Chapter 201: Despair
At dawn, Cersei glanced out the window and slowly sat up in bed.
Ever since King's Landing's fleet had sailed into the Narrow Sea, she had been unable to find peace of mind. She had only managed to lie down for a brief rest shortly before sunrise, exhausted from worry.
Three days earlier, she had received an unusual report.
A miracle had supposedly occurred in Flea Bottom.
According to the report, a middle-aged man who had fallen from a rooftop and shattered his leg had been healed by the High Sparrow with a burst of white light. Afterward, he walked as though nothing had ever happened.
When Cersei first heard the story, she dismissed it outright.
She believed she could see through the High Sparrow's tricks at a glance.
Nothing more than a carefully staged performance to impress the ignorant masses and attract more followers to the Faith of the Seven.
As for the crippled man, he was undoubtedly an accomplice—an actor playing his role in a theatrical display designed to deceive the smallfolk.
She had expected the matter to fade away.
Instead, another report soon followed.
Word spread that the Great Sept of Baelor had received a divine revelation from the Seven themselves.
That claim earned only her scorn.
Back when she had restored the Faith Militant, several advisors had warned her to be wary of the High Sparrow.
Though she had publicly brushed aside those concerns, she had secretly kept spies watching him ever since, determined to prevent him from becoming a threat to the Iron Throne.
It seemed those warnings had not been entirely misplaced.
The High Sparrow had indeed proven restless, constantly resorting to little schemes designed to elevate the authority of the Faith.
Even after receiving two reports connected to him in quick succession, Cersei paid them little attention.
She merely ordered her informants to continue monitoring him.
Her focus remained fixed on the war in the North.
That conflict would determine whether she continued sitting upon the throne in the Red Keep—or lost everything.
What she had not expected was what happened next.
No sooner had she dismissed the messenger than another request arrived.
The High Sparrow wished to meet with her personally.
Curious, she agreed.
The moment he entered, he spoke words so shocking that Cersei could scarcely believe what she was hearing.
"Send the fleet against Dragonstone."
For a long moment, she simply stared at him.
Had the man finally gone mad?
The kingdom had only just concluded a truce with Daenerys Targaryen in order to confront the threat beyond the Wall.
Breaking that agreement now would plunge the realm back into war.
Yet the High Sparrow's expression remained calm and unwavering, as though he were speaking of something already decided.
And that certainty was what unsettled Cersei the most.
The High Sparrow went on to claim that the Seven—and many other gods—had begun displaying miracles across the world and issuing divine revelations. Together, they intended to destroy Daenerys's army and kill her black dragon.
To Cersei, the entire story sounded utterly absurd.
Regardless of whether the gods truly existed as the High Sparrow claimed, she was already struggling just to preserve herself. Launching an invasion of Dragonstone was the last thing she could afford.
It wasn't until the High Sparrow revealed that the Night King had already been slain, the White Walkers destroyed, and Daenerys was currently on her way home that Cersei refrained from having him thrown out of the Red Keep.
To prove his words, the High Sparrow requested that she summon a soldier who had lost a leg during the Battle of the Blackwater.
Standing before her eyes, he placed a hand glowing with white light upon the man's stump.
Moments later, fresh flesh sprouted visibly from the severed limb.
The leg regenerated before her very eyes.
At that instant, Cersei believed him.
She had thought herself a woman awaiting inevitable doom.
Never had she imagined fate would hand her another chance.
As for the truce?
Daenerys and her black dragon had incurred the wrath of the gods and were about to suffer divine judgment. Compared to that, tearing up a mere piece of parchment meant nothing.
The gods themselves were moving against Daenerys.
Who would care about a broken treaty?
Cersei was convinced that neither the Seven, nor the nobles, nor the soldiers, nor even the common people would condemn her for it.
Yet when she presented the proposal to her uncle Kevan and the members of the Small Council, she encountered unanimous opposition.
Cersei ignored them all.
Their caution disgusted her.
If she missed this opportunity to destroy Daenerys and her dragon, there would be only two futures awaiting her:
The city would fall, and she would either become a prisoner...
Or die.
She had no intention of spending the rest of her life rotting in some lightless dungeon.
Daenerys might spare Jaime, the Kingslayer.
