Underground Chambers Of the Alchemist Guilt, Beneath Visenya's Hill - King's Landing, CrownLands
Beneath the unsettled city of King's Landing, few truly knew of the passages and secret chambers that could be found. Everyone was busy with the High Sparrow and the ongoing battles and threats, thus none seemed to remember the biggest weapon that kept being produced beneath their noses.
Per Visenya's instructions, all reports came to her directly and even Tywin did not know the details of it; rather the few things she would let him know. That original plan was something the Dragoness was thankful for because it was time to truly use her resources and chase all of her remaining luck for a plan that might kill her.
She met with Wisdom in the secret chambers while everyone was occupied and her presence was not going to be noted. Side by side she walked with the Alchemist, who informed her of the latest achievements of this new batch of Wildfire.
"And how many have you available right now?" she finally asked, passing by a few working alchemists.
"A lot, my Lady. How many do you need?" he asked, his dark eyes never leaving hers.
Their steps were slow, hers always so confident while they discussed in utter secrecy; as if they were planning a coup against the crown. One might say a coup was what they planned but it was not against the young boy named King.
"Enough. I have a plan but for it to work, I need your full confidentiality and trust," she said as she came to a halt and fully turned to face the shorter man. "Do I have that?" Visenya asked, staring him down with a judging and warning look.
The man nodded his head a few times. "Of course, my Lady. Haven't I proven it to you by now? We have followed your instructions all those months," he pointed out, not fully bothered by her sharp gaze.
The Dragoness did not smile nor did she seem fully to believe his words. However, time was of the essence and she could no longer delay it.
A leap of faith, isn't what they say? she thought and nodded her head.
"Good," she exclaimed and motioned for him to lead them to a more private room in order to discuss what needed to be done and how soon.
The Hand's Study, Chamber of the Hand, Red Keep - King's Landing, Crownlands — A few days after Visenya met with Wisdom
Tywin Lannister was as per usual in his study, stacks of papers and unanswered letters all scattered across his desk. The amount of work he had obtained lately had doubled compared to any other time.
An untouched goblet of wine was also on the desk but he did not bother much with it, too busy handling anything else he had to do. His mind was constantly working, thinking and questioning as the latest events with the High Sparrow refused to leave his thoughts.
He had handled a lot of thorns over the years but none were as troublesome and resistant as it was this one. If it was a further away threat like Daenerys, perhaps he would not waste his sleep over it but this one was quite literally outside his door.
His own family was threatened from multiple fronts and that did not sit well with him. He was a man, who defended his loved ones, and his own blood and he would die if it meant they and the family name would survive.
Yet, here he was with his hands bound behind his back at this new threat. More than once had he thought to become rather extreme and end this trouble with bloodshed like he had done when he sacked the city but he knew better.
As much as the High Sparrow threatened them, Tywin was neither naive nor stupid enough to fall for the bait and attack. He felt rather tempted and even Visenya's words did not seem to offer him much of security or comfort.
With all those things they had to deal with, one might say they had once again become a little distant. Their time was rather limited to be spent in peace with one another and when they could do that, both were mentally tired to do anything else.
It also had not helped that the past few days Visenya had become rather...cold. She was rather withdrawn even during small discussions; her mind was rather busy and her eyes lacked that internal glow that came from her confidence and her good mood.
Tywin did not think much about it, suspecting it was due to the pressure they were under lately; especially with this annoying High Sparrow that refused to leave them at peace.
He was rather wrong and he was going to find out in the least way possible.
It was on that day when Visenya had excused herself rather early from his study, saying she needed to take a walk in the Gardens to clear her head before continue helping him deal with the matters of the realm.
Tywin had let her go without thinking much, although he had started to notice that the time was passing and she had yet to return.
Eventually, the door to his study was opened rather forcefully. At first, he thought it was her but when he saw it was Trystan, he felt disappointed. Both because it was not Visenya, who had returned but also because of the lack of manners his son suddenly seemed to have.
He opened his mouth to scold him until the young Lion marched into the room, out of breath. "Mother is going to confess," he said, his chest heaving as he tried to speak without losing all of his remaining breath.
"What?" Tywin exclaimed, standing up at an alarming rate.
Trystan tried to regulate his breathing, his heart beating faster not only because he had climbed the stairs to the Tower of the Hand without a break but also because of the worry that threatened to make his stomach empty itself.
