While you are reading, I obviously advise you to listen to ''Light of the Seven'', either Ramin Djawadi's version, or this one : /lEAolJlIOk8
All Game of Thrones belong to GRR Martin and DB & DW.
Enjoy reading !
The sun rose into the sky, illuminating the red tiled roofs of King's Landing.
The great day had arrived.
The day of one of the most eagerly awaited trials in Westeros history.
The trial of Ser Loras Tyrell, brother of Queen Margaery, but most importantly, the trial of the Queen Mother, Cersei Lannister.
The bells are ringing.
Cersei contemplated the Sept of Baelor, silently, from her window in the Red Keep. Contemplated all those people who had come to see her being accused and condemned, just as they had come to see her parading through the streets, naked, humiliating her, and hoping to do the same today. Cersei was not fooled. She knew full well that it was not to see Loras Tyrell that all the nobles, and many of the little people of King's Landing had come, and were massing at the gates of the Great Sept. They were far too appreciated for that, the Knight of Flowers and the little queen. It was for Cersei that they were there, waiting as dogs wait for their food that the great oak doors of the Sept would open, open to paradise. A paradise where they could see a queen who had despised them for years, who had looked down on them, being condemned to death, wishing that it would be in the worst way.
Ripped open. Skinned. Burned alive. Beheaded. Hanged.
There were many possibilities.
And they were waiting for the killing of the Golden Lioness of Casterly Rock, of the Light of the West, to be as spectacular as possible, in the light of the Seven. That she begged for her life, just as she had begged for nothing but a little water when she was imprisoned by the rotten sparrows who now thought to seal her fate. That she let out cries of pain when she would be killed.
They could always dream.
She was a Lannister, Lord Tywin's own daughter, a Lioness of the Rock. And lion doesn't concern himself by the opinion of the sheeps.
But if it was spectacle they wanted, she'd be more than happy to bring it to them on a silver platter. Or rather, a gold platter.
They were going to be served.
Hear me roar.
The bells are ringing.
Tommen was getting dressed in his apartments. He had to attend his brother-in-law's trial. More importantly, he had to attend his mother's trial. To say that he dreaded the trial was an understatement. More than anything else, he feared having to watch his mother, the woman who had given birth to him, who had loved and protected him from his first breath, being sentenced to death, in the light of the Seven. He knew that the charges against her were overwhelming.
Fornication. Adultery. Incest. Treason. Murder.
And yet he had done nothing. He had done nothing when his wife and mother had been locked up by the High Sparrow. When his mother was paraded like a whore in the streets of King's Landing. He had done nothing when she had been humiliated, bruised, injured. He had done nothing when she would have shaved entire cities if anyone had dared to touch a single hair of one of her children. He had even prevented her from seeing her daughter one last time. He stopped her from coming to her funeral. Perhaps he had even deprived her of her only chance of getting out alive, by suppressing trials by combat.
And now he was going to be forced to watch her being judged, and the only thing he really wanted was that if she was sentenced to death, he would find somewhere in him the strength to make himself heard, and to succeed, once and for all, in protecting his mother. Because if he could not succeed in protecting his own mother from a horde of religious fanatics, how could he claim to be the Protector of the Realm?
And his crown was placed on his head, as if it could have been enough, a simple piece of metal, to give him all the courage and wisdom needed to reign.
Our is the fury.
The bells are ringing.
Margaery was also getting dressed in her apartments. She looked forward to this day more eagerly than anyone else in all Seven Kingdoms. She was finally going to stop being a queen. She was going to be the queen.
She wasn't worried about Loras. She had spent hours with him in his cell reading ''The Seven-Pointed Star'' to him, so much so that she had persuaded him that faith was the right path to follow, and that she had convinced him to renounce his titles and rights to Highgarden, making her the sole heir to Lord Mace Tyrell, the one who would recover the Reach upon his death.
She had convinced the High Sparrow that her brother would confess all his sins in the light of the Seven, and that he would bow down before him, swearing to consecrate his life to the gods. The High Sparrow then gave her his word that no harm would come to him.
No, if she was worried, it was about her mother-in-law, Queen Cersei. She always had more than one trick up her sleeve. She was like lightning. Unpredictable, she struck very hard, and usually where you least expect it. Like when she had locked up Loras, then Margaery herself, through the Militant Faith, which she herself had rearmed. Oh, of course, she had denied any involvement at first, but she had been less clever when she in turn had been imprisoned by the sparrows. And even less so when she made her Walk of Shame She was beautiful, the Golden Queen, the daughter of the great Tywin Lannister, the Pearl of Casterly Rock, the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Naked, dirty, bloody, she had barely tasted her fee.
