THE LIONESS
Looking out over the competitors from her perch on the Royal Dais, Cersei could scarcely quell the unease within he belly.
As Robert delivered his commencement address, welcoming the noble's in attendance and commending the participants for their bravery, promising gold and glory for the victors, Cersei and her children merely sat and observed their King. While Tommen seemed positively delighted with the spectacle, Myrcella seemed somewhat inattentive, staring into the crowd in search of something. In contradiction to either of his siblings, Joffrey sat still and regal, observing his father and King with a focus lacked by either of his siblings.
The address was purely ceremonial, the true tourney beginning in earnest on the morrow, with multitudes of knights and free-riders eager to honor the Hand of the King, and by extension, the King himself. Taking stock of the dozens of mounted, armored men, her mind began to swim, unable to focus on a singular figure. For the most part, each knight was spectacularly armored, sparing no expense in their pursuit of winning the day and befriending the new Hand, who seemed less thrilled than any with the arrangement, taking offense at the epithet given to the tournament, The Hand's tourney.
Cersei could only imagine Lord Stark's expression as she looked over the sea of gilded men, their armor far too burnished and lustrous to be practical. Thus far, she had made out nearly a dozen houses, including House Massey of Stonedance, and the bronze field and runes of House Royce of Runestone, in addition to nearly a dozen renditions of the twin towers of House Frey, dotting up and down the line of champions. Glancing over the assemble mass of clashing sigils and blazons, Cersei's stomach began to rebel, forcing her to look elsewhere.
Quickly, Cersei looked to Myrcella, who's focus was still engaged by something nearby. Cersei shifted her gaze, attempting to capture the same image that seemed to captivate her sweet girl. Following her line of sight, Cersei's eyes migrate to the area where Lord Eddard sits, accompanied by the elder Stark girl, a septa and some other plain looking girl of an age with Lady Sansa. Missing were the young Stark boy and Jon, as well as the smaller, wilder Stark girl, though that was no true loss.
Though it seemed odd that Brandon Stark was not with his father, it was nothing to lose focus over. Her eyes shifted back to Myrcella, noting the inquisitive, and somewhat disappointed look gracing her face as she scanned the crowd near the Stark's place of honor. Cersei's curiosity was beginning to get the better of her, her eyes still locked on her daughter.
"Is there something wrong, my sweet?" Cersei inquires, startling the girl, nearly causing her to topple from her seat. She graced the smaller Lannister girl with a knowing smile, which Myrcella returned sheepishly, turning her head to look her mother in the eyes.
"I-" the child began, averting her gaze nervously, her soft hands thumbing the seams of her dress. "I thought that Lord Stark might bring his son with him to the tourney, since he is squiring for Ser Barristan?" The girl finally said, a row of teeth biting down into her lower lip, darkening its hue, slightly.
This inquiry to Cersei by surprise, as her daughter had shown little interest in young Brandon, at least to her knowledge. If anything, it would be more characteristic for Tommen to concern himself with the younger Stark's whereabouts, as the two had become attached at the hip, following Jon Snow and Ser Barristan wherever they went.
More for her daughter's sake than to satiate her own curiosity, Cersei scanned the crowded Noble's Stand to either side of their dais, making a show of searching low and high. Once she felt that she had wasted a sufficient amount of time, she turned back to her daughter, an expression of contrition. "I'm sorry, sweet girl." She said, partially meaning what she said. "I cannot see Brandon anywhere." Cersei admitted. "He is likely somewhere with his bastard brother."
A look of confusion passed over Myrcella's face, departing just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving an indecipherable expression in its wake. "Yes." She said, faintly. "With his elder, of course." Myrcella whispered into her lap, her word barely audible.
For a long moment, Cersei merely stared into her daughter's golden crown, wondering what she could possibly want with Brandon Stark. Perhaps she fancied the boy; despite his age, the boy seemed to take his looks from his mother, and would likely grow to look like his elder brother, Robb. Though at this age, Brandon was little more than toddler, and Myrcella had yet to reach ten name days, making the idea of any infatuation a stretch by anyone's imagination.
Abruptly, Myrcella's head snapped upward, startling Cersei from her thoughts as the younger blonde eyed Tommen, sitting in the compartment with the rest of his family as Robert's commencement address came to a close. "Tommen probably knows where they are." Myrcella said, mirroring her mother's thoughts, her voice laced with accusation.
She followed her daughters gaze, looking to her youngest child. No longer, she thought, rubbing her belly, making sure the babe was still within. From time to time, she had to remind herself that she was once more with child, as if the babe were some lucid dream and her dalliance with Jon Snow were a mere fantasy.
Silently slipping from such thoughts, Cersei focused her attention on Tommen, who seemed to be trying very hard, not to look like the cat that ate the mouse. His eyes immediately moved from mother to daughter, flickering to Ser Barristan for just a moment, before guiltily darting into his lap.
Cersei looked to the aging Lord Commander, following his gaze to the assembled knights below. In his field of view, Jaime sat a horse in his gilded, golden armor, his posture straight and noble, his face as dashing as ever, with nary a blemish. To either side of him sat a member of the Kings, sitting tall and proud in their white enameled armor, their white cloaks flowing over the backs of their mounts, marking them as the Royal Family's sworn shields. To either side, the noble Warriors were flanked by the lowest of the low. To one side sat a Frey, bearing the sigil of his house proudly across the face of his shield and dented breast plate, his weasel face showing through his dented, dull great helm. To the other side sat a knight bearing no sigil at all, his frame was small and dull; even from a distance, Cersei could tell that his armor was hastily assemble, hailing from several different sets, as each piece was a slightly different color and did not fit together so well. Judging from his size and armor alone, she deduced that this pretender knight would not go far in this tourney, soon to be swallowed up by the more qualified warriors around him.