"Right now...Mother had agreed to meet with the High Sparrow in front of the Sept," he explained, speaking slightly faster than he usually would. "It is said she is going to confess and atone for her sins."
The Old Lion passed through a variety of emotions in that short span of a few seconds.
First, there was surprise at hearing that Visenya would meet with the High Sparrow, let alone under the fake lie that she would confess.
Then, there was confusion. Why would Visenya go to confess in the first place? It did not make sense to him until realization hit him.
Third was the godly insight as he got an excellent idea of what his wife might be thinking. Visenya was always one of good-heart but above all, she was one that would recklessly fall on a blade to protect her family.
If she dared to confess to fake crimes, she would direct the anger of the crowd towards her for some time; perhaps even lie to fully save Cersei from all those accusations by confessing herself to all of them.
Worry followed next, once he thought of what she would have to pass through after her "confessions."
And of course, those last thoughts brought his most dominant and dangerous emotions forward...anger. He was furious at the mere idea that Visenya would be harmed to protect them all, to protect Cersei from the consequences of her selfish actions.
The rage he felt was boiling from within, eyes so cold that even Trystan felt uneasy. The rage was more than he had felt when Tyrion caused all that chaos in the courtroom, more than when Cersei confessed to him that she did sleep with Jaime...more than when Visenya danced with Oberyn.
Only once, had this volatile rage ever been witnessed in his golden-flecked eyes and that was when Visenya got captured by Robert after the Battle of the Trident.
"Prepare the men!" he ordered, his voice not hiding his anger. "Get Jaime and I want every available soldier on horse now!" he ordered and moved around the desk. "Prepare my horse and tell the soldiers that this time, they are allowed to kill with my order," he said, his voice so dark that his son shivered and merely watched him leave the room; feeling the anger left behind him to the point that himself had to leave the study in order to escape it.
Trystan was not sure what his mother was thinking but now, he prayed she knew what she was doing. Because he feared that their Father would wipe out half the city if her plan backfired and this time, no one would be able to stop him.
White Marble Plaza, Great Sept of Baelor, Visenya's Hill - King's Landing, Crownlands - Around the Same Time
The White Marble Plaza that stood in front of the Great Sept was one of the many architectural designs one would admire upon visiting. It was the place where the crowd would gather when not all could fit into the Sept and they would offer their prayers on one of the yearly Days of the Seven.
This time, the Plaza was filled with people but for something completely different. This time, the people had gathered to witness a public trial of the very first Royal to do so. They all were eager but their moods fully changed when the accused showed up.
Visenya had shown up alone, leaving the borrowed horse far behind and had chosen to walk the rest of the distance. She had dismissed all her jewellery and she even had let her hair remain down. The only sign of nobility on her were the golden Lions sewn on her red dress.
With her chin high, she walked amongst the sea of people. The crowd parted to let her pass on her way to the steps of the Sept but they did not hide how displeased they were of her. Insults, accusations and shouts were what she could hear coming from her left and her right as the people were inches away from ripping her to shreds.
"Abomination!"
"Cursed Woman!"
The last one was heard less than the others but it did seem to tick Visenya, who used all of her self-control to keep walking and not react.
As she did, she was reminded of the last time someone had called her that; a memory almost long forgotten and deeply buried in the back of her mind.
Her uncle Duncan had fallen in love with a commoner, a woman that people called Jenny of the Oldstones. In her company, she had a dwarf woman and a very peculiar wood witch. That witch was the very same one, who told Visenya's father that his first two children were to be married and birth the line of the Promised Prince.
When the wood witch officially met with Visenya, her reaction was far different from the one when she had first met her older siblings. The witch refused to touch her, eyes blazing with hatred as they glared at the young child barely age 6.
"Cursed child," she had called her, practically hissing at the sight of the young Visenya. "Cursed like her ancestors before her. Cursed by blood."
Whenever they would be in the same room, the wood witch would always glare at her but never dare to come too close. Yet, she would often tell Jenny the same thing; that her niece was "Cursed."
Once, Visenya had eavesdropped on them when she was a little bit older, around 8. She was peeping through the small opening of an almost closed door that led into the Library. Duncan, Jenny and the wood witch were there for some sort of private meeting.
"Jenny, I respect your friendship with the wood witch but she cannot keep going around and calling Visenya like that. People have started to believe her," Duncan, her uncle, told his wife while he stood in front of her and the wood witch.
