If you're enjoying these stories, consider leaving a comment, review, or vote.
You can also visit the Pat**on at: CaveLeather
King's Landing – Gate of the Gods
One month later, at dawn, sunlight poured over the massive Gate of the Gods, gilding the stone statues of the Seven above the gate with golden light.
A splendid procession slowly passed through the gate. Their banners bore golden roses that gleamed brilliantly in the sun—House Tyrell of Highgarden had finally arrived in King's Landing.
At the front, Highgarden's heir Willas Tyrell sat on a steady warhorse. His face was mild, carrying a scholar's calm.
Surprisingly, beside him rode an extremely handsome young squire with chestnut curls and lively eyes, who seemed very close and intimate with Willas in conversation and gestures.
Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell, already waiting inside the gate, immediately stepped forward. Renly was as charming as ever in his velvet doublet, flashing a dazzling smile.
But Loras's smile froze the moment he saw the squire beside Willas. His eyes widened in shock, almost crying out.
Willas caught his brother's slip instantly. He smiled gently but with unyielding authority:
"Loras, it's been too long. This is Matt, our distant cousin, now my new squire. Father and Grandmother have already approved." He emphasized "approved."
Loras recovered instantly, forcing down the storm in his heart, his face quickly regaining the proper knightly smile.
"Brother, the journey must have been tiring! It's wonderful to see you looking so well!" Then he turned to "Matt," trying to sound natural. "Welcome to King's Landing, Matt!"
"Matt" simply bowed slightly, offering a restrained and perfect smile without saying more.
After the greetings, the group rode on, escorted by guards, along the Kingsroad into the city. Crowds lined both sides, pointing and whispering at the golden rose banners.
Renly rode beside Willas, naturally bringing up the hottest topic in King's Landing lately.
"Willas, you've arrived at just the right time. So much has happened in King's Landing this past month." Renly's tone held genuine awe. "First, that 'Tomorrow's Star' event—you really missed out. And that Pierce Celtigar—he's something else! Have you heard about the 'wildfire incident'?"
Willas showed appropriate curiosity. "I've heard rumors, but not the details."
"It's unbelievable!" Renly described it vividly. "While inspecting the Dragonpit, he accidentally discovered massive caches of wildfire the Mad King had buried underground! Under the Red Keep, the Great Sept—everywhere! Just thinking about it gives me chills. If Lord Celtigar hadn't been so careful and used mirrors instead of torches, the Stranger might have taken us all in a single flash!"
Renly's admiration for Pierce was obvious.
Willas listened quietly, nodding occasionally, then steered the conversation toward what interested him more.
"Truly astonishing! So, what's the current state of the Dragonpit?"
"Oh, the Dragonpit," Renly replied. "On the Small Council's orders, the Gold Cloaks have cleared out all the squatters and debris. Lord Celtigar's people moved in afterward, reinforced the dangerous sections, and began detailed surveys. They're just waiting for you!"
A spark of interest lit Willas's eyes. "It seems Lord Celtigar isn't just lucky—he's also highly efficient."
To push two massive projects in such a short time and "discover" the wildfire beneath the Dragonpit—whatever his methods, it proved real capability.
Renly smiled with that knowing look between men. "Capable, definitely. But his tastes… a bit unique! Guess where he's staying? Silk Street! And he's partnering with Littlefinger. The Celtigar family has old roots, but still…"
Willas's brows twitched almost imperceptibly. Staying in a place like Silk Street, full of vice and debauchery, instantly lowered his opinion of this upstart lord.
True ancient nobility valued restraint and reputation, not flaunting indulgence in such pleasures.
By the time their conversation ended, they had reached the foot of the Red Keep.
Although King Robert still harbored resentment toward the Tyrells for their side in Robert's Rebellion, he gave them a proper welcome in the throne room—courtesy of the lavish hospitality they'd shown him during his visit to Highgarden, the beautiful women, fine wines, and their current show of cooperation.
