The bells of King's Landing tolled across the city, echoing through every street and alley. From the poorest commoner to the highborn lords, all turned their eyes toward the Great Sept of Baelor. The boy king, Tommen Baratheon, was to be crowned.
This was the first time, kings Landing have seen two kings getting crowd in just a week.
The Sept was filled with nobles dressed in their finest silks and jewels. The scent of incense floated through the air, and the light from hundreds of candles danced across the marble floor. At the center stood Cersei Lannister, her face calm but her eyes hollow. She wore a golden gown and her hair was arranged neatly, yet grief clung to her like a shadow.
Its wasn't enough time for her to grieve for her lost son, but she the seven kingsdom need a king.
She didn't wanted anything more but to find the real killer of her son, however, right now, her other son, the living one needed her.
Her husband was dead. Well that was her doing so no grief there.
But her Joffrey, lay in the tombs below. And now her youngest was to wear the crown. That was too much. Tommen was too young.
Tommen stood before the High Septon, dressed in a red and gold tunic. He looked small and uncertain beneath the heavy crown that rested on a velvet cushion before him. Cersei stepped closer, her gaze softening for a moment. She placed her hands on his shoulders, whispering quietly.
"You are the king now, my sweet boy," she said gently. "Be strong. All of this kingdom looks to you."
Tommen nodded, though his lips trembled slightly.
The High Septon lifted the golden crown and spoke solemnly, "By the grace of the Seven, I crown you Tommen of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
He placed the crown upon Tommen's head. The sound of trumpets filled the Sept. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered, "Long live the king! Long live King Tommen!"
Cersei looked upon her son with a faint smile. To everyone watching, she seemed proud—a mother filled with hope. But deep inside, she was already planning, already weaving her next move.
She knew her boy was kind and gentle—too gentle for the throne. And so, she would guide him. Soon her father would come to Kingslanding. The position of the hand of the king was already given to him.
There was no other more suitable at this point. She would no longer be the queen but the king's mother.
Something inside her felt slipping.
…
[Riverlands - Harrenhal]
When Tywin Lannister rode into Harrenhal, he wished to go to kings landing to see Tommen's coronation himself to mold that boy to the person he wished to be, the king his house wished for, something which was impossible with that fool Joffrey, however, he couldn't.
He had to handle this war. He had to make sure that their enemies are dead before they even get a chance to move.
So, he sense Tyrion to the Kings Landing for the time being, to see that his foolish daughter doesn't do something more foolish, at least the siblings will butt heads enough to do anything horrendous.
One could only hope.
With that hope, he himself came to Harrenhal, to see that the upcoming revolt from North, which was no doubt was coming at this point, can be curve.
He expected to see order restored and reports of victory awaiting him when he came there. After all he had moved immediately when he heard of what happened in kings landing. Sending his men to take control over Harrenhal.
Harrenhal was mostly barren, useless but it exist at a key location. A location which can be use to check both North and Stormlands if Stannis decides to take action as well.
However, Instead of order, what met his eyes made even the proud Lord of Casterly Rock fall silent.
The air was thick with smoke and dust. The once-mighty towers of Harrenhal now lay in heaps of blackened stone. One of the great towers had completely collapsed, its remains scattered like a fallen mountain. The stench of death and burnt earth hung heavy. Lannister banners lay trampled in mud, and the bodies of his soldiers littered the ground. Horses screamed in the distance, some trapped under fallen debris.
Tywin's horse halted, its hooves splashing in a pool of blood and rainwater. His men behind him exchanged uneasy glances. For once, even his most hardened knights looked shaken.
"What… happened here?" Tywin said quietly, his eyes scanning the destruction.
For a second he thought it was enemy attack but his years of experience shown him the truth. No army can do this level of destruction.
Killing on mass level, burning the area, even breaking the walls and door. Yes, possible but this was something else entirely.
Perhaps only a Dragon could…
He stopped him mind from wandering from there. He was old, very old, and he had never seen any dragon. Nor his father or his grandfather.
Dragons have been ceased to exist for almost a century now. It was impossible.
A half-burned soldier limped forward, armor cracked and blackened. He dropped to one knee before his lord. "M-My lord… it was… it was not men who did this."
Tywin's gaze hardened. "Speak clearly, soldier."
The man trembled. "A storm came… not from the skies but from the ground. Lightning struck the castle, again and again. The earth broke apart… and from it, a man came out. A man… or a god."
A murmur ran through the gathered soldiers. Tywin's jaw tightened. "A god? Have you lost your wits?"
"I swear it, my lord!" the soldier cried. "He came with thunder. He tore through our men like they were children. His hammer smashed stone, shattered steel, and those who faced him were sent flying like leaves in a storm. We couldn't stop him. None could."
Tywin looked around again. The pattern of destruction was unnatural indeed—massive craters in the ground, walls struck by lightning so intense they had melted stone, eerily similar to what happend hundreds of years ago to this very castle by Balerion of black. It wasn't a siege, nor wildfire, nor any weapon he knew.
His expression remained calm, but his mind raced. "A man," he repeated quietly. "A man did all this?"
The soldier nodded, trembling. "He came for the captives, my lord. The Stark girls… he took them and vanished."
Tywin eyes slightly widen. The Stark girls were here ?
He looked at the ruins, the faint echo of thunder still rumbling in the distance.
For the first time in years, Tywin Lannister felt the cold touch of unease.
xxx
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