As the feast progressed and Dyana had returned to her chair, she took note of Maester Pycelle. He was wandering the feast, chatting idly with handmaidens. She snorted.
The newest entertainment was a juggler, but he wasn't very good. With every attempt he made, the balls fell to the floor. Joffrey looked to Margaery, who was trying her best not to laugh at the failed juggling. He rose. "A gold dragon to whoever knocks my fool's hat off," he stated.
The crowd laughed, throwing all variety of foods at the man, who dodged the best he could. Dyana made to pick up an apple, but Olenna grabbed her wrist. "No," the Queen of Thorns stated.
"You're no fun," Dyana stated.
The juggler ran off, ducking to avoid the flying food.
Joffrey smiled at his new wife, and she let out a wary chuckle.
When he stood again, he tapped his glass for attention. "Everyone, silence! Clear the floor," he instructed. "There's been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not an amusement. A royal wedding is history. The time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My lords... my ladies... I give you King Joffrey..."
The giant gold lion's head opened, a carpet rolled out. And a dwarf dressed like Joffrey rode out on a fake golden lion. Joffrey continued. "Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy."
Renly's dwarf rode a crude puppet with a mop of blond curls, clearly meant to be Loras. Dyana felt her teeth grit.
Stannis rode a puppet of a woman with red hair, his Red Priestess.
Robb rode the puppet of a horse, however his head was covered with a fake wolf's head.
Balon seemed to be the only figure that wasn't made a mockery of in his outfit and mount.
The dwarves burst into laughter, chasing each other madly. "I'm the rightful king."
"King in the North!"
"Yes!"
The people laughed raucously, and Margaery clapped along politely. "Traitor. You're a traitor."
Even Tommen, Joffrey's little brother, was laughing. "For the Seven Kingdoms!"
Dyana lowered her head to the table, uncaring when Olenna attempted to shake her. She sang softly to herself, trying to tune out the sounds of the dwarves mocking. She didn't realize what she was singing for a moment, until she found herself singing the words 'and so he spoke, and so he spoke.' She stopped herself immediately.
"Let the war begin!"
"Renly, you're no king."
"Away, degenerate. Away. Away."
"Ooh, careful."
"Go on."
"I want you to be my prince."
Dyana raised her head, looking at Loras who was beside Mace. Loras was unimpressed, looking at the floor. Finally, he pushed his seat back, storming away. "Stannis!" the Renly dwarf cried.
"Who's got the gold now, Stark?"
The 'battle' continued, until it was only the Robb dwarf against the Joffrey one. They charged each other, the fake wolf head toppling to the ground. "Your head!" the Joffrey cried.
Dyana looked across the tables at Sansa, who watched with a cold look in her eyes. The crowd went silent, though they kept clapping. The Joffrey climbed from his mount, taking the head. Dyana looked away. The real Joffrey continued to laugh from his seat, nearly spilling the cup of wine in his hands. He tried to take a sip, only to spit the wine out as he laughed. Cersei smiled at her eldest child. Margaery looked sullenly at her husband.
The Joffrey dwarf threw the head, spreading his arms wide. "Fine gentlemen," he said.
The other dwarves hurried to his sides, and they all bowed.
Joffrey stood, clapping. "Well fought. Well fought. Here you are. Champion's purse. Though you're not the champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all challengers. Surely there are others out there who still dare to challenge my reign. Uncle. How about you? I'm sure they have a spare costume."
Laughter sounded from the crowd. Tyrion rose slowly in his seat. "One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace. I would like to keep what remains of my face. I think you should fight him. This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness. Climb down from the high table with your new Valyrian sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne. Be careful, though. This one is clearly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the king to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night," he said, sitting back down.
Joffrey was frozen. He didn't know what to say. The crowd waited.
The king picked up a cup of wine, moving toward Tyrion and pouring its contents out onto his uncle. But Tyrion took it in stride. "A fine vintage," he said. "Shame that it spilled."
"It did not spill," Joffrey stated.
"My love, come back to me," Margaery said, trying to defuse the situation. "It's time for my father's toast."
"Well, how does he expect me to toast without wine?" Joffrey asked. "Uncle, you can be my cupbearer, seeing as you're too cowardly to fight."
"Your Grace does me a great honor," Tyrion said.
"It's not meant as an honor."
Dyana straightened considerably in her seat, while everyone else shrank away from the scene. Joffrey and Tyrion stared at each other for a long moment, before, finally, Tyrion rose. He stepped toward Joffrey, reaching for his cup. But the king only dropped it. When Tyrion lowered to pick up the cup, Joffrey kicked it under one of the tables. "Bring me my goblet," he stated.
Tyrion lowered beneath the table. But Sansa was the one who picked the cup up, handing it to her husband.
