Book Three: Chapter 6

The south almost falls to ruin in the few days following King Kimm’s death. Eunbi is saddling a horse in the stables, her Queensguard working fervently beside her, when the bells begin to ring, a feverish, furious clang that stops them all in their tracks. For one horrifying moment she thinks that Pike has ordered the gates shut to kill them all, but a frantic stable boy stumbles inside, reeling from drink and fear and says, his voice garbled.

“The king! He’s dead!”

Later, Eunbi is ashamed that her first thought is of the king’s new bride, but in that moment all she can do is stride across the stables and grab the boy by the shoulders to demand.

“The queen?”

The boy shakes his head, almost mute with fright. “Alive, but weak.” His voice drops, trembles. “They found her in the bed with him, covered in his blood.”

The stories have only grown worse since then, becoming bolder and more horrifying with each tale. There are many that whisper that Sakura was involved somehow, that her hands are covered in blood. Those with more daring mutter that the new queen should be deposed at least, beheaded at worst, but with no other obvious heir in sight they do not raise their voices. Others wonder whether the southern lady is cursed somehow, with the death of her father and now her husband looming over her like a dark cloud. For her part, Eunbi refuses to leave now. She expects a fight from her Queensguard, wonders whether Chaewon will forcibly drag her back to the north, but instead she is surprised to find that her cousin only nods grimly upon hearing her decision.

In utmost secrecy, she sends two of her Queensguard north in the dead of night to order Yujin to prepare for the worst, and has her own guard and that of Lady Yunjin doubled. She sleeps lightly, with a dagger beneath her pillow and spends much of her nights staring at the canopy above her bed, stifling in the southern heat, wondering whether Sakura too is staring at her own canopy.

In the early days that follow the killing of her husband, the kingdom is not wholly sure that Sakura herself survives. The Grand Maester will let no one in to see her, and only reports that she is weak from her injuries and distraught by her loss. They are left with only whispers and rumours, and Eunbi feels like a trapped wolf, pacing the corridors as she waits to hear of Sakura’s condition. Several times she walks by the chamber doors of the royal suites, but Hyewon Snow stands guard every time, her expression dark and she will not let even her queen past to see her injured lady.

By the third sunrise, Eunbi fears Sakura has waited too long. By all accounts, Lord Pike is holding court in Tower of the Hand with the wealthiest and most powerful lords and ladies in Westeros. He terrifies them with talk of a land unprotected and overrun by enemies and refills their wine goblets until they are too drunk to argue with him. Though he has not yet said so publicly, Eunbi is sure he is plotting Sakura’s deposal or demise and the thought of enough to curdle her blood.

For her own part, several southern lords and ladies even go so far as to court her favour in this time of unease. Some she knows well: Lord Marcus is welcome company, though she suspects his level headed and empathetic words would be best spent in Sakura’s support elsewhere; Lord Jiyoung Tully, brother of Lady Yoona Tyrell, is a fair minded man with a blunt, easy manner, and the Princess Arianna is a surprisingly fervent supporter of her new queen. Many are frightened away by the wolves pacing at her sides and the dangerous expression that she so often wears when she is troubled, and for that Eunbi is glad. As little as she likes waiting for word on Sakura, it is even worse to do so with southern prattle about her.

The sun is only beginning to paint the sky with its tangerine tones when a hurried knocking comes to her door. Eunbi, barely asleep for more than a moment, wakes slowly and with heavy eyes, squinting through the darkened room to find Chaewon pushing open her door. Her hand, which had been groping for the dagger beneath her pillow, falls down, and she groans softly, rubbing at her eyes.

“What is it?” Her voice is slurred with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Sakura,” Chaewon hurries to light the candle beside her bed, ushering in one of Eunbi’s handmaidens to stir the fire into life. Eunbi shoots up at the words, her heart suddenly thundering, but Chaewon holds out a hand. “She is well, she is hosting her first audience.”

“An audience?” Eunbi pushes herself from the bed with none of her earlier reluctance. She hurries to the carafe of water on the stand in the corner, pouring it into the waiting dish and hurrying to wash herself despite its frigid temperature. “At this time?”

“I expect she wants to say her piece before Pike does.” Chaewon intones, grimly.

Eunbi is half in a daze as she allows herself to be dressed by her handmaiden, her hair pulled back into a simple braided crown, her real crown placed within the curls as she is urged into dark hose and a tunic embellished with fur and silver embroidery. Her sword is strapped to her waist, several small daggers slipped into her high boots.

When she steps from her rooms Honour, Sage and Valour fall into step beside her, their presence comforting at her side. The sun has risen as she’s been dressed, though its light is still watery. From the courtyard, she can hear the sounds of the city beginning to wake up, as merchants call their fresh catches and the hammers and anvils of the city’s blacksmiths groan into life. The servants of the castle are bleary eyed and startled to have so many nobles rushing from their rooms, and already the soldiers that man the city gates are having to open them for the few lords and ladies in the city who the word has reached.

