(King's Landing: 10/11/298) Cersei VII
'Squawk! Squawk!'
'Those damned birds,' she hissed, watching as the gulls hovered near the beach. From atop the pier she observed those beneath her, the clear blue water churned and roiled, and a trail of black smoke rose just over the horizon.
Dock workers ran to and fro, in haste, sharing in their paymasters' needs for efficiency and timeliness. "Get those chains up! Lord Stannis and the Fire Lord wanted everything ready, yesterday! "She heard a short Yi-Tish man shout, ordering some of those below. Most of the workers shared the man's complexion and look, which Cersei had long suspected was due to the woman having brought them over from Dragonstone.
'Hmph! Fire Lord,' Cersei snorted, lifting her nose at the presumptuous title. 'Bitch must believe all the rot those red vermin spew.' Even now, as the dock workers scuttled around readying crates marked 'tea leaves,' and other assorted trappings, she couldn't help but wonder if they even knew their lives would soon change.
"Clear the docks of clutter, I want all outgoing cargo bound and ready! Heave!" another Yi-Tish man, larger than the first, shouted to several men near the wooden boxes. The men saluted and set about following their commands.
Normally, Cersei would have been pleased to hear the woman was leaving her sight, but this time her mind turned to worry. Speculation on what the whore and the mongrel would discover on Dragonstone had occupied her mind as of late. She had known that two of the King's bastards had survived her purge in the capital, due to having been taken to that dreary place. 'Under the command of that damned woman, no less!' However, she did not know if that had been the intention, for the woman had been noted for having taken others from all walks of life, her spies in the capital had told her as much, and it was possible that the connection was merely coincidental. 'Even so,' she thought, 'it would be unwise to leave it at that…'
"Ha! Ha! Ned, when the both of you come back, we'll get that fucking squid. For Lyanna! And that Targaryen girl too! Then maybe I can finally get someone I can trust on the council, other than you lot!" that booming voice was hard to forget, try as she might. Down there, past the shouting workers, Cersei spied her pig of a husband, and his meddlesome brothers, loitering about the 'cement' docks and guarded by Sers Barristan and Mandon.
'Look at him,' she glared at Robert, 'nestled amongst that pack of wolves and the she-bitch.' The young-wolf, Bran, looked to be play sparing with the Greyjoy boy, while Robert, Renly, Steffon, and Azula joked and laughed amongst themselves. Stannis and Lord Stark, however, did not seem to share in their enthusiasm, and simply refrained from laughing or, in the case of Stannis, even smiling. At the woman's back stood nearly one-hundred of her black-plated Flameguard, while a familiar woman in crimson robes stood to her left.
'Stork. There you are,' Cersei's gaze remained fixed on her spy long enough for the grey woman to spot her. 'You'd best remain silent, woman, or that bitch won't be able to protect you…' her eyes burned into the whore's household servant, and despite the distance between them, she felt the woman shudder in fear.
Finally turning away from the woman, she spied a large man sporting a mane of pure white hair, with skin black as coal, lingering at Azula's right side. Cersei noted the strange fire markings coiled around his cheeks and most of his face. 'Another accursed priest…' she frowned, analyzing the dark-skinned man, before spotting Thoros of Myr. The thin bearded man with the shiny bald head was clad Dragonstone-plate, like the others, and was the priest that came before even her husband had taken the crown. She knew Thoros had attempted to convert the Mad King, but in end had given into wine and women. That was until the bitch came to make her home on Dragonstone. Now, he rarely left Stannis' side, and not once did he ever wag his tongue for gold.
"And where are you from, large man?" she heard the Prince of Dorne question, in an attempt to engage the hulking red priest in conversation.
"Volantis," a throaty voice replied, the tone lacking any obvious interest in frivolous banter.
"Hmmm, Volantis," Oberyn nodded, his black viper eyes seemingly recalling an earlier memory. His glossy black hair shimmered in the morning sun. "One of my daughters was born there, Nymeria Sand. A beautiful girl of five and twenty, slim and slender as a willow."
She turned from the one-sided conversation and watched the group of sixteen Goldcloaks, who were hugging the walls of the pier below. Half bore plate armour of Dragonstone make, and stood closest to the King, while the others were spread evenly on either side, bearing simple chainmail, and armed with iron cudgels. The new Commander of the City Watch, and Ser Jacelyn Bywater stood at the forefront, their keen eyes observing all movement on the docks. Not one to be outdone, Cersei herself was surrounded by guardians of her own. Twenty red cloaks and two of the Kingsguard, Sers Meryn and Boros, both of them hers, kept a vigilant watch over her and her eldest son, who stood beside her, silent as the grave.
