"I won't shout 'Long live Joffrey,' nor 'Long live Casterly Rock,'" Tyrion declared to the men gathered around him. "The Storm has come to sack our city and batter down our gates. Come with me—let's kill these bastards!"
Drawing his battle axe, Tyrion turned his horse and charged toward the breach outside the King's Gate. His men followed in a wedge formation, with Tyrion at the very front.
To his right rode Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard, his polished white armor reflecting the glow of nearby fires. His expression remained as cold and emotionless as ever. Mounted on a jet-black warhorse draped in white barding, he carried the pure white shield of the Kingsguard.
To Tyrion's surprise, Podrick Payne rode on his left with a sword in hand.
"You're too young!" Tyrion shouted over the chaos. "Go back!"
"I am your squire, my lord," Podrick answered firmly.
The battle around the King's Gate was fierce. The ground had become a muddy mixture of blood and corpses, making every step dangerous. Tyrion carefully controlled his horse, knowing that a single slip could mean death.
"Long live King's Landing!"
"Long live the Goddess of Love!"
"Long live the Three-Headed God!"
The colorful mercenaries screamed their battle cries as steel clashed against steel.
Tyrion hacked through enemy soldiers while thinking of the wildlings who had once fought beside him. Most of them were probably already dead.
Beside him, Ser Mandon lowered his spear and drove it straight through the chest of a soldier wearing studded leather armor. The force lifted the man completely off the ground before the spear shaft finally snapped.
A Pentoshi swordsman without a helmet rushed toward Tyrion. Using both his strength and the momentum of his horse, Tyrion swung his axe, splitting the man's skull in half. The impact numbed his shoulder.
Fortunately, the enemy force consisted of mercenaries from Lys, Pentos, Tyrosh, and slave soldiers from Yunkai. Without a unified commander, they quickly lost their nerve. As Tyrion's cavalry crashed into them, they abandoned their catapults and fled in every direction.
Tyrion pressed the attack relentlessly.
His horse trampled an archer.
His axe severed a spearman's arm from shoulder to elbow.
Arrows and spears struck his shield and helmet, but he narrowly escaped every deadly blow.
"To the Mud Gate!" he shouted.
His men followed.
"Long live the Halfman!"
"Long live the Halfman!"
The cheers of the defenders echoed around him. For the first time, Tyrion understood the intoxicating madness of battle that his brother Jaime had always spoken of.
The fighting stretched across the riverbank. Enemy soldiers poured ashore from burning ships while Ser Balon Swann and Lancel Lannister desperately held the line.
"So that's why the Hound fled," Tyrion muttered as thick smoke covered the Blackwater Rush.
His assault force gradually broke apart amid the confusion. He could no longer tell where many of his own men were.
He also had no idea how the battle against Volantis was progressing.
All he knew was that no enemy would enter King's Landing while he still lived.
Soon, Ser Balon Swann rode up beside him, his armor blackened with soot and stained with blood. Raising his mace, he pointed downstream.
"My lord... look."
Tyrion turned.
His heart sank.
Across the Blackwater Rush, dozens of destroyed warships had become tangled together. Their hulls, oars, ropes, and broken masts formed an enormous makeshift bridge stretching across the river.
Enemy soldiers were already leaping from ship to ship.
"They're crossing!"
"Then let's stop them," Tyrion ordered.
He led another charge.
Yunkai slave soldiers met them head-on, speaking words Tyrion couldn't understand.
Steel crashed against steel.
The battlefield dissolved into complete chaos.
Then came the terrible news.
"The Old Gate has fallen!"
"The King has fled!"
Each report was worse than the last.
After cutting down another enemy soldier, Tyrion stepped back.
Had the city truly fallen?
He looked around.
The defenders atop the walls were collapsing. Many Gold Cloaks threw down their weapons and fled.
"Joffrey... Cersei..."
His eyes burned with fury.
"Cersei, you foolish woman..."
He turned toward Ser Mandon.
"Back to the Mud Gate!"
"Yes, my lord."
But instead of obeying, Ser Mandon suddenly drew his sword.
Without warning, he slashed at Tyrion.
