[King's Landing - Red Keep]

Septa Moelle, with her axe-sharp features and perpetually disapproving expression, sported a mane of stark white hair.

This one still has her maidenhead, I'll wager, Cersei thought, though by now it's hard and stiff as boiled leather.

The High Sparrow's knights, a contingent of six, accompanied her, each displaying the emblem of their resurrected order—a rainbow-coloured sword—on their distinctive kite-shaped shields.

"Septa." Cersei sat beneath the Iron Throne, clad in green silk and golden lace. "Tell his High Holiness that we are vexed with him. He presumes too much."

Emeralds glimmered on her fingers and in her golden hair. The eyes of court and city were upon her, and she meant for them to see Lord Tywin's daughter.

By the time this mummer's farce was done they would know they had but one true queen. But first we must dance the dance and never miss a step.

"Lady Margaery is my son's true and gentle wife, his helpmate and consort. His High Holiness had no cause to lay his hands upon her person, or to confine her and her young cousins, who are so dear to all of us. I demand that he release them."

Shortly after her brother's arrest, Margaery too was arrested after being accused of adultery.

Several men had come forward, confessing that they had lain with her.

Cersei's hatred for Margaery and her family had been building for years, a simmering animosity fueled by jealousy and a desire for power.

Cersei suspected her powerful Tyrell allies, now relatives through Tommen's marriage to Margaery, were trying to seize control of the kingdom.

This suspicion was not unfounded; the Tyrells, known for their wealth and influence, had always harbored ambitions that extended beyond mere alliance.

Cersei's fears were compounded by the discovery of a Gardener coin found by Qyburn in the dungeon where Tyrion was being held before his dramatic escape. The coin bore a striking resemblance to those that Lady Olenna Tyrell, the formidable matriarch of House Tyrell, was known to carry during her travels.

This connection led Cersei to suspect that the Tyrells had orchestrated Tyrion's escape as part of a larger scheme to undermine her authority and solidify their own power within the capital.

This resentment reached a new intensity when Taena informed Cersei that Ser Horas and Ser Hobber Redwyne were enamoured with Margaery, prompting Cersei to meticulously plot the young woman's downfall.

Cersei's skepticism regarding Margaery's claim of being a maiden was rooted not only in her personal disdain but also in the political implications of Margaery's virtue.

To undermine Margaery's position, Cersei convinced Ser Osney Kettleblack—a man known for his charm and charisma—to seduce the young noblewoman. Cersei orchestrated a scheme where Osney would be caught in a compromising situation with Margaery by his brother, Osmund, thereby tarnishing her reputation and undermining her influence at court. To further this ploy, she instructed Taena of Myr, a cunning and resourceful ally, to spread rumors of a secret admirer, planting the seeds of doubt in Margaery's mind while simultaneously setting the stage for her own machinations.

As the political landscape shifted, Margaery began to take an active role in shaping Tommen's education on kingship. She encouraged him to assert his authority by sitting on the Iron Throne and participating in small council meetings, actions that irked Cersei deeply.

Cersei had envisioned herself as the de facto ruler during Tommen's minority, believing that her experience and cunning made her uniquely qualified to guide the young king. However, Margaery's assertiveness threatened Cersei's carefully constructed plans, leading to an internal struggle for control over the realm.

In a calculated move to keep Osney close to Margaery, Cersei appointed him as Tommen's sworn shield, allowing him more opportunities to charm her rival. Yet, as time passed and Margaery remained impervious to Osney's advances, Cersei's impatience began to grow. Osmund Kettleblack suggested that the lack of intimacy was due to the constant presence of others around Margaery, which only fueled Cersei's determination to isolate her.

Margaery's daily activities painted a picture of a woman fully engaged in her role as a noblewoman, yet they also revealed her strategic mind.

She often prayed with Septa Nysterica, reinforcing her piety in the eyes of the public while simultaneously cultivating alliances within the faith.

Her time spent reading with her cousin Elinor and sewing with Megga showcased not only her domestic skills but also her ability to connect with those around her on a personal level.

The playful interactions with Alysanne Bulwer through games like come-into-my-castle illustrated her charm and sociability.

Additionally, Margaery's hawking excursions with Janna Fossoway and Meredyth Crane reflected her desire to be seen as an active participant in court life—an image that contrasted sharply with Cersei's more solitary existence.

Furthermore, Margaery's frequent rides accompanied by numerous guards underscored both her need for protection and her status as a beloved figure among the people. Her prayers at the Great Sept served as public displays of devotion while subtly reinforcing her position within the complex web of alliances that characterized court politics.

Cersei's growing obsession with Margaery was further exacerbated by Osney's comments about the multitude of men surrounding the young woman. This revelation prompted Cersei to delve deeper into Margaery's relationships by consulting Taena once again.

The list of admirers included notable knights such as Ser Lambert Turnberry and Ser Bayard Norcross, alongside other suitors like Ser Courtenay Greenhill and Ser Portifer Woodwright—each representing potential threats to Cersei's ambitions.

The mention of Grand Maester Pycelle as a frequent visitor added another layer of complexity; his wisdom and influence could easily sway opinions at court if he chose to support Margaery over Cersei. This network of admirers not only highlighted Margaery's allure but also posed significant risks for Cersei as she maneuvered through a landscape rife with intrigue.

When Cersei probed into Margaery's wedding night with Renly Baratheon, seeking any shred of evidence that could be used against her rival, Taena offered tantalizing insights that further fueled Cersei's suspicions. Despite Margaery's insistence that Renly had consumed too much wine at their wedding feast to consummate their marriage, Taena's insinuation that his manhood had been quite vigorous when last seen cast doubt on Margaery's claims.

The absence of a bloody sheet—a traditional sign of virginity lost—was noted by Cersei but dismissed as inconsequential; she understood all too well that highborn girls often lost their maidenhood through other means such as horse riding or vigorous activity, she clung to this evidence as ammunition against Margaery. This revelation only served to deepen Cersei's resolve; she was determined not only to expose Margaery but also to reassert her dominance over King's Landing by dismantling any threat posed by this clever young woman who dared challenge her authority.

