"But, Your Grace, the rumors are spreading quickly. King's Landing has been thrown into complete turmoil," the Assistant Maester reminded her cautiously. "Even the Gold Cloaks have already lost quite a few men to desertion."
Cersei staggered, then seemed to seize on one last hope. "What about my father, Lord Tywin?" she asked urgently. "Where is his army? Why hasn't he come to save us?"
The Assistant Maester's expression grew even grimmer at her words. "We haven't received a raven from Lord Tywin in three days, Your Grace. The war in the Riverlands does not seem to be going well."
"No... that's impossible..." Cersei murmured.
Her father was her last hope, the pillar that held up House Lannister. If she could not even rely on him, what hope remained for King's Landing, for her, or for her children?
Fear gripped her heart, tightening its hold. She could almost see Viserys riding his dragon, leading his army through the shattered gates of King's Landing, dragging her and her children out to be beheaded one by one.
She remembered the wretched state Robert had been in before he died, Ned Stark's severed head, and all the enemies she had trampled underfoot.
Retribution. This had to be retribution.
"No. I can't sit here and wait to die." Cersei jerked her head up, a glimmer of ruthlessness rekindling in her green eyes.
She went outside to find a guard and spotted the Hound, who had just returned from the Tower of the Hand. "Ser Clegane, pass on my orders," she said urgently. "From this moment on, I will personally command the city's defenses. Recall every Lannister guard. We will hold the Red Keep to the death. Tell them there are no deserters among the Lannisters. If anyone dares flee in the face of the