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The royal carriage jolted along the street, its wheels rolling over puddles formed by last night's rain, splashing mud.
Inside the carriage, lined with soft crimson velvet, Margaery Tyrell's nose caught the heavy scent of Cersei's perfume; it was cloying enough to make one dizzy, yet a hint of smugness flashed in her eyes.
As expected of an old woman, she lacked the youth and vitality of a young girl like herself; even her taste in perfume had begun to turn vulgar.
"Must we go, Mother?"
The great King Joffrey Baratheon, the First of His Name, asked this for the third time, appearing somewhat restless.
Today, he wore a brand-new deep purple coat, the cuffs embroidered with the Crowned Stag of Baratheon in gold thread. The material was expensive and comfortable, yet he sat most uncomfortably.
His bottom shifted incessantly on the soft cushion, his fingers tapping unconsciously.
"The last time we went to Flea Bottom, those commoners dared to throw mud, stones, and even filth at my carriage!"
"Even Ser Meryn Trant's forehead was split open, and he bled a great deal."
"Oh, darling." Hearing this, Cersei quickly patted the back of Joffrey's hand, her voice as gentle as if she were coaxing a child. "Last time was because of the food shortage; those commoners were starving and desperate. But it's different now. The war is over, and King's Landing no longer lacks food."
"That is true," Margaery chimed in from the side.
She sat beside Cersei, wearing a simple pale blue gown, her hair loosely braided and draped over her shoulder. She did indeed look fresh and ethereal.
This was an outfit Margaery had spent two hours specifically choosing. Knowing they were going to Flea Bottom today, she had to maintain her image as the "kind and gracious future Queen" in the eyes of the smallfolk.
And pale blue was exactly the color that sat between a young maiden and the Mother.
"I went to the orphanage last week," she continued, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze. "The streets are indeed cleaner. Children play in the open spaces without any snatching or stealing. A little girl I've become acquainted with even gave me a freshly picked wild flower."
"She said her father found work at the docks and earns enough to feed a family of five or six."
As she spoke, her eyes looked sincerely at Joffrey, but her peripheral vision remained fixed on Cersei.
The Queen Mother's expression didn't change at all; she even smiled more brightly. "Lady Margaery is truly concerned for the subjects."
She turned to her future daughter-in-law, her tone carrying a hint of appreciation. "Unlike me, I rarely go to those... less-than-respectable places."
"I imagine your grandmother must be very pleased. After all, House Tyrell has always been known for being close to the people."
This sounded like praise, but Margaery heard the sarcasm within.
It was a blatant mockery of her being "not noble enough," constantly mingling with commoners.
But she responded with an equally sweet smile, showing no anger at all.
"Grandmother often says that for a rose to bloom vibrantly, its roots must be deep in the soil. Only by observing the lowliest of subjects can one become a 'true' Queen."
She emphasized the word "true" heavily, mocking Cersei for no longer being the Queen.
Hearing this, a cold light flashed through Cersei's eyes, and she suddenly felt a surge of resentment.
This damn woman, relying on her youth and beauty, had tried to surpass her in every way since moving into the Red Keep. She had even managed to make the habitually disobedient Joffrey completely submissive.
In a moment... she must be made to pay the price!
The King seemed not to understand the hidden confrontation between the two women, looking out the window with boredom.
The carriage had already passed Iron Street. The buildings on both sides were becoming low and dilapidated. Although the road was indeed cleaner than he remembered and didn't smell as bad, the aura of poverty and his previous psychological trauma still made him irritable.
Right, that fellow named Vi... Vi-something, didn't he say he would clean up Flea Bottom?
No, that's not right. Did he say he'd kill all the poor people?
That's not right either.
Shaking his head, the King's mental capacity was a bit overloaded. He frowned and snapped, "I still don't like it here."
"The smell is foul, and the people are ugly. Why must a king come to see such things?"
"Your Majesty..."
"
Hearing this, Margaery was about to exercise her influence again, but Cersei beat her to it, soothing him: "Because a true king does not fear his subjects, darling."
"Fear is the emotion of the weak. You must let them see you, revere you, and know who the master of King's Landing is."
As she spoke, her eyes were fixed on Margaery.
Margaery maintained her smile, but her hand clutching her skirt tightened.
Loras had been missing for several days. Rumors were flying through the Red Keep that the Knight of Flowers had eloped with a squire.
How romantic, how brave, how... shameful!
House Tyrell had become a laughingstock, and she, who was about to become Queen, had to smile through hypocritical comforts and secret mockery at banquets.
She had every reason to suspect that all of this was surely related to the malicious and scheming Queen Mother.
"Speaking of the subjects."
Thinking of this, Margaery suddenly spoke, her voice infused with a well-timed touch of sorrow. "I've been thinking of my brother these past few days. Loras used to say that a knight's duty is not just glory on the battlefield, but protecting the weak."
"If he could see the changes in Flea Bottom now, he would surely be pleased."
Having said that, she stared at Cersei without blinking.
Yet the habitually short-tempered Queen Mother showed no cracks; instead, she let out a soft sigh.
"Poor Loras, such an excellent knight, such a handsome young man, but... he had a momentary lapse in judgment."
"You must be very sad, dear Margaery."
Cersei said, even magnanimously pulling the Little Rose of Highgarden into her embrace, constantly comforting her.
"Oh, Your Majesty!" Margaery gritted her teeth but remained professional, burying her face in the Queen Mother's bosom and weeping bitterly.
"I don't understand. Although Loras is emotional, he has always valued family honor more than his life. I truly don't understand why he would do something so... reckless!"
She continued to probe, waiting for Cersei's reaction.
"Love is like that sometimes, darling."
But today, the Queen Mother seemed like a different person, stroking her head and speaking softly, as if she truly treated her future daughter-in-law as a daughter to be comforted.
"Love is a thing that sometimes makes people forget responsibility, forget honor, and forget who they are."
"Especially young people; they are easily carried away."
Damn it...
Hearing Cersei's airtight response, Margaery cursed inwardly, then raised her head and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.
"You are right."
"I heard that when you were young, you were also deeply enamored with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, but now you have become much more steady and mature."
As soon as those words were spoken, Cersei felt like killing Margaery.
Wasn't this a blatant way of saying she was old!
"But then again."
She didn't take the bait, instead casually steering the conversation back. "Loras leaving might be a good thing for you, Lady Margaery."
"After all, a brother who eloped with a squire is... an embarrassing topic for a sister who is about to become Queen."
.
"People will pity you."
These words were too malicious.
Margaery felt the blood rush to her head, but she immediately controlled herself.
"You are right."
She took a deep breath, making her smile even softer. "But I've been wondering, why would Loras suddenly make such a risky decision, and at such a coincidental time, on the very day of his betrothal?"
This was almost an attempt to lay the cards on the table.
Hearing this, Cersei's emerald eyes stared directly at Margaery, somewhat coldly. "Are you implying something, darling?"
"Of course not." The Little Rose immediately denied it, even lightly touching Cersei's arm like a coquettish daughter-in-law. "I was just... thinking out loud."
"The Hand of the King specifically arranged such a perfect marriage; why didn't he know how to cherish it?"
Their gazes locked in confrontation, neither willing to yield.
After a long while, Cersei looked away and turned to Joffrey. "You see, Your Majesty, how sensible Lady Margaery is."
"Even after such a scandal in her family, she remains strong and magnanimous. She is truly a perfect model for a qualified Queen."
At this, Joffrey, who had been boredly picking at a piece of gold foil on the armrest, looked up, somewhat dazed.
"Hmm? Oh!"
"Yes, Lady Margaery is indeed very good."
Clearly, he had no idea what kind of war the two women had just waged.
Seeing the King's reaction, Cersei and Margaery couldn't help but roll their eyes simultaneously.
It seemed they had fought so fiercely, yet this boy hadn't been listening at all; a waste of effort.
Margaery lowered her head, pretending to straighten her skirt while thinking continuously.
Cersei hadn't shown any flaws, but that only made her more certain that the woman must know something.
Loras's disappearance was too clean, too sudden, as if he had been lightly wiped away by an invisible hand.
And Cersei, who had always hated the slums, had enthusiastically proposed a tour today and even convinced Joffrey.
This was truly abnormal.
"Out of the way! Commoner!"
Just then, Ser Meryn Trant's roar rang out.
The procession came to a sudden halt. Caught off guard, Joffrey lunged forward, his forehead slamming against the front wall of the carriage, making him grimace in pain.
The sudden commotion left the King stunned for a moment; then, ignoring the pain, he hurriedly curled back, trembling all over as if suffering from some sort of stress response.
Cersei, however, had a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth as she pulled back the carriage curtain.
"What happened, Ser Meryn?"
"It's an undisciplined commoner, Your Majesty."
Ser Meryn Trant, who had already drawn his longsword, stopped and turned to bow. "The fellow suddenly rushed out from the crowd, and I kicked him away."
"I am about to deal with him."
Hearing this, the previously terrified Joffrey immediately perked up and poked his head out to look.
A man was lying in the middle of the road, less than ten feet from the carriage's front wheels.
He was clutching his left leg, rolling and groaning in pain on the ground; beneath him, dark red blood was spreading through the cracks in the stone slabs.
Joffrey's heart began to pound.
This damned commoner had almost caused him injury!
Bad memories came flooding back; he remembered the last time those rioters threw stones, wooden sticks, and filth at him...
"Kill him!"
The wise King immediately made an incredibly correct judgment, his voice high and impassioned: "This commoner intended to assassinate the King! Ser Meryn, kill him!"
Hearing this, Ser Meryn "The Just Knight" Trant immediately grinned and strode toward the groaning man with his longsword.
"No! My Lord!"
Just then, an old woman rushed out of the crowd and threw herself beside the man. "Please!"
"He is my son; he didn't mean it!"
"His child has a fever, and he was in a hurry to get some medicine. Please, spare his life!"
"Get lost, bitch!" Meryn showed no sympathy, kicking the old woman away and raising his longsword high. "Assaulting the King's procession is a capital offense!"
His face was flushed as if he had remembered something exciting.
He had been present last time when Vito Corleone debated in court about Jaime slaying Sven.
Since there was a precedent, then as a fellow member of the Kingsguard, if Jaime Lannister could do it, why couldn't I, Meryn Trant!
Perhaps he could even leave a heroic evaluation in the White Book similar to that of Ser Duncan the Tall, becoming a paragon for the knights of the Seven Kingdoms!