Margaery gave Tommen three black kittens, which the boy named Boots, Lady Whiskers, and Ser Pounce. These kittens not only served as companions for the young king but also symbolized the burgeoning affection and bond between Margaery and Tommen.

Each kitten represented a facet of their relationship; Boots, with his playful antics, mirrored Tommen's youthful spirit, while Lady Whiskers, with her poised demeanor, embodied Margaery's grace and elegance. Ser Pounce, the most adventurous of the trio, reflected the adventurous spirit that Margaery encouraged in Tommen, urging him to step beyond the confines of the Red Keep and explore the world around him.

This nurturing environment provided by Margaery was a stark contrast to his experiences with Cersei, who often stifled his desires and emotions.

Margaery's frequent invitations to Tommen to accompany her on trips near the city were a strategic move that aimed to deepen their connection.

However, Cersei's frequent refusals to allow him to go made Tommen increasingly sullen with her. The Queen Regent believed that Margaery was attempting to steal Tommen from her, viewing her as a rival not just for power but for affection as well. This growing tension between Cersei and Margaery created an atmosphere of conflict that permeated the court.

Cersei's protective instincts over Tommen were fueled by her fear of losing control over her son and her position as queen. As a result, she sought to isolate him from Margaery's influence, inadvertently pushing him closer to the young queen.

As their relationship blossomed, Margaery took it upon herself to educate Tommen about the responsibilities of kingship. She told him he should attend court and listen to petitioners, emphasizing the importance of understanding the needs and grievances of his subjects.

This encouragement sparked a transformation in Tommen; he began to openly object to Cersei's hatred for Margaery.

His newfound assertiveness was not only a sign of his growing independence but also an indication of how Margaery was shaping his views on leadership and governance. The young king started to recognize that ruling required compassion and understanding, qualities that he observed in Margaery's interactions with those around her.

Margaery's efforts extended beyond her relationship with Tommen; she gained favor with the residents of King's Landing through her active engagement with them. By visiting local markets to buy fresh fruits, bread, and fish, she showcased a down-to-earth persona that resonated with the common people. These excursions were not merely acts of charity; they were strategic moves designed to solidify her popularity among the populace.

Additionally, by ordering dresses from local seamstresses and supporting artisans within the city, she fostered goodwill and economic support for the community. Her public displays of charity further endeared her to the citizens, who began to see her as a benevolent figure rather than just a political player in a game of thrones.

In an act that symbolized his affection for Margaery and perhaps a subtle defiance against Cersei's authority, Tommen gave one of Cersei's dromonds the name Queen Margaery.

This gesture was significant; it represented not only his personal feelings towards Margaery but also an acknowledgment of her rising influence in his life. By naming a ship after her, he publicly declared his allegiance and admiration for her while simultaneously challenging Cersei's grip on power.

Such actions illustrated how deeply Margaery had ingrained herself into Tommen's heart and mind, shaping him into a king who could potentially break free from his mother's domineering shadow.

On Maiden's Day, Margaery fasted and purified herself, as was required of all maidens. This annual observance held significant cultural and religious importance, symbolizing the purity and virtue expected of young women in the realm.

By participating in this sacred observance, Margaery sought to embody the qualities expected of a noblewoman in Westeros—purity, piety, and grace. However, unbeknownst to her, this very act would become a focal point in the political machinations orchestrated by Cersei Lannister.

Cersei, feeling threatened by Margaery's rising influence and popularity among the people and the court, devised a cunning plan to undermine her rival.

Inspired by the events surrounding Maiden's Day, Cersei ordered Ser Osney Kettleblack to falsely confess to the new High Septon, the so-called High Sparrow, that he had engaged in illicit relations with Margaery, Elinor, and Megga while Alla watched.

Cersei's machinations were driven by her desire to undermine Margaery's influence at court, viewing her as a rival for power and affection from King Tommen. By orchestrating this false confession, Cersei aimed to tarnish Margaery's reputation and strip away her support among the smallfolk, who had begun to favour Margaery for her charm and poise.

The act of confession would serve as a catalyst for the Faith Militant to take action against her, furthering Cersei's agenda to eliminate any threats to her power.

Osney went to falsely confess, and Margaery and her cousins were arrested by the Faith. This unexpected turn of events shocked not only Margaery but also those loyal to her, as it represented a significant shift in power dynamics within King's Landing. The Faith Militant's involvement illustrated how the religious authorities were being manipulated as tools in Cersei's political game. The arrest of Margaery was not merely a personal attack; it was a calculated move that threatened to destabilize the fragile alliances within the court.

Her clothes were taken, and she was given a roughspun shift to wear. The stripping away of Margaery's fineries symbolized her fall from grace and served as a public humiliation designed to break her spirit. Margaery was separated from her cousins, creating a sense of isolation that would further compound her vulnerability during this tumultuous time.

She was visited every hour by a septa, even during the night, who asks Margaery to confess her fornications. This relentless questioning was not only an attempt to extract a confession but also an effort to psychologically torment Margaery, showcasing the oppressive nature of her confinement.

Margaery was accused of lewdness, fornication, adultery, and high treason. These grave accusations underscored the severity of her situation and highlighted the precariousness of women's positions within this patriarchal society. The charges were not merely about personal conduct; they were intertwined with issues of loyalty and honor that could have far-reaching consequences for House Tyrell.

At the behest of the High Septon, Septa Moelle examined Margaery and found that her maidenhead had been broken. This examination served as both a physical and symbolic act that questioned Margaery's purity—an essential aspect of her identity in the eyes of society.

Moelle reported this at court, where Pycelle added how he provided moon tea for Margaery on several occasions. The revelation of moon tea usage further fueled rumors about Margaery's sexual history and painted her as someone who had engaged in illicit activities, thus solidifying the narrative against her. Cersei had Ser Tallad, Jalabhar Xho, Hamish the Harper, Hugh Clifton, Ser Mark Mullendore, Bayard, Lambert, Horas and Hobber, and the Blue Bard arrested for having been involved in Margaery's treason.

This sweeping arrest demonstrated Cersei's ruthless pursuit of anyone associated with Margaery while simultaneously sending a chilling message to others who might oppose her.