"You flatter me with the opportunity, your grace," Azula bowed. "Truly, your largess knows no bounds!"
"Haha! But that is where you have it wrong goodsister! My largess does have bounds!" Robert clasped at his belt and ran his thumbs along the inside of the studded leather strap. "When this belt no longer fits, my bounds would have been met!"
"No, your grace, you are as fit as a man half your age!" the woman obviously lied, and even from this distance that venomous voice infuriated her. Somehow proving to be just as loud and obnoxious as Robert's own in its vapid reply.
'Its almost as if she's doing it on purpose, to annoy me,' Cersei briefly considered.
"Nonsense!" Robert unleashed a hearty laugh, then stood by Ser Steffon, and placed his fat hand over the young knight's shoulder. "This is what a man, half my age is like! Seven-hells, he is me when I was half my bloody age!"
"Hmph," Joffrey snorted, finally breaking his silence, and sharing her thoughts.
"As you say, your grace," Azula smiled. "I will strive to bring you the Targaryen girl and the Crow's Eye, alive, and I'm sure 'the Pirate's Bane' would be more than eager to assist me in such a task?" the bitch spared a glance to Theon Greyjoy, who stopped sparring with the Stark boy, at the mention of his nickname, and brought his fist to his chest.
"I will bring my treacherous uncle, to face the King's justice. Your justice. This I swear, on my honour as a knight of the seven-kingdoms!" the young man promised, bowing his head.
"Good man! Good knight!" Robert slapped the knight's right arm.
"Indeed," the Red Viper replied, finally having given up in his attempts to speak to the large man with pitch black skin. "How many ships were you responsible for sinking at the Stepstones, again? Eleven?"
"Yes, Prince Oberyn," Greyjoy nodded, a stupid grin lining his youthful face. "I took command of 'the Cassana,' after my captain had been struck dead by a Lyseni arrow, and kept pirates from fleeing Bloodstone. I saw Lord Stannis fighting along the beaches, putting all the Pirate towns to the torch."
"An impressive number, especially for one so young," Oberyn replied, "and where was the lovely Lady of Dragonstone at this time?"
"Ha! Ha! Flatterer," the bitch tittered, covering her mouth like some highborn slut before her voice turned plain. "I was securing Grey Gallows, Prince Oberyn. So many rats in their nests, nestled deep within that horrid island. They needed proper 'encouragement' to reveal themselves."
"Hmmm, what of the beaches?" Oberyn asked, leaning in, seemingly enthralled with the conversation. The others had grown quiet as well, listening intently.
"I coordinated with troops along the beach, while Lieutenant Chi-Ha purged the rickety wooden docks clean of pirates. She even managed to set several anchored ships aflame," Azula continued.
"Ohhh, sounds like a fascinating woman," he lingered on his words, while Robert and Stark seemed to share knowing looks with one another.
"She is a highly competent commander and skilled soldier, though not much of a conversationalist," Stannis' wife agreed. "You will meet her soon, Prince Oberyn, she will be arriving with several others to replace the Flameguard that I will be taking from the city."
"In any case, you have our thanks, Lord Stannis, Ser Theon, my Lady," the Prince of Dorne replied, nodding his head. "Those pirates had been thorns in my brother's side, in Dorne's side, for some time. The narrow sea seems to grow safer every passing year," the man added.
"Such is the purpose of the Royal fleet," Robert's grim brother supplied, his frown having never left his face.
She smelled that old smell creep upon her, confirming the doddering old fool, Pycelle, had arrived at her side. He drew closer and whispered in her ear, "The Stark household now resides within the manor."
She pulled away, discomforted by the old man's proximity, and noticed the eunuch approaching, to her genuine surprise. 'No Baelish, however,' she noted the man's conspicuous absence. 'Where is that little man?' She seethed, recently having grown to utterly despise Littlefinger more than she normally did. 'I am very eager to break words with him.' When Pycelle had brought her news of the snivelling traitor's words, during the council meeting two days past, she had been livid, and not yet fully recovered from the revelation that Robert had allowed Eddard Stark to send his household away from the tower of the hand, and away from her purview. 'Away from her family's sworn swords. Bah!' she bit her finger, deliberating on what to do, now that the Stark girl was out of her reach. 'A useful hostage, should Stark discover something…' Deep in thought, she barely noticed the black flaky substance that fluttered about, circling around them. One errant piece of ash passed down, in-between her eyes, and drew her attention, as it landed softly on her nose. She grasped at her face and peeled off the black flake, then looked up to see others of its number drifting along the wind like little black feathers.
"Godwyn!" she called upon her nearby Lannister guard, flicking off the piece of ash from her finger. The Lannister guard knew what her command had meant even though she hadn't specified, and quickly moved to unsheathe the wooden contraption from his back. 'A parasol,' they called it, another invention from Dragonstone, and yet another reason why Cersei hated that place.
Joffrey swiftly followed suit and issued orders of his own. "Ser Boros!" her golden lion commanded. Blount clicked opened a parasol above Joffrey's head, just as Godwyn had opened one above hers. The wooden objects helped to shield them both from the dirty, black, ash.
Down on the docks, all of the Dragonstone household and guards pulled out parasols of their own, obscuring everyone from view, though she could still hear Robert's unmistakable voice blasting out from underneath the papery canopies. "I still forget how bloody massive those things are!" Robert shouted over the rising din of the oncoming ship.
The floating bulk of steel had grown closer now, its dark features now readily identified. A deep grey hull led into a sharp three-pointed prow of black steel with a golden-trim, while a large palace-like structure rested within the middle of the thing and radiated a certain 'presence' that even Cersei could feel descending over her. The carracks that had occupied the bay had made way for the monstrosity. Several had hailed from the free-cities, Volantis sails chief amongst the ones seen, as well as three from Pentos, and one Swan ship from the Summer Islands. A bevvy of smaller trading cogs from the free-cities and beyond were docked along the far side of the pier, a safe distance away from 'the Ozai.'
'BOOOOOOOOM!' a horn sounded and the spout of smoke emanating from the twin cylinders, behind the small palace, gradually decreased. The blackest of clouds remained behind, hovering over them, reminding her of the Stranger.
'Of all things…' the unease crept into her mind.
"Seven-hells, and how loud they were!" the crowned swine bellowed down below, destroying the dark feeling, and replacing it with annoyance once more.
The ship had yet to enter the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, and instead cautiously skirted at its edges like some great beast, positioning itself to dock with the concrete platform. Somehow, despite its massive size, the thing managed to not beach itself along the outcropping of sand and small pebbles.
'PFFTT! HISSS!' the tall grey cylinders released irregular puffs of black smoke, while white-hot steam shot out from the 'tubes' and 'vents' near the base of the towering steel spouts. The ship groaned, its strange steel insides unleashing metallic gnashing noises as it slowly moved into place.
Atop the deck of the massive transport, she could make out twenty man-sized tubes of steel with golden stag embellishment, pointing outwards, and lining the edges of the vessel. At the ship's center, stood the one-hundred perfectly still forms of Stannis' household replacement guard. Unlike the plated Flameguard, whom the woman was departing with, these individuals bore uniforms similar to the ones their liege-whore would wear, and they all bore their infamous bone-white faceplates, barring one, whom Cersei could not see clearly yet. She heard a groan come from the ship as it ceased its movements, already having positioned itself correctly. Several of those on deck lifted a thick wooden platform and lowered it to meet the dock below.
'CLONK!' it landed, forming a small bridge three horses across, and six horses long.
"Finally!" Robert thundered. "I have yet to break my fast, and was told such would be awaiting me on 'the Ozai.'"
"Indeed, your grace! Dishes from my homeland!" the woman replied eagerly, turning to face the oncoming group of the one-hundred replacements. Robert moved out from the cover of the parasols, while the others took positions behind.
Walking shoulder to shoulder, the collection of Yi-Tish rabble was split into two groups, and the figure she had seen bearing an open-faced helmet became clear. A single Yi-Tish woman with a scar running down her face, came up the middle, heading the newest assembly of Dragonstone filth. Even clad in her strange armour, Cersei could tell that hard muscle flexed underneath the black, gold-trimmed, uniform. The woman's helm was black with a golden flame-like embellishment circling either side of the woman's open helm and tapering off slightly past the top. Once the group had reached the mouth of the dock, where it opened up to the rest of the pier, the scarred woman stepped forward and stopped, facing Robert and the rest. Those following behind her split and formed up along the edges of the pier, facing their City Watch counterparts, hands at their backs.
"Your grace," the woman knelt.
After a moment, she saw Robert lower his hand and gesture for the woman to rise. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person, 'lieutenant,'" Robert stuttered at the term, watching as the woman rose stiffly from her kneeling position. "Did I say the word correctly?"
"Yes, your grace," the woman affirmed and nodded her head once. She stood with her feet shoulder length apart and hands at her back, like the others.
"Come, now!" Robert stated, clasping at Yi-Tish woman's broad shoulders. "You needn't kneel," Azula's newest guard seemed to stiffen at the sudden contact, before looking over to where the bitch of Dragonstone had been standing, and softening her stance. "You are a warrior and a disciplined one at that! I've heard of your accomplishments during the rebellion and the campaign on the Stepstones. You should be celebrated, as should the others who followed you bravely into battle. You do not follow the seven and cannot be anointed as a knight. Regardless, you, and those who fought to defend my kingdom, stand as knights of the highest order, in my mind."
"It is an honour, your grace," she bowed respectively once more, a slight smile formed on her scarred face, though her eyes spoke of a different feeling.
Robert looked back, releasing the woman, and waving forward. "Well, goodsister, if you would kindly lead the way. It is your ship, and I'm starving."
"With pleasure, my king," that annoying voice slithered out from the beneath the forest of parasols. "Will you be joining us, husband?"
"In a moment," Stannis' iron voice answered. "I will oversee the loading of cargo, until its completion."
"Very well," his whore replied, before casting one last look and marching forward with Robert, Sers Barristan and Mandon, Stark, Renly, the large dark-skinned priest, Oberyn and his paramour, Theon, Steffon, the young Bran, Stork, and her household guard in tow.
'What a quaint little procession of parasols,' Cersei cast a small frown, as she heard Joffrey move, and head back to the keep. Pycelle shuffled away quickly thereafter, leaving her, Trant, a handful of Lannister guard, and the eunuch behind. 'If only a wave would come and wash them all away,' she grinned at the thought, unconcerned with the fact that she would lose her spy in the process. 'All of my enemies dead, in one fell swoop, save Stannis,' she looked to Robert's second brother, as he shouted orders to the dock workers, and glowered.
"Your grace," Varys muttered in her ear. "I have heard whispers from my little birds. Whispers that may interest you."
She turned to the Spider, then back to the docks, before turning heel and walking away. "At this point, I have no choice but to find it interesting, eunuch."
'Squawk! Squawk!'
The gulls continued their annoying calls overhead as they walked down the crooked cobblestone path, pigeons 'cooed' along the battlements and roof of the guard house to her left. Sers Meryn and Boros stepped forward and pressed the doors of the Red Keep open, allowing her and Varys to pass before following them through. Her slippers felt the smooth marble beneath her heels, and she silently rejoiced, finally free from the loose cobblestone that had dug into her heels on their trek back to the keep.
"I trust you are silent for a reason, and not out of some misguided attempt at keeping me in suspense? Go on, out with it!" she scolded. Cersei Lannister had other things to worry about, and the quicker she could be away from the Spider and allowed time to gather her bearings for the final push, the better. She had nought the time, nor the inclination to play games with the Master of Whisperers. "There are no prying eyes nor ears lurking about. The Red Keep is mine, you know this. You promised me something worthwhile and have uttered nothing since we left the docks."
"Of course, your grace," the man bowed his head, his fat hands hidden beneath voluminous robes. "I believe the first thing of interest, that you should be made aware of, are the whereabouts of Lord Baelish."
"Oh? And where is that mockingbird?" her voice carried somewhat in the nearly deserted keep. Several guards milled about, holding conversations of their own, while a myriad of servants went about tidying up furniture and replacing candles. She knew them all, and they were all hers, no one would talk about what they might hear coming from her lips.
"I believe he was last seen entering the establishment of one, Xai Bau," the spider replied, a knowing look lingered in his eyes as he looked to her.
"'The Opal Dragon?' What of it? Why should I be concerned with the tea shop of some stinking Yi-Tishman?" she questioned, knowing full well that the bitch had never shown much interest in the tea shop other than providing the coin to have it built. "Not once, in the six years that it has stood, has the woman entered that cesspool."
"So it would seem, your grace," Varys replied in a leading tone.
She stopped in her tracks, listening as the last of their footsteps finished echoing out, disappearing somewhere down the halls of the keep. "I've no time for riddles or tricks," Cersei faced the Master of Whisperers and poked a finger into his flabby chest, staring him down. "Speak plainly, Varys," she let the unspoken threat linger in the air, forgetting about Baelish entirely, and focusing on the eunuch's shadowed words.
"As you wish, your grace," the eunuch nodded, his double chin forming quickly, before vanishing entirely with the rise of his head. "What do you know of glamours?"
