Her blue eyes looked with passivity at Tommen, who had fallen asleep. She contemplated his little chest breathing slowly. Her hand stroked by rote his hair, when her face only expressed bitterness.
Joffrey.
Her eldest's name came to her mind incessantly, regardless how full her days were, no matter what she did to not think about Joffrey. Like, even as dead, he was still here, in Castral Rock, despite the alcohol she tend to drink, despite the complicated and political business she drove, despite the arrest of Joffrey's murderer…
Tyrion.
An another name, haunting her daily. However, this name didn't remind her bitterness, or sadness. No… Only anger. The half-man, who once killed her own mother, had taken away what she valued the most; her son. Her blood. If Jaime wasn't there since the beginning of her childhood, and if he haven't been every time between his twin's spite and the horrible little brother, Tyrion would actually be dead.
And, there would be no need for a trial. There would be no need for a sentence to death. There would be no need for Ser Payne's skills. And there would be no need for a King's funeral.
But… unfortunately, Tyrion lived, as a Lannister, with Jaime and… her. Unfairly. Cersei couldn't understand how her father could have accepted to have a freak as a son. She couldn't imagine why Tywin did not kill the dwarf the very same day he was borne. She thought that her father was weak at the time. Too weak to end the last child of his wife. It wasn't mercy or love. It was… cowardice.
And because of his cowardice, Joffrey was dead...
Cersei saw again the look his son gave her, when he looked at her for the very last time. It wasn't t the eyes of the young and ruthless man she knew. But… kid's eyes. His gaze was calling for Mother's help. His vanity mixed with his pride to be a Lannister was mute. His King's presence was gone when he spewed his wedding's meal. His face's lineaments, usually so delicate, were disfigured by fear and pain, while his fingers tried in a deadly force to indicate his assassin. Tyrion.
The Lion's woman thought of Tyrion picking up the glass Joff drank. She memorized how he stared at her. With… satisfaction. Satisfaction to see how desperate she was, while Jaime tried, in vain, to save her son… their son.
His little boy was dead. Her king.
Her hand stopped stroking Tommen's head at the same time she felt a scorch at her cornea.
Then, a salted liquid dripped from her visage, drawing the contour of her cheek, and ended by rejoining her chin.
A Queen can not cry. No.
But… At this moment, Cersei was not a Queen anymore.
She was a mother. And she mourned her child's loss.