Before the day was over, a mob of smallfolk formed before the Great Sept to protest Margaery's arrest. This uprising illustrated that despite Cersei's machinations, there remained a deep-seated loyalty among the common people towards Margaery. Their collective action highlighted how public sentiment could serve as a counterbalance to political maneuvering at court.

The mob's presence not only challenged Cersei's authority but also signified that Margaery's influence extended beyond noble circles into the hearts of those she had endeared through kindness and compassion. Thus, this incident encapsulated the intricate interplay between power, perception, and public opinion in the ever-turbulent landscape of Westeros politics.

Septa Moelle's stern expression did not flicker. "I shall convey Your Grace's words to His High Holiness, but it grieves me to say that the young queen and her ladies cannot be released until and unless their innocence has been proved."

"Innocence? Why, you need only look upon their sweet young faces to see how innocent they are."

"A sweet face oft hides a sinner's heart."

Lord Merryweather spoke up from the council table. "What offense have these young maids been accused of, and by whom?"

The septa said, "Megga Tyrell and Elinor Tyrell stand accused of lewdness, fornication, and conspiracy to commit high treason. Alla Tyrell has been charged with witnessing their shame and helping them conceal it. All this Queen Margaery has also been accused of, as well as adultery and high treason."

Cersei put a hand to her breast. "Tell me who is spreading such calumnies about my good-daughter! I do not believe a word of this. My sweet son loves Lady Margaery with all his heart, she could never have been so cruel as to play him false."

"The accuser is a knight of your own household. Ser Osney Kettleblack has confessed his carnal knowledge of the queen to the High Septon himself, before the altar of the Father."

As the council met, Harys Swyft took a sharp intake of breath, while Grand Maester Pycelle averted his gaze. The air grew thick with whispers, echoing the buzz of a thousand wasps in the throne room. Several women in the galleries began to leave quietly, trailed by a trickle of lesser lords and knights from the back. The gold cloaks allowed them to exit, but the queen had ordered Ser Osfryd Kettleblack to keep track of all who chose to flee. The sweet aroma of the Tyrell rose had suddenly turned sour.

"Ser Osney is young and lusty, I will grant you," the queen said, "but a faithful knight for all that. If he says that he was part of this... no, it cannot be. Margaery is a maiden!"

"She is not. I examined her myself, at the behest of His High Holiness. Her maidenhead is not intact. Septa Aglantine and Septa Melicent will say the same, as will Queen Margaery's own septa, Nysterica, who has been confined to a penitent's cell for her part in the queen's shame. Lady Megga and Lady Elinor were examined as well. Both were found to have been broken."

The murmur of the wasps grew so intense that the queen found it challenging to focus.

I do hope the little queen and her cousins enjoyed those rides of theirs.

Lord Merryweather thumped his fist on the table. "Lady Margaery had sworn solemn oaths attesting to her maidenhood, to Her Grace the queen and her late father. Many here bore witness. Lord Tyrell has also testified to her innocence, as has the Lady Olenna, whom we all know to be above reproach. Would you have us believe that all of these noble people lied to us?"

"She is not. I examined her myself, at the behest of His High Holiness. Her maidenhead is not intact. Septa Aglantine and Septa Melicent will say the same, as will Queen Margaery's own septa, Nysterica, who has been confined to a penitent's cell for her part in the queen's shame. Lady Megga and Lady Elinor were examined as well. Both were found to have been broken."

The image of the sour Septa invading Margaery's intimate sanctity was almost comical to Cersei. She had to hold in her laughter.

"We insist that His High Holiness allow our own maesters to examine my good-daughter, to determine if there is any shred of truth to these slanders. Grand Maester Pycelle, you shall accompany Septa Moelle back to Beloved Baelor's Sept, and return to us with the truth about our Margaery's maidenhead."

Pycelle's face had paled to a sickly white.

At council meetings the wretched old fool cannot say enough, but now that I need a few words from him he has lost the power of speech, the queen thought, before the old man finally came out with, "There is no need for me to examine her... her privy parts." His voice was a quaver. "I grieve to say... Queen Margaery is no maiden. She has required me to make her moon tea, not once, but many times."

The ensuing pandemonium was precisely what Cersei Lannister had hoped for.

The royal herald's attempts to restore order by pounding his staff on the floor were largely futile. The queen allowed the cacophony to continue, basking in the humiliation that enveloped the young Queen Margaery.

Margaery Tyrell is done, she thought exulting.

When the tumult had reached a crescendo, she rose imperiously, ordering the gold cloaks to evacuate the hall. Her personal guard, consisting of Boros Blount, Meryn Trant, and Osmund Kettleblack, the last vestiges of the Kingsguard within the city, formed around her as she exited through the king's door behind the Iron Throne.

Moon Boy was standing beside the door, holding his rattle in his hand and gaping at the confusion with his big round eyes. A fool he may be, but he wears his folly honestly. Maggy the Frog should have been in motley too, for all she knew about the morrow.

Cersei prayed the old fraud was screaming down in hell. The younger queen whose coming she'd foretold was finished, and if that prophecy could fail, so could the rest.

No golden shrouds, no valonqar, I am free of your croaking malice at last.

The remnants of her small council followed her out. Harys Swyft appeared dazed. "The smallfolk are fond of the little queen," he said. "They will not take well to this. I fear what might happen next, Your Grace." Ser Harys Swyft was so pale and damp he looked about to faint. "When word of this reaches Lord Tyrell, his fury will know no bounds. There will be blood in the streets..."

The knight of the yellow chicken, Cersei mused. You ought to take a worm for your sigil, ser. A chicken is too bold for you.

When he was done blathering she said, "It must not come to blood, and I mean to see that it does not. I will go to Baelor's Sept myself to speak to Queen Margaery and the High Septon. Tommen loves them both, I know, and would want me to make peace between them."

"Peace?" Ser Harys dabbed at his brow with a velvet sleeve. "If peace is possible... that is very brave of you."

"Some sort of trial may be necessary," said the queen, "to disprove these base calumnies and lies and show the world that our sweet Margaery is the innocent we all know her to be."

