Cersei looked down at the broken body of her youngest child. The Silent Sisters had done what they could, but still he was broken and bruised. This was what became of her happy, peaceful child. He was brutally killed. He had been killed by the Tyrells, she knew it.

She remembered the day as if it was yesterday. The fat oaf had arranged a tourney for the release of his daughter. She had got Osfryd to ride with her honour. He had put his lance through the armour of the people that she had wanted dead. That simpering fool Lambert Turnberry had been first. He had died bleeding in the sand.

His next target had been Lord Tarly's little boy. He was dead too. She had smiled as she watched his father realise that his son was dead. It had cost Kettleblack his own life, of course. Tarly had cut him down almost instantly with that ugly sword of his. He had been too proud to choose her, and now his legacy was dead. All he had left was daughters.

That had been when the brawl began. Tyrell men had come to the defence of Tarly, her own men had attempted to arrest him in the name of the king. The fighting had gone on for only a few minutes. Mace had sent Boros Blount away, and Osmund had rushed down to fight Tarly. Nobody was there to stop her son charging into the turmoil. He had always wnated peace. He had tried to achieve it then, but he had been trampled to death. Had he deserved this? He had been too weak to be king.

She remembered the last time she had been here looking down at one of her family. It had been her father, the time before that it had been Joffrey. One day it would be Myrcella. That was what the witch had promised. She had promised that all her children would rule and that they would all die.

"The young die just as much as the old when Kings and Queens play their game of thrones."

She turned when she heard the voice. It was the High Septon. He was an old, wrinkled man, wearing the stained white tunic that he so loved. He believed that his faith in the Seven was a shield against her wrath. How wrong he was. How wrong could one man be. Everything this man said was a crime against her. He deserved death. He deserved to be sent to one of his despised Seven Hells.

"Whether Lion or Wolf, boys die in war. Girls too. I have seen many a dead boy and dead girl on my travels. Not so many dead kings, though."

What did this man have about him that he thought it wise to taunt her? He was nothing. He was a little speck on her wider plan. He was someone here only for her to kill him. Her father would never have tolerated being spoken to in this manner, so why should she?

"My son may be dead, septon, but my daughter is not. I doubt she would appreciate knowing how you are talking about her beloved brother."

The High Septon walked around the plinth that Tommen was laid on. He stopped opposite her, and stared down at the peaceful expression that the Silent Sisters had put on his face. She was so glad. He had been a peaceful boy, if a weak and foolish one. She disliked the way that the priest was looking at her boy, however.

"I was talking to the Queen this morning. She was expressing her sadness about her brother, and desire for him to be buried with his brother soon. There were some other things, too, but I'm sure you already know about those."

Myrcella had been to see the priest? What had they talked about? Even Cersei had been having trouble talking to the newly crowned queen. She had been surrounding herself with her Dornish party. She hated the fact that Myrcella was leaving her out of decisions. The fat oaf of a Lord Regent had also found himself struggling for a place at court, and his Hand of the King was residing in a Black Cell. It was Mathis that told her all of this, of course. He was a useful tool for her, ever since Qyburn had been shunned away from the main group.

She swept out of the sept after a young female septa came to inform the High Septon that the sept was about to be opened for the smallfolk. She didn't want to put up with the muttering that came everytime that she left the Red Keep these days. The city of King's Landing had turned against her. She was no longer their queen, and now she didn't even have any control over the king.

Meryn Trant was the Kingsguard knight that had accompanied her out here. He was stood by the litter of the queen, given to her by the stablesmaster as Myrcella had no intention of leaving the castle. Some Lannister guards had come with them, of course. They were dressed in their armour, and eyed her suspiciously as she walked over. She didn't even have the trust of her men anymore.

"My Lady."

Meryn bowed his head to her as she approached, and helped her into the litter. She felt like correcting him. She was still the Queen Mother, at least, but she realised it was futile. The times had been that all of the Kingsguard had feared and served her, but then that fool Mandon Moore had gotten himself killed, and Boros Blount had shown him to be a coward.

