Within the depths of the Red Keep, inside Maegor's Holdfast, Ser Meryn Trant stood guard outside the chambers of the Queen Regent.
The hallway remained silent except for the occasional clink of armor and the distant howl of wind against the castle walls. Behind the heavy wooden doors, however, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Luxurious silk sheets lay tangled across a massive feather bed as two pale bodies intertwined beneath them.
Golden hair spilled over the pillows like liquid sunlight.
Emerald-green eyes shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
Cersei Lannister, Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, rested against the bed while beside her lay her young cousin, Lancel Lannister—the late King Robert Baratheon's former squire and attendant.
Lancel was only sixteen years old.
Young, handsome, and full of reckless confidence.
Many people claimed he resembled Jaime Lannister in his youth. He possessed the same golden hair, the same proud features, and the same arrogant charm House Lannister was famous for.
Perhaps that resemblance was precisely why Cersei tolerated him.
Or perhaps why she used him.
Lancel himself did not care.
He was completely intoxicated by this forbidden affair.
Recently, Cersei had knighted him personally, raising his status and inflating his pride even further. To a young man like Lancel, who had suddenly gained power, prestige, and the attention of the most beautiful woman in the realm, fear simply did not exist.
Especially not for a Lannister.
The room smelled of wine, perfume, and sweat.
Afterward, Cersei lazily pushed him away.
Though Lancel shared her bed, her thoughts remained elsewhere.
Jaime.
Her twin.
Her true obsession.
Far away in the Westerlands, Jaime Lannister was recovering from devastating injuries. Reports described him as broken, disfigured, and half-dead.
The thought disturbed her deeply.
Jaime without his sword hand.
Jaime with scars across his face.
Jaime stripped of his beauty and confidence.
That image horrified her.
The Jaime she loved was the radiant young knight who could defeat anyone with a blade in hand. The proud lion of House Lannister.
Not a crippled shadow.
Cersei turned away coldly.
"Get dressed."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Lancel immediately obeyed.
Their relationship lacked affection and tenderness. It was nothing more than Cersei using him to satisfy her loneliness and frustrations.
Yet Lancel considered himself blessed.
He quickly dressed himself and stepped outside the chambers, quietly informing Ser Meryn that visitors could now enter if necessary.
Still, he doubted anyone would come.
Dark clouds covered the skies over King's Landing, and the castle felt unusually quiet.
Inside the room, Cersei stretched lazily against a pile of velvet cushions.
Her golden hair flowed loosely around her shoulders while she slipped into a robe of green and gold brocade.
"Sing for me," she commanded.
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Lancel picked up a harp and gently plucked the strings.
A soft melody drifted through the room.
"I loved a maiden fair as summer,
Sunlight dancing through her hair…
I loved a beauty bright as autumn,
Sunset burning golden there…
I loved a lady pale as winter,
Moonlight silver on her face…"
It was an old Myrish love song called My Seasons of Love.
The haunting melody floated through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast.
At that very moment, Tyrion Lannister entered the fortress.
No guards stopped him.
As Hand of the King and son of Tywin Lannister, his authority within the Red Keep had grown tremendously. Even the Kingsguard no longer dared obstruct him openly.
Tyrion approached Cersei's chambers and once again found Ser Meryn standing outside like an oversized statue.
The music from inside drifted through the thick doors.
Tyrion recognized the song immediately.
Tysha used to sing it.
That memory stabbed him unexpectedly.
He remembered the sweetness of her voice and the sorrow hidden in the lyrics.
"I wish to see my sister," Tyrion said calmly.
Ser Meryn hesitated awkwardly before stepping aside.
"My lord…"
The knight opened the door.
Tyrion entered without hurry.
The moment he stepped inside, the harp music stopped abruptly.
Lancel lowered the instrument, clearly displeased by the interruption.
Tyrion smiled faintly.
"My dear sister, you look especially beautiful tonight."
Then his mismatched eyes shifted toward Lancel.
"And cousin… I never realized your singing voice was so charming."
The air inside the room carried an unmistakable scent.
Wine.
Perfume.
Sex.
Tyrion immediately noticed how close Lancel stood to Cersei.
His suspicions sharpened instantly.
Unlike Jaime, who rarely sought the company of women outside Cersei, Tyrion had never believed his sister capable of loyalty.
If she had taken Lancel into her bed, it would surprise him very little.
Lancel, however, heard only mockery in Tyrion's voice.
His pride flared.
"Did Her Grace summon you here?" he demanded arrogantly.
Tyrion shrugged.
"Not that I recall."
He smiled coldly.
"My apologies for interrupting your… entertainment. Unfortunately, I have important matters to discuss with my sister."
Cersei narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"If this is about those filthy beggar prophets again, save it."
Tyrion sighed inwardly.
Clearly, she was furious about the recent unrest spreading through King's Landing.
Ever since the appearance of the red comet, fanatics, prophets, and madmen had flooded the streets preaching doom and divine punishment.
Cersei snapped angrily.
"One of them claimed the gods would punish us because Jaime murdered the rightful king!"
"Others spread even worse lies!"
She slammed her wine cup onto the table.
"They call this comet a sign against us. Against the court. Against you."
Her green eyes burned with fury.
"I tolerated these flea-ridden beggars long enough, Tyrion. You and Jacelyn Bywater failed to control them, so I ordered Ser Vylar and the Gold Cloaks to deal with them personally."
"He obeys orders very well," Tyrion replied dryly.
He personally believed violently suppressing starving fanatics was dangerous.
