CERSEI VII

The small council met in the Tower of the Hand again, rising at the arrival of the His Grace and Lord Tywin. The demeanour of both wasn't particularly pleasant in the eyes of the Queen, her son's eyes tracking the ground in front of him rather than looking at the faces of his advisors.

"Lord Hoster Tully has passed away amid the siege of Riverrun," he began.

"May the gods give him rest," Lord Varys spoke, politely.

"Aye," Will started, "this leaves Ser Edmure Tully as Lord of Riverrun and Ser Brynden with a funeral to attend. He'll be dismissed for the month to say his farewells,"

"He is a Kingsguard," Cersei reminded him.

"And if Joffrey died while I were on the Throne and he in Casterly Rock, would you forbid me from attending his?" he spoke, anger in his tone.

"Of course not," was all she managed.

"The Blackfish is temporarily dismissed," her father announced, "the King is protected as he need be. Of course, there are more pressing matters at our hands. Lord Varys?"

"Winterfell remains in possession of the Boltons and the Starks are said to be on the march through the Wolfswood to Deepwood Motte to prepare for battle,"

"Battle?" Joffrey asked.

"The Boltons won't hold Winterfell without contest, my Prince,"

"Lord Varys, I ask that you write to Lord Eddard. Instruct him that all houses on the Eastern Coast of the North are to remain in their ancestral seats to defend the country," Will instructed.

"Yes, Your Grace," the eunuch nodded.

Cersei watched him walk, his pace slower than usual. Something hung over him, something heavy which weighed him down; physically and emotionally. She saw it. You are a King, my son, show them what a King you are.

"Any news on the Targaryen?"

"She is making way for Mereen, last we heard, Your Grace. She'll have arrived within the next month,"

"And our arrangements with the masters?"

"Their Sons of the Harpy are preparing for her arrival as planned, Your Grace. They will allow her an easy victory and entry to the city and begin the rest after she is somewhat settled,"

The Queen smiled, remembering the time her son had told her he believed he was no King at all. "I'm an enabler, not a leader," he had said, though he had lead this entire idea himself. She knew she were right in what she told him; he was born a leader, learning is only part of the journey and he had learnt well.

"Where do the plans sit for the Royal Wedding?" Tyrion asked.

"The guest list has been approved by Your Grace, all that is to be decided on that end is a date to place on the invites," Lord Baelish started.

"Within two moons," William announced, taking Cersei and almost every other council member aback.

"Two moons, Your Grace?" Pycelle questioned.

"Aye, two,"

"William, are you sure that there will be enough time?" Cersei worried at his haste.

"We're not preparing for battle, there's enough time," he began, "besides, it's not the pies and wines that I'm worried about. The Realm needs the marriage; not the celebration,"

"Well said, Your Grace," Tywin commented, "and Lady Margaery's betrothal?"

Don't bloody remind me, she snapped in her head. The Tyrells could not be trusted and Cersei Lannister knew it well. They smiled sweetly and wore the facade of their golden rose; though evil lurked in them and she smelt it the second they had stepped in her son's Throne Room. Save Ser Loras, of course, he had been loyal and was bound by oath to protect and serve William. But so was Jaime to Aerys, she regretfully reminded herself.

"No decision has been made yet," Will announced.

"If I may, Your Grace," Cersei began cautiously, "what of your Uncle Jaime? Has there been any word on him?"

Remind him of his family, she thought, remind him of what matters.

"Ser Jaime is but a few days ride from the Capital," her father informed, "he will miss the King's nameday celebrations, however,"

"Ah, yes," the Queen reminded herself.

Eighteen, he would be. In two short days, he was the adult she and her husband had raised. The adult who still felt like her baby boy, her first boy, and the adult who should not yet have been wearing a crown or sitting a Throne, but did it well all the same. Though his expression indicated something were wrong and she longed to heal his sore heart.

"If that's quite all," Will spoke, "mother, I'd beg a word with you,"

She rose from her seat, exiting with him while the rest of the councillors uttered a "Your Grace" and continued their work under the hand of her father. Cersei took the arm of her son, pride in her eyes as she looked to his glum face.

"What troubles you, William?"

"She's not happy with me, mother," he looked to the ground again.

"Sarafine?" she asked, somewhat shocked, "why? Has something happened?"

"I told her about Mereen...about my plan, she didn't like it so much as I,"

"She has a kind heart," Cersei commented.

"And less room in it for me because of what I've done,"

"She will not love you any less for this," the Queen attempted to reassure.

"She already does, mother," he said, a calm anger in him.

"Why did you tell her about it?" she asked, curiously.

"She's to be my Queen...and much sooner than I thought. She has every right to know,"

"And you have every right to carry out the acts you have,"

"That doesn't make this easier," he near spat.

"I know,"

"Did father ever do things that you didn't like?"

"Oh, all the time," she remembered, nearly laughing at the memories.

"And?"

"Sarafine has loved you for far longer than I had loved Robert at your age. She knows you...you're her family. In time, it will be forgiven,"

"And if it isn't?"

"You plan to marry her in months and you fear her love for you is not strong enough to overcome a political decision?" she tested him, warily.

"It's not just politics, it's war,"

"They are one in the same, in our case, my son,"

"I don't think that makes her like the enslaving of people any better," he laughed, bitterness in him. Cersei realised it then, he hates his own plan, but he knows it's the only way.

"Let me tell you something, William," she began, "I know that you love Sarafine, and you two have been luckier than most to have fallen for each other before your days as husband and wife if at all, but marriage will not always be royal banquets and midnight passions. It's not easy, not all the time,"

"I love her," he whispered, sadness emanating from him.

"As Robert loved me and I him, that doesn't mean that you'll agree on everything. And a man of your position has a lot to be agreed or disagreed upon,"

"Unfortunately for me," he muttered.

"Don't say that," she spoke sternly.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a King, and a good King at that. Your people prosper under your reign," she faced him, stopping them in their tracks.

"Our country is at war," he reminded.

"So you can not be at war with yourself, William. You are the strength of the people, my son,"

And we need you now, more than ever.

- A/N -

Poor Will, he's having a bit of a rough time! What do you think of his Sons of the Harpy plan? Is it the only way to save their country? Let me know in a review!

Hope you've had a great week and that you have a lovely Christmas on Sunday (if you do celebrate!)! ❤️