The Red Keep, the Throne Room.
The thick stone walls could not keep out the unbroken, muffled thunder beyond the city.
The sound seemed to rise from beneath the earth, or from the heavens collapsing overhead. Every tremor made the ancient castle's foundations shudder.
High overhead, dust and rubble sifted through cracks in the ceiling, raising a murky haze in the pallid daylight streaming through the tall windows.
Joffrey Baratheon, the "king" of the Seven Kingdoms, had long since lost the majesty of a ruler seated on the Iron Throne, issuing commands.
Like a trapped beast, he paced anxiously across the lavish, cold carpet, his steps erratic.
The cloak that symbolized his royal authority had been tugged askew, leaving its gold-thread lion crest looking absurd and bedraggled.
His pale fingers twisted the hem of his clothes without thinking, then abruptly released it. Cold sweat covered his forehead, and his frightened gaze swept the vast, oppressive hall.
"The secret passages! What happened to the men scouting them?! Speak!" He stopped abruptly and roared at the trembling courtiers below. Extreme terror made his voice shrill and distorted, stirring hollow echoes through the hall.
"Have they found an exit?! Can we get out or not?!"
Below him, the courtiers and guards, led by Pycelle, bowed their heads even lower.
The old Grand Maester hunched over, almost shrinking into his thick, filthy maester's robes.
He raised his wrinkled, terrified face, his voice trembling uncontrollably and thick with tears.
"Y-your Grace... the secret passages King Maegor built are terribly complex. Their branches spread like a spider's web. Without someone who knows the way to guide them, anyone who enters will become lost and die trapped in the darkness."
"None of the men we sent have returned... I fear..." He swallowed, not daring to say the