"Duncan," Jenny said in her sweet voice, always lost in her own little world, "Perhaps you should listen to her. She has seen things and knows more than we ever will," she continued and turned to her friend. "Please, my friend, explain to my husband what you see."
The wood witch eyed Duncan carefully, that distant and slightly crazy look once again on her face.
"She is a cursed child, cursed by the gods, born by spilt innocent blood and dark magic," she started. "She is cursed to bring death with her wherever she goes, like her predecessor. As long as she lives, House Targaryen is destined to fall until only she is left."
A vegetable thrown her way and hitting the side of her face snapped Visenya from her trip down memory lane. She had muted everything around her and had continued walking, unbothered by their words or the few vegetables that had been thrown her way; staining her clothes and her skin.
She finally reached the steps leading up to the Baelor and she started to climb them one by one. On the top, the High Sparrow, Lancel and most of his sparrows were all waiting for her; dressed in their plain brown robes.
The leader of all, offered a small smile to the prideful woman as they now stood on even ground.
"It is a brave thing to confess and ask for the forgiveness of the Gods. You will see, my Lady, that it will all be worth it once you have been cleansed from your sins."
The Dragoness did not seem to believe him and she took her time to answer as the voices of the people started to slow down, now that the big event was about to begin.
"Then let us start it," was all she said, trying to fake the smallest of eagerness.
The High Sparrow knew how to read people well enough and he could see that the woman in front of him was not openly admitting to the confession nor the atonement of her sins. Yet, he could see that pride stood as an obstacle in the first place; something he expected.
If this was the times of old when the Faith Militant had power and weapons, he would have locked her in a cell until she had confessed everything. However, since this could not happen, the trials had to be changed.
While Visenya was not really willing to confess and take the step, the High Sparrow knew that she had no choice. He had cornered her and she had come to earn his favour, by following his words and asking for forgiveness.
She would be the first to do so and after her, he knew the rest would follow; whether they wanted it or not.
"Lady Visenya Targaryen," the High Sparrow started, his voice being carried away by the faint wind and reaching almost everyone in the crowd beneath them. "You have been accused of going against the Faith, protecting the sinner Cersei Lannister from atoning for her sins; those of incest. You have been accused of encouraging such abominable practices based on your family's history of bedding brothers and sisters. You stand here accused of creating Wildfire for your brother, allowing him to burn innocents without proper trial," he started, the two of them not once looking away from one another. "Kneel and confess your sins in front of your people and of the Seven. Ask for your atonement and the mercy of the Gods for your sins."
The proud Visenya did not react directly to his words, her mind fighting herself from doing the one thing she never did: to kneel. She had bent one knee to Robert but never in her life had she placed both to the ground, let alone kneel because someone told her to.
However, she knew it was one of those sacrifices that she had to make if she wished to truly be able to save her family.
Only for them and only once, she told herself in an attempt to ease the tension in her legs.
At last, after what felt like slowed mental torture; the mighty Visenya bent both knees in front of the High Sparrow. She craned her neck and looked up at the man dressed in brown robes, standing just two feet away from her.
He was looking down at her, pleased with his accomplishment and that only increased the tension in her jaw. Her eyes glared with anger at the humiliation, her gaze so challenging and dangerous that a few of the sparrows beneath him felt uncomfortable.
Their leader remained quiet and waited, as did the rest of the world for her to open her mouth and openly confess to her crimes. She took a deep breath and exhaled.
"Dracarys."
Before anyone could process what she truly said or meant, the ground beneath them started to rumble as if an earthquake was taking place.
The marble beneath them shook the most and in the next seconds, hell was unleashed upon them.
The pieces of the earth and the marble were shattered, columns of green fire travelling all the way up and burning anything and anyone that was caught in their range. The front of the Sept where the trial took place got most of the damage from the first and biggest column.
Two more, smaller ones emerged at the same time from where the steps were and even at the place where the steps and the plaza met.
The explosion was huge, with smoke and green fire forming a huge cloud higher and higher into the air. Debris, pieces of marble and earth were thrown all around as many people were tossed back by the mere force of the explosion.
Many screamed, some getting burnt and others injured but the ones that truly took the full blast; were Visenya, the High Sparrow and his followers on top of the stairs. None of them screamed, none had the time as the powerful green flames melted clothing and skin, turning the skeletons black and almost crumbling them into ash.