But she would never spare Cersei.
And Tyrion—that malicious little dwarf—would probably celebrate the day she died.
Rejecting every objection, Cersei dispatched every warship King's Landing could muster, along with thirty thousand soldiers.
Kevan Lannister was given command of the expedition.
The High Sparrow accompanied him.
Their mission was simple:
Intercept and destroy Daenerys Targaryen.
Cersei had no idea exactly how Daenerys and the black dragon had offended the gods.
Nor did she care.
With the gods themselves involved, what chance could a mortal queen possibly have against divine wrath?
More than once, she imagined Daenerys's face when she realized she had fallen into a trap laid by the gods themselves.
After the fleet departed, Cersei could barely contain her excitement.
She spent hours atop the highest tower of the Red Keep, waiting for news of victory.
Yet for reasons she could not explain, that excitement gradually transformed into impatience.
Then anxiety.
Then outright dread.
At night she found herself unable to sleep.
Only when exhaustion finally overwhelmed her did she collapse onto her bed.
Even then, she slept little more than an hour before waking again.
After a quick wash, she opened her chamber door.
The weary expressions on the guards' faces told her all she needed to know.
No message had arrived from Dragonstone.
Otherwise, they would have awakened her immediately.
She was about to retreat back inside when she spotted a soldier hurrying down the corridor.
Rather than waiting for him to approach, she strode toward him herself.
"Has the fleet returned?" she asked before he could even speak.
The soldier carried no scrolls or reports.
Panting heavily, the broad-shouldered man shook his head.
"Your Grace, ships have been sighted approaching King's Landing. The morning fog hasn't lifted yet, so we can't identify their banners or numbers."
"Then I'm going to see for myself."
She had spent nearly two days waiting.
She refused to sit helplessly in her chambers any longer.
Escorted by the soldier, she climbed to the largely repaired East Gate.
Through the mist, silhouettes of ships could already be seen upon the sea.
Taking a spyglass from one of the guards, Cersei peered toward the horizon.
The vessels were close enough to distinguish their shapes, but the fog still concealed the banners fluttering atop their masts.
Just as she lowered the spyglass—
"What is that?!"
A soldier suddenly shouted.
Cersei followed the direction of his pointing finger.
A dark shape was emerging from the fog.
Growing larger.
And larger.
Slowly taking form against the morning sky.
"No..."
"No... that's impossible..."
"How could this happen?"
Cersei stared blankly ahead.
Her body began retreating before she even realized it.
"A dragon!"
"It's a dragon!"
"The Dragon Queen has come!"
The cry exploded across the battlements.
The sleepy guards instantly sprang to life, scrambling toward their defensive positions.
"Your Grace, we need to leave. Now."
Ser Meryn stepped beside her.
Cersei turned toward him with vacant eyes.
"Leave?"
"Leave for where?"
For a moment, Meryn was speechless.
He wanted to say the Red Keep.
But facing dragons and an enemy fleet...
Was the Red Keep truly safe?
He had attended the council meeting where Cersei overruled every objection, tore up the truce, and sent the fleet to attack.
Yet only two days later, the very dragon and fleet that should have been destroyed had arrived at King's Landing's doorstep.
The city now possessed barely ten thousand defenders.
Against the black dragon and Daenerys's armada, nowhere felt secure.
Still, he could not leave the queen standing atop the most exposed section of the wall.
After a brief hesitation, he urged her once more.
Watching the colossal shadow drawing ever closer, Cersei finally understood.
There was nowhere left to run.
Part of her wanted to face the black dragon defiantly.
To stare into its eyes and meet death without fear.
But the memory of countless men reduced to blackened skeletons by dragonfire shattered that resolve.
Her courage deserted her.
Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, she allowed Ser Meryn to guide her down from the wall.
At nearly the same moment, Olenna Tyrell received word that dragons had appeared over King's Landing.
The old woman sat frozen for a long while before finally reacting.
"I truly am getting old..."
She sighed softly.
Then she turned to the commander who had brought the news.
"Order every Reach soldier to withdraw from the walls."
"Attack the neighboring garrison troops."
"Open the South Gate."
"And send riders to Highgarden."
"Inform Willas of everything that has happened here."
[KEEP SUPPORTING DORGON]
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