Disclaimer:I don't own Game of thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.
Chapter Ten.
It was truly astounding. How swift the news of Joffrey's fall from power, and of Cersei's consequent ascension, had spread throughout the Red Keep. Her eldest son's personalised banners, depicting a combination of Houses Lannister and Baratheon, had already been stripped from the labyrinth of halls to be replaced by the lone sigil of her Noble House. To the best of her knowledge, which several of her 'birds' further supported. All the evidence of Joffrey's rule, with the sole exception of the boy himself, was being methodically sought out and gathered into a sizeable heap out in the main courtyard, it's entirety was to be burned at nightfall, during an expansive celebration marking the beginning of her reign, like putrid rags harbouring plague.
Her Lord Father had taken the liberty of ordering all of her Household servants to begin their tireless work a small handful of hours after the Battle had reached its eventful culmination, they weren't to be granted a single reprieve until the Keep had been properly cleansed. Now, when it was barely passed sunrise, the inhabitants of King's Landing spoke of Joffrey's rule as though it had perforated years ago, when it actuality, it hadn't even been six hours. Such a short time frame. It was as though she were standing at a crumbling mountain edge watching a new dawn as it rapidly peaked before her. The question being widely whispered among the Lords and Ladies of her Court along with the Maesters, was whether she would retain her legendary balance in such matters, or if she would be pitched forward and into an unknown abyss of dubiety. Such inanity on behalf of her 'advisor's'.
The fools thought her unprepared for the task she had set herself, when in truth, she held no end of plans to achieve her objectives. They all thought her faux tempestuous nature in charge of her decisions, they thought she would overlook their disrespectful slander of her family if only they bowed lower than ever before and poured an excess of perfumed words into her ears.
She would revel in displaying how incorrect they really were. Now that she sat on the Iron Throne, there was none that could stand in her way, none that could stop her from purging all the Seven Kingdoms of any spiteful traitors who dared to degrade those she held dear, and she would do so in her own way. The Lioness would lure imbecilic vultures into her open mouth regardless of the lethally sharp teeth they could plainly see gleaming with majestic distinction, and through their blind arrogance they wouldn't even sense her cunning retaliation until she had clamped her jaws shut around them. She would allow them to see the folly of their accusations, she would prove the legitimacy of her beloved children, though such a thing should never have come into question in the first place, then she would take her justified vengeance on them. One at a time. Only House Stark would be spared the clearing rake of her pointed claws, instead, she would hold the wolves in her poised paws until she was satisfied that they would no longer challenge her reign. She would have unity through the only means she knew of. Patient Cunning.
"I, Cersei of House Lannister, first of my name, rightful Queen of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and Lady Of Casterly Rock name my father, Lord Tywin Lannister, saviour of the City and Hand of the Queen" She drawled disinterestedly as she pressed the gelded brooch onto the satin ornamental rest offered up by a well dressed servant. She met her father's crystalline blue eyes as he stared back at her with equal neutrality in regards to the official ceremony going on around them. The fact her Lord Father, and now her Lord Hand, had decided to remain straddling his pristine white stallion during his observance only served to affirm the concept. His contempt for pomp and ceremony must certainly be considered an inherited trait, for she held no stock in it either.
"Thank you Your Grace" Her father's deep baritone echoed around the Throne Room, her stoic mask did not shift as she watched, from her lawful place on the overwhelmingly majestic Iron Throne, at the head of her amassed nobles, assembled for the sole reason of bearing witness to the new regime, as Lord Tywin retrieved the prestigious brooch, identifying him as the Queen's Hand, never once did he break her gaze nor her his. A small inclination of his silvering head was the only true recognition she received from her father as he urged his white stallion to turn away, the sound of clogging hooves against cold stone resounded loudly. She couldn't resist a small smirk as she stared after her father's retreating back. The sea of vultures observing the interaction between father and daughter would marque it cold, distant, utterly lacking in kindred warmth. And they were entirely correct, for once, but what they did not see was the clear message her father sent her with nothing more than a flash of his distant eyes. They were to have an arduous conversation when the gossip hungry masses had been appropriately fed and dismissed.