After all, a Lannister always pays his debts. It's up to Cersei to pay hers.
And she's going to pay for it. Very dearly. Margaery had made sure of that, wishing for the Queen Mother to suffer, the only one who had seen what influence she had on her husband, King Tommen. Tommen, who was kind, naive, and very easily influenced. The last few months had been a pure power game between the two women to see who would have the upper hand over the young king.
The Golden Lioness of Casterly Rock against the Golden Rose of Highgarden.
But the lions had nothing left now, while the rose bush continued to grow rapidly.
Growing strong.
The bells are ringing.
The gates of the Great Sept of Baelor opened, allowing the crowd that had gathered in the square to gradually pour into the building. The main hall was illuminated by the morning light that filtered through the glass of the heptagram of the wall, illuminating the whole room with the light of the Seven.
The notables entered first, having the privilege of having the best seats, to have a front row seat for the audience of the Knight of Flowers and the Queen Mother. Then the common people, those who had come out of curiosity, and those who had come because they knew very well that the charges against Queen Cersei would inevitably lead to her being sentenced to death. And they would be happy to sound the death knell for her, having waited for her death since the death of King Robert.
Finally, the sparrows entered the sacred place, dressed in their robes of brown burdock, their seven-pointed stars engraved on their foreheads, a reminder of who they were and the power they had. They surrounded the crowd, standing high up, almost against the walls. They were at least as many as half the congregation that had just filled the building.
The bells are ringing.
Loras Tyrell was already up, waiting on foot for the sparrows to come and get him so he could be judged in the light of the Seven. He was ready. The judges wouldn't even have to ask him to plead his defense. He'd confess guilt of all the crimes he was accused of. After all, guilty he was.
His sister had told him that if he confessed his crimes, he would be pardoned and then released.
And Loras was looking forward to his release. It didn't matter if, in order to be out again, he had to step down from the line of succession for Highgarden. No matter if he had to give up the Tyrell name and devote his life to the faith. The light of the Seven had shed light on his past mistakes, thanks in large part to Margaery. He was about to admit his wrongdoings. He was going to be free.
He offered no resistance when the sparrows came to fetch him, even though their leader, Lancel Lannister, held an impressive dagger in his hand. He let himself be carried through the maze of corridors that connected the cells to the main room of the Sept.
And when he reached the exit, and entered the great hall, he felt himself illuminated, inflamed by the white light which came from outside through the seven-pointed star of the Sept. Bathed in the light of the Seven.
The bells are ringing.
Cersei, in turn, was getting ready. All the same, it was her trial, which we were going to open out there, right after Ser Loras'.
''You're alone. You are surrounded by thousands of enemies" declared her the Queen of Thorns once. "Are you going to remove them all yourself?" she asked her ironically. Eventually Olenna Tyrell has told her that she had lost.
In a way, she was right. Cersei was indeed alone.
But being alone also meant that she was the Lady of Casterly Rock. Since Jaime was still in the Kingsguard, and Tyrion was gone, she was the only Lannister heiress.
Alone she was the opulence, wealth, power and might of Casterly Rock and the Western Lands. She was the second most important person after the king her son.
Olenna had it right.
All these people who were now waiting in front of the Septuary did not know that the Queen Mother was about to open the biggest trial we have ever seen. The trial of all those who had offended, humiliated, mistreated her.
She was actually going to get rid of all her enemies. And no one would ever again have the opportunity to doubt her power.
The bells are ringing.
The High Sparrow in turn entered the Sept of Baelor, followed by six septons, who would serve as judges of the two accused. He saw Queen Margaery standing beside her father, Lord Mace Tyrell.
As he passed by, he gave her a quiet little smile. She had nothing to worry about. If her brother did as she promised, nothing would happen to him.
The Queen Mother, on the other hand...
It seemed unlikely she would make it. But she was totally unpredictable.
She had already fallen to her knees, imploring the Mother's mercy. It was not impossible that she would do it again, even before a large part of the people.
The High Sparrow went with his septons to the center of the Sept, where seven chairs had been placed, each on one of the branches of the heptagram, for the judges who would each represent a god, and try to determine whether the accused were indeed innocent of the charges against them. Or not.