"Aye," said Merryweather, "but this High Septon may want to try the queen himself, as the Faith once tried men of old."

I hope so, Cersei thought. Such a court was not like to look with favor on treasonous queens who spread their legs for singers and profaned the Maiden's holy rites to hide their shame. "The important thing is to find the truth, I am sure we all agree," she said. "And now, my lords, you must excuse me. I must go see the king. He should not be alone at such a time."

Tommen remained engaged in entertaining his feline companions as Cersei approached. Dorcas had crafted him a toy mouse from leftover fur scraps, attaching it to a long string that trailed from an old fishing pole. The kittens' delight was evident as they chased the makeshift plaything across the ground, pouncing with excitement. Cersei's sudden embrace and kiss upon Tommen's forehead took him aback. "What is the reason for that, Mother?" he inquired, noticing the tears in her eyes. "Why are you crying?"

Because you're safe, she wanted to tell him. Because no harm will ever come to you. "You are mistaken. A lion never cries." There would be time later to tell him about Margaery and her cousins. "There are some warrants that I need you to sign."

For the king's sake, the queen had left the names off the arrest warrants. Tommen signed them blank, and pressed his seal into the warm wax happily, as he always did. Afterward she sent him off with Jocelyn Swyft.

As the ink was drying, Ser Osfryd Kettleblack made his appearance. Cersei had personally inscribed the names: Ser Tallad the Tall, Jalabhar Xho, Hamish the Harper, Hugh Clifton, Mark Mullendore, Bayard Norcross, Lambert Turnberry, Horas Redwyne, Hobber Redwyne, and an individual of low birth identifying as the Blue Bard, known as Wat.

"So many." Ser Osfryd shuffled through the warrants, as wary of the words as if they had been roaches crawling across the parchment. None of the Kettleblacks could read.

"Ten. You have six thousand gold cloaks. Sufficient for ten, I would think. Some of the clever ones may have fled, if the rumors reached their ears in time. If so, it makes no matter, their absence only makes them look that much more guilty. Ser Tallad is a bit of an oaf and may try to resist you. See that he does not die before confessing, and do no harm to any of the others. A few may well be innocent." It was important that the Redwyne twins be found to have been falsely accused. That would demonstrate the fairness of the judgments against the others.

"We'll have them all before the sun comes up, Your Grace." Ser Osfryd hesitated. "There's a crowd gathering outside the door of Baelor's Sept."

"What sort of crowd?" Anything unexpected made her wary. She remembered what Lord Waters had said about the riots. I had not considered how the smallfolk might react to this. Margaery has been their little pet. "How many?"

"A hundred or so. They're shouting for the High Septon to release the little queen. We can send them running, if you like."

"No. Let them shout until they're hoarse, it will not sway the Sparrow. He only listens to the gods." There was a certain irony in His High Holiness having an angry mob encamped upon his doorstep, since just such a mob had raised him to the crystal crown. Which he promptly sold. "The Faith has its own knights now. Let them defend the sept. Oh, and close the city gates as well. No one is to enter or leave King's Landing without my leave, until all this is done and settled."

"As you command, Your Grace." Ser Osfryd bowed and went off to find someone to read the warrants to him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon on that fateful day, the entirety of the accused traitors had been successfully apprehended and secured. Hamish the Harper had succumbed to a sudden loss of strength as his captors approached, crumpling to the ground in a dramatic display. Meanwhile, the daunting Ser Tallad the Tall had managed to put up a valiant struggle, injuring three members of the Gold Cloaks before ultimately being subdued by their greater numbers. In the aftermath of these arrests, Queen Cersei issued a command that the Redwyne twins be afforded spacious and comfortable quarters within the confines of a tower. The remaining accused, however, faced a starkly different fate, as they were promptly escorted to the dank and unforgiving depths of the castle's dungeons.

"Hamish is having difficulty breathing," Qyburn informed her when he came to call that night. "He is calling for a maester."

"Tell him he can have one as soon as he confesses." She thought a moment. "He is too old to have been amongst the lovers, but no doubt he was made to play and sing for Margaery whilst she was entertaining other men. We will need details."

"I shall help him to remember them, Your Grace."

The next day, Lady Merryweather helped Cersei dress for their visit to the little queen. "Nothing too rich or colourful," she said. "Something suitably devout and drab for the High Septon. He's like to make me pray with him."

In the end, she chose a soft woolen dress that covered her from throat to ankle, with only a few small vines embroidered on the bodice and the sleeves in golden thread to soften the severity of its lines. Even better, brown would help conceal the dirt if she was made to kneel. "Whilst I am comforting my good-daughter you shall speak with the three cousins," she told Taena. "Win Alla if you can, but be careful what you say. The gods may not be the only ones listening."

Jaime always said that the hardest part of any battle is just before, waiting for the carnage to begin.

When she stepped outside, Cersei saw that the sky was grey and bleak. She could not take the risk of being caught in a downpour and arriving at Baelor's Sept soaked and bedraggled. That meant the litter. For her escort, she took ten Lannister house guards and Boros Blount. "Margaery's mob may not have the wit to tell one Kettleblack from another," she told Ser Osmund, "and I cannot have you cutting through the commons. Best we keep you out of sight for a time."

Taena voiced a concern during their journey through the city. "What if Margaery insists on a trial by combat to prove her innocence?"

A smile brushed Cersei's lips. "As queen, her honour must be defended by a knight of the Kingsguard. Why, every child in Westeros knows how Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championed his sister Queen Naerys against Ser Morghil's accusations. With Ser Loras indisposed, though, I fear Prince Aemon's part must fall to one of his Sworn Brothers." She shrugged. "Who, though? Ser Arys and Ser Balon are far away in Dorne, Jaime is off serving his king, and Ser Osmund is the brother of the man accusing her, which leaves only... oh, dear..."

"Boros Blount and Meryn Trant." Lady Taena laughed.

"Yes, and Ser Meryn has been feeling ill of late. Remind me to tell him that when we return to the castle."

"I shall, my sweet." Taena took her hand and kissed it. "I pray that I never offend you. You are terrible when roused."