Osmund Kettleblack had been her man, but he was badly maimed now. He had lost his left arm to Randyll Tarly in the aftermath of the fight during the tourney. He could still hold a sword, and swing it too, but he was not the knight he was. Arys Oakheart had never been receptive to her, but he was dead. Killed by some Dornishman according to the bastard girl that had come with Myrcella. The same Dornishman that had scarred her daughter.

Myrcella had always been a pretty girl, and Cersei had known that she would grow up to be a beauty, just like her mother. All of her children would have grown to be good looking. They were her children, after all, and Joff and Tommen could both have grown up to look like their father. Not the fat oaf she had married, but her brother, who was the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms, back before he grew to be useless to her.

She had sent a letter to Jaime asking for him to come stand for her in her trial against the Faith. All he would have to do is defeat their cousin Lancel, or someone of his level. Instead he had ignored her, and a few days later it was announced that he had been reported dead. She didn't believe that, though. She knew that she would feel something the day that Jaime died. They would die together, she knew that.

"A message came from the Red Keep for you, my lady."

Meryn Trant was still stood beside her. She rolled her eyes. It would probably be Mathis asking for her again, or Qyburn looking to tell her something new that he thought would pull him back into her good graces. The problems that she had with men would just never end, whether it was Trant, Kettleblack, Rowan, or her troublesome not-quite-maester.

"The Hand of the Queen has asked for your presence in the Tower of the Hand."

She scoffed at that.

"The Hand is in one of the darkest of the Black Cells. You know that. I doubt Randyll Tarly will be allowed back in the Tower of the Hand again."

Trant shook his head.

"Not Tarly, my lady. The bastard. Nymeria Sand."

Cersei's eyes opened wide. Myrcella had named the Dornish bastard as her hand? Did the girl have no sense. The people of King's Landing would never call a bastard as their Hand. She should have named someone loyal to the Rock, like Harys Swyft, or one of the Brax brothers. Why had none of her children inherited the brains of their mother or their grandfather? Joff had the bullish arrogance of his father, and Tommen had the weakness of her Uncle Kevan.

"Then take us back quickly. I will talk with this Dornish girl, and then I will talk with my daughter about her poor choice making skills."

Trant nodded, and the litter started to move through the city. It was not a long way from the Great Sept of Baelor to the Red Keep, but it had seemed longer every time she had made the journey, ever since that accursed septon had made her do her walk of penance.

After what seemed like an eternity she felt the litter begin the approach to the Red Keep. Trant was still walking alongside her as went. She leaned over to him, so that he could hear her speak at a whisper. You never knew who was listening in this city, and the eunuch was still a threat she feared. Her other brother could be around, too, and no doubt the fat oaf had his own eyes and ears.

"Have them take me to Rowan first. I want to know what he thinks of this appointment."

The Master of Coin held modest chambers, and they were thankfully near the entrance. She found Rowan in an anxious mood as she entered. He was wringing his hands, and running them through his hair. Thankfully he was alone, and the fat oaf or his snivelling Redwyne henchman were elsewhere, no doubt shocked by the news.

"My Queen!"

Rowan sunk to one of his knees as he saw her enter his chambers. He was a born lackey, even though he liked to pretend that the ancient ancestry of his house made him more than that. He had been a lackey to Tyrell before, and the moment she had shown him her cunt, he had been a loyal lackey to her.

"You may rise, Lord Rowan. I am here to ask you what you know about my daughter's new choice of Hand."

"I-I don't know much. I just got the news now. She has removed Mace from his position too. I don't know about the rest of the Small Council."

Cersei frowned. She could do with the Tyrells being sent from the city, but Mace wouldn't leave until his daughter had been cleared. Was Myrcella even able to remove the Regent from his position? She wasn't sure.

"Then who has she named as Lord Regent. Surely not the bastard?"

"No. Doran Martell."

