Cersei (I)
The steaming hot milk was mixed with honey and scented perfumes, lavender, rose petals, and even hints of strawberries. The rich aromas and steam wafted up through the air, quickly filling up the little stone-tiled chamber. Cersei lay down inside the stone bath and spread her pale, naked body out, resting the back of her head against the finely cut and polished pink marble that lined her private bathtub, letting the fragrant mixture wash over her, cleansing away all her grit and troubles.
It didn't hurt so much anymore, and the warm milk had a slight soothing effect on the skin, but otherwise her face still stung slightly where the King had struck her earlier today. She relaxed, closed her eyes, and tried to push that awful memory out of her head, but somehow it kept coming back to disturb her peace and solace.
"Your Grace," Ned had addressed her earlier that day as he lay in his sickbed where he had been for the last few days. For a while, there had been talk that he would be taken back north aboard that beastly Falcon-ship of the Sky-People, to receive medical care at their colony. That would have delighted her. But no, alas, Stark had recovered well enough – thanks in no small part to that… that evil witch of the Sky-People – and His Grace had commanded that he stay here in the capital. Understandably, with the gaping hole that Littlefinger had left in his flight, Robert undoubtedly wanted to keep himself surrounded by those he could trust, and that was a commodity desperately short in supply these days. Ned continued: "my humblest apologies and all due respects, but had it not been for your brother, we would have brought the traitorous Lord Baelish into custody and made him answer for his crimes against the Crown!"
Cersei had sneered in response: "are you suggesting that my brother and I are in league with the same man who tried to poison us?"
"One would get that idea, given how conveniently your brother just so happened to appear as I was about to apprehend him," remarked Ned, starkly.
"My brother was no cause of this quarrel!" snapped Cersei, cutting him off. She had then turned to the King: "My brother, and yours by marriage, had taken my household guard to seize the treacherous Mockingbird himself! It was Lord Stark and his men, drunk and whoring away at the brothel as they were, who started the fight!" It was a blatant lie of course, but the only living witnesses to just what had transpired behind those closed doors were Ned, Jaime, and Littlefinger.
And back and forth the squabble had gone, until at last Robert could bear it no more, and struck Cersei when she had casually mentioned that perhaps she should be the one in plate and he the one in silk. Now she bore the mark on her face. "I shall wear it as a badge of honor!" she had proclaimed in front of the King and his Hand in a show of strength and defiance and Lannister pride that even her lord father would have approved of. But deep down, she was terrified: it had been made clear to her there and then that whenever she and Lord Stark came to blows (and she knew that this would not be the last time either), King Robert would always take the word of that barbaric Northman over hers.
Something would need to be done about that man – him and his entire pack of wolves… yes, both the girls, and those monstrous pets of theirs too. The little one, Arya, had proven herself to be quite the little upstart, frequently clashing with her beloved Tommen and Myrcella, often spouting that horrid music and poisonous ideas of the Sky-People, always trailed by that atrocious dire-beast of hers. Her sister, Sansa, on the other hand, was a real jewel. She would make a fine queen for Joffrey one day, and, who knows, perhaps even the Lannisters' key to seizing the North. But Cersei would make sure something was done sooner or later about that direwolf first – she would not suffer such a filthy monster in her darling Joffrey's presence. The Hound was just about the only creature she would tolerate around her dear Joffrey, nothing more.
But most of all, more so than any Stark, Cersei had started to hate the Sky-People – well, hate was not the right word exactly. It was more like a mixture of hatred with both fear and fascination of their foreign ways and their incredible sorceries. And now they were in bed with the wolves, and Cersei dreaded the day they would turn up at the Rock with their "nine-hundred horsepower horseless carriages" and their monstrous Falcon- and Dragon-ships, and their army of "Iron Women" who could crush the Mountain and twenty Lannister bannermen all by their lonesome. Though she would also be lying to herself if she didn't concede that she did feel some awe and begrudging respect for Lady Venya, not least of all after she had saved her own life from the poison…
She heard someone entering the chamber from the door behind her. About bloody time! thought Cersei to herself. You're late again, Senelle! Let me down once more and I swear I shall have you given to the Maester for the night!