"Any mother would do the same to protect her children," said Cersei. "When do you mean to bring that boy of yours to court? Russell, was that his name? He could train with Tommen."

"That would thrill the boy, I know... but things are so uncertain just now, I thought it best to wait until the danger passed."

"Soon enough," promised Cersei. "Send word to Longtable and have Russell pack his best doublet and his wooden sword. A new young friend will be just the thing to help Tommen forget his loss, after Margaery's little head has rolled."

They descended from the litter under Blessed Baelor's statue. The queen was pleased to see that the bones and filth had been cleaned away.

Ser Osfryd had told it true; the crowd was neither as numerous nor as unruly as the sparrows had been. They stood about in small clumps, gazing sullenly at the doors of the Great Sept, where a line of novice septons had been drawn up with quarterstaffs in their hands.

No steel, Cersei noted. That was either very wise or very stupid, she was not sure which.

No one made any attempt to hinder her. Smallfolk and novices alike parted as they passed. Once inside the doors, they were met by three knights in the Hall of Lamps, each clad in the rainbow-striped robes of the Warrior's Sons. "I am here to see my good-daughter," Cersei told them.

"His High Holiness has been expecting you. I am Ser Theodan the True, formerly Ser Theodan Wells. If Your Grace will come with me."

The High Sparrow remained in his customary position, on his knees. On this particular occasion, he was engaged in prayer before the altar of the Father. He did not cease his devotions even as the queen approached, compelling her to wait with evident impatience until his prayers were concluded. Then, and only then, did he get up and acknowledge her with a respectful bow.

"Your Grace. This is a sad day."

"Very sad. Do we have your leave to speak with Margaery and her cousins?" She chose a meek and humble manner; with this man, that was like to work the best.

"If that is your wish. Come to me afterward, my child. We must pray together, you and I."

The young queen found herself imprisoned within one of the Great Sept's slender towers. Her living space measured a mere eight feet in length and six in width, equipped with nothing more than a basic pallet filled with straw for rest, a bench intended for worship, a vessel containing water, a single copy of The Seven-Pointed Star, and a solitary candle to illuminate her sacred readings. The sole aperture to the outside world was a window that barely surpassed the width of an arrow's passage.

Cersei found Margaery barefoot and shivering, clad in the roughspun shift of a novice sister. Her locks were all a tangle, and her feet were filthy. "They took my clothes from me," the little queen told her once they were alone. "I wore a gown of ivory lace, with freshwater pearls on the bodice, but the septas laid their hands on me and stripped me to the skin. My cousins too. Megga sent one septa crashing into the candles and set her robe afire. I fear for Alla, though. She went as white as milk, too frightened even to cry."

"Poor child." There were no chairs, so Cersei sat beside the little queen on her pallet. "Lady Taena has gone to speak with her, to let her know that she is not forgotten."

"He will not even let me see them," fumed Margaery. "He keeps each of us apart from the others. Until you came, I was allowed no visitors but septas. One comes every hour to ask if I wish to confess my fornications. They will not even let me sleep. They wake me to demand confessions. Last night I confessed to Septa Unella that I wished to scratch her eyes out."

A shame you did not do it, Cersei thought. Blinding some poor old septa would certainly persuade the High Sparrow of your guilt. "They are questioning your cousins the same way."

"Damn them, then," said Margaery. "Damn them all to seven hells. Alla is gentle and shy, how can they do this to her? And Megga . . . she laughs as loud as a dockside whore, I know, but inside she's still just a little girl. I love them all, and they love me. If this sparrow thinks to make them lie about me..."

"They stand accused as well, I fear. All three."

"My cousins?" Margaery paled. "Alla and Megga are hardly more than children. Your Grace, this... this is obscene. Will you take us out of here?"

"Would that I could." Her voice was full of sorrow. "His High Holiness has his new knights guarding you. To free you I would need to send the gold cloaks and profane this holy place with killing." Cersei took Margaery's hand in hers. "I have not been idle, though. I have gathered up all those that Ser Osney named as your lovers. They will tell His High Holiness of your innocence, I am certain, and swear to it at your trial."

"Trial?" There was real fear in the girl's voice now. "Must there be a trial?"

"How else will you prove your innocence?" Cersei gave Margaery's hand a reassuring squeeze. "It is your right to decide the manner of the trial, to be sure. You are the queen. The knights of the Kingsguard are sworn to defend you."

Margaery understood at once. "A trial by battle? Loras is a captive, though, elsewise he..."

"He has six brothers."

Margaery stared at her, then pulled her hand away. "Is that a jape? Boros is a craven, Meryn is old and slow, your brother is maimed, the other two are off in Dorne, and Osmund is a bloody Kettleblack. Loras has two brothers, not six. If there's to be a trial by battle, I want Garlan as my champion."

"Ser Garlan is not a member of the Kingsguard," the queen said. "When the queen's honor is at issue, law and custom require that her champion be one of the king's sworn seven. The High Septon will insist, I fear." I will make certain of it.

Margaery did not answer at once, but her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Blount or Trant," she said at last. "It would have to be one of them. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Osney Kettleblack would cut either one to pieces."

Seven hells. Cersei donned a look of hurt. "You wrong me, daughter. All I want—"

"—is your son, all for yourself. He will never have a wife that you don't hate. And I am not your daughter, thank the gods. Leave me."

"You are being foolish. I am only here to help you."

"To help me to my grave. I asked for you to leave. Will you make me call my gaolers and have you dragged away, you vile, scheming, evil bitch?"

Cersei gathered up her skirts and dignity. "This must be very frightening for you. I shall forgive those words." Here, as at court, one never knew who might be listening. "I would be afraid as well, in your place. Grand Maester Pycelle has admitted providing you with moon tea, and your Blue Bard... if I were you, my lady, I would pray to the Crone for wisdom and to the Mother for her mercy. I fear you may soon be in dire need of both."

The queen was led down the tower stairs by four withered septas, each appearing more fragile than her predecessor. Upon reaching the base, they proceeded further into the earth, navigating the bowels of Visenya's Hill. Their descent concluded in a subterranean hall illuminated by a series of wavering torches.

