Chapter 459: The Beginning of Chaos

"Is Caesar breaking into the city?"

"But didn't we already surrender?"

"Could it be he's still unwilling to forgive us?"

The throne room was in chaos. The nobles, frightened by the sudden battle horn, were panicking like scattered sheep.

"His Majesty Caesar does not go back on his word." Varys was the only one attempting to bring order, calmly reassuring the crowd. "Please, my lords, wait a moment. I will send someone to investigate."

"Perhaps someone used the storm's confusion to assassinate the Storm King," Cersei said sharply.

"That's impossible! Caesar has a dragon; no one can kill him!" Arya immediately retorted.

"The Targaryens had dragons too, and how many of them still died?" Cersei sneered.

"If Caesar is dead, you will all pay with your lives!" Sansa found courage from somewhere and raised her voice.

"Then let us all perish together. Let King's Landing become a graveyard, and we, its corpses," Cersei replied, her tone growing deranged. She ordered a servant to bring wine. "Whether we face victory or defeat, honor or humiliation, it won't matter if we're already drunk."

Outside, the winds and rain roared endlessly, mingling with the shouts of soldiers, the neighing of horses, the clash of steel, and strange, inexplicable creaking noises. Together, they formed a terrifying symphony.

The storm worsened the difficulty of communication, allowing the chaos to spread even faster.

Inside the throne room, the assembled nobles were completely unaware of what was happening outside. They could only wait anxiously for fate to deliver its judgment.

The servants soon brought wine, and Cersei was the first to grab a goblet filled with brandy.

"Caesar's greatest contribution to Westeros is inventing brandy," she declared before downing it in one gulp.

The nobles exchanged uncertain glances before following her lead, each taking a goblet to drown their fears in alcohol.

Sansa hesitated before finally accepting a spiced fruit wine from a passing servant. She took a cautious sip, but as she turned, she realized Arya was gone.

"Arya? Arya?"

Sansa searched the hall but couldn't find her sister.

Frustrated and worried, she suddenly heard a familiar voice behind her:

"Don't bother looking. Your sister just left with Varys."

Sansa spun around to see the queen standing behind her.

Cersei appeared heavily intoxicated, her cheeks flushed, and her green eyes sparkled with a feverish, almost manic light.

"Where did Arya and Lord Varys go?" Sansa asked.

"How would I know?" Cersei replied. "Maybe they fled together. Clever little rat. Meanwhile, the rest of us are left here to be defiled by Caesar's soldiers before being slaughtered."

"That won't happen," Sansa argued. "His Majesty Caesar wouldn't allow it."

"Naive girl, you know nothing of war. Even the greatest commanders cannot control every one of their soldiers in battle. And in war, soldiers are beasts. Trust me, when the Red Keep falls, women like us—noble-born and defenseless—will be the first to awaken their animal instincts."

"No, no… that's not true!" Sansa shook her head repeatedly. "You're just trying to scare me!"

"Already scared?" Cersei leaned in closer, her wine-soaked breath heavy on Sansa's face. "You little fool. Did Eddard Stark teach you nothing?"

"He taught me to be brave!"

"Brave?" Cersei smirked. "Men are brave because they hold swords and face enemies directly. Jaime once told me that only on the battlefield and in bed did he truly feel alive."

She took another deep gulp of wine, her cheeks glowing an even deeper red.

"Honestly, I'd rather face a forest of swords than sit helplessly in this hall with you clucking hens, waiting for judgment."

Cersei laughed bitterly, her voice thick with intoxication.

"When we were children, Jaime and I looked so alike that even our father couldn't tell us apart. Sometimes, we'd switch clothes and pretend to be each other all day for fun.

But when Jaime received his first sword, I got nothing. Despite our similarity, we were treated completely differently.

While Jaime practiced swordsmanship and learned how to kill, I was taught to smile, sing, and be pleasing. He became a knight, while I, like a mare, was sold to a stranger.

My new master could ride me as he pleased, beat me when he was angry, and discard me when he grew bored…"

She's completely drunk, Sansa thought, though her heart held little sympathy for the woman.

As the storm raged outside, Sansa's thoughts drifted to a young knight from the Reach she had met years ago.

How long ago was that? She hadn't even come of age then, yet now he had risen from a minor baron to become the Storm King, soon to rule all Seven Kingdoms.

Does he still remember me?

…

Samwell leapt off his dragon and handed Tommen to Tyrion before angrily demanding:

"Who blew the horn?"

"Probably some frightened fool," Tyrion quickly explained. "Your Grace, we would never betray you; otherwise, we wouldn't have come out to welcome you."

"Indeed, Your Grace," Roose Bolton stepped forward. "Please allow us to return to the city and restrain our troops to prevent further chaos."

Samwell glanced at the assembled lords, then gave his orders calmly:

"All lords will remain here. Send your knights into the city to gather your forces and pacify the soldiers. Tell them I am not their enemy. The true enemy comes from the sea."

"The sea? Who is the true enemy?"

Faced with their questions, Samwell did not elaborate.

"The situation is urgent. I can't explain everything right now. Once inside, deploy your forces to the eastern and southern walls—those facing the water. Understood?"

The knights exchanged uncertain glances but nodded and departed to carry out his orders.

Randall Tarly approached, his expression grim. "This storm is unnatural."

"I know." Samwell nodded solemnly. "It's likely the result of sorcery. And I have a feeling we're about to face an enemy unlike any we've encountered before."

"Unusual enemies?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Even without the threat from the sea, the situation in the city is precarious." Randall's tone was serious. "The storm couldn't have come at a worse time. The city's soldiers are already on edge, and one misstep could lead to widespread unrest."

"I understand. That's why we'll control the pace of our entry. We must avoid provoking the troops while slowly securing key locations—especially the Red Keep. It's our top priority," Samwell said. "Father, you'll oversee the army's entry. I'll head to Blackwater Bay to assess the situation."

"Understood."

(End of Chapter)