"Senelle, I shall take the usual: a good rub across the shoulders, my back is aching me," she commanded, "and when you're done there, come around to the front. I have a few knots here I need untwisted, a few aches to be soothed out, if you know what I mean." With Jaime now fled, someone else would have to make do for her nightly pleasures...
Without answering, the newcomer knelt onto the floor right behind Cersei and placed her hands on her shoulders. That's when she realized that something wasn't right. These hands were definitely not Senelle's – they were a woman's, yes, but they were also cold, heavy, and hard. Cersei began to turn around to see just who it was that had substituted her handmaiden's office for tonight.
That's when the hands struck – well, within a given definition of 'struck' in that they didn't hit her or hurt her, but they still moved with frightening speed and agility. In the blink of an eye, the right hand had clasped itself over her mouth; Cersei tried to scream, to cry out for help, but the sound was muffled by the hand. At the same time, the left hand thrust forward, hooked around her left arm, right across the front of her breasts, and grabbed her right arm in a firm grip, and squeezed.
She struggled and twisted and writhed about in her bath – or at least tried to, but she just couldn't move, such was the great strength in those arms that now restrained her. She tried to kick, sending her decadent bathmix splashing everywhere, but to no avail. For a split second, in terror, she found herself recalling Maggy The Frog's prophecy from all those years ago: And when your tears have drowned you, the Valonqar shall wrap his hands around your pale white throat and choke the life from you.
In her ear, she could hear the voice of her would-be kidnapper whispering: "Monarch C. Lannister, our humblest apologies for this intrusion, but I would advise you to cease your shouting and struggling as they will yield no further benefit to your current predicament."
Oddly enough, Cersei stopped struggling and relaxed a bit when she recognized the voice – this was partly because she knew straight away that any further resistance was futile against such inhuman strength… but also partly because the speaker had saved Cersei's life only a few days ago, and so she daresay she felt a little more comfortable knowing that her restrainer was not someone who wished her dead.
Once she had calmed down, a third person entered the scene. Strutting out from behind and circling around the bathtub to right in the front of Cersei… was Lord Frederick Kovacs. He and Lady Venya were both dressed in black clothing, like assassins – perhaps that was how they had snuck past the guards. Frederick calmly pulled up a chair and took a seat, looking directly into Cersei's eyes. Now that she had calmed down somewhat, Venya removed her right hand from Cersei's mouth, allowing her to speak again. For a second, she contemplated screaming out for help, calling for her guards, but she realized that Venya would simply restrain her again.
"Nice bath you got there, Elizabeth Taylor," remarked Frederick snidely, clearly admiring the sight of Cersei's comely figure gripped tight in Lady Venya's embrace, droplets of milken bathmix running down her pale skin and dripping off the ends of her supple teats. He continued: "you know, you could probably feed a few hundred orphaned children for a day with the amount of milk you're consuming in this one bath - what a waste. Did you know that we manufacture cosmetics as well at The Company? Let me know if you're interested in any of our beauty products, and I can give you a catalogue to look through; that way you can save the milk for starving kids in Africa… or I guess the Summer Islands in this case."
"How... how did you get in?" snapped Cersei.
"Through the door," replied Fred, matter-of-factly.
She was annoyed at this insolence. "You know that if Ser Meryn Trant or anyone else comes through those doors any minute now, you will have Seven Hells to answer for!"
"Correction, Monarch Lannister," replied Lady Venya from behind her. "Not only have I taken the precaution of locking and bolting all available entryways behind us as we entered these premises, but I have also replicated your voice, using previous recordings I have taken of you, so as to pass along verbal commands to your household retainers and security detail, instructing them that you wish to be left alone for the next few hours. Suffice to say, our negotiations shall remain undisturbed until then."
"And by what right do you break and enter my private chambers?" seethed Cersei, icily.