In a modest seven-sided room, she encountered the High Septon. The space's simplicity, with its unadorned stone surfaces, a basic table, and trio of chairs, was complemented by a solitary prayer bench. The Seven's visages were etched into the walls, their expressions rendered with unpolished skill. Cersei regarded the sculptures as both unsightly and powerful, their eyes—onyx, malachite, and yellow moonstone—conveying an eerie vitality.

"You spoke with the queen," the High Septon said.

She resisted the urge to say, I am the queen. "I did."

"All men sin, even kings and queens. I have sinned myself, and been forgiven. Without confession, though, there can be no forgiveness. The queen will not confess."

"Perhaps she is innocent."

"She is not. Holy septas have examined her, and testify that her maidenhead is broken. She has drunk of moon tea, to murder the fruit of her fornications in her womb. An anointed knight has sworn upon his sword to having carnal knowledge of her and two of her three cousins. Others have lain with her as well, he says, and names many names of men both great and humble."

"My gold cloaks have taken all of them to the dungeons," Cersei assured him. "Only one has yet been questioned, a singer called the Blue Bard. What he had to say was disturbing. Even so, I pray that when my good-daughter is brought to trial, her innocence may yet be proved." She hesitated. "Tommen loves his little queen so much, Your Holiness, I fear it might be hard for him or his lords to judge her justly. Perhaps the Faith should conduct the trial?"

The High Sparrow steepled his thin hands. "I have had the selfsame thought, Your Grace. Just as Maegor the Cruel once took the swords from the Faith, so Jaehaerys the Conciliator deprived us of the scales of judgment. Yet who is truly fit to judge a queen, save the Seven Above and the godsworn below? A sacred court of seven judges shall sit upon this case. Three shall be of your female sex. A maiden, a mother, and a crone. Who could be more suited to judge the wickedness of women?"

"That would be for the best. To be sure, Margaery does have the right to demand that her guilt or innocence be proven by wager of battle. If so, her champion must be one of Tommen's Seven."

"The knights of the Kingsguard have served as the rightful champions of king and queen since the days of Aegon the Conqueror. Crown and Faith speak as one on this."

Cersei covered her face with her hands, as if in grief. When she raised her head again, a tear glistened in one eye. "These are sad days indeed," she said, "but I am pleased to find us so much in agreement. If Tommen were here I know he would thank you. Together you and I must find the truth."

"We shall."

"I must return to the castle. With your leave, I will take Ser Osney Kettleblack back with me. The small council will want to question him, and hear his accusations for themselves."

"No," said the High Septon.

It was only a word, one little word, but to Cersei it felt like a splash of icy water in the face. She blinked, and her certainty flickered, just a little. "Ser Osney will be held securely, I promise you."

"He is held securely here. Come. I will show you."

Cersei felt the gaze of the Seven's statues, their eyes of jade, malachite, and onyx piercing her soul, sending an icy shiver of terror down her spine. Despite her fear, she reminded herself of her royal lineage.

I am the queen, she told herself. Lord Tywin's daughter. Reluctantly, she followed.

Ser Osney was not far. The chamber was dark, and closed by a heavy iron door. The High Septon produced the key to open it, and took a torch down from the wall to light the room within. "After you, Your Grace."

Within, Osney Kettleblack hung naked from the ceiling, swinging from a pair of heavy iron chains. He had been whipped. His back and shoulders been laid almost bare, and cuts and welts crisscrossed his legs and arse as well.

The queen could hardly stand to look at him. She turned back to the High Septon. "What have you done?"

"We have sought after the truth, most earnestly."

"He told you the truth. He came to you of his own free will and confessed his sins."

"Aye. He did that. I have heard many men confess, Your Grace, but seldom have I heard a man so pleased to be so guilty."

"You whipped him!"

"There can be no penance without pain. No man should spare himself the scourge, as I told Ser Osney. I seldom feel so close to god as when I am being whipped for mine own wickedness, though my darkest sins are no wise near as black as his."

"B-but," she sputtered, "you preach the Mother's mercy..."

"Ser Osney shall taste of that sweet milk in the afterlife. In The Seven-Pointed Star it is written that all sins may be forgiven, but crimes must still be punished. Osney Kettleblack is guilty of treason and murder, and the wages of treason are death."

He is just a priest, he cannot do this. "It is not for the Faith to condemn a man to death, whatever his offense."

"Whatever his offense." The High Septon repeated the words slowly, weighing them. "Strange to say, Your Grace, the more diligently we applied the scourge, the more Ser Osney's offenses seemed to change. He would now have us believe that he never touched Margaery Tyrell. Is that not so, Ser Osney?"

Osney Kettleblack opened his eyes. When he saw the queen standing there before him he ran his tongue across his swollen lips, and said, "The Wall. You promised me the Wall."

"He is mad," said Cersei. "You have driven him mad."

"Ser Osney," said the High Septon, in a firm, clear voice, "did you have carnal knowledge of the queen?"

"Aye." The chains rattled softly as Osney twisted in his shackles. "That one there. She's the queen I f**ked, the one sent me to kill the old High Septon. He never had no guards. I just come in when he was sleeping and pushed a pillow down across his face."

Cersei Lannister spun around and took off in a sprint.

The High Septon attempted to grab hold of her, but she was too quick for his aging grip, evading him with the grace of a lioness from Casterly Rock. She barreled through the door, slamming it shut with a resonating clang that echoed through the hallowed halls.

The Kettleblacks, I need the Kettleblacks, I will send in Osfryd with the gold cloaks and Osmund with the Kingsguard, Osney will deny it all once they cut him free, and I'll rid myself of this High Septon just as I did the other.

As she ascended the staircase, four ancient septas blocked her path. With surprising strength, she shoved one to the ground and swiped another across the face, continuing her escape. However, her momentum faltered when Taena Merryweather's face flashed in her mind. If the Faith took Taena, and subjected her to the same torments...

"Seven help me," she whispered in desperation. Taena held all her secrets; she could not let her fall into their hands.

