He is trapped between the two of them in their manipulative little game there is no escape.
Robert is a huge bear of a man, run to seed: gluttoned on wine, food and women. It's hard to tell whether he ever cared for his cousin, was it love turned sour or something more poisonous and bitter? His father sends him to the Red Keep to train as a page to the king. Always he hears the same thing: thousands of young men would sell their souls to be in your position. I had to pull strings to get you admitted to court. You should be more grateful, the unspoken words behind it. Lancel thinks perhaps he is ungrateful but he would do anything to get away from both of them. Queen Cersei's mocking smile following him wherever he goes. Robert's bellows and cuffs. No matter how hard he tries to please- and he does try, so very hard. It's never sufficient. Robert likes to humiliate him, make him suffer. Why he's never quite sure. Robert Baratheon resents all Lannisters and he gets the brunt of it being constantly in close quarters. It doesn't have to be like this.
He notices Lord Renly, handsome witty and beloved by the small-folk when he makes an appearance at court joined at the hip with Loras Tyrell. Laughing and joking as close friends, constantly in each other company. The opulent richness of his garb, the cut of his elegant clothes; that glow of happiness and confidence. Not so long ago Loras was nothing but a cheeky impossibly pretty squire in Renly's service and now the king's brother would not be without him. It's not fair. All I want is to be treated decently, not insulted and belittled every single day. Some days, when he's feeling particularly down, or Robert has been in one of his foul moods he envies Tyrell with all his heart. For having the good fortune to serve a Baratheon with the reputation for kindness and charisma. For having such a bright and glorious future ahead of him, already knighted, admired by men and women throughout the land. Tyrell is living the dream, and he's living a life of quiet desperation.
When Cersei started to take a close interest in him, it was inevitable what happened next.
Robert had been shouting at him again, not troubling to lower his voice in front of the entire court. Lancel gritted his teeth, knowing his position depended on swallowing his pride and taking his jibes. It didn't stop him hating him with all his might, fantasising about bringing him low and crushing him under his heel. One day, when you least expect it, I will repay you every insult I promise you that, he thought a rebel spark in his heart while he schooled his face into passivity. He might not be much of a Lannister, hardly likely to command respect like Tywin or his father but the informal words of his house still apply to him too. A Lannister always pays his debts.
Cersei was silent as Robert ranted away, red in the face with annoyance. Lancel didn't even know what he had done wrong this time. He just wanted it to stop.
"I'm damned sick of these four walls surrounded by sycophantic yellow-haired shits scheming and stifling me." Robert ranted, an ugly look on his face.
By the thin tight line of Cersei's voice he could tell she took great offence to the king's opinion of her relatives.
"My relatives go out of their way to serve you, my lord." She said in her iciest tones, disdain and disapproval in every line of her face. "They live only to serve their king. I'm sorry their loyalty seems to offend you?"
"Don't mean I have to like it." Robert sounded like an overgrown petulant child.
"Do you want me to attend you during the hunt, your Grace?" he intoned, hoping against hope that he would be spared the ordeal of roughing it out on the hunt, subject to Robert's volatile whims.
Robert shook his head, scowling. "Stay at home behind her skirts like the muling pup you are, your face would irritate me too much whilst I hunt." The king strode from the room, bellowing for his attendants to accompany him. Lancel was filled with such relief he couldn't hide it. His shoulders sagged, as if a huge weight had been taken off them.
Queen Cersei still sat there, looking at him. Even though she was his cousin, she still made him uncomfortable. She'd always been very high and mighty barely speaking to him and treating him as if he was a servant beneath her notice, but now she was watching him closely as if seeing him with new eyes. It made him feeling uneasy. She swept from the room, leaving him feeling mightily discomfited.
When Lancel entered his humble chambers, he was startled to find a guest in his room waiting for him. She dropped her hood and the tell-tale gleam of her spun-gold hair gave her away, even before she raised her eyes to his.
"Y-your Grace-" he burst out, hating his stutter.
She rose from the bed in a graceful movement, placing a finger against his lip, silencing him. She's so close he can smell the faint aura of lavender she favours.
"Lancel-" one fine white hand cups his face. Her voice is sad and as gentle as he's ever heard it as he looks at him. "I wish you would talk to me, just as a relative. I want to help you-" Lancel isn't quite sure that this is not a trap. Perhaps this is some perverse marital game her and Robert are playing to amuse themselves and he is trapped in the middle, subject to their whims. he is so desperate for kindness that he cannot help reacting to her.
"My lady-" he can't speak, dazzled by her beauty. He doesn't dare to look at her, not sure of how to react to her sudden kindness.
"You shouldn't be here. What if someone saw?" he frets. She sits so close to him, it's making him unaccountably nervous. he tris to shuft away and she moves ever closer.
She smiles at him in the candlelight. "It's touching that you care, dear boy, but not a soul saw. It's perfectly safe."
Despite her reassurances, Lancel is jumpy with nerves. What shall he do if she is discovered here? Both of them would be in dreadful trouble.
"My Lady, please-"
She relents, her hand moving over his silky golden hair in a surprising affectionate gesture. "Very well, Lancel. But promise me if you have any problems. If he troubles you again ike that , you will come to me?"
He nods helplessly and she slips away shutting the door behind him.
Lancel lies on his bed, his eyes closed, feeling like he is going to be damned by the Seven for his thoughts. I am a fool, I am an incredible fool he tells himself as he tries to force himself to go to sleep.