"Given your systematic and deliberate avoidance of personal contact with either Director Kovacs or myself over these last few days, I concluded that our best option for seeking a personal audience with you would be through less formal channels – namely, this clandestine operation. Now that we have your attention, we shall now move to the crux of our discussion."
Cersei, however, wasn't having any of it. "If my brother were here right now, he… he would …!" She struggled to come up with something that Jaime could conceivably have done to personally threaten these insolent foreigners, but after what she had heard from Ser Vylarr of how Lady Venya had beaten up twenty of her household guard all on her lonesome, she really couldn't think of any. In any case, before she could utter another word, Frederick cut her off.
"Your brother?" he inquired, "or… your lover?"
This was the moment Cersei had been dreading. On one hand, she knew it would come to this one day. On the other hand, she had hid it for all these years; she wasn't prepared to give up so easily just yet, so she turned to the first weapon she could: denial.
"What… what in the Seven's name are these foul lies you speak of?!" she stammered. "What perversities of the mind would induce you to think such… indecencies?!"
Fred looked at Cersei and raised one of his eyebrows. He then looked at Lady Venya. "Monarch Lannister," began the Iron Woman, "I have detected that you are feigning ignorance based on my readings of your bodily signs. This leads me to conclude with 98% certainty that you are well aware of this allegation we have raised to your attention."
"98's not 100, but it's still good enough for me," said Fred.
Cersei was speechless and in shock. "How… how did you… how…?" she blurted at last.
"We have our methods, the exact details of which are inconsequential to this discussion," cut in Fred. "What is important is what we do next with this knowledge. Which is entirely contingent upon your compliance, or lack thereof."
"What do you want?" shot Cersei, "and if I say no, then what? Are you going to… to His Grace with this?"
Frederick paused, looking her straight in her eyes. Then he gulped and spoke calmly: "yes."
"My children… my innocent children… will die because of you!" cried Cersei. Frederick had just betrayed a slight hesitation – perhaps this was a weakness that could be exploited? Whether it was or not, she threw everything she had at it. But she was to be disappointed.
"Says the one who tried to have one of Ned's 'innocent children' killed. Twice," replied Frederick, nonchalantly, steeling his spine. "Tell me, Cersei, should we be any different from you? Besides, you talk as if death's the only option on the table; you know there are alternatives. On Earth, we have a saying: 'only the Sith deal in absolutes'." He then smirked – it was clear who was starting to take control of this conversation.
Cersei responded: "I care not who or what a 'Sith' is, but I will not have my Joffrey and my Tommen take the Black! And what of my Myrcella? Is she to take the Black as well? Enter the Sept? Tell me, Lord Kovacs, what is to become of my children?" She maintained her composure best she could, but Lady Venya had slowly begun to tighten her grip.
"You're still thinking way too small," replied Fred, "you know there are other worlds out there – the one we came from, for one, and at least three others a little closer to here. Who knows, you and the kids might just like it out there."
Cersei remained calm on the outside, but she was livid on the inside. Exile?! To another world?! How could they dare speak of exile for me and my children?! "You… you monster!" she breathed.
Fred sighed and muttered to himself: "if I had a Credit for every trope I've heard quoted verbatim…" He then addressed Cersei again. "Look here, it's nothing personal, it's just good business, okay? Savvy? No? Okay, Veni, here, you try to explain to her – I need your input on this too. Somehow, I feel like you women are more comfortable around each other than with guys like me."
"Affirmative, Director Kovacs," replied Venya. "Monarch Lannister, you are experiencing high levels of stress; it is clouding your judgment and making you un-amenable to our discussions. If it is your offspring that are the cause of your consternation, I can assure you that no physical harm shall come to them at our hands, provided that you comply with the (fairly reasonable) demands we are about to make. It is therefore imperative that you calm yourself down for the purposes of negotiation. If you would prefer, I can have you sedated."
