Chapter 241 - I Have Forgiven You

The guards at the Great Sept of Baelor had doubled since yesterday.

Two rows of Sons of the Warrior stood in brand-new armor, the silver plating still unscratched, the crystal badges on their chests catching faint light in the gray morning sky.

On either side of the portico stood a pair of gray-robed septons, each leaning on a wooden staff fitted with iron rings that chimed softly with any movement.

Barristan Selmy pushed his hood back. His whole face came into the snow-light.

"I wish to see the new High Septon. Kindly announce my arrival."

The two lead guards exchanged a glance. The one on the left was younger, barely past twenty. The one on the right was older, and said nothing, but his eyes moved slowly down Barristan's stance, measuring which leg carried his weight.

"Wait here." The younger one turned, pushed open the side door, and went inside.

He came back after a moment and stepped aside to clear the way.

"The High Septon will receive you, but your sword stays here."

Barristan held the blade out. The septon at the door took it with both hands, cradling it carefully against his chest.

"Keep it safe," Barristan said.

He climbed the steps, passed through the portico, and walked into the depths of the Sept.

The interior was much darker than he remembered. The high windows were half-buried in snow, and whatever light filtered through fell across the flagstones in dim, fog-smothered patches of color. Candles burned in iron stands along both walls, wax dripping onto the stone and hardening into little white crusts.

The High Sparrow stood at the altar with his back to the doors.

He turned as Barristan approached. Barefoot, gray-robed, his cheeks sunken enough that the bones showed through, though his color was surprisingly healthy. He stood on the ice-cold stone as though he felt nothing beneath his feet.

"Ser Barristan Selmy." His voice carried the quiet satisfaction of a man who already knew the answer to whatever he was about to ask. "A legend of the Kingsguard. You should be on Dragonstone. What brings you to the Great Sept of Baelor?"

"I don't know how you convinced the Iron Throne to restore the Faith Militant," Barristan said.

He had no interest in circling, but he wasn't ready to state his purpose plainly either. His words would have to find a roundabout road.

The High Sparrow smiled. Brief, and then gone.

"Queen Mother Cersei Lannister came to me first. She wanted me to move against Margaery Tyrell. I am a servant of the Seven — court intrigues are not my concern."

He clasped his hands behind his back and walked a few slow steps across the cold flagstones.

"She assumed I didn't see through her. I always did. She is like a little girl with all her thoughts written plainly on her face. Unless a person is willing to be fooled by her, she cannot fool anyone."

Barristan listened without speaking.

He remembered Cersei Lannister from his years at court, when she was still young, every gesture and smile crafted with deliberate elegance. But the ambition in her eyes, and the unease behind it, had never been something she could hide.

"Beyond that, she asked me to call upon the faithful of all Westeros to come fight for King's Landing." The High Sparrow walked up to Barristan and stopped. "You have not seen me do so, have you?"

"No, you have not."

"I did intend to, at first. Summoning the faithful of the Seven Kingdoms to defend King's Landing — I had every reason to do it. The charge of deicide alone should have had me arrest her long ago." He paused. "But I waited, because I believed the threat within the walls had to be dealt with before the one beyond them."

He looked up at Barristan directly.

"And no enemy riding in from outside, however powerful, is as dangerous as the green fire buried under this city."

"You know about the wildfire."

"The explosion on the Street of Steel was difficult to ignore." The High Sparrow's voice did not rise. "Her heart is black enough to want to burn all of King's Landing to ash. I cannot allow that. The Sept. The common people. The soldiers. All of it — gone. By the Seven above, I will not let that happen."

Barristan nodded slowly. "Then it seems our aims are the same."

The High Sparrow tilted his head. Something curious moved through his eyes.

"You did not come all this way simply to tell me that."

Barristan opened his mouth.

He could not make himself say the words. I have come to save Cersei Lannister. In his entire life, across courts and battlefields and royal audiences beyond counting, he had never once told a lie. And now he needed to tell one, even just to say something indirect, something like I came to visit the Queen Mother.

"I have come to see Cersei Lannister," he said at last. "I was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. She stripped me of my position without cause. When I left King's Landing, she sent men to hunt me down."

The words came out flat. Even to his own ears, they sounded hollow.

The High Sparrow studied him for a moment. Those eyes were very still, like two pools of water with nothing moving beneath the surface.

"You have come to confront her."

"Yes," Barristan said. "To confront her."

The High Sparrow asked nothing more. He simply raised one hand and beckoned toward the side aisle.

"It seems our Queen Mother is about to face yet another charge. Sister, escort the Ser to the cells."

A middle-aged woman in a gray robe emerged from the side door, her face empty of expression, a ring of keys hanging from her hand. She gave Barristan a single nod and turned, walking deeper into the Sept.

He followed. His boots struck the flagstones with hollow, echoing steps.

He passed the candlelit altar. Passed one closed wooden door after another. The stone corridor narrowed, the light pulled back, and the air grew damp and cold, carrying the smell of old stone and things sealed away for a long time.

The septa stopped before an iron door at the far end. She sorted through the keys and found the one she wanted, inserted it into the lock.

The hinges screamed.

"The Queen Mother is inside." She stepped back two paces and positioned herself against the opposite wall, arms folded, watching him.

The cell was very dark. A single small window sat high in the wall, letting in a thin sliver of snow-light and nothing else.

Barristan stood in the doorway and waited for his eyes to adjust. The darkness deepened, then shapes separated from it. He made out the figure huddled in the far corner.

Cersei Lannister's lips were blue. Her limbs were pulled tight against her body, arms wrapped around her shins, knees pressed to her chest, like a she-wolf driven into a rock crevice by hunters. Her skin was pebbled all over with cold. On the floor around her lay strips of sackcloth torn into ragged pieces, the edges rough and frayed, clearly ripped from her own clothing by her own hands.

This cell was the deepest point inside the Great Sept of Baelor. The stone walls were thick as coffin walls. Cold rose from the floor and condensed on the flagstones in a thin, creeping film of moisture.

She heard the door and looked up, thinking it was Tywin.

For one instant, something lit up behind her eyes. Fast as a struck flint, bright as a drowning person spotting the shore. Her lips parted, almost forming a name.

Then she saw who it was. The light died. Swallowed by something darker than before.

Barristan walked in.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice came out raw and hoarse. "You turncloak. Oathbreaker."

He crossed the cell and sat down in the corner opposite her, his back against the stone. The cold pushed through the cloth immediately, seeping into his spine.

"I came to see you," he said. Not loudly, but in that close stone room, the words carried with perfect clarity.

"If Joffrey had not dismissed me from the Kingsguard, I would still be standing beneath the Iron Throne right now, holding a sword and guarding the door for a man I knew to be a false king. Your family lifted me out of that. Whatever else is true, I have forgiven you for it."

He spoke slowly. Each word felt like it was coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He had turned the thought over many times.

"You came to watch," she said. Each word cut off short, squeezed out from behind her teeth. "To see me locked in this filthy hole, shaking with cold, my hair shorn off, curled up on straw like some beggar woman."

Her voice climbed.

"You're laughing, aren't you, Barristan Selmy? The vicious woman who humiliated you in front of everyone, and now look at her, getting exactly what she deserves. You made a special trip back from Dragonstone just to see this. Didn't you?"

Her breath came faster, her chest rising and falling hard.

"Get out!" Cersei screamed.

Barristan did not move. He sat where he was, hands resting on his knees, and watched her in silence.

➤ Next: Nearly Strangling Cersei