She had named the Martell cripple as her Lord Regent? The man wouldn't even be able to make it up the Tower of the Hand, let alone attend any meetings there. Dorne had kept steady under it's current lord, but he was nothing special. The Martells were just a bitter group of foreigners who had chosen the wring side of the war. She had told Robert to make an example of them after he won his rebellion.

"She has granted him permission to serve the position from Sunspear. She has announced that Balon Swann is to be sent there to protect him, as he is already in Dorne. She has also announced that the High Septon will be returned to attendance for the Small Council, so as to bring the Faith closer to the crown."

This was a disaster. How fool could her daughter be? Not only had she given control of the realm to a bastard and a cripple lord who was no doubt lusting for Lannister blood, but she had invited the old fool of a High Septon, who had no idea how society in their world should be, to help rule the Lords that he frowned down upon. No way would this council stand.

"And she is set to marry the Martell boy the day after tomorrow, at the same time as she has her coronation, so as to cement the alliance between Houses Baratheon and Martell, so she says. She has allowed for her brother's widow to stay in the Red Keep until her trial is done."

Myrcella was going to see through on the marriage that the wretched dwarf had arranged for her? She could have any man in the Seven Kingdoms, so why choose the second son of a poxy Dornishman? There must be others. The Starks were dead, and the Bolton heir was married to that steward's daughter that Baelish had given them. Edmure Tully was out of the way, and Cersei would not have her daughter marrying into House Frey like Aunt Genna.

Could she marry cousin Martyn? There was no need. House Lannister already backed her. The only unmarried Tyrells of the main branch were the cripple Willas and his dying brother, the Knight of Flowers. Then there was sickly Robert Arryn, the daughter of the flying fool Lysa Tully. No, the choice of bachelors at the moment was not ideal. There was no Rhaegar for Myrcella.

She was of an age where she could marry the Targaryen boy king at Storm's End, but the boy was likely a pretender, and would want her children to be named Targaryen, when they should be Lannisters or Baratheons. She should be waging war on the pretender and showing that her men could win battles.

"The new Hand has asked for my presence soon. I don't know if she intends to remove me from my position."

Cersei was distracted and realised that Mathis had still been talking.

"I have to talk to her first. Then you. I will be waiting here for you to tell me everything that she told you, got it?

Mathis moved closer to her, so they were almost touching. They were both aware that Meryn Trant was stood right outside the door.

"And my reward?"

"You know your reward, Rowan. You get to fuck the she-lion of the Rock. I should expect that is reward enough, is it not?"

She ran her right hand across his crotch, and a smile flashed onto her face when she found that his cock was already hard for her.

"But only if you give me some good information. I want to know more about this bastard girl. I want to know her secrets and her plans. Find that out and you can have me whenever you want. I want my power back."

Those were her last words to him before she swept out. Trant was stood outside, but the other Lannister men had returned to their posts. She stepped out of the room, and saw Trant turn his head to look at her. She tried to guess whether or not he suspected what she had been doing in there. She thought that he must have. The man had been at court long enough to learn something, at least. He was not as dumb as Boros Blount.

"I wish to see you and Ser Boros in my chambers after this, Ser. I can walk to the Hand's chambers by myself. Go and get your brother, and tell him to drop whatever he is doing. I am more important."

Meryn bowed his head to her and walked away. He had a long stride. He was more a man than most of the other knights in this city. Of all of her dear, dead husband's knights, it was he that suited the capital best. He was sly, even if his eyes suggested otherwise.

She began the walk to the Hand's chambers then, and noted that Lannister men had been replaced by Dornish and Crownlanders upon the walls of the Red Keep. Had that happened today? It had happened fast. She misliked it. There were too many groups of soldiers in the capital as it was. The Lannisters, Tyrells and Martells all had men here, and then the Stokeworths, Thornes and Rykkers had men too, not to mention the City Watch, which was as well as sworn to the fat oaf Tyrell.

