Cersei

The throne room sat empty, yet Cersei perched herself atop the Iron Throne all the same. In her hands, a goblet and a piece of parchment. The smallfolk no longer pleaded for her mercy, her lord bannermen no longer gathered at court now that the snows fell upon King's Landing. Ever the Queen's Guard were all but replaced by Ser Gregor. And so the Red Keep echoed with an emptiness unknown to her, so unlike the days of Robert's reign when each full moon brought with it another reason to feast. Cersei Lannister, Queen of Winter. She smirked into her goblet of wine and drank deeply. The warmth of it filled her chest, seeping downward toward her belly as the child growing inside her twitched. Her mind raced with thoughts of Robert, Rhaegar and the Stark bastard. She crumpled the parchment in her hand. The sound echoing across the empty walls as she fed it into the brazier beside her. Rhaegar's son, a godswood wedding, Aegon Targaryen. It couldn't be. And yet, she did not think to question the validity of the ink. What went unsaid in the letter, yet screamed louder than all of it was the name Eddard Stark. It reeked of his work. His honor usurped to save the wolf bitch's son from Robert's wrath. Dragon spawn, he called the Targaryens. Cersei laughed to herself, and took another sip of wine.

It was not long after her father told of her betrothal to Rhaegar that she took those whimpering fools to see Maggie where the word valquar wrapped itself around her neck. Rhaegar, the thought. Even after Aerys jilted father and wed Rhaegar to the Martell princess, Tywin still took Cersei to court to parade her around like a prized mare. She remembered the day she unpacked her chest full of court gowns. She had donned the emerald one to match her eyes. Her golden curls laden with gold netting and rouge delicately patted atop her cheeks. Her gown was cut low, and her budding breasts craned every neck in court. She was the Realm's Delight- Princess Rhaenyra- come again. But Rhaegar merely paid her his courtesies and glided past her, his new wife in tow, scarcely noticing her. Even now she seethed with jealousy. Elia Martell was no woman worthy of Rhaegar Targaryen, she thought. Lord Tywin had hoped to match her with Prince Viserys even, in spite of Aerys' hatred of the Lord of Casterly Rock. It was folly. Cersei would never be a Targaryen Queen.

And now the boy swam forward in her mind's eye. First in Winterfell, the sullen black-haired bastard that looked more Stark than the true-born children. Then in the dragon-pit cloaked in furs, his honor clashing with reason. Truly Ned's bastard, she laughed. And yet… Married to his aunt. A Targaryen, indeed. Her thoughts raced. The opposition now had two dragon-riders if this letter were to be true. They could turn the Red Keep to rubble and on top of her charred bones build a new dynasty.

The great oaken doors opposite her swung inward, atop his horse, Euron Crowseye entered the throne room. His blue mouth carved into a permanent smirk.

"What is it?" Cersei snapped.

"Your King bids you a gift," he smiled. The golden Kraken on his doublet shimmered in the fire glow.

"You are not my king," Cersei glared.

"Soon enough." Euron swung from his horse and beckoned a household member for wine. Cersei eyed the object in his free hand.

"Is that your gift?" She asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. "A war horn?" She drank from her goblet once more. As Euron approached the dais she could see that it wasn't just a war horn. It was large, much larger than one she'd ever seen. It was twisted and black- terrible to behold- with golden bands wrapped around it. On them, glyphs she could not recognize.

"This is no war horn," Euron laughed. "This is dragonbinder from the smoking ruins of Valyria." Cersei sat up.

"Dragon binding." She felt the words on her tongue, heavy and magical.

"Any dragon who hears the blast of this horn will bend to the will of a new master. Me." Cersei scoffed.

"That horn couldn't call the hounds in from a hunt," she sneered.

"Well, my lady, if this gift doesn't please you, let me offer you another." Cersei eyed him intently and nodded. Euron put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. Three men, their hair black and matted drug a bound and gagged man across the floor of the throne room. His eyes were swollen where gashes dug their way across his cheeks. His tunic was bloodied and soiled. The man was alive, but barely.

"Leave him," Euron growled. The men bowed and turned quickly to leave.

"Who is this foul creature and what need would I possibly have of him?"

"This," Euron placed a foot atop the man's shoulder. The man winced in pain but made no noise. "Is Ser Jorah Mormont." Euron paused. "Advisor to Queen Dae-"

"I know who he is, you fool," the Queen spat. She looked at the bruised man at the foot of the dais. Oh yes, she knew him well. Robert had been quick to make use of his desire to return to Westeros after his banishment. If only he hadn't succumbed to the Dragon Queen.

"He was carrying this when we intercepted his ship," Euron stepped up the dais carefully and leaned forward, arm outstretched and clasped within his hand a scroll bound in leather. Cersei snatched it, carefully unlaced the string and began to read. These Stark men and their papers, she thought bitterly.

"Ned Stark tried to hide behind paper," she said. She removed the parchment from the leather, examining it carefully. "Do you really think the Golden Company would betray me for a piece of paper? Annulment," she sneered. "Rhaegar was no less a fool than his son it seems." And with that she fed the Septon's entry into the brazier. Ser Jorah roused, bringing himself to rest on his knees. His hands bound at the wrists and at rest in his lap. "Remove his gag," Cersei commanded. Euron complied.

"The Golden Company needs no paper to betray you," he said grittily.

"Speak plainly, my lord. Or perhaps some time in the black cells will help you remember your courtesies."

"The Golden Company needs no paper to betray you, You Grace, " the final words dripping with contempt. "Before we were intercepted by the Iron Fleet, we intercepted a cog off the coast of Tarth," he coughed and blood spittle littered his chin. He wiped his chin on his shoulder. "Golden Company Men, the tail of a fleet. Supplies and wenches mainly." He coughed again. More blood.

"Where was the rest of the fleet?" Cersei inquired. Her rage grew with every passing second. She glanced to Euron who stood with a self-satisfying smirk.

"Shipbreaker bay. Griffin's Roost." Cersei stood.

"It doesn't matter to me whether the Golden Company fights for the dragon-bitch," she spat. "We have the Iron Fleet. We have-"

"They don't fight for Daenerys," Ser Jorah labored over the words. "There is another. An imposter. Aegon they call him. Son of Rhaegar and Elia." Cersei could not quell the laughter which erupted from inside her. Another enemy for Daenerys and her Northern King to fight with.

"And Dorne?" She turned to Euron. "Where is Qyburn?"

"I will fetch him, my lady," her handmaid curtsied and turned.

"Don't you see, my Queen?" Euron said at last. "Aegon is the false dragon. He will strike at us, but he is nothing more than a mummer's farce. Our city walls are strong and the Dornish will never bestir themselves from their mountain holdfasts. The Storm lords are loyal to the crown. Doran Martell is dead. Ellaria is dead. His mewling son Quentyn now rules. The Reach is in chaos. Daenerys and her little king will walk into a storm."

"He is no little king, you idiot," Cersei spat. "He is the heir to the Iron Throne and if the tales are true, a dragon rider. This is folly. Targaryens mean to haunt me like they never haunted Robert."

"Then we ensnare the Mummer's Dragon. Give him the dragon binder, let him believe the lies. He will blow the horn and with his blood we will bind the beasts to us. We will be masters of earth and sky." Euron took a step up the dais closer to Cersei.

"Blood magic," Cersei whispered, thinking of Maggie the Frog.

"You," Cersei snapped at Ser Jorah. "You were where when the Targaryen Queen birthed her dragons were you not?" He nodded in reply. "What did she do? Was it blood magic?" He nodded once more.

"A maegi," he croaked. "A woman of the Lazareen. She tried to save the Khal."

"And the blood price?"

"A treachery. The queen was deceived."

"The blood price, you imbecile. What was it?" Cersei demanded.

"Her son. Her unborn son." Cersei looked to Euron and smiled. It might be enough. She tried to imagine herself master of a dragon. When she was a little girl she once drew a picture of herself and Rhaegar atop Balerion. Jaime found it, but she was too embarrassed to admit it. Jaehaerys and Alysanne, she lied to him. Her thoughts turned to the unborn babe growing inside of her. Perhaps the magic would extend to him as well. A new dynasty to last a thousand years. She stepped down the dais toward Euron, bringing her face close to his. Close enough to smell the shade of the morning on his breath. It was sweet and sour. She kissed him.

"Do it," she whispered. "Send an envoy to the mummer's dragon. Whoever he is makes to matter to me. Gift him the horn. When the time comes, we will watch them dance."