While this humiliation was going on and while the couple was mentally arguing with only their gazes, Trystan was silently fuming from the end of the table where he was seated. His glare was so intense that if fire could be produced from his eyes or some way he could kill someone like that, the cocky, spoilt boy would be long dead on the floor.
He did not move, knowing he could not do anything to change it. He did not have the influence his parents generally had nor their skills to stand up against Joffrey. Even Jaime, who was watching from the distance, seemed ready to smack the boy but could not do anything about it.
The tension was rising, not only between uncle and nephew but also within the Lion family. One could cut it with a knife by how intense and solid it felt that even some watchers from the crowd felt uneasy.
Thankfully, Margaery's sharp eye noticed something and she immediately rushed to save the day before anyone would drop dead; although by now she would not mind seeing Joffrey among the corpses.
"Look, the pie."
She said and stood up, drawing most of the attention to her until she pointed in a certain direction.
Four servants started to approach, carrying this giant pie and the crowd applauded since everyone would get to have a piece of the extravagant baked pie.
Joffrey snapped the goblet from Tyrion and went towards Margaery. At the same time, Tyrion moved to his usual place while everyone stood up for the cutting of the pie.
"My queen," Joffrey said and unsheathed his new Valyrian sword.
He then headed towards the pie as the servants left the huge tray on the floor. The pie had an extra piece in the shape of a crown at the top and a part that was protruding. Yet, Joffrey paid it no mind as he used his sword and cut it in half.
To his surprise, doves were released from the pie and everyone clapped while he looked triumphant.
Visenya finally had her hands free and clapped weakly, clearly doing it just for the show and to ensure no one would suspect anything after all those reactions, facial expressions and passive-aggressive looks between her and her husband.
She connected her gaze with Oberyn, who seemed to share her displeasure and who had finally seen the true nature of the sadistic King.
"Wonderful. Wonderful. My hero," Margaery faked with a huge smile as the boy-king walked her way.
The servant went to lift the cake and move it to the side, no one in the crowd noticing how a few doves rested dead inside; having been cut in half by Joffrey's blade. Their blood was slowly being absorbed by the insides of the pie that quickly started to be cut and served to the guests.
As plates started to be passed around, everyone was seated and the Dragoness leaned back on the chair. She merely pushed her own plate with the pie away, clearly not in the mood to eat while Trystan did not even bother to lift a fork and try it or even bother to push it away; sharing her displeasure and sudden lack of appetite.
At the same time, Margaery was busy feeding Joffrey pieces of the pie while he looked at her like a love-sick puppy. She had this fake smile that was quite believable, especially if one would consider what she had to watch until now. Yet only a few could truly see just how fake that smile was, few that knew of her nature and her past.
While this was going on, Sansa and Tyrion tried to leave the table without drawing attention but somehow; Joffrey seemed to sense it.
Even with his back turned, he seemed to know what they were about to do and of course; stopped them.
"Uncle," he said as he chewed on the piece of pie and then turned to face his relative.
"Where are you going? You're my cup-bearer, remember?" he asked, clearly not done with the humiliating act.
Even Tywin seemed to be tired of this for he was sending a silent warning glare at the boy to drop it, the act and humiliation becoming too much and needing to end. However, Joffrey was too lost with his pride and psychopathic sickness to truly notice or care even. After witnessing the show where he was the victor, after using his sword to cut that pie like it was made of paper; he felt powerful and reminded himself that at the end of the day... he was the King.
"I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace," Tyrion said, hoping that would be enough to excuse him.
However, luck was not by his side that day.
"No, no, no. No, you're perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine."
Tyrion looked at Sansa, sending an apologetic look before he walked towards the head table.
"Well, hurry up. This pie is dry."
The dwarf took the filled goblet and then handed it to the King, who drank it deeply. As he did so, he failed to notice how Olenna's lips twitched ever so faintly at the sight of him almost emptying the goblet in one go.
"If it pleases Your Grace, Lady Sansa is very tired—" Tyrion tried to say, but the boy would not listen to him.
"No," he interrupted him and coughed. "No, you'll wait here... Lin..."
He never finished his sentence as he grabbed his throat and started to choke.
"Your Grace?" Tyrion asked, walking his way now with worry.
"It's nothing," Joffrey excused and turned to face his wife, only for his coughing to become worse.
He suddenly felt that he could not breathe, one hand holding his throat while his eyes were wide with fear.
"He's choking!" Margaery shouted in panic, seeing the signs and yet having no idea of the true cause behind it.
Those words made many stand up including Mace, Olenna, Tywin, Visenya, Trystan, and Cersei. The Queen Regent wasted no time rushing towards her son.
"Help the poor boy," Olenna shouted, going into the act as if she was born to do so.
Joffrey turned towards the crowd as he kept choking and staggering but everyone had just stood up and watched, none truly helping.
"Idiots, help your king," Olenna shouted again as Jaime started to rush their way.
He pushed people out of the way and sprinted towards Joffrey, who had fallen on all fours and had started to vomit the pieces of the pie he had consumed.
Cersei pushed Margaery out of the way and rushed to her son, who kept coughing while blood had started to run from his nose and his eyes were slowly becoming red as well.
The panic ensued and Trystan felt horrified and shocked at the sight. He thought of moving but a hand grabbed his forearm and he was held back.
His mother was the one holding him while her other hand was behind Tommen's head and was ensuring that the young boy would have his face buried in her dress and would not be able to look at his dying brother.