With the wolves at her side and her Queensguard at her back, Eunbi moves through the hustle and bustle with ease. People scatter out of her way, half bowing, still unsure of the protocol, and she doesn’t deign to meet their curious gazes. Instead, she keeps her eyes set on the doors to the Great Hall, which stand wide open to allow in the streams of nobles entering. As she takes her place at the head of the crowds, closest to the dais, Eunbi feels the eyes of the south upon her and wonders how far Pike’s vicious rumours have spread. It is only the thought of seeing Sakura that keeps her in her place. If she weren’t so desperate to see the new queen, or so confident that Yujin could handle the north in her absence, she would have saddled a horse that first night and fled this poisonous city.

The sound of horns pulls her from her reverie, and she blinks up at the dais as attendants step out. There are only servers and handmaidens at Sakura’s side when she steps out onto the dais, and she cuts a stark figure. Alone but for her attendants, she wears a dress so dark she appears white beneath it. A heavy chain is slung around her neck, and her golden crown shines open her head, but otherwise she is utterly devoid of decoration. There is something simple and mournful and strong about her appearance, and a hush falls through the waiting crowd as she makes her way to the front of the dais. Lord Pike, Eunbi notices, is absent from proceedings. She wonders whether the hour is simply too early for him with his late night revellers, or if he refuses to acknowledge the authority of his new queen. Either way, she suspects it is what Sakura hoped would happen and she finds her own breath baited as she waits for Sakura to speak.

Sakura looks down upon them all, regal and stern, and when the chattering finally quiets she begins to speak.

“By now I am sure you have all heard what has happened to my husband and our king.” Another wave of murmurs runs through the watching nobles, but Sakura does not allow it to stop her. “I do not need to tell you of my grief, I am sure you all feel similarly. The king was a strong, wise man and he was my husband.” Here her voice breaks, just slight and when she pauses to draw in a steadying breath, there is no denying the way her eyes shine. Several ladies cling to their friends and husbands, padding at their eyes with handkerchiefs at her words. When she speaks again, her voice is strong and steady. “I would not assume to sit on our king’s throne without your consent,” Here, she seems demure and retiring. “But there is no immediate heir to take his place, at least, not yet…” She glances her hand over her stomach so briefly it seems instinctive, but Eunbi knows in one heart stopping moment that it is as rehearsed as every other moment of this speech. 

“My lady,” A lord bedecked in gold and black steps forwards, his dark brows furrowed. “Do you mean to say…” He pauses and flushes, “Did you and the king know each other intimately before his death?”

Shocked gasps and scorning looks follow his question, several ladies offer him outraged glances and touch at their cheeks and head, but many more eye Sakura with undisguised curiosity. From her place on the dais Sakura nods somberly, passing her hand over her stomach again in a gesture that is much more considered. 

“I cannot say for sure, of course.” She raises her gaze and looks out over them, bathed in the light of the rising sun she looks ethereal, like the Mother herself. “But the king and I felt afterwards that there was some chance,” Her voice stutters again. “That’s why I- why I hid for so long when the assassin came. The king bade me to protect our heir.”

Another round of muttering follows her words. There has been much talk of how the king died, but to hear Sakura speak of it so frankly astonishes them all.

Sakura continues as if she cannot hear them. “Our king was a good and noble man, and if the gods see fit to bless me with a son, I know he will be just as good a king as his father was.” She looks out over them all and Eunbi feels as if she could fall into her blue eyes. “I was not crowned before my husband was killed, but he did choose me to help him lead. For those of you who truly loved him I hope that that is enough to support my claim to the throne of the south.”

A gasp runs through the crowd and Eunbi feels a prickle of fear run through her. It is a bold thing to say in her first audience since her husband’s death, and with no one else on the dais to show their support she seems isolated and vulnerable. A moment of silence passes as people exchange glances, but then Princess Arianna steps forward, unsheathing her sword, and she places her weapon at the steps of the dais, near Sakura’s feet.

“Dorne is with you, your majesty.”

Sakura looks down at her and when their eyes meet something unsaid passes between them, before Princess Arianna bows. Eunbi eyes the dark haired princess with curiosity, she knows that the woman is only the daughter of the true Prince of Dorne, a man confined to the south by his many ailments, and she wonders what authority the princess has, or expects to soon have, to make such a pledge.

“King Kimm was noble, as you say,” Another lord from the Stormlands steps forwards, grizzled and old, but he stands tall. “He chose you as his queen, always said you were good and wise,” He glances back at some of his compatriots. “I trust him, your majesty, and I trust you.”

Something close to a smile, but laced with sadness and regret flickers over Sakura’s face and she nods as the Stormland knights call their agreement and step forwards to lay their weapons at her feet.

One by one, more knights of the south make their way forwards. Among their like is Lord Marcus, who bows so deeply Eunbi fears his nose will brush the ground, and the lords of Riverrun and Highgarden. Eunbi says nothing, but her presence and unwavering gaze upon Sakura she knows are enough to show where her support lies. As a queen, she has no need to pledge her loyalty to Sakura publicly and regardless she knows that Sakura already has every part of her that truly matters.

“Thank you all,” Sakura says at last, when only those loyal to her remain. Enough have slipped away to be noticed, but the Great Hall is still crowded with eager nobles. “If the gods will bless my reign, I will sit the Iron Throne for you until someone more suitable is able to take my place.”

The waiting crowd let out a great roar of agreement a