The audience was brief and formal. Robert wasn't overly warm but gave face. That evening, the Tyrell party was settled into guest quarters in Maegor's Holdfast.
…
…
Red Keep – Tyrell Guest Chambers
In a spacious, luxurious bedroom, Willas, Loras, "Matt," and their attendants held a simple afternoon tea.
Once "Matt" stopped eating, Loras couldn't hold back any longer. He lowered his voice, disbelief thick in his tone. "Margaery! How could you… how did you even get here? Disguised as a squire!"
"Matt"—or rather, Margaery Tyrell—didn't answer right away. She went to the door and fireplace, signaling the guards to stand there, then nodded to one of her Tyrell attendants.
The attendant immediately understood and began singing a soft, melodious Riverlands love song in a low, lilting voice—cleverly covering their conversation.
Only then did Margaery turn around. Her clear, sweet, girlish voice contrasted sharply with her masculine disguise. "Why not? King's Landing is the center of the Seven Kingdoms. Interesting things are happening here. Why shouldn't I come see for myself?"
Loras took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "It's too dangerous! This isn't Highgarden!"
"Exactly because it's not Highgarden, we need to be here." Margaery stepped in front of Loras, eyes sharp. "But let's set that aside! I heard all the secret passages found under the Red Keep have been sealed?"
"Yes," Loras confirmed. "The king gave the order himself, with the Hand overseeing. Every known tunnel was blocked with massive stones and lime mortar. They searched thoroughly."
Margaery's lips curved into a smile far too knowing for her age. "Really… all sealed? Or just made to look that way—for us, or for everyone?"
Loras's face went deathly pale. Cold sweat instantly soaked his back.
He and Renly… they had used many hidden corners for their private meetings, including some lesser-known passages and storage rooms.
If those places hadn't truly been sealed… or if others remained undiscovered… he didn't dare imagine whether their intimate, sometimes reckless behavior had been watched.
Seeing her brother's panic, Margaery sighed softly, her tone gentler but laced with disappointment.
"Loras, my dear brother, besides 'admiring flowers' with Lord Renly, have you actually done anything for the family? The information you've gathered sounds pitifully shallow to me."
Loras felt his scalp tingle under her gaze and stammered defensively. "I… I have been keeping track of the great houses…"
Margaery cut him off, eyes gleaming with intelligence. "What good are those surface-level social games? We need real information that can shift the balance—people's weaknesses, cracks in power. Like these secret passages—you think sealing them makes us safe? Perhaps being 'believed' sealed is exactly what makes them useful tools for certain people."
Willas's voice joined in, carrying a touch of helplessness. "Margaery insisted on coming. Grandmother thought it might be good for her to experience King's Landing firsthand. None of us could talk her out of it."
Margaery looked at her eldest brother, voice firm. "Willas, tomorrow you start normal negotiations with Lord Celtigar about the Dragonpit renovation and commercial cooperation. Act like the proper heir concerned only with the Reach's interests."
Then she turned to Loras. "As for you, my brother, keep being the Knight of Flowers and maintain your relationship with Lord Renly. But remember—part of your heart must always beat for the golden rose."
She moved to the center of the room, gazing around as if seeing the hidden currents of the entire Red Keep. "And I… will use my own eyes to watch and listen. This King's Landing, and that man who unleashed the 'wildfire storm'—Pierce Celtigar… what secrets are truly hidden behind them?"
…
…
Next Morning – The Red Keep
The following morning, Melisandre, clad in her blood-red robes, entered the solemn Red Keep under the guidance of a court servant.
Without Pierce's invisible suppressing presence nearby, she quickly regained the mysterious, powerful aura of a red priestess of the Lord of Light.
She held her head high, red eyes calm as still flames, each step steady and resolute, radiating an aura of mystery and strength.
The Red Keep guards and Gold Cloaks they passed were all awed by her exotic beauty and commanding presence, turning to stare and whisper in awe and curiosity.
