Hers Is The Fury

Faith Militant

[King's Landing - Red Keep, Small Council Chamber]

Cersei sat in her chair, an angry expression on her face. At the table was Maester Pycelle, Qyburn, Mace Tyrell, and an empty chair. 

"The Iron Bank has called one tenth of the Crown's debts. Given the expense of rebuilding the royal-" Mace began.

"How much can the Crown afford?" Cersei asked.

"With winter coming, half what they ask. Less."

"You're the Master of Coin. How do we pay them?"

"Well, House Tyrell could front the gold, and the the Crown will pay us back in time, or I'll have words with my daughter." He smiled, as if he was expecting a laugh.

Qyburn and Pycelle both looked down and Mace's smile faded. Though, Cersei put on one of her own.

"You've already given us too much." She stood up and walked to one of the windows. "No, we must arrange better terms with the Iron Bank."

"Absolutely."

"In person."

He looked at her surprised. "Me?" He asked, and Qyburn smiled.

"We must send an envoy to the Iron Bank, someone of importance, to show these bankers our respect. As the King's Master of Coin, I can think of no one more qualified."

"I will be honoured, Your Grace."

"The King has expressed concern about his father-in-law's safety on this voyage." She smiled. "He's ordered Ser Meryn to personally lead your escort.

Ser Meryn walked into the room. Mace turned to look at him, and then back at Cersei.

"My very own Kingsguard? Please express-"

"Safe travels, Lord Tyrell." She cut him off.

"Of course, of course," he said, hands raised, before he stood up and began gathering his belongings. "I'll give your regards to the Titan of Braavos."

Mace laughed and Qyburn looked down, lightly chuckling. Mace exited, followed by Ser Meryn.

"The Small Council grows smaller and smaller." Pycelle commented.

"Not small enough." Cersei said, walking out.

She needed to get to her meeting with the High Sparrow.

Pycelle watched her leave.

[High Sparrow's Chamber]

A note laid on the desk, stamped with the seal of the High Sparrow. The High Sparrow sat behind his desk, across from Cersei.

She poured a glass of wine. "May I offer you some wine, Your Holiness?"

"No." He smiled.

Cersei looked unsure, almost having expected him to say yes. After a moment she smiled and pushed the wine away.

"The old High Septon would have asked the vintage." She smiled.

"I could say that our minds are temples to the Seven and should be kept pure. But the truth is," He chuckled. "I don't like the taste."

"Hmm."

"How may I serve?" The High Sparrow said after a moment.

"All over Westeros we hear about septs being burned. Silent sisters raped. Bodies of holy men piled in the streets."

"Wars teach people to obey the sword, not the Gods."

"Perhaps the Gods need a sword of their own." The High Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "In the days before the Targaryens, the Faith Militant dispensed the justice of the Seven."

"Well, the Faith Militant was disarmed more than two centuries ago."

"If I explain the holy purpose to my son, the king, I have no doubt he will sign a decree arming the believers you felt worthy."

"An army that defends the bodies and souls of the common people."

"An army and service to the Gods themselves. And to you, of course. As the chosen representative of the Seven.

"An honour I nevr expected. Or indeed, ever wished for."

"Which is why you were chosen." He smiled at her words. "You and I both know how the world works. Too often the wicked are the wealthiest, beyond the reach of justice. The king himself cannot alwys punish those who deserve it most."

"All sinners are equal before the Gods."

Cersei smiled. "What would you say if I told you we have a great sinner in our very midst? Shielded by gold and privilege."

"May the Father judge them justly." He smiled, which Cersei returned.

Thus far, everything was going to plan. She had given him some liberty in punishing criminals and "sinners" and now he would help her bring down House Tyrell.

She had already sent Mace away from the Capital. Next was Loras. Then, Margaery would be all alone and much easier to deal with.

[Streets Of King's Landing]

A group of Faith Militant, wearing black robes and chains, walked down the street. Many nearby people chattered amongst themselves as they looked on, watching as the men began breaking open casks of wine. The people soon began screaming. One threw some men out of a building, wine from the broken casks flowing down some steps.

Elsewhere, in a room, a man in pain, sweating heavily and biting down on a piece of cloth. Someone begins carving something on his forehead, and his hand scratched and clawed at the table in front of him.

Outside, the Faith Militant began destroying a marketplace, smashing things for sale, flipping over tables, and attacking merchants. One merchant, laying on the ground, looked up at some gold cloaks on a castle wall.

"Help me! Help me!" He pleaded.

The gold cloaks turned around, ignoring him.

The man in the room continued to sweat and bite down on the cloth. His face trembled as the symbol continued to be carved.

[King's Landing - Brothel]

A prostitute was attending to a client when some Faith Militant walked in, interrupting them. She shrieked as one of them grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off of the man. Another entered the room, grinning and struck the man with a stick. The prostitute was forced out of the room.

Some more men interrupted an orgy. Two women started screaming as they began beating some of the participants, and taking others out of the room. Olyvar attempted to confront a member of the Faith Militant as the man dragged out a prostitute.

"This is Lord Petyr Baelish's establishment." He told the man, his voice full of anger.

The man elbowed Olyvar in the face and continued on his way.

After most of the Faith Militant were gone, Olyvar heard a scream. He walked towards the source of the scream, blood running from his nose, and heard another scream.

"Cocksucker!" One of the Faith Militant yelled as the man he was attacking screamed. "Boy fucker! You barbaric filth! There's a special place in the Seventh Hell for your kind."

Olyvar stood just outside the doorway of a large room. Inside, a group of militants, most of them armed, stood around a male prostitute and his male client. Both were naked and bloody on the floor.

"Please, please, I'll pay! I'll pay all of you."

The militant who appeared to be in charge pulled out a knife. "Yes, you will. Seize him!"

The client began crying. Olyvar backed out of the doorway and began running away when he heard the client scream.

In the unknown room, someone finished carving the symbol on the man's head. The carver walked away and the man, revealed to be Lancel Lannister, sat up, breathing heavily. The symbol on his forehead was the symbol of the Faith Militant.