Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 181 The Uprising in the Land of Kings
In King's Landing, on both sides of the narrow streets, the Golden Robe Army stood ready, spears held horizontally across their chests, keeping out the ragged, hungry crowds.

Ahead stood the young king on a white horse, wearing a golden crown and a black and gold cloak, guarded by two royal guards.

He disliked these streets, the stench in the air, and the people standing on either side of the road.

The people looked at him with the same hatred.

A woman struggled to squeeze between two guards, clutching a small, thin corpse.

It was an infant, who had been dead for some time. His face was swollen and deformed, his eyes were sunken, and his body was only wrapped in a tattered cloth.

"You killed my child!" she screamed as she rushed to the horse, raising the corpse high. "I curse you Lannisters to a horrible death!"

Joffrey reined in his horse, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he flew into a rage and yelled, "Where did this shrew come from? Get out of my way!"

The woman remained motionless, her eyes as still as a dead person's.

“Let’s go.” Clegane, the hound, rode forward a couple of steps, trying to push her away.

"You son of a bitch!" the woman suddenly screamed, lifting the corpse high and throwing it at the king. "You are not the king! You are a freak! A beast born of promiscuity!"

The child's body, like a bag of wet mud, landed directly in front of Joffrey, blood seeping from the cloth.

Joffrey's face contorted, and he quickly turned his horse and retreated.

"Arrest them! Anyone who dares to insult me, arrest them! Anyone who dares to throw things, arrest them! Cut their heads off!"

The crowd witnessed this scene, and Joffrey's shouts not only failed to improve the situation, but also instantly ignited the anger of the people.

Chaos erupted around them, the man in the golden robe was jostled and almost lost his footing, and the Imperial Guards drew their swords.

"Bastard!"

"A fake king!"

"The son of the regicide!"

A stone flew over and hit Joffrey's helmet, causing him to scream and nearly fall off his horse.

"Who threw that?!" Joffrey screamed. "Who threw that? Whoever reports it, I'll give them a hundred gold dragons as a reward!"

No one answered him.

His response was met with more and more stones, mud, rotten vegetable leaves, and even a few lumps of fresh manure.

The king was splattered with excrement, his face covered in brown filth, and much of it stuck to his blond hair.

"Who threw that?" Joffrey shrieked, shoving his hair back and flicking a handful of dung away as he roared, "A hundred gold dragons will be offered as a reward for whoever hands him over!"

"Up there!" someone shouted from the crowd.

The king rode around in circles, examining the rooftops and balconies above. The crowd pointed, pushed, and cursed at each other, cursing both the king and the other.

Joffrey roared, "Find the person who threw this filth! If he doesn't lick it clean, I'll take his head! Dog, go and catch him!"

Sandor Clegane dismounted, but he could not get through the wall of flesh and blood, let alone onto the roof.

People nearby scrambled and pushed to make way, while those further away tried to squeeze in to see what was going on.

"bread!"

"We want food!"

"Bread! Bread!"

Shouts rose from all directions, the voices of hundreds of hungry people, gradually turning into waves that crashed against the king's face.

Joffrey was terrified. He turned his horse around and rode away, shouting as he ran, "Kill them! Clear this street for me!"

No one obeyed his orders, and the people began to riot.

Iron pots, stones, broken shoes, bricks, dog excrement—everything flew through the air, hitting the soldiers who screamed in agony. They were only concerned with protecting themselves and had no time to care about anything else.

Joffrey's horse knocked down a man, who screamed and could not get up. He continued charging forward, with the Kingsguard and the Gold Robe guarding him closely. Their shields could stop stones, but not excrement and urine.

Tiles and ashes kept falling from the rooftops on both sides of the street.

A dead cat landed on the king's horse's neck, and blood gushed from the severed neck. The horse neighed wildly, reared up high, and threw Joffrey off its back, where he fell hard.

“Kill them! I am the king!” Joffrey cried.

He staggered out of the street, but the two men who had been holding the flag for him were gone. The royal flag had been pulled down, the roaring lion had been torn to shreds, and the crowned stag had been trampled into the mud.

Several riders were beaten to death, their boots and armor were stolen, and a large group of people rushed to grab daggers and kitchen knives, frantically cutting flesh off the horses.

When Joffrey rushed back to the city gate, his face covered in excrement, his cloak torn, he leaned on his knees, panting and roaring:
"I want them to starve to death; the whole city will never have food!"

"Make them eat their own shit!"

Outside the wall, the roars of the people could be heard from afar, like a monster awakening, howling for everything that had been taken from them.

...

When James entered the city, the riots had already been quelled, and the area was in complete disarray, with no time to clean up.

The cavalry dismounted in the square in front of the Red Fort. Before the coffin even hit the ground, the smell of blood wafted out. The red banner with a gold lion was stained with blood, dried and blackened.

James's face was ashen; he stared at the coffin the whole way, barely looking away even after they arrived at their destination.

"Open the door," James said in a deep voice.

Several servants rushed forward and pushed open the gates of the Red Castle.

Cersei Lannister rushed out of the gate at the sound of hooves, and when she saw the small coffin, her eyes were filled with indescribable grief.

“No…it can’t be…” she murmured, her steps faltering. “Let me see her…”

The attendant carefully lifted the coffin lid, revealing Myrcella's pale face.

She lay peacefully inside, as if she were just asleep, but the bloodstains and stitches on her neck that hadn't been wiped dry spoke volumes about the cruelty of the time.

Cersei's legs gave way, and she collapsed beside the coffin, tears streaming down her face like a burst dam, her heart-wrenching cries echoing across the Red Keep.

The story of a mother losing her beloved daughter deeply moved everyone who heard it.

Jaime jumped off his horse and went to Cersei's side, wanting to comfort her, but she pushed him away violently.

"How did you protect her!" Cersei screamed, pounding her fists on Jaime's gleaming gold breastplate. "Why didn't you come sooner!"

Jaime let her vent her emotions, his eyes filled with sorrow no less than Cersei's.

At this moment, no words can comfort a mother who has lost her child.

Cersei stroked Myrcella's pale, stiff cheek. "She should have been queen."

She chuckled, a laugh that was utterly eerie.

When she was a girl, she went to the Toad Witch to predict her future. The witch prophesied that she would marry a king.

“I will become queen, right?” the young girl asked.

“Yes,” the witch’s yellow eyes gleamed with malice, “one day you will be the empress, until another woman comes along, younger and more beautiful than you, who will overthrow you and take away everything you cherish.”

"Will the king and I have children?" she asked again.

"Oh, of course. Sixteen belong to him, and the other three are for you."

When she asked about the children's fate again, the old woman predicted that her children would not outlive her.

“They will wear gold as their crown and gold as their shroud,” the witch cried. “One day, when you are drowning in tears, your brother will strangle your pale neck and take your life!”

(End of this chapter)