"Lord Petyr Baelish, step forth..." She rested both her elegant hands on either armrest as she observed from on high as the Master of Coin brazenly strode forward from the crowd of other nobles, clad in his typically dark wear, far less extravagant than those around him.
"...I dispatched you to the Baratheon encampments little over a week ago, did I not?" She arched a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow mockingly. The masses all stared at Baelish as though they were shocked he could possibly keep such a ambrosian morsel of information from them.
"I believe it to be so Your Grace" The Master of Coin confirmed, clasping his hands together and inclining his dark head. Unlike his peers Baelish knew to be wary of her after their impromptu conversation on the topic of true power.
"By my estimation you had more than enough time to complete your duty to the Crown and report back to me, would you, or would you not, agree?" He wouldn't be foolish enough to differ, even before she was instated as Queen of Westeros, it wasn't her title the vultures feared, but her very nature itself, and they were right to. She couldn't tolerate anyone with such little morality that they would happily betray those closest to them in order to surpass the next blathering fool ahead of them in the hierarchy.
"Wholeheartedly Your Grace" Baelish smiled courteously, she could perceive from the slight frown marring his brow and the lines of tension suddenly becoming apparent in the tightening of his compact shoulders that he was beginning to feel ill at ease due to the inclination of her questioning. At least he was intelligent enough to sense when she was irritated, the crowd behind him was certainly incapable of knowing when to speak and when to be silent.
"And yet you failed to do so..." She sneered, watching as all traces of Baelish's arrogant demeanour promptly deflated under the weight of her scornful glare, like a panicked rabbit scurrying deep into it's burrow for fear of the lioness tauntingly snapping at its heels.
"...But I am not without appreciation for the completion of the task I set you, as a result, your monthly stipend will be increased twofold" Her signature smirk fell into place, tilting the left corner of her sensuous mouth upwards, as Littlefinger's shoulders noticeably slumped with abject disappointment. She was well aware that he, like so many others of late, held designs upon Harrenhal, the largest castle in all of Westeros located North West of King's Landing, though it was left in ruins after the War of Conquest. Even she had plans for the supposedly cursed fortress, the only difference being, her plans would grant her no personal gain.
"Your Grace is most generous" Baelish respectfully bowed at the waist before he melted back into the throng of nobles present. She could barely withhold her wicked grin, the crestfallen expression transforming Littlefinger's face into a reserved mask of dashed hopes and subdued ire would ensure Baelish's determination to achieve further favour with her. She would give it a day or two before he approached her to discuss the economic factors concerning reparations to the Mud Gate and an additional week before the wall saw itself reinforced beyond the comprehension of her predecessors and at a much smaller price. She merely wondered how long it would require the Master of Coin to realise he had been manipulated.
"Ser Loras Tyrell, step forward..." Cersei lazily gestured for the bereaved knight to stand before her assembled Guard, most notably The Hound among them, the imposing forms of Lannister soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, armoured gloves on the pommels of their swords, separating the upraised dais the Iron Throne graced from the masses several feet below.
"...You have shown yourself to possess more intellect than your forefathers by swearing fealty to my House. In acknowledgement of this, it is my promise that it will be your sword that claims the head of the traitor Stannis Baratheon." She felt a twitch of sympathy in her sternum when she caught the genuinely grateful gleam in Ser Loras' empty brown eyes. It was odd when she'd never felt anything but disdain for the young knight, reverently kneeling before her, his thankless attitude regarding his relationship with Renly had always been a sore subject where she was concerned. After all it was one thing for a man, high born or low born, to find pleasure with his own gender but quite another for a woman to do the same. She had despised their unawareness like she detested duplicitous imbeciles.