"We're all reasonable people here," added Fred, calmly but assertively. "I know things are all fucked up right now here in the capital, but we don't need to be at each others' throats; we can help each other out. First off, you should count yourself lucky it was us who found out about this first, and not Ned or, God forbid, Robert himself. As you probably know, Ned's a stickler for honor and whatnot, and Robert… well, he'd just blow a fuse. I'm not gonna lie, if I was a woman, I'd sure hate to be married to him too, especially if I didn't have a say in the matter. Where we come from, we just don't do that kinda thing anymore; it's just not cool, you dig? No, we 'Sky-People' (as you call us)… we see things differently from Ned or Robert, and we're all the more reasonable for it. So here's the deal: we're willing to let this whole thing slide provided we reach some kind of agreement here tonight, and we're not asking for too much either – we're pretty reasonable. VENI, do the thing."
Still holding Cersei tight with her left arm, Lady Venya held up her right arm – at once, her palm began to glow, and a transparent blue map was conjured up in the air, hovering above the bathtub. Cersei recognized it immediately: it shown her native Westerlands – all the major cities and castles were marked and labeled in gold lettering. And then, a series of small red shapes and lines began snaking their way across the map, forming themselves into demarcated territories and small land holdings.
"We've identified some lands from our satellite and aerial reconnaissance that are quite to our liking," explained Fred, "don't worry, we've deliberately picked less populated areas, though we might still have to ask a couple villages to relocate – no biggie. Namely, this rugged area here, about fifty square miles, and this nice beachfront area here, about ten miles of coastline, and this corridor connecting the two plots, about thirty miles in length. We're looking to begin the lease of this property in about five to six months from now, and we'd like to lease it for an initial period of ten years – of course, with the option open of extending that lease, and expanding the property, should we find it to our liking. Oh, and we'd like for this area to be demarcated as an 'Earth law zone' (where Earth law, not Westerosi, applies), though given that feudal lords usually make their own laws that govern their land holdings, that shouldn't be an issue."
Cersei fumed: "so you demand to carve a kingdom of your own out of my father's lordly domain… and in return all I shall receive is your word? What good is that to me? How am I certain you do not intend to betray me once you have your land? And do you think that I myself am in such a position as to leverage these demands from my lord father?"
"Depends on how much worth you and your family put on our silence," replied Fred, "tell me, does your father know?" Cersei didn't reply. Fred continued: "No? Well, that complicates things, but not too much. I'm sure we can convince your brother Jaime too to join you in on this petition to your dad. But look, it's not like this is an entirely one-sided deal, alright? We have a few things you guys might like. Veni, show her."
"Affirmative," replied Venya. At once, several red lines and numbers began appearing on the map. "Monarch C. Lannister, kindly pay attention to the map. As you can observe, our colony will be strategically placed as such so as to have relatively easy road access to the Lannisport Greater Metropolitan Area; there will undoubtedly be much benefit to be made from trade and tourism, not to mention the sizeable revenues that will be generated for Casterly Rock's treasury from both the lease and the attendant 'sovereign wealth fund'. There will also be ancillary benefits stemming from the colony, including but not limited to: improved road, rail, and river transportation, improved and expanded seaport facilities, electricity, public education and healthcare, and the proliferation of modern ideas such as universal suffrage, human rights, and the scientific method."
"Oh, and did I mention the guns too?" smiled Fred. "Lots and lots of guns! We're already under contract to equip the Starks with Westeros' first modern army! (Well, relatively speaking that is)."
"And whose side are you on?" chided Cersei.
"Our own side!" insisted Fred. "I want it understood that officially, we're neutral in any and all political conflicts. We're not interested in the Iron Throne, alright? You can have it; we just want our little land here and there (and maybe a little more in a few years time). But, we'll happily lend our indirect assistance to the highest bidder. Right now, the Starks are our highest bidder, but I daresay your old man Tywin can't stomach the thought of living in a world where he's number two. Long story short, you've now got a choice between the carrot and the stick, and if it ain't gonna be the carrot, it's gonna have to be all stick. Savvy?"
