The Targaryens had landed on the Crabs Claw Peninsula. The Targaryens had occupied Dragonstone. The Targaryens had taken Driftmark. The Targaryens had blockaded The Gullet. The Targaryens had brought dragons—not one, but ten in total.
Those dragons would sometimes circle above Blackwater Bay, their wings blotting out the sun, and the Dragon Roars could be heard even in King's Landing.
The news received by The Red Keep was not suppressed, or perhaps someone was fueling the fire behind the scenes. Consequently, rumors in King's Landing flew faster than ravens. The Gold Cloaks patrolled the streets, seizing anyone suspicious on sight, yet even this could not stop the city's gossip.
In the markets, bakeries, and taverns, crowds whispered everywhere. Some said the Targaryens had returned for vengeance and that the dragons would burn the entire city. Others said Robert's bastards had returned to challenge Joffrey for the throne. Still others claimed the White Walkers had breached the Wall and the dragons were here to save them.
Some were terrified, others excited, but most people simply packed their belongings in silence, preparing to flee the city to avoid the war. Ships in the harbor weighed anchor overnight, fearing they wouldn't be able to leave if they waited a moment longer. The docks were crowded with people fighting for the last few spots on ships, a cacophony of cursing and crying.
However, the gates of King's Landing had been sealed by the order of Queen Regent Cersei; without permission, anyone could enter, but no one was allowed to leave.
And those ships that had sailed out of the harbor were forced back. The Targaryen fleet would not allow any vessel to leave, and one dragon had even directly destroyed several ships that tried to force their way through. Yet they did not want to return to King's Landing either; all those who had already left the city were fleeing toward the Stormlands and The Reach.
In the corridors of The Red Keep, servants hurried past with their heads bowed, not daring to whisper, though the fear in their eyes could not be hidden. Cersei paced back and forth in her bedchamber within The Red Keep, her long golden hair draped over her shoulders. She had stayed in her room all day, refusing to see anyone, even Jaime was barred from the door.
Our little king, Joffrey, was actually quite excited. Dressed in a suit of magnificent armor with a gem-encrusted longsword at his waist and a red cloak fluttering behind him, he stood on the training grounds of The Red Keep, ordering the guards to intensify their drills.
He said to his Kingsguard, Meryn Trant, "I will personally cut off that Targaryen bastard's head."
Meryn Trant merely nodded with an expressionless face in agreement, while wondering in his heart if the boy had gone mad.
Soon, Cersei urgently convened a meeting of the Small Council.
Joffrey sat upon the iron throne, wearing his magnificent coat embroidered with the golden lion and the stag. Although the thirteen-year-old Joffrey already had the height of an adult, he was quite thin and frail; the iron throne was still too large for him, making his figure appear rather slight.
Cersei sat on a newly added chair beside the throne, her golden hair combed meticulously. No emotion could be seen on her face, but her green eyes were colder than usual.
Today, she wore a long black dress with a very low neckline, though the men in the council chamber were in no mood to appreciate it. After all, even Jaime, who usually only had eyes for Cersei, was now standing behind her with a very serious expression, his eyes filled with worry.
The remaining ministers of the Small Council sat on either side. Littlefinger Petyr remained expressionless; Varys kept his head down, his thoughts unknown; and Grand Maester Pycelle trembled like a withered leaf in the wind. Only the Commander of the City Watch, Janos Slynt, looked unwell, his forehead drenched in sweat.
"Your Grace, Queen Regent," Janos saluted the iron throne, being the first to break the silent atmosphere. After all, his life hadn't been easy lately. "The city is already in chaos. The smallfolk are fighting over food, and at the docks, people trying to flee were stopped by us. Also..."
He paused and glanced at Cersei.
"There are also rumors that those dragons can burn down the entire castle with a single breath of fire."
Cersei merely gave him a cold, dark look. Janos immediately and self-consciously shut his mouth and sat back down. His subordinates had already been bought by the Lannisters with gold; he held command in name only.
"The Targaryens have landed, with their dragons and their army. We need a strategy." Since someone had opened the discussion, Cersei took the opportunity to address the ministers below.
Grand Maester Pycelle said tremulously, "Dragons... what do we have to deal with dragons? scorpion crossbows? Those Free Cities have already tried them, and they were completely useless. Bolts strike the dragon scales without even leaving a mark. And they have ten dragons, ten..."
"Shut up," Cersei interrupted him. "I don't want to hear any more nonsense from you, old man."
Littlefinger Petyr spoke up then, "Queen Regent, Your Grace, our immediate priority is to gather all available troops. King's Landing currently has two thousand Gold Cloaks and one thousand Lannister soldiers, totaling no more than three thousand men. This force is insufficient even to defend the city, let alone face dragons."
"Then conscript every man who can hold a weapon," Cersei said.
"We could. The limit for King's Landing right now is probably about ten thousand men," Petyr nodded. "But the conscripted militia will be poorly trained, ill-equipped, and their morale will be an issue. I fear the first thought they'll have upon seeing a dragon is to run."
Varys looked up then and said softly, "Perhaps we have another option..."
Everyone looked at him.
"Negotiation," Varys said. "After Viserys Targaryen established his kingdom in Essos, he adopted a policy of leniency toward all city-states that surrendered. Lys was the exception, but that was because they sent assassins. If we..."
"Shut up." Cersei stood up, fury burning in her green eyes. "Negotiate with a Targaryen? That little bastard wants the iron throne, he wants the Lannisters, and he wants my son's life. What terms do you think he would offer?"
Varys lowered his head and spoke no more.
Joffrey suddenly stood up from the iron throne, his face still bearing the childishness of youth, but his eyes now shining with an excited light.
"What are you all so afraid of?" he shouted. "Those dragons are nothing more than oversized lizards. My father, Robert, killed Rhaegar on the Trident with his warhammer. Now it is my turn. I will personally command the army, kill that Viserys, and put his head on a spike to be displayed on the city walls, just like Eddard."
No one responded. They had heard the little king say such things too many times lately and had long since become numb to it.
Joffrey looked at the silent ministers, his face flushing red. "Are you deaf? I am the King, and I command you to speak."
Only then did Petyr respond, "Your Grace's bravery is truly admirable. However, the most important thing right now is defense, not offense. We should immediately send ravens to Lord Tywin for aid, requesting that he return his army to King's Landing as soon as possible. If Lord Tywin can return, combined with the forces of the Westerlands, we should be able to muster forty thousand men."
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