Chapter 55: Royal Wedding

The day of the royal wedding dawned with a sense of anticipation that crackled through the streets of King's Landing. The sun broke over the horizon, casting a golden light over the Red Keep and illuminating the preparations that had been underway for weeks. Despite the beauty of the day, Paxter Redwyne could feel the tension beneath the surface, the delicate balance of power that seemed ready to tip at any moment.

Paxter stood in his quarters within the Red Keep, overlooking the bustling city below. The grand wedding of Margaery Tyrell and King Joffrey Baratheon was more than just a union of two powerful houses—it was the stage upon which alliances and betrayals would be made. He dressed slowly, each piece of fine clothing a reminder of the status and wealth of his house, yet his mind was far from the celebration.

Mina entered, her steps light but her expression serious. "Everything is set. The wine has been secured in the feast hall, and I've received word from our contacts in the city. There are rumors swirling about something happening at the wedding, but no one seems to know what."

Paxter nodded, his brow furrowing as he listened. "We can't afford to be caught unprepared. Any incident today could spell disaster for the Tyrells—and by extension, us."

Mina crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "There's more. The Iron Bank's representative arrived in the city last night. It's unusual for them to be here without a formal invitation from the Crown."

Paxter's eyes darkened. "They're watching, waiting for any sign that the Lannisters can't pay their debts. If they're here, it means they're expecting something."

Mina stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I've also heard whispers that some of the Lannisters' enemies are planning to make their move today. The wedding may be a trap."

Paxter stared out the window, his mind racing. He had suspected that the tensions in King's Landing were close to boiling over, but if the wedding truly was a trap, the consequences would be devastating. He couldn't abandon the Tyrells—not yet—but he needed to be ready for anything.

"Have Ser Martyn and our men stationed near the feast hall," Paxter said, his voice low and firm. "If anything happens, I want them in position to protect our interests. We'll be seen as supporting the Tyrells, but if things go south, we need to be ready to pull out."

Mina nodded. "And the Iron Bank?"

"Keep an eye on their representative," Paxter said. "If the Lannisters are exposed as weak, we might be able to use that to our advantage. But for now, we tread carefully. We're walking a fine line between loyalty and survival."

As the wedding hour approached, Paxter made his way to the grand sept, where the nobility of Westeros had gathered to witness the union of Margaery and Joffrey. The streets were filled with spectators, their faces a mix of excitement and apprehension. The wedding was meant to be a celebration of power, a statement of the Lannisters' dominance. But Paxter couldn't shake the feeling that this was the calm before the storm.

Inside the sept, the atmosphere was heavy with ceremony. Margaery Tyrell stood resplendent in her gown, her beauty undeniable, while Joffrey, in all his arrogance, preened before the gathered lords and ladies. The ceremony itself passed without incident, but Paxter noticed the tight smiles, the guarded glances exchanged between the various factions.

As the newlyweds were pronounced, the crowd erupted into applause, but beneath the surface, the tension remained. The power dynamics of the realm were shifting, and everyone in the room knew it.

Later, at the grand feast, Paxter took his seat among the nobility, his eyes scanning the room. The tables were laden with food and drink, the Arbor wine flowing freely as the guests indulged in the spectacle. But Paxter's mind was elsewhere. He noticed Olenna Tyrell seated not far from him, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd with the same calculating gaze as his. She, too, sensed the danger in the air.

As the feast wore on, Joffrey made his way through the hall, accepting praise and indulging in his cruel jests. Paxter watched as the king tormented Tyrion Lannister, forcing him to serve as his cupbearer, but the tension in the room was growing with each passing moment.

Then, it happened.

Joffrey raised his goblet, his eyes gleaming with malice as he took a long drink. But as he set the cup down, his face twisted in pain. He began to cough, his hand clutching at his throat as he gasped for air.

The hall erupted into chaos. Servants rushed forward, the nobles rising from their seats in confusion and fear. Margaery screamed, her hands reaching for Joffrey as he collapsed to the floor, convulsing in agony.

Paxter remained seated, his eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him. His heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained calm. This was it—the trap that had been laid, and it had sprung with deadly precision.

Mina leaned in, her voice low but urgent. "We need to leave. Now."

Paxter nodded, his mind racing. The king was dying, and with his death, the Lannister-Tyrell alliance would be thrown into disarray. The streets of King's Landing would soon be awash in blood, as enemies of the Crown seized the opportunity to strike.

But as Paxter stood to leave, he caught Olenna Tyrell's gaze from across the hall. Her face was pale, but there was something in her eyes—a knowledge that this was not the end, but the beginning of something much larger. The Tyrells were far from finished.

Paxter moved swiftly through the chaos, Mina and Ser Martyn at his side. They slipped through the corridors of the Red Keep, avoiding the panic-stricken courtiers as they made their way to the exit.

"Joffrey's death will spark a war," Mina whispered as they reached the outer gate. "The Lannisters will be out for blood, and the Tyrells will have to fight to keep their place."

Paxter's jaw tightened. "We need to be ready. The Tyrells may fall, but House Redwyne won't fall with them. We'll make sure of that."

As they emerged into the night, the sounds of shouting and panic echoed behind them. The storm that had been brewing in King's Landing had finally broken, and the realm would never be the same.

Paxter led his party back to the Redwyne ships, his mind racing with the implications of what had just occurred. Joffrey's death was a turning point, and the future of Westeros was now more uncertain than ever. But one thing was clear: House Redwyne would have to navigate these dangerous waters with care, or they would be swept away in the tide of chaos that was sure to follow.

As they boarded the ships and prepared to leave the city, Paxter stood at the bow, looking out over the dark waters of Blackwater Bay. The winds had changed, and with them, the fate of the realm.