Red Keep, Throne Room.
The thick stone walls could not block the continuous, dull roar from outside the city.
The sound seemed to come from deep underground, yet also felt like the heavens collapsing; every vibration made the foundations of the ancient castle tremble.
High atop the ceiling, dust and debris trickled down from the cracks in the stone, kicking up a hazy mist in the dismal light filtering through the high windows.
Joffrey Baratheon, "King" of the Seven Kingdoms, had long since lost the prestige of sitting regally upon the iron throne and issuing commands.
Like a trapped beast, he paced restlessly across the opulent yet cold carpet, his steps erratic.
The cloak symbolizing royal power was pulled askew, making the gold-thread lion crest look comical and pathetic.
His pale fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of his clothes before snapping open; his forehead was drenched in cold sweat, and his eyes darted frantically across the vast, oppressive hall.
"The secret passage! What happened to the scouts?! Speak!" He stopped abruptly, roaring harshly at the trembling courtiers below, his voice shrill and out of tune from extreme fear, echoing hollowly through the hall.
"Did you find the exit?! Can we get through or not?!"
Below, the courtiers and guards, led by Pycelle, bowed their heads even lower.
The old Grand Maester hunched his body, almost shrinking into his heavy, soiled maester's robes.
He raised a face etched with wrinkles and terror, his voice shaking uncontrollably, tinged with a sob:
"Your... Your Majesty... the secret passages built by King Maegor are intricate and complex, with side paths like spiderwebs. Without someone familiar with the way to lead, one would get lost upon entering and eventually die trapped in the darkness."
"The men sent out haven't returned... I fear..." He swallowed hard, not daring to speak the word, his cloudy old eyes filled with despair. "Lord Varys knows all the secret passages, but he has already left for the Vale with Baelish..."
Joffrey's fingers suddenly tightened, his nails nearly digging into his palms, before going limp again.
He didn't care about the lives of those scouting guards; his mind was consumed by a single thought gnawing at his last shred of sanity.
Escape! He had to escape! Leave this cage that was about to be breached by monsters and rebels!
As long as he escaped the Red Keep, escaped King's Landing... to Casterly Rock, to the Westerlands, that was his grandfather Tywin's territory, with a great army and safety... Joffrey frantically constructed a phantom hope of survival.
In this suffocating stalemate, at the very moment he was nearly driven mad by fear—
BOOM—!!!
The earth suddenly shook violently.
This time, it was definitely not an aftershock from outside the city.
The entire Red Keep seemed to be seized by an invisible giant hand and shaken wildly, the intensity far exceeding the previous vibrations by tenfold or a hundredfold.
Inside the Throne Room, massive tapestries fell from the walls, crashing heavily onto the floor and kicking up clouds of dust.
Tall bronze candelabras toppled over, smashing floor tiles; burning candles rolled everywhere, sparks flying.
Stone carvings and blocks from the vaulted ceiling fell amidst the piercing sound of cracking, like a lethal rain of stone, striking the ground and the edges of the crowd, triggering a wave of screams.
"Protect His Majesty!" Several Kingsguard instinctively stepped forward, but they were shaken so badly they could hardly stand straight.
The vibration subsided slightly, but the dust had yet to settle.
A guard scrambled into the hall, his helmet askew and armor crooked, his face covered in blood and grime. Without even pausing to salute, he cried out in a terror-stricken voice that tore at his throat:
"Your Majesty! It's terrible! The secret passage has collapsed! The entire ground at the Red Keep's underground entrance has caved in, and massive stones have sealed the main tunnel tight! Several of our men are buried inside!"
Silence.
A silence heavier than any before, like thick ink, instantly enveloped the entire Throne Room.
Even the sporadic crackling of sparks was swallowed by this dead silence.
The last trace of color drained from Joffrey's face, leaving him as pale as paper.
His whole body jolted as if struck in the chest by a heavy hammer; he stumbled back until his spine slammed against the cold stone wall.
He finally realized with absolute clarity...
He had nowhere left to run.
