The glaring, empty space in the chair at Cersei's right only sharpened the dull ache that had found a home in her chest. Her eyes drifted to the open window at the far side of her private dining room that overlooked Blackwater Bay. How far is Myrcella from me now? Too far was the only correct answer. It felt as though it'd been years since she'd said her farewells instead of a mere two weeks. The ache sharpened further into anger, and her eyes slid from the window to Tyrion, who sat across from her.
What right did he have to send her daughter away? Her only daughter, and to Dorne, of all places? The Dornish hated their family. Didn't Tyrion know that? Myrcella would die there, and it'd be his fault. Perhaps then her father and Jaime and all the rest of them would see Tyrion for what he truly was.
Joffrey's voice brought Cersei's attention back to the dinner in front of her. "Do you really think Alysanne will try to take Casterly Rock? I didn't take her for that much of a fool."
Tyrion glanced at Joffrey, who sat to his left. To Cersei's right sat Tommen, who busied himself with the plate in front of him. Before them all sat an assortment of fresh breads and cheeses, roasted lamb and fresh fish, stews and sausages and more wines than Cersei cared to count. None of it mattered, really. Tyrion's presence and Myrcella's absence soured all of it. Cersei would much rather have excluded Tyrion altogether. Why should he join them when Myrcella couldn't? But a desire to keep him within her sights overshadowed her distaste for his presence.
"She won't make it very far, I'm afraid. The Golden Tooth and Ser Stafford stand in her way," Tyrion mused.
A sharp laugh from Joffrey jolted Tommen. "Don't sound so sad, Uncle. She's a traitor. I want her brought to me after her army is defeated. Her and Ned Stark's bastard," Joffrey demanded, sounding pleased at the prospect.
Cersei's lips twitched in amusement at the reminder of just who Robb Stark had sent with Alysanne. His bastard brother, of all people. I wonder how long it'll take her to break her vows. Her niece had seemed awfully fond of the bastard when Cersei saw them in Winterfell.
"A shame she chose this path. She had much potential," Cersei hummed. A shame to waste so much potential on the North. She would have thrived under my hand. Especially given that Alysanne had inherited few of her mother's faults.
All would be as it should, if Robert had not sent her North. Alysanne should have been mine. Mine with Rhaegar. She would have been raised at court, not hidden away in the dreary North. I would have raised her to be strong. Strong and beautiful. Joffrey respected strength. There had been that unfortunate incident when she visited King's Landing as a child, but Joffrey had only been a child as well. If they were raised together, it would have been different. She would've been one of them, and Joffrey would have the queen he needed by his side. Not the cowering Stark girl Robert wanted.
Cersei could see it clear as day in her mind. A daughter with the best of herself and the best of Rhaegar, standing strong by the side of Joffrey. A dragon and a lion of the Rock. What a song that would have been.
Joffrey stabbed at the roasted lamb on his plate. "Ser Stafford and our men in the West will bring them to justice. But what of grandfather? He shouldn't have turned tail. He let Robb Stark slip away."
Tyrion sighed in exasperation. "As I told you earlier, nephew, Robb Stark's army is large. Even with the men he sent west. And he has your Uncle Jaime, if you haven't forgotten."
Cersei clenched her goblet. If Jaime had not taken so long to depart from King's Landing, they could have the upper hand by now. Instead, Robb Stark had captured her twin and chased off her father. Cersei would have never let that happen. The fools have humiliated our family. Their father had sent word for Jaime to lead men to the Riverlands from King's Landing not long after the war began. As is his duty as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. But the fool had tarried. If he had been there sooner, perhaps they could hold Riverrun.
The Jaime she knew would once have jumped at the chance to ride to war. That was all he ever talked about; the feeling of a sword in his hand, how it made his blood sing. Growing up at the Rock, he had dreamed of joining the Kingsguard and fighting in heroic battles. I've given him that, and more. But that was before Shaena, before his daughter.
Her brother had not said as much, but she knew why he delayed. Alysanne, the little traitor. Cersei had held out hope for her as long as she could. She gave up on her the moment word reached the small council that they had crowned her alongside the Stark boy. She had nearly ripped her own ears off, listening to Jaime worry after her. Coward. What she would have given to have seen the look on his face once the word of his daughter's betrayal reached his ears.
A part of Cersei had wanted to laugh when she heard. Jaime had not fought for her to stay in King's Landing all those years ago, as Cersei wished he had. Instead, he had let the girl slip through their fingers and allowed their father to give the Starks a valuable piece in the game. What use is a foothold in Winterfell now, father? Had they listened to her, Alysanne would be safe in King's Landing.
"And we have the Stark girl," Joffrey said with a mouth full of roasted lamb and a dismissive wave of his fork. "They'd never risk her neck." He swallowed the lamb roughly and washed it down with a sip of wine. "Speaking of the Stark girl, you went to see her this morning," Joffrey accused, pointing sharply at Tommen with his fork.
Cersei looked warily between her sons. For all the levity Joffrey spoke with, there was still an angry gleam in his eyes.