Her flight led her to the sept, where more opposition awaited. Younger septas and silent sisters converged, their calm faces a stark contrast to Cersei's frenzy. She demanded passage, invoking her royal lineage and threatening dire consequences.

"I am the queen," she shouted, backing away from them. "I will have your heads for this, I will have all your heads. Let me pass."

But her words fell on deaf ears.

Instead, they seized her, their grip unyielding. As they hauled her up the tower steps, she was overwhelmed by a score of them. Inside the cell, three silent sisters immobilized her while Sept Scolera proceeded to strip her of all garments, including her smallclothes.

The silent sisters remained unfazed by her pleas and threats. They held her down as Scolera removed her last piece of clothing and tossed a coarse shift in her direction.

"You cannot do this," the queen kept screaming at them. "I am a Lannister, unhand me, my brother will kill you, Jaime will slice you open from throat to cunt, unhand me! I am the queen!"

But their silent treatment spoke louder than any words. They were unmoved by her titles, treating her like any other sinner in need of purification.

"The queen should pray," said Septa Scolera, before they left her naked in the cold bleak cell.

She was not meek Margaery Tyrell, to don her little shift and submit to such captivity.

I will teach them what it means to put a lion in a cage, Cersei thought.

She tore the shift into a hundred pieces, found a ewer of water and smashed it against the wall, then did the same with the chamber pot.

When no one came, she began to pound on the door with her fists.

Once they hear they'll come free me, and we'll drag the bloody High Sparrow back to the Red Keep in chains.

Her cries for help went unanswered, despite her guards and Ser Boros Blount stationed in the plaza below.

She screamed and kicked and howled until her throat was raw, at the door and at the window. No one shouted back, nor came to rescue her.

As darkness and cold enveloped the cell, she grew increasingly desperate.

How can they leave me like this, without so much as a fire? I am their queen.

Her regret grew as she recalled the torn shift she could have used for warmth. The pallet's thin, brown wool blanket now seemed like her only solace. Despite its roughness, she wrapped herself in it to stave off the shivering.

Finally, exhaustion claimed her, and she succumbed to a restless sleep.

The next she knew, a heavy hand was shaking her awake. It was black as pitch inside the cell, and a huge ugly woman was kneeling over her, a candle in her hand. "Who are you?" the queen demanded. "Are you come to set me free?"

"I am Septa Unella. I am come to hear you tell of all your murders and fornications."

Cersei knocked her hand aside. "I will have your head. Do not presume to touch me. Get away."

The woman rose. "Your Grace. I will be back in an hour. Mayhaps by then you will be ready to confess."

An hour and an hour and an hour. So passed the longest night that Cersei Lannister had ever known, save for the night of Joffrey's wedding.

Her throat was so raw from shouting that she could hardly swallow. The cell turned freezing cold.

She had smashed the chamber pot, so she had to squat in a corner to make her water and watch it trickle across the floor.

Every time she closed her eyes, Unella was looming over her again, shaking her and asking her if she wanted to confess her sins.

With the advent of daylight, no solace was to be found. Septa Moelle presented her with a dish of watery, greyish gruel as the sun began its ascent. In a fit of defiance, Cersei hurled the bowl at her.

However, when a new ewer filled with water was brought in, her parched throat compelled her to drink.

Upon receiving a clean, yet threadbare shift that exuded an odor of mildew, she donned it over her bare skin.

As evening approached and Moelle returned with food once more, Cersei's craving for wine grew stronger.

She consumed the offered bread and fish, only to be greeted by the persistent Septa Unella for yet another round of questions regarding her readiness to confess.

Despite her demand for wine, it remained elusive, replaced solely by the unwavering stare of Unella, continuing her hourly ritual of inquiry.

What can be happening? Cersei wondered, as the thin slice of sky outside her window began to darken once again. Why has no one come to pry me out of here? She could not believe that the Kettleblacks would abandon their brother. What was her council doing? Cravens and traitors. When I get out of here I will have the lot of them beheaded and find better men to take their place.

Thrice that day she heard the sound of distant shouting drifting up from the plaza, but it was Margaery's name that the mob was calling, not hers.

It was near dawn on the second day and Cersei was licking the last of the porridge from the bottom of the bowl when her cell door swung open unexpectedly to admit Lord Qyburn. It was all she could do not to throw herself at him. "Qyburn," she whispered, "oh, gods, I am so glad to see your face. Take me home."

"That will not be allowed. You are to be tried before a holy court of seven, for murder, treason, and fornication."

Cersei was so exhausted that the words seemed nonsensical to her at first. "Tommen. Tell me of my son. Is he still king?"

"He is, Your Grace. He is safe and well, secure within the walls of Maegor's Holdfast, protected by the Kingsguard. He is lonely, though. Fretful. He asks for you, and for his little queen. As yet, no one has told him of your . . . your . . ."

". . . difficulties?" she suggested. "What of Margaery?"

"She is to be tried as well, by the same court that conducts your trial. I had the Blue Bard delivered to the High Septon, as Your Grace commanded. He is here now, somewhere down below us. My whisperers tell me that they are whipping him, but so far he is still singing the same sweet song we taught him."

The same sweet song. Her wits were dull for want of sleep. Wat, his real name is Wat. If the gods were good, Wat might die beneath the lash, leaving Margaery with no way to disprove his testimony. "Where are my knights? Ser Osfryd... the High Septon means to kill his brother Osney, his gold cloaks must..."

"Osfryd Kettleblack no longer commands the City Watch. The king has removed him from office and raised the captain of the Dragon Gate in his place, a certain Humfrey Waters."

Cersei was so tired, none of this made any sense. "Why would Tommen do that?"

"The boy is not to blame. When his council puts a decree in front of him, he signs his name and stamps it with his seal."

"My council... who? Who would do that? Not you?"

"Alas, I have been dismissed from the council, although for the nonce they allow me to continue my work with the eunuch's whisperers. The realm is being ruled by Ser Harys Swyft and Grand Maester Pycelle. They have dispatched a raven to Casterly Rock, inviting your uncle to return to court and assume the regency. If he means to accept, he had best make haste. Mace Tyrell is marching back to the city with his army, and Randyll Tarly is reported on his way down from Maidenpool as well."