"Your Grace humbles me with your benignity. If I could possibly incur but a little more of your generosity?" Ser Loras murmured, almost pleadingly. She could hardly believe this was the same charismatic knight that had once audaciously strutted through her halls, this was a mere shell of that very same person.
"Speak quickly and I may consider your request" She leaned back in the Iron Throne, not for the first time, she noted the imposing seat of power was just as uncomfortable as her late husband had once remarked it to be. She would have to call an adjournment to this dragging assembly lest her thoughts stray away from the matters at hand and toward her own physical vexations.
"I wondered if you might consider tying our Houses together, with a bond far stronger than simple words" Ser Loras glanced up from the crimson carpet running from the arched entranceway to the back of the Throne Room behind her to fleetingly meet her jade irises. The crowd behind the reverentially positioned knight began to whisper fervently amongst themselves, how could they think for one moment that their murmured speculations were impalpably voiced.
"Silence..." She hissed venomously, instantly the vultures fell quiet as though the force of her sharp snarl had ripped their tongues from their mouths.
"...Elaborate, and do so swiftly Ser Loras for my patience wears thin" She centred her attention, once more, upon the young knight.
"My sister, Margaery, her husband was taken from us before, that is, she is still pure Your Grace" Ser Loras stammered as though a lump had just formed in his throat. She cast a glance in the direction of the woman in question, she could feel a disbelieving smirk appear over her stoic mask as she examined the object Ser Loras suggestion centred around. No virginal girl would dear to don a dress with such a low neckline, clearly the Knight of the Rose didn't understand women in the slightest.
"Such an oddity deserves a royal partner..." She sneered sarcastically in the same instant she promptly began to consider all the consequences of her next decision at an abnormal pace and precision. Margaery Tyrell was pure in the same existence she was paradigm of compassion, but this arrangement would serve her more essential purposes. Warmth blossomed in her chest like a flower in the Spring, her eyes gleamed amorously, only by minding her surroundings and the eyes latched onto her did she manage to smother her smile.
"...If Lady Tyrell is in agreement, she will be wedded to my eldest son, Prince Joffrey, in the stead of Lady Stark" The aghast gasps that loudly emitted from the crowd was almost comical, like the prospect of severing a marriage vow was the most atrocious and immoral act she had ever done, how little they knew.
"Your Grace, your son pledged-" Grand Maester Pycelle began to speak, a single icy glare suppressed his 'advisement'. She could not stomach the thought of her SheWolf being tied to Joffrey, or anyone else, for a single moment longer, the idea alone was enough to inspire mindless rage. Anger burned beneath her pale flesh as her fists begged to be clenched, but she refused to let her majestic demeanour to fade.
"My word is law, and I say Sansa Stark belongs to another..." As much as she desired, in that moment when the Courtiers traded looks of mystification and dazedness, to unveil the truth of her relationship with her SheWolf. There was much to be discussed first, though she knew the wait would soon reach its end, before long all of the Seven Kingdoms would recognise Sansa as her concubine. She almost allowed her icy exterior to melt under the, now familiar, warmth that manifested inside her chest, the deliciously intoxicating sensation was only strengthened, now, that she could confidently give it a name at last.
"What say you Lady Tyrell?" Cersei snapped impatiently, she had been away from her cherished lover and her beloved children for far too long, even she had noticed it was beginning to effect her mood in a non too pleasant way. Only the soothing influence of her treasured family could provide her with the essential assuasive element she was in desperate need of before she closed herself inside the Council chambers for the day's remainder.
"It would be an honour Your Grace, I have long admired Joffrey-" Cersei elegantly rose up from the Iron Throne with an expression of dismissive contempt, the Tyrell girl's no doubt extensively practised speech readily lapsed, allowing the muffled sound of her footfalls to dominate the tensioned Court as she gracefully descended the dais.