She had burned the old residence of the Hand, and so all subsequent Hands had made their rooms adjacent to the Great Hall, close to the Iron Throne. She went there, and found Tyrell men removing things left behind by the fat oaf and his imprisoned fool. Both had been poor choices of Hand, although this new one was worse. She was a nothing bastard, the daughter of a foolish lordling.

Nymeria Sand was outside her chambers, talking with the leader of the Tyrell men. Cersei recognised the man as Willam Wythers, one of the men sworn to Tommen's widow. The conversation was animated, but finished the moment that Nymeria saw Cersei approach. Willam left when he realised they were done, and the two women were left alone in the corridor.

The bastard was pretty, in as much that a Dornish girl could be. She had paler skin than Cersei remembered of the Dornish, and had jet black hair also. Her eyes were sharp, and her figure slender. Cersei remembered when she had been that young, and still thought herself more beautiful than this one.

"Lady Lannister, you took longer than I had expected. I hope that I didn't catch you in the middle of something."

Had the bastard been following her? Did she know that she had payed a viit to Rowan before coming here? Cersei cursed herself for not being discrete enough.

"I was paying my respects at the Great Sept. Your messenger interrupted me."

"I am surprised that you would want to set foot in that building, Lady Lannister. I am surprised also that the High Septon would want you there. I hear that you talked with him about the Queen. How did that go?"

Cersei glowered at the girl. So she had been followed that morning. Was it a Tyrell man that did it, or a Martell man sent to follow her in the shadows. Her thoughts then passed on to another. House Trant was a house from the Dornish Marches. Could he have switched sides to serve the Martells and this bastard? She had been betrayed yet again.

"He- He told me about your plans for a wedding. I should have been involved in these dicussions. I am still the Queen Mother, after all."

"Yes, of course. Who would the Queen Father be? Your husband? Or... Somebody else?"

Cersei wanted to slap the smirk of the girl's face for that remark. It was as brazen a move as any, but this bastard surely couldn't know the truth about Jaime. Not even Trant had known that. She was just going off the rumours that Stannis Baratheon had started. She knew nothing, or she would have used it by now.

"Yes, there is to be another royal wedding. My uncle will not be able to make the trip, unfortunately. He sends others to join us to represent Dorne. There is to be a coronation, too, and trials for you and Margaery Tyrell."

Cersei glowered at the girl. She was trying to play the game. She was trying to cause her to snap, but she wouldn't. This girl would get what was coming to her soon, one way or another. No Martell bastard talked to a Lannister like that and got away with it.

"After that, of course, you will be leaving the capital."

That shocked her out of her anger. What had she said? She was to leave the capital? Myrcella was sending her away? No, this was the work of this girl and her third born cousin. They were whispering into Myrcella's ear and turning her against her own mother.

"It is the will of the Queen that you return to Casterly Rock and carry on the Lannister name. Your heir, Ser Martyn Lannister, has been invited to the capital to serve as the new Master of Ships for the Queen. You will be all alone in the west, with the vast halls of the Rock as your company."

That was enough. She had been pushed, and had now had enough of talking with this girl, who understood politics not one bit. She thought herself very clever, but she would pay. Her and her pox ridden uncle, and her soppy cousin, and her entire region. Cersei Lannister would not take this insult lying down. She turned and left, without another word. She passed Mathis Rowan on her way out of the Hall, and into the sunlight.

She saw knights practising at quintain in the courtyard. They were Tyrell and Martell men. She saw servants scurrying from shadow to shadow, pots and pans and straw in their hands. They wore the orange of Martell, or the green of Tyrell. She looked up to the flags that flew above the Red Keep. The Lannister banner had been removed, and replaced with the red sun of Dorne.

She approached one of the Tyrell men. It was Willam Wythers, although she didn't know that at the time.

"Where are the Lannister men?"

She asked him. He gave her a queer look, as if he was surprised that she hadn't known or been told.

"They have been sent from the castle, my Lady. On the orders of the new Queen."