out straight into the Godswood.
The sound grew louder, and with trembling heart Margaery realised the noise hadn't come from outside.
There were others in the tunnel.
Margaery took the dagger Nymeria had given her from her pocket. Nymeria and the others took theirs in hand as well, and the Flowers took their swords.
They were talking, male voices.
Their group slowed down, inching closer to the wall, it sounded like the men came from a tunnel to the left.
'So, where next, Spider?'
'Why, the Red Keep. We do not plan on letting the army fight their way there. It needs to fall, then the city can capitulate and not an additional drop of blood needs to be wasted.'
'But don't we need to wait until Lord Connington has come down from the streets? He's supposed to lead the charge.'
'Spider?' hissed Margaery.
Nymeria let out a breath of relief.
'Lord Varys?' she called.
Immediately Margaery could hear armour clanking as soldiers ran towards them.
'It are our friends! The Dornish' called Lord Varys to his men.
The soldiers clattered into view, torches in hand. Margaery put her dagger away.
They were with thirty.
'All House Blackmont?' joked a man who had to be from the Reach based on his accent. Some other soldiers choked on their laughter as they watched the royal party. Margaery looked behind her back, seeing her father, uncle, Alla and Garse and Gerrett were also covered in dark grey soot.
'Ahem', Margaery coughed, stepping away from the wall. She wiped at her face with her hand, but wasn't sure it would lessen the amount of soot. But she was confident the soldiers wouldn't mistake the crown on her head.
'Oh, oh sh- my lady, Your Highness', stammered the man, instantly dropping on one knee. The others from the Reach followed, but the Dornish just stared at her, nodding their head in reverence.
More people I'll have to win over. Nothing I haven't done before, she told herself.
'Your Grace, my lords, Lady Nym, sers', Varys greeted them. 'I see you found the secret passageway.'
'Cersei locked us up in Maegor's Holdfast. She took over the city.'
'Yes, we heard', said Varys. 'What happened? Did she find out about…' he looked at Margaery and then her father.
'I… The king is dead', Nymeria just said. 'I killed him with a slow acting skin poison. But unfortunately, the king ate something that had the poison on it, and thus died instantly, while we were all still in the dining room.'
Unfortunate. But I suppose it is easier if there's no king to depose anymore. If we announce that, the goldcloaks may surrender already, regardless of whether our old Queen still rules over the Red Keep.'
New sound came from the tunnel the soldiers had come out, but it was sharply reduced, only one set of footsteps could be heard.
A man appeared, slim in his bottom-half and wide around the shoulders, the tall man was shaped like a blossoming tree. A torch illuminated a weathered face with pale eyes and very odd dual toned hair.
'There you are, what in the seven hells happened to the plan!' the man demanded to know, focussing on Nymeria.
'Is that blue hair?' she could hear her father asking in the back. Margaery looked closer at the man's face, the torch light did seem to make his hair blueish at the ends, although there was copper and grey in his beard.
'I killed the king too soon. Cersei captured us and took over.'
'You did what? Why? They were going to die anyways. We would have done that. You risked this entire battle for what?'
'Vengeance, honour.'
'Not worth risking the entire future of Westeros over! Thirty minutes before the battle we had a messenger come to us, telling us we had to leave or the queen would burn the innocent townspeople. We almost had to blow it off!'
'What?' stammered Margaery.
The man looked at them.
'A victory sometimes requires a sacrifice. Besides, it's clear the people of the lower levels, if the fire would get that far, don't have any love for us. They're no big loss.'
Fire. She'd planned on using fire to "save" the city. But they hadn't encountered the fires above ground yet.
'You're Jon Connington', her father said from behind her. The man in front of her frowned, trying to guess the identity of the soot-covered man. His eyes went from Margaery to Mace again.
'Mace Tyrell. You look more like this one than the other.'
Margaery had always been called called perfectly Tyrell of looks, but most often people compared the likeness between her and Loras, the two sole beardless Tyrells. But she supposed she'd never hear that again.
'You met my Willas?' her father asked.
Connington nodded.
'We planned this together, all of us. Until, of course, one Dornish vendetta almost spoiled it for all of us.'
'Thanks to me, Westeros doesn't even have a king anymore! I cleared up a road block! It's working out right now, isn't it?'
'My men meant to open all the gates had to make a huge detour by the harbour because you forced us to fight an army instead of getting to the walls in an easy manner. They're currently running through the streets like madmen trying to find the fires Cersei threatened us with because we don't know if she's bluffing or not.'
'If you were in any way a man you'd take the wildfire reserves we still have and light up the blackwater and the surrounding environment!'
Her father had believed all the wildfire was gone. It would be strange if Cersei, who'd been there the whole time, knew less about the wildfire reserves than her father did, who had only arrived after the Battle of the Blackwater. She was more likely to know if there'd been a stash left behind.
'We have to get out', Margaery said.
'But we are on our way out, my dear. We're just talking. I take it the harbour isn't far?' her father told her before directing his question to Lord Connington.
'No. It's less than ten minutes from here. I'll have two men guide you to it, and to offer protection. We kill all people who aren't clearly on our side in the tunnels.'
'There are others in the tunnels?' Margaery asked. 'How many?'
'They will take this city over my dead body. I rather see the city burned to a crisp than in that filthy pretender's hands. So what if some of our men die? Or some of the people? That's what a true ruler does, he makes sacrifices.'
She would save the city from falling in the hands of another king… But only in the way that there would be no city or people to rule over.
'I only encountered three, sneaking through the tunnels like shades, poorly fed with tattered clothes. Perhaps some poor have found these tunnels in their search of shelter', Connington reasoned.
'Only my little birds, whisperers and some nobles knew the tunnels. My birds would have told me if they ever noticed others. There were barely any intruders during the decades I've been here, it would be strange if you encountered over three strangers on one single night now', said Varys.
'Would the queen know the tunnels?' Margaery asked.
'Of course she knows some', said Varys.
'And we allowed Qyburn to use some of your whisperers.'
'That man?' Varys asked.
Margaery thought back on how Tyene had said Cersei visited Qyburn almost every day. Hadn't he forged an alchemy link for his chain? And hadn't Cersei contacted Lord Hallyne from time to time as well?
Margaery's heart plummeted to her stomach.
'We need to leave! Now! All of us!'
'Why?' asked Jon Connington.
'It's not any fire she talked about. It's wildfire. She's talked about wilfires caches and rather burning the city to a crisp than letting it fall in the hands of others. She doesn't care about the people. Don't you understand? That's why she already sent Myrcella away! She never planned on surrendering. Hell, she may have never even planned on trusting your plans father. She might have had this plan all along. For all we know she's gone and left this city herself.'
Everyone paused and looked at her, their eyes growing in fear. Nymeria shook her head, but her father was too startled to even do as much. He knew she could be right.
'You're damned either way. Either you rule over a city in ashes, or you burn together with the city you wanted so much. Now let us just go!' Margaery cried. 'We don't know how long we have.'
Ten minutes. All she needed was ten minutes. Then she was out. Then she was free.
She'd see her brother, mother and grandmother again.
She's see her baby niece.
She'd marry again.
She'd finally be safe.
She only had to run.
Ten minutes.
'Aegon', Connington gasped. 'I go back up, take them. All of you, go with them. Run! Run for your lives!'
She needn't be told twice.
Jon Connington POV
When Jon Connington exited the tunnel, the city was celebrating. People were cheering and weeping as Aegon's men marched past them. The procession to the Red Keep had started. But first, Aegon would pass by the Sept of Baelor to honour the gods and get on good footing with the High Sparrow.
'We come in peace, we shall take care of you', the soldiers said as they marched past them.
Makeshift cloth dragons of clothes and sticks were waved. There, at the head of the procession, rode Aegon on his white stallion, throwing coins at the people.
They had gotten the city. The king was dead.
But they had to leave.
He'd miscalculated.
He'd underestimated his enemy. Again.
He thought he would be the one risking human lives by attacking anyway, but it had been Cersei who had sacrificed the lives.
Jon had not been there at the Trident to save his silver prince. But he'd make sure he would save his son.
'Let me through!' Jon cried as he started to run up the Muddy Way.
'Let me through! Damn it, let me through!'
He was at a disadvantage, being on foot. The peasants stood in the way, the army was too slow. He ran into the Street of Steel. The Great Sept of Baelor was growing bigger every minute.
'Let me through!'
He elbowed his way through the people, not caring whether they were hurt.
He ran even though his midriff hurt like he'd been stabbed.
'Move!'
He was nearing. He sprinted past Tobho Mott's shop.
'My king! My king!'
But everyone was screaming those words, Aegon did not hear.
'Aegon!'
But so many celebrated him. At the sept, he could already see hundreds of devout followers of the Seven lining up.
'Griff! Young Griff! Stop! Halt!'
All those words were not said by anyone else, and thankfully, this time, they were heard.
'Gr- Lord Connington. What is – what's the matter?'
'We must retreat.'
'But the Goldcloaks just surrendered. The city is ours! You did it!'
A shockwave quieted the mob. Goose bumps rose all over his body when he looked up, seeing a green fire erupt near the Street of Sisters. That was a straight line to the sept.
The young queen hadn't been wrong. Cersei was burning down King's Landing with wildfire.
As the first wave of shock subsided, the first screams started.
'We must retreat!'
'What is that?' asked Aegon.
'Wildfire. It burns and consumes everything it touches. We need to go my king.'
'The fires… You said we could extinguish them!'
'I thought they were regular fires. There's no stopping this. It's too late! We need to go. There's nothing we can do.'
'The people. My people. I can't leave them.'
'You can't save them! Are you going to die with them? get out and save who you can later!'
'But!'
Jon grabbed the reins and jumped up behind Aegon.
'Everyone! Retreat!'
He kicked the stallion in the flank. Soldiers jumped aside, some were not so fortunate.
'No!' cried Aegon. 'This was not how it was meant to go!'
A giant second explosion erupted behind their backs.
The last Jon Connington felt was hitting the hard cobblestones, one arm underneath Aegon, one arm across him.
Jon Connington had one job. King's Landing had fallen. But at what cost?
His vision blackened, the smell of sulphur burning his nostrils.
This was how he was meant to go with Rhaegar.
His silver prince in his arms.
"Let all of King's Landing see the flames. It will be a lesson to our enemies." - Cersei, A Feast for Crows
It is unlikely it will play out like this in the books, but I did try and base it on some book content. What did I base my chapter on is the following:
1) In the books the sandsnakes want to go to King's Landing to kill the Mountain and Cersei's children. Nym says three deaths will satisfy her: Tywin, Cersei and Tommen.
2) Cersei still has quite a bit of power in KL. In a sample chapters from The Winds of Winter, Mercy, one of the Mountain's Men guarding Ser Harys Swyft mentions this: "How long do you think we'll be here?" "Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head." - That shows Cersei isn't at Casterly, despite that she'd promised to go once she had Myrcella. I figured that although it was agreed Cersei would go to the Rock once she had Myrcella, Mace would let her "prepare" and since he doesn't have taste for conflict, he didn't pressure her to leave at a certain date because he didn't want to incite her wrath.
3) All three of Cersei's children have to be crowned before they can die because of the prophesy "gold will be their crowns, gold will be their shrouds." Thus, Tommen has to die first. And Myrcella couldn't die before being crowned.
4) "And I'd told the old bore I loved snakes" is a reference to a conversation between Doran and Nymeria from a Dance of Dragons, chapter 38. Doran warned her of the snakes in King's Landing but she said she loved them. Just a fun book wink ;)
5) Cersei could not die in this chapter. GRRM himself said that he still had two books to tell all stories, including Cersei's arc. Aegon's attempt at taking King's Landing will definitely happen in WoW, so that means Cersei must survive Aegon taking the city, elsewise she wouldn't have . But also, Myrcella has to become queen before Cersei can die.
6) The burning of KL is a hot topic. Some think it'll be Dany burning it by accident, others Cersei. The show did both by having Cersei burn the sept and Dany burning the city with dragonfire, which caused wildfire explosions as well. Personally I think Cersei's links to wildfire are sooo strong in the books that they have to go beyond Cersei burning the Tower of the Hand. Most quotes can be found here: asoiaf dot westeros dot ?/topic/130942-so-will-cersei-actually-burn-kings-landing/
7) GRRM said "The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion." (Source: westeros dot org /Citadel/SSM/Entry/1624) this tells us there will be a dance, but also that Daenerys may not necessarily do a large invasion like her distant forefather did. She may arrive peacefully, or at least without plans of overthrowing everyone. About the dance: we don't know how, or between which dragons it will take place. I'll see what George will do, but for my story you've got to keep reading. Before any dance can take place though, some pawns have to be moved around on the chessboard. Cersei in King's Landing, Aegon on Dragonstone, Stannis in Winterfell, … It's all a bit too much. When the dance starts, Aegon has to be king of Westeros. This is based on Dany's vision from the House of the Undying where she saw a cloth dragon (not a real one) swaying in the poles amidst a cheering crowd. Regardless of what would happen in a Dance of Dragons, Aegon had to be heralded as a hero by the people of King's Landing.
So, what did you think? I really broke my head over this chapter. I had this chapter planned since the beginning of my story, but I've changed the plot and story beats of this chapter at least six times in the time since. I'm sorry for posting so little, but as I said before I work full time and am still struggling to combine a master thesis with writing and working. And figuring out this story is really challenging sometimes. But I'm determined to see it through. I think I may be able to wrap it up this year :) It's crazy to think how long I've been working on it.