"A word of advice girl, learn how to properly fabricate a falsity" Her Guard's defensive formation fell apart as she smoothly stalked passed them, her derisive hiss had Margery observably blanching. The Queen rolled her eyes sardonically as she strode down the length of the vast Chamber, her personal guards dutifully marched behind her in a two by two placement.
The Queen sat at her ornately carved oak desk in her equally elaborate chamber, having been frustratingly intercepted on her way out into the gardens, the sunlight filtered into her rooms through the huge gelded window pane behind her high-backed chair, her Lord Father, Tywin Lannister, sat across from her, both held a regal posture and indecipherable expression. Under her Father's sharp silent scrutiny restlessness had blossomed, like living flames under her pale skin, but she resisted allowing her stoic exterior to falter, even if she was certain her Father's frightening perceptive gaze had already pierced the layers of black ice she'd fortified her outward responses with. Just as the elder Lannister had trained her when she was nothing more than a child. Despite this, it was all she could do not to demand an end to this charade of who truly possessed the upper hand so that she could spend at least an hour or so with the three people she cared about most before she was coerced back into the Council Chambers for Gods only knew how long to discuss the pressing matters of state.
"Shall we begin..." It wasn't a question. Her Father never issued inquiries, nor did he demand answers, for the most part he could dissect the object of his examination to such an extent that he knew what their hasty replies would entail. This made the piece of parchment, quill and ink well set out before him, not only, seem redundant but almost somewhat amusing.
"The Order of Succession" Her Father spoke slowly but clearly, like a jailer interrogating his prisoner, or a Lion toying with his prey to gain the response he desired. It was much the same when she was young, whenever she came into contact with him, which was never often nor was it a comfortable experience. It was odd to be on the incurring end of his mannerisms once more, even more, when she considered hers were no different.
"It is an unspoken fact that Joffrey must never again come to power, after his marriage to the Tyrell girl he will receive a minimal monthly income from the Crown, it is my intention for them both to reside at Highgarden. When Stannis' repulsive head graces the Wall of Traitors, I will instate Tommen as Head of House Baratheon, Lord of both Storm's End and of Harrenhal-" While she loved both Tommen and Myrcella equally, she knew precisely which of her precious cubs would make the better monarch when she was no more, but she would not see the other lacking in assets.
"Why not name him your heir, it is only natural for the second born son to claim what the elder is denied" Her oval shaped jaw clenched tightly, she could not recall the last instant a living person had dared to interrupt her, she'd had people executed, tortured or both for far less. But this was Tywin Lannister. None were viewed as his equal, therefore, worthy of his prolonged attention or respect. Not even her.
"Tommen is too kind hearted, while I will ever support this to be his greatest strength, it is also his enfeebling weakness. If he were to sit upon the Iron Throne, he would be ruled by others-" As she explained her thought process, she never broke her deadlock stare with her Lord Father, she couldn't confidently decrypt if her show of strength amused or irritated her Lord Hand. Never before had she experienced difficulty interpreting an individual's motives, some of her victims would even confirm that she had almost been privy to their innermost thoughts.
"Agreed" She bit her tongue to prevent herself from verbally lashing out at her Lord Father, it required hefty control on her part and she could feel the cost of her restraint beckoning a painful ache to throb in her temples. Involuntarily, her fingers dug into the unyielding oak armrests as the Head of her House gestured for her to continue as though she nothing more than a servant, an inconvenience to obtain orders and then be promptly dismissed. Her furious Lioness clawed at her, prowling back and forth beneath her pale skin, demanding the retribution she would typically seize upon. She wouldn't invoke his wrath, not for fear that she wouldn't see his retaliation, though it was likely she wouldn't, but her energies needed to be directed toward her family and unifying the Kingdoms. The latter would be made easier with her Father, her teacher and mentor, at her side.
"Myrcella will be my successor, her will is stronger than both her brother's and she has already begun her instructions in politics" She almost smiled lovingly at the mention of her children, until she recalled exactly whose presence she was in. There was no room for sentiment of any kind when Tywin Lannister was near, and most certainly when handling official matters with her Lord Father.