Tyrion held the cup out to his nephew, but Joffrey was not pleased. "What good is an empty cup? Fill it," he instructed.
So, Tyrion turned, filling the cup with wine. He held it out to Joffrey. "Kneel," the king stated. "Kneel before your king."
Tyrion did not move.
"Kneel. I said... kneel!"
Margaery watched tensely, before suddenly rising. "Look, the pie," she cried.
Everyone smiled awkwardly as applause broke out. Dyana let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Everyone rose.
Joffrey took the cup from Tyrion, handing it to Margaery who set it down. "My queen," he said.
He turned to his table, drawing Widow's Wail.
The pie was large, the crust shaped to hold the doves inside. Joffrey swung down on the center of the pie, and a burst of doves flew out. "Wonderful," Margaery grinned. "Wonderful. My hero."
Dyana felt her stomach sink when she took note of the lovely birds who had not made it out of the pie.
Servants sliced the pie, and handmaidens handed two pieces to Joffrey and Margaery. Margaery smiled as she fed Joffrey a bite.
Tyrion and Sansa started to leave, but Joffrey spotted them. "Uncle," he said. "Where are you going? You're my cupbearer, remember?"
"I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace," Tyrion replied.
"No, no, no. No, you're perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine."
Tyrion moved away from his table. "Well, hurry up. This pie is dry," Joffrey stated.
Tyrion stepped forward, picking up Joffrey's cup from the Tyrell's table. Dyana offered him a sympathetic smile as he did so, but he said nothing.
He held the cup out to Joffrey, who took a long drink. "Mm, good," he said, continuing to drink. "Needs washing down."
"If it please Your Grace, Lady Sansa is very tired," Tyrion said.
"No," Joffrey stated, coughing into his arm. "No, you'll wait here..." he coughed again, a hand moving to his throat, "un- -" he broke out coughing, unable to continue.
"Your Grace?" Tyrion asked.
Joffrey shook his head, taking another drink. "It's nothing," he stated, breathless.
Cersei straightened, staring at her eldest child.
Joffrey began to gasp for air, looking away from the people as he clutched at his throat. Margaery's eyes went wide. "He's choking!" she cried.
"Help the poor boy," Olenna stated.
Joffrey gasped, facing the crowd. He dropped his cup, stumbling a few steps and nearly tripping over it. Olenna stood. "Idiots, help your king," she snapped.
"Move away!" someone shouted as people began to rush over.
Dyana was shaking in her seat.
Joffrey fell forward on his stomach, choking and trying to gasp for air. Jaime Lannister hurried forward. "Joffrey! Joffrey!" he stated as the king began to vomit on the ground.
"Help him!" Cersei screamed, pushing Margaery as she ran to her brother and son.
"Joffrey!"
Cersei rolled Joffrey over, holding him tightly in her arms. "Joffrey! Joffrey!"
Dyana saw a figure move to Sansa's side. It was the juggler, speaking hurriedly and quietly. "Come with me now," he said. "If you want to live, we have to leave."
Jaime started to reach for Joffrey, but Cersei shoved him away. "Don't touch him!" she shouted.
Margaery turned away. Olenna stood, staring with a horrified look on her face. Tywin did the same. Dyana stood as well, starting to move toward Sansa.
Joffrey's face went purple, blood draining from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He tried to speak. "What is it? Help him!" Cersei begged.
He began to convulse in his mother's arms. His hand slowly raised, fingers trying to point at the figure of Tyrion, who picked up the cup from the ground. Joffrey suddenly went rigid. He was dead.
Tears began to fall down Cersei's face. "My son," she sobbed.
The crowd began to cry. "He's gone. Our king is gone."
Cersei's expression shifted to anger. Rage. She looked at her little brother. "He did this," she snarled. "He poisoned my son, your king. Take him. Take him! Take him!"
The Kingsguard took Tyrion by the arms. "Take him!" Cersei was screaming now.
She stared at Tyrion. "You did this. You did this!"
"We have to leave," the juggler told Sansa.
"Take him!"
Dyana didn't know what she was doing, but before she could even think, she was running to Sansa's side. The Stark girl looked at her, blue eyes wide. Dyana took her hand, and the girls just ran.
They didn't think about where the juggler was leading them, or what was going to happen to Tyrion. All they could do was run. Through Flea Bottom, in an alleyway. The juggler gave Sansa a cloak to wear, but had nothing for Dyana. The Tyrell girl kept her head down, staying close to Sansa's side as they moved among the people.
They didn't stop running until they reached a boat. "Get in," the juggler instructed.
"Where are we going?" Sansa asked.
"Somewhere safe."
The girls climbed into the boat, hoping that it would take them to safety.