"Glamours? Is that some sort of Essosi mummery?" she snorted.
"Of a sort, my queen," Varys' twin amethysts bore a starling resolve, a resolve she had seen countless times chiselled into her father's own eyes. "A form of red priest…trickery, for lack of a better word. It allows one to take on the guise of another, similar to the Faceless Men of Braavos."
She felt a chill run down her spine. "Go on."
"Ever since the woman came to the capital, in the months prior to the death of the former hand, I have watched her every move. How she walks, how she eats, who she speaks to," his voice had grown low, not at all like the mirthful, mysterious tone he would display with others. She remained silent, motioning for him to continue. "She arrived with an ordinary looking woman as her personal attendant," Varys looked to her because he knew she was aware of who this 'attendant' was.
"Stork," she muttered.
"Indeed. At first, I held the woman in low regard, only bearing the slightest of interests, and had instead chosen to focus my efforts on the Lady of Dragonstone," he continued. "After some months, I began to notice certain peculiarities with the Lady of Dragonstone. A minor change in gait here and there, a softer voice at every other gathering, a confusing pattern of places visited and items purchased. It seemed strange that she would do such things until I decided to shift my attentions to the Stork woman."
"What did you discover?" she felt her anger rising. 'If this lurid tale is true, I will make both of those traitorous women pay, dearly. How much of Stork's…or the bitch's words did I devour? Oh yes, they will pay!'
"She displayed similar tendencies to one of noble birth, while at the same time her 'Lady' displayed some of the more baffling propensities I stated earlier. Naturally, I grew curious and followed Stork. I learned of her past as a mummer, and saw, to my great interest, that she had quite the habit of fading away into the shadows. On many occasions, I might add. Somehow she managed to escape my little birds every now and then, but not always," the Spider grinned a terrible grin. "Then it came to me one night. A startling revelation. One that I had been a fool to not have uncovered sooner, and nought but seven days ago had decided to test."
Cersei understood the meaning of his words, even though they had sounded like utter madness. "Oh?"
"I encountered the 'Lady Azula' within the markets down near the Hook," Varys persisted in his troubling account. "Apparently shopping with her son, if you could believe it. They had made seemingly spontaneous purchases. Nothing of note, as far as I could tell."
"It was a distraction," she hissed, remembering the reports her spies had brought her on Azula's movements. 'I was fucking talking with that bloody Stor…the gods' damned whore that day!' Cersei clenched her hands tightly, nearly breaking the skin of her palms. 'I could have gutted you!'
"My thoughts, exactly," Varys agreed. "The endeavour had been a risk, most certainly," Varys droned on to nearly deaf ears, as her rage slowly simmered. "Considering the woman's 'reputation,' but it had borne the ripest of fruit. I exchanged words with the Lady of Dragonstone and found her wanting. She was not the Lady of Dragonstone."
"Bah!" she scoffed, turning to face the bald eunuch. "Assuming this is true, and you'd best hope it is, or I will have you killed for misleading me, what am I to do with this information now? The Stork woman and the bitch are both soon to be safely back on Dragonstone. They are, at the moment, beyond my reach," she glared at him. "And yours too apparently, since you have yet to give me any meaningful words on what has been transpiring on Dragonstone ever since my husband gave Stannis those damned rocks. Unless, of course, you are hiding something from me?"
"I would never, your grace," he bowed. "The woman's net is large, and it covers her holdings quite tightly."
"Of course, you wouldn't," she raised a brow. "Can't your little birds find their way through?" Cersei questioned.
"They have tried," he answered simply, the unspoken words of 'and died' lingered in the space between them.
"What then? You want us to cook up some wild allegations to bring the woman down upon her return?" she almost laughed at the sheer lunacy of it all.
"Nothing so dramatic, your grace," the Spider advised.
"If you have an idea that rids us of her, see it done. You have my blessing. Gods know I would love to see her in chains, but I personally have no time to waste helping you devise an elaborate scheme to rid ourselves of her. I have other concerns, Lord Varys. Concerns that require my full attention. At the moment, Azula is not worth the effort. Though she has more than earned enough of my ire to warrant action against her." Cersei narrowed her eyes and practically burned a hole through Varys' face. "However, I will deal with her and the Stork woman's duplicity once time permits," she lingered on her words, catching herself before she could utter her remaining thoughts aloud. 'I need the Baratheon brothers out of the way first. Before Stark returns…'
"I will do what I can to serve the realm, your grace," the eunuch smiled, and presented a slight bow, his fat hands still hidden beneath orange robes.
