The sky was full chaos and a hunger for death. The Shepard, an outspoken old septon, was leading his sheep to Dragonpit, their intent to kill buzzing through the air and earth like a living being, growing fiercer by the second and snarling in rage. Robin peered over the shop window in horror as the city broke out into chaos. Pa had said he would come home from visit his sick aunt an hour ago, but he had not yet returned. Had he been killed in the riots? Or merely delayed and waiting until it was safe before coming home? She had no way of knowing.

Because Pa owned a candle shop, there was no lack of light when the sun fell, but also few things that thieves would want to steal. Even so, Robin felt painfully vulnerable without her Pa there to protect her. He'd been a hedge knight in his youth, before he met Mama and opened his shop, and had the scars. His large, leathery hands kept her fed, safe, and warm; he was gone.

The screaming and shouts outside did not abate. Goldcloaks swarmed the streets desperate to keep order, but their efforts were in vain. It was though the city itself were descending into hell. The first roar came not long Robin curled up on the floor of the shop, waking her up from her sobs. Were they really going to kill the dragons? The Red Queen had burned an entire army at Rook's Rest not a year ago. Her kin would not fall to potboys, merchants, and farmers, men with no proper weapons who were of no great mind.

The dragons will become angry and kill us all us, Robin wept silently to herself. The city will burn to ash and there'll be nothing left of us.

Another roar broke through the air, this time from above the shop. But the Dragonpit was still so far away that one of the dragons must have broken free and taken to the sky. Robin pried herself from the floor. If she was to die, it would not be like a rat, crouched in the darkness. Outside the sky was on fire as the Usurper Queen's she-dragon snapped flames at her attackers. This beast was not one of the dragons locked in the Dragonpit, so why had she taken flight.

The yellow she-dragon twisted in the air, fending off arrows. A body fell from her back and for one terrible moment, it fell through the air like a feather. Slamming into rooftops and sliding down onto to the filthy streets was a boy barely older than Robin herself. Shards of slate from the broken roofs pierced his body.

Forgetting her fear, Robin ran to him and knelt before the bleeding, broken body. Around her, the chaos raged. Robin put the boy's head in her lap and silently prayed to the Seven. There was no way for this boy to survive a fall like that, but mayhaps the Father and Mother would grant his soul peace.

"You'll be alright," She cooed sweetly, stroking his pale cheek with trembling fingers. Tears fell from her face onto his. "You shall be with the gods soon."

He must have been a Targaryen princeling, one of Queen Rhaenrya's sons, for only those with the blood of Old Valyria could even come near enough to a dragon to mount it. He was dressed in blue velvet, although the blood was soon changing it's color, and did not have a single piece of armor. Mayhaps he had come in a hurry without a plan, recklessly mounting his mother's dragon to end the violence himself. The prince was beautiful, even with his hair matted with blood and his eyes staring sightless into the sky.

"Mother, forgive me." The prince murmured to the open air.

Robin felt her heart clench in terrible pity as the prince died in her arms. She had seen death, but never so close. Her late mother had been the only person whose death affect her, and she had been on the other side of the city when she passed from this world. Robin said another prayer for the prince, for his brothers, and for his mother - though she despised Maegor with Teats, to lose a son warranted anyone sympathy.

A cold, iron hand touched her shoulder. Robin looked up to see a few couple of goldcloaks come to take the prince's body back to his mother. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet and let them. He was not hers to hold. They put the corpse on a cart and wheeled it toward the Red Keep as quickly as they could.

The world returned to her. The crowd and the dragon were farther away now, but they seemed louder somehow. Robin wanted to run back into her Pa's shop, but her feet had turned to lead. A sense of overwhelming helplessness crushed her, brought her to her knees. Hands over her mouth to keep from sobbing, Robin watched with horror as great jets of fire screamed against the sky. The Shepherd and his lamps had reached the Dragonpit; they were killing the dragons.

The queen's great she-dragon fought on in the air, opening her mighty jaws in the direction of Robin's street and burning all that was within sight.

A/N: So I re-read The Princess and the Queen a few days ago and just couldn't get Joffrey's death out of my head. The bit about how the smallfolk claim a candlemaker's daughter comforted him in his last moment was an especially haunting image, so I wrote it down. Thanks for reading.