"What are you doing?!"
Tyrion barely twisted aside, yet the blade still carved a deep wound across his face.
"No!"
Podrick Payne lunged forward, driving his dagger deep into Mandon's lower back.
Stunned, Tyrion stared at the Kingsguard knight.
"Why...?"
---
Elsewhere, King's Landing had descended into complete anarchy.
Wildfire still burned across the Blackwater while battles raged outside the walls.
Inside the city, terrified citizens had become an uncontrollable mob.
Homes were looted.
Shops burned.
People murdered, robbed, and assaulted one another.
False prophets and bandit leaders stirred the crowds into greater violence. Even fleeing Gold Cloaks threw away their uniforms and joined the rioters.
The mob targeted wealthy merchants, bakers, grain dealers, goldsmiths, and officials—anyone they blamed for their hunger.
It felt as though King's Landing itself was dying.
Meanwhile, King Joffrey's escort hurried through Hook Street toward Visenya's Hill.
By pure chance, they encountered a crowd gathered around a filthy self-proclaimed prophet.
Armed with stones, broken chair legs, and wooden clubs, the crowd blocked the road.
"The King!"
"The Little Monkey!"
More and more people recognized Joffrey.
His gilded armor shone brilliantly beneath the sunlight. Even his horse wore crimson-and-gold barding decorated with golden lions.
He was impossible to miss.
Ser Meryn Trant's face turned pale.
He knew exactly what happened when a mob caught someone.
"Summer has ended!" the ragged prophet shouted. "The Bastard King is being punished by the heavens!"
The crowd roared in agreement.
Years of hunger, war, and oppression had filled them with hatred for House Lannister.
Though Joffrey's escort consisted of Kingsguard knights, the Kettleblack brothers, and a dozen veteran Gold Cloaks, they looked tiny before the sea of angry citizens.
"I am Joffrey Baratheon!" the boy king shouted proudly. "I am your king!"
"No," the prophet spat. "You are the Kingslayer's bastard—the son of the whore Queen Regent!"
"Hurry, Your Grace," Ser Meryn urged nervously.
But Joffrey's temper exploded.
He seized his crossbow.
"No!" Meryn cried.
Too late.
The bolt flew straight into the prophet's chest.
As blood poured from the wound, the dying man glared at Joffrey.
"You will suffer divine punishment..."
Then he collapsed.
For a heartbeat, everything became silent.
Then the city erupted.
"He killed the Prophet!"
"The Lannister bastard!"
"He starved us!"
The mob surged forward.
Joffrey's face turned white.
"Get out of my way!" he screamed. "I am your king! I'll have every one of you executed!"
His words only fueled their rage.
The Gold Cloaks lowered their spears to hold the crowd back, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.
Stones flew through the air.
Then more.
Soon it became a storm of rocks.
The defensive line collapsed.
The Gold Cloaks were knocked down and trampled beneath countless feet.
Ser Meryn Trant and the Kettleblack brothers fought desperately, cutting down anyone who came close.
It made no difference.
The crowd swallowed them whole.
The Kettleblack brothers abandoned the king and fled for their own lives.
Hands reached over the broken line.
One hand.
Then another.
Soon dozens grabbed at Joffrey.
"No!" he screamed.
"I am your king!"
"You are the Kingslayer's bastard," someone shouted back.
"You starved us!"
Ser Meryn fought until his horse was stabbed beneath him.
He continued on foot, swinging his sword wildly.
Clubs and stones rained down.
His white cloak slowly turned crimson with blood.
Eventually, even he could no longer protect the king.
Joffrey was dragged from his horse.
He tried to raise his sword.
A stone smashed into his head.
Then another.
His crown disappeared beneath countless hands.
The royal banner was torn into shreds.
The mob ripped jewels from his armor.
His golden helmet was crushed flat.
Then they turned their fury upon his face.
"Stop!" Joffrey screamed.
"You traitors!"
No one listened.
The people beat him again and again until he could no longer resist.
His final cry echoed through the street.
"Mother..."
"It hurts..."
Darkness swallowed him.
The King was dead.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)