Sodomy. Treachery. Perjury. Depravity. Dishonesty. Debauchery. Fornication. Adultery. Incest. Treason. Conspiracy. Murder.
Never before in living memory has there been a trial, even though two defendants were involved, with so many charges, and above all, so serious. Especially in the case of Queen Cersei. A rare pearl, this one, it had to be admitted.
The bells are ringing.
A servant came knocking at King Tommen's door.
'Your Grace ? The trial will 'be getting under way soon.''
Tommen sat motionless, silent on his chair, contemplating the Sept of Baelor.
The servant, seeing that the young monarch would have no reaction to it, closed the door and left.
The moment Tommen feared most was about to come.
The bells are ringing.
The High Sparrow was waiting.
Ser Loras was brought into daylight by three of the sparrows. When he appeared, the head of the monks stood up and signaled to his followers to let him go. Dirty, with shaggy and tangled hair, barefoot and dressed only in a sort of tunic, he was far away from the charming knight, gallant, well-bred and handsome.
''Ser Loras Tyrell. Are you prepared to stand trial and profess your guilt or innocence before the Seven ?''
There was a leaden silence in the room. There was not a sound, except for the prisoner's jerky breathing.
''There'll be no need for a trial. I confess before the Seven and freely admit to my crimes.''
The crowd gasped for this statement. All, noblemen, noble blood and little people, were shocked by the proclamation of the Knight of Flowers.
''To which crimes will you be confessing ?''
The silence was no longer, corrupted by the whispers caused by the affirmation of the heir of Highgarden.
''All of them. I lay with other men, including the traitor, Renly Baratheon. I perjured myself before the gods. I'm guilty of depravity, dishonesty, profligacy and arrogance. I see that now. I humble myself before the Seven and accept whatever punishment the gods deem just.''
If Loras Tyrell's admission of guilt had caused murmurs in the crowd, it was nothing compared to the hubbub that erupted immediately after the list of the defendant's crimes was stated.
The High Sparrow brought silence to the assembly.
''The gods' judgement is fierce, but also fair. The Warrior punishes those who believe themselves beyond the reach of the justice. But the Mother show her mercy to those who kneel before her.''
The High Sparrow himself representing the Mother, Loras knelt before him.
''I take full responsibility for my many sins, and unburden myself of my desires. My only remaining wish is to devote my life to the Seven. May I be a living example of their grace for others to witness.''
''You understand fully what this means ?''
''I do. I will abandon the Tyrell name and all that goes with it.I will renounce my lordship and my claims on Highgarden. I will never marry and I will never father children.''
The blow looked severe to Mace Tyrell. The chief fanatic was gloating inside. Another great of this world fallen like a fly. The hopes of inheriting one of the greatest houses in Westeros dashed. As would be the case with the Queen Mother. He was going to kill two birds with one stone. The Lannister and Tyrell dynasties, so opulent, so powerful, so great, so untouchable, collapsed because of him, who only pretended to spread the good word, the word of the gods.
He took Loras' chin in his hand, and forced him to look into his eyes.
''Brother Loras. I ask you to dedicate your life to the seven gods. Will you fight to defend your faith against heretics and apostates ?''
''I will.''
The High Sparrow released Loras Tyrell's chin, then nodded to Lancel Lannister, inviting him to advance towards their new recruit. Two more sparrows came and held him by the arms, and bowed his head backwards, while Lancel approached with his knife, and began to carve the seven-pointed star into the repentant man's white skin, causing blood to drip on the beautiful pale face of the former Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. As soon as his son's blood began to spill, Lord Mace tried to approach them, to prevent them from continuing.
''No, I can't let them...''
But Queen Margaery held him by the arm, forcing him to stay by her side.
''Faith is the way, Father.''
The bells are ringing.
Tommen's door opened again. Thinking it was another servant who had come to warn him of his mother's impending audience, he rose from his chair.
''All right. I'm ready.''
He turned around, and finally saw the Mountain, which stood silently at his door. Intimidated, Tommen walked towards it.
''I have to go. I'm... I'm late for the trial.''
He was about to ask Ser Gregor to step aside, when the latter put a hand on his shoulder, obviously not intending to accede to the king's silent request, and did not make the slightest move.
The bells are ringing.