"I did," Tommen admitted. He straightened in his seat. "It's the courteous thing to do."
"I've told you, Tommen. You're Joffrey's brother. You can't be seen as favoring the Stark girl, so," Cersei chided. Had they not had this argument just moons ago? At least Joffrey understood the importance of separating himself from the Starks.
"Why not," Tommen pushed back. "Uncle Tyrion said Joffrey might still have to marry her. Why should we avoid her?"
Cersei glared at Tyrion accusingly. When had Tommen gone to see him? She cursed herself for not keeping a closer eye on Tommen. She'd been too worried over what Tyrion was up to and keeping him away from Joffrey. Perhaps that was how Tyrion managed to slip Myrcella from her grasp.
Joffrey's lips pulled back. "I won't marry her. She's a hostage, nothing more."
"You can't continue treating her as you have if you ever want peace with the North," Tommen argued. It was another echo of the very argument Cersei had heard Tyrion make countless times. Did he not understand how little importance men placed on girls? Cersei knew better than anyone.
"I don't want peace with those traitors," Joffrey lobbied back.
Cersei laid a gentle hand on Joffrey's shoulder, one which he shook off. She frowned and folded her hands in her lap, gathering herself before she spoke. "Joff doesn't have to marry Lady Sansa to foster peace." Cersei did her best to remain calm as she explained it to Tommen. "You might marry her, or there are other Lannister cousins."
"Even so, Joffrey shouldn't continue to beat her." Joffrey's eyes flashed, but for once Tommen did not back down. Cersei wished he would back down. "It's unseemly, and it will taint your reign."
"Why do you care so much?" Joffrey muttered. "Sympathetic to the Starks, are you?"
"Joffrey," Cersei warned. Did he not understand that words like that were dangerous? One could never be certain who was listening.
"He follows her around like a lost dog," Joffrey sneered. "Perhaps he is a traitor as well."
"I'm not a traitor!" Tommen shouted. Cersei flinched at his outburst. What had happened to her calm, quiet boy? Tyrion, she knew at that moment. She shot another glare in his direction, but he didn't notice.
"How do I know you haven't been plotting with the Stark girl? Maybe I should have the Kingsguard keep you locked in your rooms," Joffrey threatened.
Tommen blanched, and Cersei was quick to try to calm her sons. "Come now, Joffrey, your brother isn't a traitor." She had to believe Joffrey was only making an empty threat. Tommen was his brother, he would never hurt him. Still, she'd told Tommen before not to provoke Joffrey. He did not take insults lightly. He was proud, as he should be. Tommen should know better by now.
Joffrey's eyes burned a hole into Tommen, but both boys refused to break. "If you know what's good for you, you'll obey me and stay away from her," Joffrey said lowly.
Tommen's face flashed red before he shoved back his chair. He stalked from the room, letting the door slam behind him. Joffrey snickered into his cup as he took a sip of wine.
Tyrion heaved another heavy sigh. "Pardon me, for a moment," he said before following after Tommen.
Joffrey trailed Tyrion with hard eyes. As soon as the door closed once more, he set his goblet down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Will I have to marry the Stark girl?" Joffrey asked.
"Not if you don't want to," Cersei assured him.
He made a noncommittal sound and shoved his plate back. "I don't," he insisted. He lifted the cloth napkin from the table and wiped his hands before tossing it onto his plate. "I'm not very hungry anymore. Goodnight, mother." Cersei bid her own farewells and listened as his footsteps echoed through the now quiet room.
For the third time, the door clicked shut and Cersei rested her head in her hands. Just for a moment, she let herself feel weary. It was never supposed to be this way. If Aerys had any sense, he would have married Rhaegar to her instead of that insipid Dornish girl. She would have given him beautiful, golden-haired babes with purple eyes. Thrice the amount Elia had, and then he wouldn't have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. Had Rhaegar married her, this all could have been avoided. No rebellion, no Robert. The realm would still be whole. It never would have broken in the first place. Joffrey would be Rhaegars. A strong son for a strong king.
Truth be told, a part of Cersei had rejoiced when her belly began to swell and the Targaryen girls hadn't. Even if the child wasn't Rhaegar or Jaime's. All that mattered was he wasn't Robert's. Cersei had hoped it'd be enough to pull Jaime back to her side, where he belonged.
Jaime had always hated when she spoke of the children she would someday have with Rhaegar. She knew he would hate just as much, if not more, to have to watch as she grew large with what he thought was Robert's child. Jaime had hated Robert. So she bid her father to let Jaime remain with her at court. After all, should his heir not remain and ingratiate himself with the new king? Her father had been so pleased with her and the marriage she had made, with how quickly she got with child, that he could not refuse her. She was the queen, after all.
It was easy enough for her to pretend that Joffrey was Jaime's. He took after her more than his father, a true lion. Robert had been far too overjoyed at the birth of his heir to care, but Jaime had suspected. It did not matter to her that Joffrey wasn't Jaime's. As long as he is not Robert's.
