"Your Graces, we must leave at once!" A knight of the Queen's Guard rushed forward, his face etched with panic. Outside the sanctuary of prayer, riots had erupted, and the air was thick with the shouts of the desperate. The Smallfolk, driven to the brink by starvation, were demanding grain. The Dowager Queen's fingers clamped around your forearm, her grip protective and unyielding, as the knights hurried you outside.

As you emerged from the sanctuary, the sight that greeted you was one of chaos and fury. Before you stood the masses—an angry, seething throng. The Prince Regent hoarded food for the dragons, leaving the poor to suffer, and now their rage had reached a boiling point. From the edges of the crowd, scraps of food—gutted fish and rotten vegetables—hurled through the air, grim gifts from the Pretender Queen Rhaenyra. The Smallfolk were making their fury known.

"Go, go!" Alicent commanded, her voice urgent as she pulled you down the steps. Her face was a mask of determination, her eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of further danger. The knights surrounded you both, their swords drawn, forming a protective barrier against the onslaught.

"Get to the Wheelhouse!" one of the knights shouted, his voice cutting through the cacophony. His sword gleamed in the dim light, ready to defend the royal party at any cost. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and the rotting food that was being hurled in your direction.

Alicent’s grip on your arm tightened as she guided you through the chaos. Her regal composure never wavered, even as the fury of the crowd grew louder, more insistent. "We must move quickly," she said, her voice low and steady. "Do not look back."