I find myself relying on my escort to get acquainted with my surroundings. I have no idea how this keep is structured, and I need them to navigate properly.
"Would you please escort me to the Queen, ser?", I request it from my armored taxi.
He nods. "Follow me.", he says, and we make our way to Cersei through the pale red halls.
On our way, we encounter a young Robert Baratheon that lost weight.
"Good day, nephew", asked Robert's fit clone, "Slept well?"
"Well enough, uncle", I answer, trying to remember if Tyrion was actually a Baratheon in the books.
"Glad to hear", he smiles, before continuing, "Had your lessons, I see? With how Robert described your injury, you should be glad you're not back at learning proper speech again!" he laughs. The man I now remember is Renly Baratheon seems to be enjoying his joke. A lot. He looked gayer in the show.
"Well…" I begin, a smile forming on my lips, "Joffrey will need much more than a brick wall to make me dumber than him, uncle".
Renly laughed in surprise. After calming his laughter, he responded: "That plan seems to have backfired on him, my witty nephew." I smiled at that. If that was his plan, it was a critical failure considering it summoned me.
"Take care, prince Tommen." Renly parted with us after a pause, a smirk still clinging to his expression. The man has a slightly irritating presence. Perhaps knowing how fast he switched sides in the story, combined with the condescending joke he presented me upon our first meeting, is enough to leave a bad taste of the smug cunt. I'll think of him later, for now, I continue towards the Queen.
Arriving at the door, the knight informs her of my presence and that I wish to speak with her. I am beckoned inside where I find her sipping on some wine while writing letters. Her default annoyed look melting in my presence.
"Hello, little cub.", she greets. I like warm smiling Cersei, but it will take some getting used to. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"
I could just go straight to the point, ask what I want and save on time, but there is a smoother option.
"Mother!" I say, mimicking an excited child coming home from school, "I just came back from my lessons, I did very good in arithmetic!"
"That's great, sweetling!", she goes in for a hug, "But I hear your Valyrian is lacking." An exaggerated pouting Cersei looks at me as she says it, as if to commiserate with my bilingual blues.
"Yes, but…", I struggle to think up of a response for a while, before I realize I was holding the perfect one, "But I got this book, so I can make up for it!". Cersei beamed, I'm doing well so far.
"What a smart prince you are. One day you'll make the maesters envy you", I smile at that, she doesn't know the half of it.
Now, it's time to see if I can reap what I've sown.
"Mother…" I begin, nervously, "I want to start training with a sword."
She looks at me, her smile slowly withering. "Do you? Is this because of what happened?", she asks.
It's a good reason, but I doubt she wants to see her two sons in a duel to the death, nor does she want her to be the one who sows the seeds for something like that. Fear not, new mother, I won't cut him up… yet.
"No, no!", I responded, "I don't want to attack Joff with a sword or anything, but I need to learn if I wanna become a knight!"
She thinks of her next answer, obviously she doesn't want her baby boy playing with swords. "You would have to find someone to squire for, then. Perhaps even start off as a page."
"What is a page?" I genuinely haven't heard of pages before, is that even worse than a squire?
"A page, my cub, is what very young boys like you, who want to be knights, start off as. You will have to do errands for your lord of choice, while he teaches you how to fight. You also might have to be a page for some faraway lord, and leave King's Landing. Leave your kittens. Leave your family...", Cersei explains, adding that perfect little guilt trip at the end. Yep, it's worse than a squire, and it's a pile of crap that I'm not buying.
"I don't think a prince should do errands just to learn to fight", I voice out my opinions. It is absurd to think that someone like Rhaegar would be subjected to that, and not skip to the good parts.
"Exactly, that's why you should focus on your High Valyrian instead, and leave the knighting to other lesser lords. You are a thinker and a ruler." Nice retort, but you aren't getting me that easily, woman.
"I'm not a ruler yet, though.", I begin, "I'm a prince, and as a prince I should learn how to fight, even if no knighthood comes of it. If a man is either a fighter or a thinker, we will only have dumb fighters and cowardly thinkers", I paraphrase an overused quote that finally found it's time to shine. Cersei seems stunned by it.
"Very well, sweetie,", no trace of her previous smile as she says that, but no trademark Lannister annoyance either, "I will see what I can do."
Just to make sure she actually sees what she can do, I will give her something to start with.
"Do I get to choose a teacher?", I ask.
"Who have you got in mind?", Cersei asks in turn.
Not that many come to mind, so I start off with the first candidate: "Uncle Jaime?" I should've said that as a statement, rather than a question. It would sound more convincing.
"Your uncle Jaime is in the kingsguard. He is busy protecting your father, the king, sweetie.", she disqualifies my real daddy. Who else… Oh!
"The king, then."
"The king should start off by being a squire again, before he's ready to teach you anything", Cersei is probably thinking to herself, according to her frown at the mere mention of Robert.
After a while, she answers "The king… uses larger weapons like his warhammer, which aren't suited for young boys, and is also… busy…", she knows she's lying with that last one, but she also knows I can't argue with that, "...with governing the realm. He cannot be your tutor either." No dice with daddy number two, either.
Jesus Christ, I really don't know anyone else except Selmy, who has the same excuse as Jaime; or Oberyn, who'd rather kill me than teach me. My gaze shifts away from my mother and towards the fruit bowl in front of her, as I try and think of someone else. Those oranges sure look fresh...
"I will see who will be an adequate teacher for you. Now, go play with Myrcella and enjoy your afternoon. I'll see you at dinnertime." she wraps up our conversation with that statement and a curt smile. I bid her a farewell.
While she decides who will be my fencing coach, I will not be sitting idle. Before I can even hope to be a master of swords, I must get into shape as much as I can, if I want to survive. I might not make myself into the Mountain when I haven't even reached puberty, but I can certainly get rid of the baby-fat that Tommen has still held on to. I get into my bed chambers after a long day of acclimating to King's Landing, and drop into the prone position.
"One…", I struggle to say, as I make Tommen's body do it's first ever push-up.