He didn't care about the scouts' lives; he only knew that his final path to survival—the road to safety and power—was completely blocked, buried under boulders and soil.
"No... impossible... how could this..." His lips trembled, his eyes vacant. The previous violence, restlessness, and bluster were all replaced by cold despair.
He leaned against the wall, barely supporting his weakening body.
In the next moment, his shell as "King" completely shattered.
"Aaaaah—!!!"
Joffrey let out a roar that didn't sound human, a mixture of ultimate fear, rage, and despair.
He stopped looking at anyone and screamed frantically at the crumbling hall:
"What do we do now?! Tell me! What do we do now?!!"
His voice was shrill and hoarse, echoing hollowly in the aftermath of the tremors; there was no response, only a piercing, pathetic echo.
As if to answer his desperate cry.
THUD!!!!
A deep, heavy sound, carrying an overwhelming force, came from outside the Red Keep.
The sound reached the very foundation stones of the Red Keep, felt beneath everyone's feet, striking hard against their hearts and souls.
It wasn't an explosion, nor a collapse, but the arrival of something gargantuan with unmatched majesty.
The entire Red Keep sank slightly at the sound of that heavy thud.
A deeper silence filled every crack in the hall's stones and weighed upon everyone's heart.
Even the few flickering candle flames seemed frozen by this invisible pressure, their wicks shivering eerily.
Joffrey slid down the wall and slumped to the floor, his opulent robes covered in dust and stone chips, which he didn't even notice.
He was cold all over, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. He raised bloodshot eyes and stared intently at the closed iron-studded doors, squeezing out a barely audible voice with all his strength:
"Go... go see what's happening... outside..."
It was his first time giving such a gentle command, yet it carried a death-like weakness.
However, not a single person moved.
In the hall, from the slumped Joffrey to the kneeling Pycelle, the remaining Kingsguard, and the attendants in the corners—everyone was frozen in place as if turned to ice.
It wasn't defiance of a royal command, nor was it hesitation.
It was the most primitive instinctual paralysis when life faces an overwhelming catastrophe.
A pressure so heavy it was suffocating had already descended upon every inch of the Red Keep, seeping into every stone and pressing deep into everyone's soul.
The cold, viscous aura was pervasive, seeping into the hall through door cracks, stone crevices, and high windows, making chests feel tight and breathing difficult, as if the slightest movement would disturb the horror outside the door.
The chill seeped into their bones, and their souls trembled involuntarily.
Everyone "felt" it.
There was no need to look, no need to listen.
That presence, like an ancient beast emerging from the abyss of myth, was standing quietly outside the door, slowly opening eyes that swallowed all light, watching the small, trembling insects inside through wood and steel.
No one dared to move.
No one dared to approach that door.
That door was no longer a barrier, but a thin layer of paper separating known despair from the ultimate unknown horror.
Opening it would be equivalent to tearing away the final protection and facing the irresistible presence outside.
Everyone understood from the depths of their souls... that taking one step out meant never coming back.
The roar stuck in Joffrey's throat was swallowed completely, turning into a fit of violent dry heaving.
His face was deathly pale as he looked at the terrified faces and constricted pupils around him, finally waking up in the midst of extreme fear:
It wasn't that they were disobeying orders.
It was that the thing outside the door had already gone beyond the scope of orders.
It was a natural disaster, a divine punishment, an end that no mortal could defy.
He shook even more violently, tears mixing with cold sweat and snot as they slid down without dignity, splashing onto his stained robes.
And outside the heavy doors of the Red Keep,
After that heavy thud announcing its arrival,
There was an absolute silence, so long it was maddening and oppressive to the extreme.
It was as if the gargantuan presence that brought catastrophe had fallen into an eternal stillness after its arrival.
Or perhaps, it was simply waiting quietly.
Waiting for this last prisoner called "King" behind the door,
To muster the courage that had long since vanished and walk out on his own.
To walk out and face what was forged by bloodlines, history, madness, and betrayal...
The final judgment.
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