While crossing the grand side hall connecting the west and east wards, she unexpectedly encountered two men: Varys the Spider and Willas Tyrell, who was familiarizing himself with the castle.
Varys wore soft silk robes, his face wearing its usual enigmatic smile. Willas walked with a limp, leaning on a cane, his expression mild and cautious.
The escorting servant quietly introduced them. When Varys and Willas learned this was the advisor Pierce had recommended to the queen, both showed clear surprise.
Melisandre's gaze first fell on Willas. Her red pupils seemed to pierce through appearances.
She studied him for a moment, then spoke in her magnetic, foreign-accented voice. "A dancer trapped in chains… the shackles may come from your own heart, Lord Willas Tyrell. If you choose to break free, fate will unfold a very different canvas for you. But restoring what was lost may bring a different destiny. Are you ready to accept it?"
Willas's heart slammed. His leg had been crippled in a lance duel with "the Red Viper" Oberyn Martell. Maester Ambrose was the Citadel's finest, yet even he had said there was no cure.
But from Melisandre's tone, it seemed there was hope. For Willas, this was like a second life!
He forced down the turmoil inside and kept his calm, slightly sorrowful smile. "You jest, my lady. My fate is already written. Thank you for your… blessing!"
Melisandre gave no reply. She simply turned her gaze to Varys. Her eyes grew even deeper, as if seeing the countless secret threads wrapped around him.
"And you, Lord Varys," her voice lowered, "you play with the flames of secrets, trying to shape the future with blood and fire. But know this—blood and fire bring only death and destruction. Are you… truly prepared? Prepared to face the thing you yourself have summoned?"
Varys's smile froze for an instant. He recovered quickly, but the tiny change didn't escape Melisandre.
His high-pitched voice carried a faint dryness. "Respected lady, I am merely a humble servant serving the realm. I'm afraid I don't understand your profound prophecies."
Melisandre ignored them both, as if her words had been nothing more than casual revelations.
She nodded slightly and continued following the servant toward Maegor's Holdfast, leaving Varys and Willas standing there, exchanging uneasy glances, hearts filled with confusion and a chill they couldn't name.
Maegor's Holdfast – Cersei's Solar
In a lavish, private solar inside Maegor's Holdfast, Queen Cersei Baratheon received Melisandre.
Cersei wore a golden court gown, every inch the queen, but deep in her eyes lurked a hunger for unknown power mixed with unease.
"Lady Melisandre," Cersei studied her, "I've heard of you—the red priestess from Asshai. So… what exactly can you offer me?"
Melisandre bowed slightly, her red eyes meeting Cersei's with burning conviction. "I have come at the command of the Lord of Light—the one true god R'hllor—to Your Grace! I seek the prince foretold in prophecy, the warrior who will banish the endless night and bring dawn and salvation to the world."
"The prince in the prophecy?" Cersei repeated. As a girl she had heard a witch's prophecy about her own fate.
She leaned forward, emerald eyes flashing with sudden excitement. "I've heard that prophecy too… about the prince's blood, about salt and smoke… Are you saying my fate is tied to it?"
Melisandre gazed at Cersei. The fire visions of the queen's future were always fragmented, but they burned with royal blood, power, and flames.
"Yes, Your Grace! The Lord of Light's revelation guided me to you. Your destiny is woven into that great prophecy. You are connected to it—you are the key."
But Cersei, lost in her own hunger for power and destiny, completely twisted the words.
She took "connected to the prophecy" and "the key" to mean she was the Prince That Was Promised.
She remembered the frog witch's curse: "One day, when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar will wrap his hands around your pale throat and choke the life from you."
Valonqar meant "little brother" in High Valyrian—a thorn that had haunted her for years.
Now this mysterious red priestess from the east was hinting that she—Cersei Lannister—was the one destined to save the world?
It was the perfect slap to that hateful prophecy! Yes—she, Cersei Lannister, was the one fated for greatness!
A wave of wild joy and triumph crashed over her. Her cheeks flushed, emerald eyes blazing brighter than ever.