"With the correct teachings, Myrcella will make a somewhat adequate Queen someday, I will procure your former mentors for the honour of furthering her education..." She was sure she could feel blood begin to seep from her nail-beds as her fingers bit harder into her armrests, still, she held her tongue. It wouldn't do to insult her Father, like her late husband before her, she needed his financial reinforcement while the royal coffers remained pitifully reduced. And while she would rather die than admit it aloud, there was a small fraction of her that still, after all the years of being cast aside as something trivial, desired nothing more than her Father's approval. She felt a cynical smirk toy with the corner of her mouth, she'd long since reached the conclusion that absolutely no one would ever fulfil the expectations set by Tywin Lannister.
"The Kingsguard"
"Upon Jaime's return I will dissolve it and those same men will be reformed into my Queensguard" She leaned back in her high-backed chair when her Lord Hand remained silent across the desk from her. Outside, a blanket of pristine white clouds blocked out the glaring sun, casting a slight chill through her vast chambers.
"And how do you intend to ensure the return of your brother, when we only possess half the requisite bounty needed to barter with the Stark's" Her Father drawled impartially. Her signature smirk ghosted across her full red lips as she stared perceptively across her desk, her Lord Hand would never approach the subject of his eldest son in such a callous manner. Tywin Lannister was many things, and none of them good, but he always protected those of his House with the same fierce passion she had inherited. Which left the question of what he had planned.
"Worry not Father..." Her smirk adopted a cold edge as their tenacious gazes drew to a stalemate that showed no signs, from either participant, of ever allowing one to seize dominion over the other.
"By week's end, not only will Jaime be publicly reinstated as Lord Commander, but I will have Robb Stark swearing fealty to me with the entire court standing as witnesses." She promised with deliberate obscureness. Savouring the irked gleam that sparked to life in her Father's frozen eyes. She didn't appreciate being made to feel like a neglected child, something only Tywin Lannister could ever revert her to, this obscure declaration served to remind her Father of exactly who she had been moulded into.
This was the Game Of Thrones, and she, Cersei Lannister, had just become the centrepiece.
"Your Grace" The Hound's gruff recognition of her presence as she stalked out into the gardens drew the attention of every set of eyes, out of two dozen, there were only four pairs that she bothered to acknowledge.
"Sandor" She murmured quietly as she elegantly brushed passed her most loyal liege-subject. The very instant she joined her lover and weary son, settling into a low-backed chair at a circular table with a wide diameter, she was pounced on by her daughter.
"Mother, why do you not wear a crown?" Unable to help her fond laugh, brought on by Myrcella's typical bluntness, from escaping her full red lips, the Queen allowed the lilting sound to break through her icy demeanour as she pulled her daughter into her lap.
"Tell me darling, what purpose does a Crown serve?" She retorted, snaking her lithe arm around her cub's waist as the young Princess settled against her. Tilting her head, she found Tommen, mirroring a similar pose with her SheWolf, half asleep with his head resting on Sansa's shoulder. Beneath the table, she blindly sought out the younger woman's hand, she entwined their long slender fingers together once she had finally located her lover's palm and rested their conjoined limbs upon the redhead's toned thigh.
"A crown is a symbol of authority" She shared a tender smile with Sansa, as a sense of tranquil fulfilment took over her, just as she had predicted when the tenacious business of usurping had began at the break dawn. The close proximity of her beloved companions gifted her with a soothing disposition, that washed away the day's tediousness almost instantaneously. She hastily returned her attention to her curious cub, staring wide-eyed back her, expecting an answer to the most innocent of questions.
"We are Lions my little cub, to symbolise our authority, we need only Roar..." She pressed a loving kiss to Myrcella's naturally pale forehead, waiting and watching for her daughter to grasp her meaning. The adorable frown that signalled Myrcella's consumption in her thoughts allowed her a brief reprieve from her cub's endless questions.