King's Landing already resembled a powder keg waiting to explode.
Fear, hunger, and rumors spread faster than wildfire.
But arguing with Cersei now served no purpose.
Instead, he spoke quietly.
"I didn't come to discuss beggars."
His tone became serious.
"I need to speak with you privately."
Cersei waved dismissively at Lancel.
"Leave us."
Lancel reluctantly obeyed, though he shot Tyrion a hateful glare before exiting and slamming the door shut behind him.
Cersei leaned back lazily.
"You didn't bring your wildling pets tonight?"
"No. They've become civilized recently."
Tyrion smirked.
"Shagga even bathes once every two weeks."
Cersei rolled her eyes impatiently.
"You seem unusually pleased with yourself tonight. What is it?"
Tyrion climbed onto the edge of Robert's old bed.
"So this is still Robert's bed?"
He chuckled.
"I'm surprised you kept it."
Cersei's lips curved into a cold smile.
"It gives me pleasant dreams."
Then her expression darkened.
"Speak quickly, Imp."
Tyrion's face became serious.
"The war at Storm's End is over."
Cersei immediately sat upright.
"What happened?"
"Stannis sailed from Dragonstone and confronted Renly near Storm's End."
"I know that already."
Cersei waved impatiently.
"The two brothers were too busy fighting each other to threaten us."
"Yes," Tyrion replied quietly.
"But things changed."
He paused deliberately.
"Renly attacked Stannis first… and lost."
Cersei frowned.
"And then?"
"The Storm Fleet arrived from behind and crushed Renly's forces."
Silence filled the room.
Cersei's eyes widened slowly.
"What?"
"Renly was defeated and sent to the Wall."
Tyrion watched her carefully.
"And Stannis surrendered."
For several seconds, Cersei simply stared at him.
Then she grabbed Tyrion violently by the shoulders.
"That's impossible!"
Her nails dug painfully into his skin.
"Stannis would never surrender!"
Tyrion grimaced.
"I thought the same."
"But it happened."
"He has bent the knee to his nephew."
"And now our enemies possess a capable Hand of the King."
Cersei shook him furiously.
"No…"
"No, this makes no sense!"
"Stannis hated Robert for years!"
Tyrion slowly pried her hands away.
"Hatred isn't always stronger than blood."
He sighed heavily.
"Whatever resentment Stannis carried, it seems he still loved his brother in the end."
Cersei staggered backward.
Fear now clouded her expression.
"Then why are you standing here talking?!"
"Gather troops!"
"Send ravens to Harrenhal immediately!"
Tyrion nodded calmly.
"I've already begun preparations."
"I intend to defend King's Landing."
Cersei paced the room anxiously, her hair disheveled.
"Where is Father?"
"Where is Jaime?"
Her voice trembled slightly.
"If I'd been born a man, Father would have chosen me as heir."
Tyrion gave a small smile.
"For once, dear sister, I completely agree."
Cersei sat heavily upon the bed.
"No…"
"I can't sit here while you ruin everything."
"I'm the Queen Regent."
"Not you."
Tyrion quietly poured her a cup of red wine.
Unnoticed by Cersei, he slipped a pinch of powder into the goblet.
Then he handed it to her with a pleasant smile.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in King's Landing—
"Decay!"
A ragged prophet screamed in Cobbler's Square.
Crowds of starving smallfolk gathered beneath patched leather canopies to listen.
The prophet wore rough wool and a rope belt, little different from a common beggar.
Yet his eyes burned with fanatic madness.
Above them all, the red comet blazed across the heavens.
The people called it Lightbringer.
Against the darkening skies, the crimson tail seemed to hang directly above the Red Keep itself.
An omen.
A warning.
"Decay!" the prophet cried again.
"We are corrupt!"
"We are rotten!"
"We are sinful!"
His finger pointed toward the Red Keep.
"Brother lies with sister in the king's bed!"
"The children of incest sit upon the throne!"
"The twisted monkey rules the realm!"
The crowd burst into laughter.
King's Landing loved scandal more than bread.
The prophet continued screaming hysterically.
"The nobles drown themselves in lust and greed while the people starve!"
"Even the High Septon feasts while children die hungry in the streets!"
"The gods have seen our sins!"
"The whoremonger king died screaming beneath a boar's tusks!"
"His belly split open with corruption!"
The crowd roared with laughter and fear alike.
Some shouted prayers.
Others mocked him openly.
Then the prophet raised both arms toward the comet.
"Repent!"
"Cleanse yourselves in holy fire!"
"Or the gods will destroy us all!"
"Consumed by fire!"
A whip suddenly cracked across his back.
Blood sprayed across his torn clothing.
"This is purification!" the prophet screamed madly.
Yet most people cared little for religion.
They only wanted food.
"Bread!"
"Give us bread!"
"We don't need gods—we need bread!"
Suddenly, armored riders surged into the crowd.
Lannister Red Cloaks.
The mob scattered instantly.
Captain Vylar rode at the front while soldiers dragged the prophet down from his platform.
The fanatic screamed wildly even as boots smashed into his ribs and blood poured from his mouth.
"Divine punishment!"
"You'll all burn!"
Another punch knocked several teeth from his mouth.
Vylar sighed tiredly.
"How many prophets is that this week?"
Ever since the red comet appeared and rumors spread across the realm, King's Landing had become consumed by fear and superstition.
The city was starving.
The people were angry.
And the Lannisters were losing control.
As the prophet was dragged away toward the black cells, the storm hanging over King's Landing only continued to grow darker.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)