[Kings Landing]
The city of King's Landing was a pot on the boil, and the lid had finally begun to rattle. Ever since Thor's bold rescue of Eddard Stark and the deaths of several key council members, things in the capital had started to crumble.
In the weeks following Ned Stark's escape, food had grown scarce, prices had risen, and the streets had turned mean. Something usual in wartime, but not to the extent that it would start internal conflict.
With the city watch overwhelmed and the nobles locked behind the Red Keep's heavy gates, the common folk grew desperate. Hungry, angry, and afraid, they found their ears open to any voice promising salvation or justice.
That voice came from the Faith.
Where else could it have come from? The Septa had always struggled for power with the Crown. And now, since the Crown's power had been weakened to this extent, this was the best time to act and reinstate the Faith Militant.
Preachers of the Seven began speaking in the streets and outside septs. They called for purity, for righteousness, and most of all, for justice against a corrupt crown. In hushed voices, of course, so none knew who was blowing wind to the fire.
They spoke of the Queen's incest, of Joffrey's cruelty, of the deaths of the innocent and the poor while the nobles drank wine and gorged on meat. They didn't name the Queen directly, but it was clear who their sermons targeted. People gathered in growing crowds to listen. Some dropped to their knees and wept. Others raised fists in agreement.
The timing was fantastic, seeing Cersei was terrible when it came to city management, and in wartime heavily pressured the populace of King's Landing. Even highborns were affected due to oppressive orders from both Cersei and Joffrey, let alone the lowborns.
Then came the breaking point. Just like it always does—this being a fantasy world didn't change the nature of humans a bit.
One afternoon, as King Joffrey rode through the streets under heavy guard, a rotten apple struck his face. It splattered across his fine golden cloak. Furious, Joffrey shouted for the guards to make an example of the crowd. When they hesitated, he took a crossbow from a Kingsguard and shot a man in the leg—an old baker who could barely stand. The crowd exploded. Rocks and bottles were thrown. Some guards panicked. Others fought back. The scene turned into a riot.
Tywin Lannister was completely correct in his estimation. Without any sort of opposition and wise minds to help out Cersei, the capital didn't need any siege. It would collapse from the inside sooner or later.
Joffrey had to be dragged back to the Red Keep as chaos reigned in the streets behind him. When he returned to the castle, bleeding from a cut on his cheek, Queen Cersei nearly screamed. She ordered the gates shut, locking the royal family and their few remaining loyal guards behind the walls.
Inside the Red Keep, tension ruled. The small council was in tatters. No one remained but Grand Maester Pycelle, who offered no useful advice beyond muttering that order must be restored. The city was slipping through their fingers, and all Cersei could do was pace the hall, clenching her fists, blaming everyone but herself.
Her usual tactics were all for nothing due to lack of manpower. Half of the capital's forces were dead, and the rest had an abysmal time handling the Faith fanatics and the lowborns. They soon became caged in their own castle.
Then came the High Septon. Exactly on time when they were desperate enough to make a deal with the devil himself. The High Septon wasn't emitting any holy light that day.
He arrived not as a supplicant but as a man with leverage. He came dressed not in golden robes but in plain grey cloth, flanked by men and women with shaved heads, calloused hands, and hard eyes. They called themselves sparrows—faithful, humble, but not powerless.
"Let us help. Restore the Faith Militant, and we will bring order back to the streets." So direct to the point that it was almost blatant blackmail.
Cersei's face twisted.
Cersei wanted to shout. She wanted to throw him from the hall. But she couldn't ignore the reality. Her guards could no longer safely leave the Keep. And there was no sign of her father's forces.
If she wanted to survive, she had to make compromises.
So she agreed.
Funds were released. The Faith was armed. Swords and axes were placed in the hands of zealots. They took to the streets under banners of seven-pointed stars. They arrested drunkards, whores, and anyone they deemed sinful. They drove out minor lords who had hoarded grain. They closed down brothels. At first, some cheered. Then they came for shopkeepers. Then for healers. Then for soldiers who had taken bread from hungry hands.