"Which we cannot do if we falling prey to drowsiness" Cersei turned her head to smile lovingly at her youngest son, Tommen giggled quietly in response, but never once did he lift his head from her lover's slender shoulder. Had she seen her cub clinging to anyone else she would have torn them apart, as it stood, watching her son embrace Sansa provoked nothing short of tender devotion to stir in her chest.
"Myrcella was loath to allow him any further rest once she awoke" Sansa's pale wolf eyes gleamed with mirthful affection, beneath the table she traced lazy circles over the younger woman's pulse point with her thumb.
"It has always been so" She murmured gently. Her youngest children had an unbreakable bond with one another, much like the familial love she bore for her twin, but whereas her relationship with Jaime had shifted from strength to strength ever since they were crawling on all fours. Myrcella and Tommen had first cohered to each other for fear of their older sibling, that fact would never cease to pain her, she had always wished for her cubs to depend on each other equally. Something that would never come to pass. The unexpected tightness in her chest caught her unawares, as she cradled her daughter close and discreetly held her lover's hand, she pondered on the subject of her elder child, still firmly confined inside his chambers under heavy guard.
"Sansa, are you to remain here, with us at King's Landing, forever?" She was drawn out of her troubled musing by the chirping of her young son, Tommen spoke quietly, as was his way, but even so he soon had the devote attention of his sister. Cersei felt a satisfied smirk tilt her lips upwards as she slowly became aware of The Hound's hulking figure behind her, apparently even Sandor wished to receive her SheWolf's response. But as anxiety slowly began to swim in the younger woman's pale irises, she felt compelled to intervene on Sansa's behalf.
"That she is my darling" Sending a sideways glance toward Tommen, she found her young son gifting her with a tired yet elated smile as he leaned further into her lover, his eyes drifted closed as if by their own will. Sansa's eyes met her jade coloured irises, the warmth that radiated from her SheWolf was far more welcoming than the summer sun after a long and gruelling winter. Myrcella's pleased laughter tickled her ear while her daughter slipped off her lap, she tracked her cub out the corner of her eyes as the young Princess approached Duchess, the pristine white and grey dire wolf was growling pathetically up at a domineering oak tree, a little ways away, as if willing the pesky squirrel high up in its branches to hop down and into her mouth.
"What of my family?" The soft spark of tenderness in the younger woman's eyes dimmed somewhat as she began to nibble on her lower lip nervously. She despised the abrupt misery that found its way, creeping into being, extinguishing the warmth, that she had come to adore, in her lover's pale irises.
"You have my word that you will see them before the week's end and many times after..." She promised sincerely, she savoured the appreciative smile she was gifted with as warmth was rekindled in her SheWolf's beautifully pale eyes, she affectionately squeezed her lover's hand beneath the table. Plotting and scheming were her claws and fangs, she would lure Robb and Catelyn Stark into the her den, where she would keep them until they, along with every Northerner, had bent the knee at last.
"But, you should be aware my little SheWolf, I will never let you leave this City, the South is your home now." She had no intention of severing Sansa's contact with her, obviously beloved, family, but it would never be safe for her to travel North, no matter what number of guards she protected herself with, and she knew on an instinctive level that she couldn't endure a single day away from the younger woman. The past months were proof enough of that. Besides, even if she were to allow the redhead to journey North, she wouldn't trust the Stark's not to attempt keeping Sansa away from her. Knots frantically tightened in her stomach, making her feel ill at the mere thought, she couldn't possibly risk that, not now and not ever.
She was a Lioness, and Lions mate for life.
TBC . . .
AN: I hope you all enjoyed reading, personally I'm not a hundred percent happy with this Chapter but I couldn't keep you waiting any longer. Maybe its just me, I had to nitpick all of my coursework, over the past couple of weeks, which by the way is why I didn't update sooner, sorry about the delay but its been one hectic thing after another recently. Okay, enough rambling from me, thoughts? ;D