"Has Lord Merryweather agreed to this?"

"Merryweather has resigned his seat on the council and fled back to Longtable with his wife, who was the first to bring us news of the... accusations... against Your Grace."

"They let Taena go." That was the best thing she had heard since the High Sparrow had said no. Taena could have doomed her. "What of Lord Waters? His ships... if he brings his crews ashore, he should have enough men to..."

"As soon as word of Your Grace's present troubles reached the river, Lord Waters raised sail, unshipped his oars, and took his fleet to sea. Ser Harys fears he means to join Lord Stannis. Pycelle believes that he is sailing to the Stepstones, to set himself up as a pirate."

"His half brother controlled the Stepstones."

No man was capable of controlling the Stepstones for long, but, somehow, Monford Velaryon had, prior to his death.

Now, his eldest son, Laenor, was Lord of Driftmark.

What exactly did Aurane have planned?

Everything he had, he owed to Cersei.

Aurane was lean, with silver-gold hair and grey-green eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief. His striking appearance was complemented by a distinctive cleft in his chin and a well-groomed beard, which added to his charm and charisma.

The combination of these features painted him as a figure both alluring and enigmatic, drawing attention wherever he went.

Cersei Lannister, known for her discerning eye for beauty and power, found herself reminded of Rhaegar Targaryen when she first laid eyes on Aurane.

In her youth, Rhaegar had been the embodiment of her dreams—handsome, noble, and tragically out of reach.

Although Aurane's face was narrower than Rhaegar's, and his eyes lacked the deep purple hue that had captivated so many, Cersei found in him a similar allure. His wicked smile hinted at a roguish nature that both intrigued and excited her, reinforcing her attraction to him as not just a man of looks but also one of potential.

Recognizing his appeal and capabilities, Cersei granted Aurane the prestigious position of grand admiral on the small council of King Tommen's court, a role that was previously held by the master of ships. This appointment came with an honorary title of lord, which, while prestigious, did not come with any lands or substantial power—an indication that Cersei was still cautious about fully entrusting him with authority.

Her twin brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, who served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was notably disapproving of this decision. Jaime's protective instincts toward Cersei often clashed with her ambitions, leading to tensions within their already complicated relationship. He viewed Aurane as a potential rival or distraction from Cersei's true goals, fearing that her infatuation could cloud her judgment in matters of state.

In the wake of the devastating losses suffered during the Battle of Blackwater, most of the royal fleet lay in ruins. Recognizing the urgent need to rebuild naval strength, Lord Waters—a seasoned advisor—recommended to the council that at least ten new dromonds be constructed. His proposal included an unconventional strategy: to recruit poachers and thieves as oarsmen for these ships instead of sending them to the Wall as punishment. This suggestion not only aimed at bolstering the fleet but also at utilizing individuals who were familiar with the treacherous waters surrounding Westeros.

Aurane brought critical intelligence to the council regarding the shifting political landscape in Essos. He reported that the Golden Company had broken their contract with Myr—a significant development that could have repercussions for Westeros' future alliances and conflicts. Adding to the gravity of his insights, he mentioned sightings of dragons in the east; this news stirred unease among council members, especially given that it pointed toward the resurgence of Targaryen power through Daenerys Targaryen—the last living child of the Mad King Aerys II. The implications were vast and filled with uncertainty; dragons had not graced Westeros for generations, and their return could herald a new era.

During a subsequent session of the council, Grand Maester Pycelle voiced his disagreement with Aurane's innovative approach to staffing the new dromonds. Aurane proposed that younger men should captain these ships rather than relying solely on veterans from Blackwater—a suggestion grounded in his belief that fresh perspectives and vigor would be essential for success in naval engagements ahead. Pycelle's traditionalist views clashed with Aurane's forward-thinking strategies, highlighting a generational divide within the council regarding military leadership and tactics.

Cersei supported Aurane's vision wholeheartedly when it came to naming one of the new flagship dromonds after her late father, Lord Tywin Lannister. This decision not only honored Tywin's legacy but also served as a reminder to all present about Cersei's lineage and her claim to power through her family name. Meanwhile, young King Tommen expressed his desire to name one of the dromonds after Moon Boy—a whimsical character from court tales—but ultimately heeded Lord Waters' advice against such folly. Instead, they settled on Princess Myrcella as a fitting name for another ship; this choice reflected both sentimentality and political acumen as it linked Tommen's reign to his sister's memory while avoiding mockery associated with naming a vessel after a fool.

Now, here she sat, as Qyburn informed her that Aurane had abandoned her and stolen her ships following her arrest.

"All my lovely dromonds." Cersei almost laughed. "My lord father used to say that bastards are treacherous by nature. Would that I had listened." She shivered. "I am lost, Qyburn."

"No." He took her hand. "Hope remains. Your Grace has the right to prove your innocence by battle. My queen, your champion stands ready. There is no man in all the Seven Kingdoms who can hope to stand against him. If you will only give the command..."

This time she did laugh. It was funny, terribly funny, hideously funny. "The gods make japes of all our hopes and plans. I have a champion no man can defeat, but I am forbidden to make use of him. I am the queen, Qyburn. My honor can only be defended by a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard."

"I see." The smile died on Qyburn's face. "Your Grace, I am at a loss. I do not know how to counsel you..."

Even in her exhausted, frightened state, the queen knew she dare not trust her fate to a court of sparrows. Nor could she count on Ser Kevan to intervene, after the words that had passed between them at their last meeting. It will have to be a trial by battle. There is no other way. "Qyburn, for the love you bear me, I beg you, send a message for me. A raven if you can. A rider, if not. You must send to my brother. Tell him what has happened, and write... write..."

"Yes, Your Grace?"

She licked her lips, shivering. "Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once."

"As you command. 'I love you' thrice?"

"Thrice." She had to reach him. "He will come. I know he will. He must. Jaime is my only hope."

"My queen," said Qyburn, "have you... forgotten? Ser Jaime has no sword hand. If he should champion you and lose..."

We will leave this world together, as we once came into it. "He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake."