[300 AC]
"J-Jaime died … ?"
Looking at the old Grandmaester with something akin to despair as her eyes had lost their luster, Cersei questioned softly with almost trembling lips, hoping that Pycelle would tell her that she had misheard.
"I'm afraid so, Your Grace.", the elderly man replied, his gaze fixed on the floor as he bowed as deep as he could, sincerity and regret prominent in his tone.
"H-how … ?", the former Queen asked, fighting hard to push down her grief and wrath for the moment.
A wry smile on his face, the Grandmaester answered: "I am afraid the answer to that question will not give you the target for your vengeance that you desire, Your Grace."
Pausing for a moment, the elderly man continued after seeing the piercing glare in Cersei's eyes: "It's the Red Temple, Your Grace."
"W-what?", the Queen Regent blurted out in deep shock, having not expected this answer.
"It's the Young Wolf's wife. She is a priestess of the Red Temple, and from the information we have received, it seems that she used dark arts to confuse the young Lord Stark's mind with the sole goal to take his power for herself. It was with nefarious means that the witch forced Rickard Karstark's hand to kill your brother while he was imprisoned, and simultaneously drove a wedge between Robb Stark and his most loyal men."
"I fear that the mistress of whisperers has similar intentions, Your Grace.", Pycelle explained conspiratorially, his aged features displaying a perfect mix of remorse, fear, and worry.
Dark and venomous hate fuelled by grief rose in Cersei's heart, battling the fear she had for the Red Temple, and the High Priestess Melisandre especially.
The desire for revenge burning fiercely inside her, the Queen Regent did her best to suppress it as she thought about her children and how easy a target they were should it come to a conflict.
A short silence spread between her and the old Grandmaester, as a heavy frown adorned her beautiful face while she bit her lower lip harshly, using the pain to push back the tears that threatened to fall due to her twin's death.
A dull knock suddenly rang out, before the door opened up and one of her guards stepped into her chambers.
Without waiting for any kind of prompt the man directly bowed deeply, as he reported in an urgent tone: "Your Grace, the Stark girls are not in their quarters and four other guards also went missing with them."
Her mind still in disorder due to the news she had just received from the Grandmaester, Cersei was momentarily unable to cope with this new issue or even truly comprehend what her guard's report meant for her House.
The Grandmaester though was not preoccupied with grief and neither was he facing an internal battle like the former Queen.
Hearing the guard's words, the old man recognized the chance that had presented itself before him immediately, as he called out in 'sincere' shock: "The Red Temple! I am afraid they have finally shown their true colo-"
Pycelle's voice cut off abruptly, his whole body freezing terror as the dull sound of bells chimed loudly all over the city, which could only mean one thing: The Walls had been breached and Renly Baratheon's army had managed to enter King's Landing.
Cersei was much the same, as all colour drained from her beautiful face, her wrath and desire for vengeance turning into nothing but smoke. The only thing that was left in her mind was fear for herself and more importantly her children.
The former Queen knew full well what would happen to her family should they fall into her late husband's brother's hands, after all, no sane monarch would keep alive those with a claim to their throne.
Grabbing a small dark-blue vial and rushing towards the door connecting her children's quarters with hers, Cersei knew that she could not allow her children to fall into the enemy's hands.
Still, even after searching through all the rooms, she could not find even the shadow of her two youngest children, causing her to nearly lose her bearings as she ordered all of her guards to search through every room in the castle, while she herself stayed by her eldest son's side.
Her heart beating frantically while her despair slowly grew as minute after minute passed without any results from her guard's search, the former Queen once again found herself kneeling on the ground and facing the blazing flames in the fireplace, as she prayed to the Red God to save her children.
And as she heard the screams of dying men and screeches of sharp metal clashing, Cersei watched with a broken heart as her eldest son drank the poisoned wine she had given him, while taking a sip of her own.
She felt herself getting weaker and weaker rapidly as the sounds of battle drew closer.
The Queen Regent threw one last look at the bright flames in the fireplace and repeated her final prayers inaudibly while embracing her dying son. And just as her mind dimmed and the last sparks of life left her form, she heard an ethereal whisper ring in her ears.
"I will."
…
[Half an hour prior]
Kevan Lannister, Hand of the King, was breathing heavily as he cut down another farmer clad in battle wear, sweat, dirt, and blood clinging to his face and armor. And with hardly any time to rest two new opponents took the place of the last one, as an unending stream of soldiers poured through the broken gates below.
The experienced commander and veteran warrior didn't hesitate as he faced his new enemies, though his heart was heavy as he knew that this wasn't a battle that could be won anymore.
They should have been able to hold the wall for at least another three weeks with the supplies they had in the city along with the unusually high morale, as most of the defenders fought for their families living in the city which made them extremely ferocious when facing the Southern army.
But how could he have known that the Baratheon brat had hidden his most nefarious trump card until this point – wildfire.
Kevan had not expected them to act out a charge against the walls, just to covertly place caches of wildfire against four of the city's gates. And even less did he expect Renly Baratheon to sacrifice his own men and blow up the caches without calling for a retreat.
Hundreds had died on both sides as the wildfire demolished the gates and opened the breach needed for the cavalry to enter the city and just smash apart the defending infantry.
Parrying an incoming thrust with his own blade while blocking the other blade with his gauntlet, the Hand of the King delivered a hefty kick to the waist of the attacker on the right, which caused the man to tumble backward and fall off the wall.
Having already drawn his dagger, Kevan closed in on his other opponent and rammed it into the man's brain from below his jaw, though he felt the short blade snap as he tried to pull it back.
Letting go, the seasoned commander lifted his longsword in a defensive stance as he readied himself for his next opponent, though he found none as he was suddenly faced by three soldiers in Lannister armor carrying shortswords in their right hands.
The flickering flames right beneath the wall on which he stood, though revealed that they were not his men as he could see a flame mark on their cheek as they approached him.
'Fiery Hand warriors', he realized in despair, knowing that he was no match for the temple's elite force, though he didn't plan to just surrender himself either way.
The younger brother of the Lord of Casterly Rock though didn't even have enough time to raise his blade in defense, when he felt pain explode in his abdomen as the warrior in the middle appeared before him like a ghost and delivered a fist to his stomach that carried the force of an avalanche.
Another blow to the back of his head followed almost immediately, causing darkness to descend on Kevan Lannister's mind.