Her eyes shifted back to Ser Barristan, now standing to the other side of Robert, her husband back in his seat after giving his speech in honor of the games. Though she could not see his eyes, his posture sang an interesting song for her. While his right gauntlet stayed steadfast on the pommel of his sword, steady as faith, his left gauntlet seemed to shake, ever-so-slightly.
The field below began to clear, the ceremonial opening having come to an end for the time being. Beneath them, a sea of bronze and steel and gold and iron began to shift, creating a moving painting with the sigils of dozens of families, churning the stomach of the Queen of Seven Kingdoms. It did not help matters that Robert smelled of wine, though to a lesser extent than usual, denoting his effort to make her pregnancy less strenuous.
A strange pressure on the back of her hand alerted her to the presence of Robert once more. "Are you unwell Cersei?" He asked, almost sounding like a caring husband. His face was full of concern, though deep down she knew he only cared for the babe in her belly.
She nodded slightly, resisting the urge to snatch her hand away. "I'm fine." She lied. "It's just- all of-" she waved her hands through the air, gesturing to the tourney grounds, swallowing her bile. "This." She finished, speaking into her hand.
For a long moment, Robert sat in silence, seemingly weighing the options before him. "I will have Se Barristan escort you and your litter back to the Red Keep." He said, decisively. "None of the Kingsguard will be competing today; mostly hedge knights and free riders." He continued, as if putting her mind to rest. "Either way, this heat cannot be good for the babe?" He finished, shifting his hand to her belly, causing her heart to quicken.
If he knew whose babe was in her belly, he would surely crush it underfoot without hesitation.
Pushing away the thought, she nodded, extending her hand to Ser Barristan, who had moved closer upon hearing the King's words. She rose from her seat with the assistance of her escort, before swiftly moving from the Royal Compartment. On the arm of Ser Barristan, Cersei slowly and methodically descended the stairs, ever attentive of her current condition.
The moment their feet graced the dirt, she immediately felt safer, giving a silent prayer to The Smith. After gaining knowledge of her newest babe, she found herself praying far more frequently, seeking solace in the idea of a higher power.
As the pair walked the grounds, many stopped to bow before her, wishing her good fortune in carrying. She acknowledged each, as courtesy dictated before moving along.
They had nearly reached her litter, having taken in several stray Lannister men-at-arms along the way, when Cersei noticed that Ser Barristan's attention had once more been stolen. She looked in the direction of his helm, taking in the sight of the mysterious knight from before.
As if feeling her gaze, the Lord Commander snapped his attention to her litter as it came into view, striding diligently toward her transport, assessing the field for possible threats.
Try as she might, Cersei could not bury a feeling that had been gnawing at her conscious for days. Unbidden, the thought drifted to the surface of her mind, bursting forth like flame from a dragons maw. "I thought to see your name in the lists, Ser?" She said, taking hold of his elbow, slowing their progress to prolong their conversation.
He looked back to her, his gait slowing somewhat as he took several diagonal steps, his face becoming more visible with each. "It was until three mornings ago." He said, looking down upon her, his eyes not unkind. "I withdrew." He said simply, offering no further explanation.
"Is something wrong with your health, Ser?" She asked, more curious than concerned. If Ser Barristan fell, that would leave Jaime as his natural replacement, having served the longest of the Kingsguard, outside of Selmy. Though she held no great enmity for the man, his loyalty was not to her, which made him a threat.
The aged knight shook his head, smiling down at her, kindly. "Nothing of the sort." He said, dashing her perceived concerns in the wind. "I merely mean to give the next crop of Knights this opportunity, without this old man getting in their way." He said, chuckling wryly, adding to the snickers of the Lannister guardsmen, as well as her own.
Having paid close attention to his wording, she capitalized on a key phrase, using it shift to a subject of more interest to her. "Speaking of the 'next crop of knights,' I see that your squires have gone missing." She said, smiling kindly to the sworn shield.
His face suddenly shifted into one of panic, before relaxing drastically, settling into a mask of indifference. "I gave them both leave to enjoy the tourney and ensuing festivities." He said, though his tone told her that he was not telling her everything.
"I did not see them with their father, in their place of honor." She said, watching Barristan cringe at her words. But which ones, she thought, desperately in need of mor information. "Were they elsewhere?" She asked, innocently.
"I'm sure I saw them around, somewhere." He said. "Though you are correct. They were not with Lord Stark." He continued, halting in his step as they reached her litter. "Your Grace?" He extended a hand, offering to help her into her litter. She gladly accepts, realizing that she would receive no further information on this day.
As the curtain closes behind her, cutting her off from the outer world, Cersei smiles inwardly, having learned more than she knew before. Foremost, both Stark boys had been in attendance, judging by the way Ser Barristan answered her question, though they were not in the Noble's Stands. They may have been with the commoners, she thought, however unlikely the idea was. In addition to that, she knew where to uncover more information on the Stark boys' habits and plans.
Tommen.