And this was what Tyrion Lannister found the city in when he came with the Lannister forces to King's Landing.
Tyrion Lannister rode through the gates of King's Landing with a heavy cock for his father refused him to take any woman to warm his non-existing bed on the road, arguably the first order of business he had to sort out surely, and with bloated belly as when there was no woman, only wine would have kept him entertained, besides his books of course.
Though perhaps his heart and mind would soon be just as heavy, if not more. He had seen war before, never took part in one, but had seen it. He had seen cities broken and burned. But this was something different. There were no screams in the air, no fires on the rooftops, no bodies in the streets. A very joyous news as now he had more time to spend on the excellent quality of whores of King's Landing. He heard after Littlefinger's death those girls are awfully lonely.
And yet the city felt like it was holding its breath.
People moved quietly. Eyes looked down. The laughter and music that once filled the streets were gone. Wait, there was no laughter and music. There was only shit and more rotting shit.
Perhaps he really drank a little too much.
Why otherwise would he, Tyrion Lannister, be watching groups of Faith zealots, dressed in rough grey robes, walking side by side with the City Watch? The same men who once answered only to the crown now marched with seven-pointed stars sewn into their cloaks.
"What's going on?"
He wasted no time. He rode straight to the Red Keep, ignoring the stares and whispers. When the guards at the gate saw him, they opened the doors quickly. No one wanted to argue with a Lannister—especially not this one.
He found Cersei in the council chamber, drinking wine with her feet up like nothing was wrong. Joffrey sat nearby, playing with his crossbow and grinning like a mad dog.
A dog with a freaking crossbow. Usually, he would antagonize his little devil of a nephew but let's not do that while the little shit had that in hand. Seven knows the boy was crazy enough to really shoot him.
"What are you doing here?" Cersei said, not even bothering to stand.
Tyrion smiled. "Sightseeing. Lovely decor you've done to this city. I see the new king has been blessed by the Faith."
Cersei immediately scowled at this. "Where is father?" She was expecting Tywin himself to come.
"Doing his lordly duties. And in the meanwhile, he sent me to make sure there's something left to wipe the shit, if any, made by my dear sister and nephew."
"He made you the Hand." Cersei almost lost her composure at this.
"Acting Hand. But yes."
"And enough about little old me. What have my favorite sibling and nephew been up to? The Faith Militant walks the streets like they rule it. The people fear them more than the crown. You gave swords to fanatics. Impressive work."
"I did what I had to," she hissed. "You weren't here. You don't know."
"Oh yes, I don't know and Seven knows I've got no curiosity about it either. Just wondering what our dear father would do when he finds out."
Silence in the room...
"Well, I'm here now," Tyrion said, rubbing his temples. "I have a war to plan, a city to hold, a crown to protect, and now, thanks to you, I also have to manage a bunch of religious soldiers with too much power."
"I'm the king. The guard will listen to me," Joffrey spoke up from the side. The little shit was having too much trouble sharing power with his mother already.
"Oh, of course, of course. In fact, what could be better? So if that's it, then I certainly wouldn't mind handing over all the responsibilities given to me by our lord father to you, sister. Just point me toward the nearest whorehouse and I'll be out of your sight," Tyrion smiled.
Of course, he wasn't going to do that. Not entirely at least. Tywin would blame him no matter the case. He had no choice but to come up with a solution, even if it meant taking it out of his arse.
Cersei at this smirked a little. Like whatever she was about to say brought her immense pleasure.
"You'll have better luck finding a hole that fits that little thing between your legs to satisfy you over finding a whore in the city. Those Seven zealots closed down all the whorehouses." Cersei almost grinned at seeing the little monster's face pale, realizing what she just said.
Tyrion was left open-mouthed at this...
"No, they wouldn't dare..."
"Oh, they dare. Those fuckers locked us up in the Keep like we were some bloody sheep to be slaughtered. They dare more than you could give a fuck."
Tyrion was baffled.
"Okay, this is personal now.
War it is then."
xxx
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