A drop of blood dripped from Loras' forehead to crash on his bare, dirty toes. Still standing in the middle of the Septuary, he seemed to suffer in silence.
Margaery, furious at what the High Sparrow had inflicted on her brother, approached him to speak to him, expressing not only her displeasure, but also her concern about the alarming absence of her mother-in-law, who had obviously not deemed it necessary to come to her own hearing.
''You mutilated him. You gave me your word.''
''And I have kept my word. Once the Queen Mother's trial is concluded, Brother Loras is free to leave.''
''And where is the Queen Mother ?''
This was the question that the whole congregation had been asking itself, from the moment Lancel Lannister's knife had finished its morbid work of art, a work of blood and flesh, Margaery even more than anyone else in this room. It was one thing for Loras to go free when Cersei's trial was over. But for it to end, it would have to begin. And for it to begin, the presence of the defendant was essential enough. But she wasn't there.
The High Sparrow, in search of an answer, turned his head towards Lancel.
''Her litter never left the Red Keep.''
''It appears the Queen Mother doesn't wish to attend her own trial.''
It was disconcertingly clear-sighted, Margaery thought sarcastically. Everyone in the Sept had understood that the Queen Mother did not consider them worthy enough to do her company the immense honour of her company, even when she found herself in a position of inferiority.
Or maybe she has a dirty trick up her sleeve. Could it be that, in some way, Cersei had found a way not only to not attend her own hearing, but also to ensure that she would not suffer any consequences for her absence? This would also explain Tommen's absence. If Cersei had foreseen any vendetta that might affect the public inside the building, she would have taken every precaution to ensure that it would not have the slightest impact on her precious son.
Margaery was beginning to have serious doubts about their safety here. Her mother-in-law was capable of absolutely every horror in the world, and wiping a cult of fanatics and some of the residents of King's Landing off the map would be child's play to her, especially if they were all gathered in one place.
The High Sparrow ordered Lancel to fetch his cousin from the Red Keep, using force if necessary. Then he turned to Margaery again, and gave her a smile that was meant to be encouraging, but only increased the young queen's doubts.
The bells are ringing.
Cersei poured herself a glass of red wine and then walked to her window, from which she had a direct view of the Great Sept of Baelor.
Everyone knew that the sacred place would be the scene of the next killing of King's Landing. The Queen Mother would most likely be executed in her court.
What they didn't know was that the Queen Mother had no intention of allowing herself to be sentenced to death.
When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middleground, she once told Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. She was a brilliant player at that game. And she had no intention of dying. Not to this day, anyway. Two of her children may have died, but she still had one last cub to protect. Which left her with only one option. Win.
She had to defeat those who had played the game of thrones with her. Luckily, they were the same ones who had humiliated her when they thought they'd won. But they didn't know the rules of the game. Not as well as she did. They didn't know they'd have been better off killing her directly, even if Jaime would have killed them all for it afterwards. Dead, there was nothing she could have done. Alive and offended, insulted, she could have plotted her revenge.
She smiles slightly at the thought. As soon as they felt the warmth of the Light of the Seven, they would know that they would have much preferred a swift, clean, neat, swift stroke of the sword, rather than suffer what would fall upon them as the sentence of their damn gods.
They would be bathed in their Light of the Seven, the Light of the Seven in which they had so longed for Cersei to be judged and then killed. May they drown in it.
The bells are ringing.
Lancel, from the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor, saw a child running alone in the deserted street. He ordered the three sparrows that had followed him to continue without him.
He followed the child, who entered an underground passage.
He walked for several minutes through a maze of dark and dusty corridors, before he realized that the child had dragged him under the Sept. The passageways were low-ceilinged, and Lancel had to bend down to get through, and continue to follow the child in his frantic race, though this did not bode well.
Lancel went into a large room and found a burning torch on the floor. He grabbed it and raised it up, illuminating the underground. Shelves rose up to the vaults of the ceiling, all full of identical barrels, which probably contained some kind of liquid. Wine, perhaps. But before he had time to ascertain the nature of the container, he felt a searing pain go through his abdomen.
He'd just been stabbed.
Dropping heavily to the ground, breathing heavily, he saw the child doing something, he couldn't discern what. He tried to call out to him, but without success, and the child ran away again, abandoning him to his sad fate.
He crawled on the floor, trying with difficulty to get near one of the barrels, from which was dripping a strange green liquid that Lancel didn't remember seeing in his life.
The bells are ringing.
Margaery returned to the High Sparrow, now firmly convinced that something was about to happen.
''There's something wrong.''
''You have nothing to fear, Your Grace. The trial will begin shortly.''
''Cersei is not here. Tommen is not here. Why do you think they're not here ?''
''If the accused is not here, she will be tried regardless. We cannot escape the justice of the gods...''
It was too much for Margaery. Something, something dangerous was going on, she was convinced, and the only thing that this old man could say was that the justice of the gods would triumph. He could say what he wanted, but Margaery felt, knew, that it would not be today that the justice of the gods would triumph over the infamous Queen Mother. The only thing that had to be done now was to evacuate the room, before the catastrophe caused by Cersei occurred.
''Forget about the bloody gods and listen what I'm telling you. Cersei understands the consequences of her absence, and she is absent anyway, which means she does not intend to suffer those consequences. The trial can wait. We all need to leave.''
The bells have stopped ringing.
Lancel kept dragging himself along as best he could, moving slowly. When a vision appeared to him that horrified him, but he couldn't explain it.
In front of him was a puddle of the same green liquid flowing from the barrels. And in the middle of this puddle there was a candle, which was gradually melting. If he had forgotten what that liquid was, he remembered now.
The Battle of Blackwater. The water, the boats, the burning soldiers. The screams, the blood, the terror, the night.
Wild fire.
Rushing as fast as he could in his condition, he accelerated, using all the strength of his arm muscles to drag himself as fast as he could towards the lumignon. If he had any luck, he could arrive before the candle finished melting, causing a huge fire, for that was undoubtedly what the rest of the barrels contained, and could put it out.
The bells had definitely stopped ringing.
Seeing that the High Sparrow was saying absolutely nothing, Margaery decided to take the lead, and urged the crowd to get out of the Sept.
'We all need to leave now !''
She went to her brother, who still had a bloody forehead, and took him by the arm.
''Loras... Stay with me...''
As soon as the Queen had told them to leave the building as soon as possible, the crowd began to rush to the exits of the Septuary, people jostling each other trying to be the first to get out, having now also understood that the absence of the Queen Mother was related to what Queen Margaery had sensed was coming. And even though no one knew what it was all about, they all knew that there was nothing Queen Cersei wouldn't dare, and that didn't bode well.
But the sparrows blocked the gates of the Sept, preventing people from getting out.
Two of them barricaded the exit with their bodies, keeping her inside the Septuary with Loras.
''Let me through. Let me through ! Get out of my way ! Let us through !''
But they didn't listen to her.
Not a sound was heard in King's Landing, except for the hubbub inside the Septuary.
Lancel was about to reach the candle. He was going to make it. He had no choice. If he didn't blow it out, he would die. Him and everyone above. And Cersei, because deep down, Lancel knew she was behind it, would have won. No, he couldn't let that happen.
But the candle burned out too quickly, and the wildfire ignited.
Lancel barely had time to understand what had happened when the green light had already filled the basements of Great Sept of Baelor, causing a huge chain reaction.
A deafening roar was heard.
While people were shouting, trying to determine the origin of the disturbing noise, Margaery looked at the High Sparrow. The old fool had just condemned them all because of his blind faith.
And the last thing Margaery saw was green, green everywhere, the color of the Tyrell house, with a sound like lightning and the screams of people who understood what was happening to them.
A bell crashed to the ground.
The Sept exploded with a dull blast. Everything was swept away by wild fire.
Cersei gazed at the scene with a satisfied look on her face. She hadn't died. She had won. But they'd lost, and she'd made sure they understood that. She had brought down upon them an almost divine punishment. Her hell, the hell she had unleashed, the hell they had unleashed had consumed and swallowed up the paradise they had built.
Olenna Tyrell was wrong. She had managed to get rid of all her enemies at King's Landing. And she had done it masterfully.
No more High Sparrow, no more sparrows. No more Tyrells. No more Kevan or Lancel Lannister. No one.
And that thought was enough to make the Queen Mother smile as she wore her cup of red wine to her lips, showering her overwhelming, breathtaking victory, and then left her window, when she was sure there was nothing left of the Septuary and all that had been inside at the time of that tragic incident was ashes and smoke.
Thanks for reading! Please take the time to leave a short comment, it's always a pleasure. Don't be too hard on my English, it's not my mother tongue.