She kept looking at the choking boy who was slowly dying, not an ounce of regret in her amber eyes, no panic... nothing. She did not seem to care and she did not even seem surprised by the whole incident. She did not look at her son even when she felt his sharp gaze on her, her eyes locked on the boy-king that was being held by his mother.
Cersei was crying, trying to help him but not knowing what to do while Jaime was simply sitting across from her; equally lost.
Even Tywin had moved closer but did not make any attempts, just watched as the face of his grandson was slowly turning purple, his eyes glazed while vomit was lining his cheeks. His body started to spasm as more blood started to stream out of his nose.
Margaery was pale as a ghost and it was Olenna, who had taken her hand and pulled her further away and closer to the two Dragons and the younger Lion.
While the two older children could barely look away from the gruesome sight, the two women exchanged a knowing look between them. None seemed phased by the events; none seemed horrified or truly caring about what was going on. There was no remorse, no guilt and even the fake worry Olenna had shown before, was now long gone.
With the entire panic taking place, no one noticed how Sansa was about whisked away by someone working for her mysterious benefactor; her chance to leave now.
She hesitated at first from fear, but also because she wanted to see Trystan one last time, to let him know. She watched him staring at the dying Joffrey in shock and did not take notice of her departure. She had wished to lock eyes with him one last time, to mutter a silent 'I am sorry' for leaving him behind, but Dontos was pressuring her to move while everyone was distracted.
She eventually turned her back and followed her latest friend, guilt and worry clouding her heart, but she did not dare to look behind her a second time. Now it was her chance and she could not lose it. She would have time to sort her feelings and accept her regrets when she would be far away from King's Landing, far away from all those who wished to harm her... far away from the only Lion that truly cared for her.
Visenya remained stiff as a rock, keeping young Tommen with his face away while her other hand kept holding Trystan's forearm. It would be wiser if he remained back, letting Cersei handle the death of her son for now.
However, she knew there was one more thing that needed to be done. She did not have to look at anyone, let alone Olenna, to know what needed to happen. She took a deep breath, putting the utmost trust in her dreams for the first time.
"Tyrion, fetch me the goblet of the King," she said, barely glancing at the imp as her eyes were locked on the dying form of Joffrey.
The short Lion apparently seemed to understand her thought processing or at least he suspected what she wanted to do with the goblet; or better say, check. He walked towards the fallen golden-decorated goblet and lifted it. He took a few steps towards them, inspecting the insides of it for any traces of poison.
Just as he did that, his fate was sealed.
Joffrey, despite the painful convulsions and the blood that was asphyxiating him, managed to lift his head faintly. His eyes found Visenya's and he swore he saw that faintly the edges of her lips had arched up for a moment and her yellow eyes glowed dangerously; like a hungry dragon.
Somehow, so close to meeting the Stranger, he seemed to understand but he could not speak, blood and vomit keeping his mouth full and restraining his breathing. With a weak shaking hand, he reached outwards towards her but his body gave away before he could fully point at the culprit.
Instead, everyone only saw how the Hand of the King pointed at Tyrion; who was standing a few steps in front of the Dragoness.
"My son," Cersei cried out loud as the boy left his final aching breath in her arms.
"He's gone. Our king is gone," one man pointed out, raising panic and mumbling in the crowd.
Cersei was seeing red and yet not a single tear escaped her eyes, although they were close, but she did not let them. She kept holding her boy close to her chest, cuddling him like she did when he was younger, but her sharp gaze went on the one that Joffrey had pointed with his last breath... Tyrion.
"He did this. He poisoned my son, your king," she spat as Tywin turned sharply, glaring at the dwarf and not once suspecting the woman standing not that far behind him.
"Take him. Take him! Take him! Take him!" Cersei shouted practically to no one, her voice filled with pain, frustration, and anger.
Two guards grabbed Tyrion, who still held on to the goblet and glared at his sister; who dared to accuse him and have him arrested like some sort of criminal. Yet, he could not help but look behind his shoulder at his good-mother and Trystan.
The Half-Lion was looking at him with his lips parted, but in his green eyes, it was evident that he did not believe Tyrion had done it. His body seemed to have moved or had tried, but he kept being held back by his mother.
Visenya looked at Tyrion, but he did not see the same look. She did not seem pleased by the events or accusing him of killing Joffrey. Her face was impassive as if she was expecting it all to happen.
At that moment, he was not sure what to make from her silent look, but he would soon enough; as he would have enough time to think about it while he was being dragged to the Black Cells.
Cersei took notice that someone was missing.
"Where is his wife? Where's Sansa?" she asked, not seeing her anywhere.
This revelation made Visenya and Trystan look around them, only to realize that the Stark girl was indeed gone. A similar look of worry flashed across their faces and they looked at one another again, seeing that none had any idea of where Sansa was or what had happened to her.
Tywin, though, was not happy with it and everyone could see it.
"Find her. Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbour," he ordered Lannister men, who were nearby and were simply busy watching their King die.
"Where is she?!" Cersei shouted, glaring at everyone around her as if they would give her the answer she needed.
"No one leaves the capital! No one!"
As the rushing and shouting continued, as the soldiers pushed people and moved to obey their orders; Visenya looked around confused and tried to spot Sansa in the crowd, but she could not spot her. Yet, despite all of that, a small sign of relief was barely evident in her eyes; since she knew that the girl would be dead if she had remained.
However, there was one thing that did not settle well with her. One thing that was not part of any plan. One thing that brought a question to her mind, one that she had no answer to at the moment.
Who helped Sansa escape?