Cersei nodded weakly. Fred continued: "So here's the gameplan: a couple weeks or so from now, Veni and I are going to pay a visit to Casterly Rock to negotiate with your old man, and we'd really love it if you could come along with us to, you know, facilitate some of the negotiations. We can also arrange to pick up your brother Jaime along the road to join us… yeah, I know we're not exactly on the best terms right now, but I'm sure you can help him, uh, see that we're not the 'bad guys' he thinks we are. I mean, let's be honest here, your brother did try to kill Ned after all – I sympathize with you guys, but that would've just have fucked things up royally for everyone. Anyway, after we pick up your brother, we'll all push on to the Rock and have afternoon tea and crumpets with your Dad and maybe sit in a circle and sing Kumbaya and light up a stogie and then we talk business! Bottom line is: your daddy might be a little more inclined to sign our little trade deal if we could get an endorsement from you and your brother, or failing that, at least just from you. If not, we might just have to get one from your other brother then – you know he's actually taken quite an interest lately in doing business with us."
...The Valonqar shall wrap his hands around your pale white throat and choke the life from you... "No!" cried Cersei abruptly.
"What, you don't think Tyrion's a cool dude?" said Fred, surprised at this sudden outburst.
"Director Kovacs," began Venya, "my analysis of Monarch C. Lannister's vital signs and sudden spike in heart rate and blood adrenaline levels suggests that she holds a deeply rooted psychological fear of Director T. Lannister Jr. for reasons as-yet unknown, but possibly rooted in a traumatic childhood episode. Diagnosis: death of a parent directly linked to the birth of Director T. Lannister Jr."
"Ah-ha!" said Fred. "So that's it: you're afraid of your little brother? What's wrong? He's actually a pretty cool guy once you get to know him."
"I'll do it!" blurted Cersei, "I shall sign your bloody agreement!"
"Now we're talking!" smiled Fred.
She continued: "and I... I will have Jaime agree to it too. I will talk to him!"
"I knew you'd come around!" said Fred, cheerfully, "now come with us."
"What?!" blurted Cersei as Lady Venya stood straight up while still gripping her tightly, pulling her out of her warm, peaceful bath. For a moment, her wet, naked body stood dangling above the bath, pale white drops of milk running down her smooth skin in little rivulets and dripping off the ends of her toes and her fingers. Holding her high in one arm, Lady Venya reached for a nearby towel with her other arm and wrapped it around Cersei, granting her some small modicum of modesty.
"We won't be long; don't worry," said Fred, "if we're quick about it, your bath will still be nice and hot when you get back."
"Where are you taking me?" gasped Cersei.
"Just to the study room next door. We've prepared an information packet and a few pamphlets for you to review, along with all the official paperwork we need you to sign. Now, granted, this isn't the final contract – that we'll sign with your daddy when we finally meet him. No, this is just an inchoate contract – that means 'an agreement to agree later on'. Now, all that said, we'd of course appreciate greatly if not a single word or paper or anything discussed here tonight got out to anyone, understood? You have a slip of the tongue about this, and I promise you, I might just have a little slip of the tongue myself. Now come: we've a few last details to discuss about what we need you to do."
Footnotes:
1. Bathing in milk and honey is something history books mention as being popular among the likes of royalty like Cleopatra, Emperor Nero's wife, Elizabeth I of England, Napoleon's sister, and many others, so I wouldn't put it above Cersei to do the same. They would also recycle this milk afterwards for drinking. Mmmmm... queen-flavor. Delicious.
2. If anyone reading this chapter thinks that Cersei caved in and admitted her incest far too easily, remember that she did the exact same thing in the books, and unlike the books, here, she is in a considerably more vulnerable position. Fred and VENI basically planned to confront her when she would be at her most exposed - alone and literally naked.
3. Much of this chapter draws on elements of Cersei's character established in A Feast For Crows: the character of Senelle (Cersei's handmaiden), as well as Cersei's premonition of her death at the hands of a "Valonqar".