It hadn't worked, though. Not long after her Joffrey's birth, Jaime got a child on Shaena. Cersei did her duty and offered guidance to her good-sister every step of the way. A show of good faith. She even insisted on Maester Pycelle assisting her when her time came. Another way I succeeded where Robert couldn't. Pycelle had not let her down then, and he would not let her down with the Stark girl, if it came to that.
Cersei's lip curled at the memories of Shaena. If it hadn't been for her, Joffrey would be Jaime's for true. But he had abandoned her then, just as he had when he married Shaena in the first place. Was she worth it, Jaime?
The door to the dining room creaked open and Cersei lifted her head. Tyrion slipped through the door and reclaimed his seat. He began picking at his meal, which Cersei did not doubt had long grown cold.
"Tommen is right. The boy should not humiliate Lady Sansa as he does," Tyrion said.
Cersei was not in any hurry to answer Tyrion. She exhaled slowly through her nose and studied her youngest brother for a moment. This is what my mother died for. An ugly little thing, hateful as well. "You should not call him boy," Cersei reprimanded. "Joffrey is your king."
"May the gods have mercy on us all," Tyrion droned, raising his goblet. Cersei clenched her jaw. He was baiting her, as he always did. But she would not rise to it, not this time. She was above him, after all.
Tyrion drained the remaining wine in his goblet before pouring himself another glass. "If you do not wish for me to call him a boy, perhaps you should put a leash on him. Keep him from acting as such."
Cersei dug her nails into the table. "What is it you wish for me to do?" She hissed. "He listens to me no more than he listens to you." Did Tyrion take her for a fool? She had counseled restraint, of course she had. She'd done her best to talk some sense into Joffrey after the first time he beat the Stark girl. But Joffrey had always been difficult, strong willed.
"Of course he doesn't listen to you. You lost control over him when he took Ned Stark's head." Tyrion leaned back in his chair as though they were merely discussing the weather. "That bit of theater will haunt our family for a generation."
She sneered. Not this again. The rabble had forgotten, why couldn't he? How many times had she told him she had no notion of Joffrey's intentions? Joffrey had promised her he would allow Ned Stark to take the black. He always did have a temper. It wasn't easy for him to forget the accusations Ned Stark levied against him. For all his faults, at least he is strong.
"I told you already. Ned Stark spewed vile lies and was an admitted traitor."
Tyrion hummed. "They were lies, were they?"
"Of course they were." He does not know. He cannot. Tyrion had always despised her. Surely if he knew the truth, he'd have used it to destroy her by now. Even Jaime didn't know Joffrey's true father. The echo of the woods' witch resounded through her mind. Cersei narrowed her eyes and looked down her nose at her brother. For all the months he'd been running ram shod around the keep, she had yet to puzzle out what his true intentions were. He has never once done anything for this family that did not benefit him. "Are you implying that you believe what Ned Stark was saying?'
A queer look passed his face, but it was gone as soon as it came. "Of course I don't. But the Stark's do, and if Joffrey wishes to bring peace to the realm and marry Sansa Stark–"
"He will not marry her," Cersei cut in. They'd had this argument countless times, yet he still refused to listen. It would end tonight.
Tyrion barreled over her. "You're not a fool, Cersei, for all your faults. You know as well as I do that Lady Sansa will have to remain here as a token of good faith, and that means a marriage befitting her station. What better way to foster peace?"
She will not marry him. Cersei wanted a better marriage for her son. Not some savage girl from the North. If only Robert had listened to her; a match between Alysanne and Joffrey would have healed the realm from the beginning, but the oaf would not have it. "No son of mine will wed a dragon," he had raged. Joffrey is no son of yours, she'd wished to scream. A part of her wished she could have told him as he lay on his deathbed. How sweet it would have been to see him brought low.
"The Starks will not consent," Cersei said. Let Tyrion think he has won. She would make the Stark girl a good marriage. A Lannister marriage, to account for the Lannister daughter they had taken. Joffrey would not marry her. Cersei was certain she could find a Lannister cousin suitable enough for a traitor's daughter. She'd found one suitable for her own needs, after all. If they do marry, she will not survive the childbed. Her mind drifted to Shaena, her late good-sister. Pycelle could prove useful once more.
"Perhaps not. Joffrey took her father's head, and mistreats her in front of the court." Cersei averted her eyes. Perhaps Joffrey should show more discretion, but the Stark girl was a traitor besides. Whether or not she would admit it. Tyrion continued. "That cannot continue."
"He will not listen to me," she admitted. Cersei still remembered how he had threatened her after she slapped him. He would never hurt me. "Sansa Stark will be fine."
"The poor girl has hardly left her bed, Cersei. No one has seen her at court in the three days since." Cersei did her best to swallow her anger at Tyrion's tone. Who was he to reprimand her?
Cersei twisted her lips. The past… incident had admittedly been harsher than usual. Joffrey had already been in a foul mood before that council meeting and word of his Uncle Stannis' turn towards King's Landing had only worsened it. "The news of Stannis angered him. Do you truly think he'll be here so soon?"
Cersei knew from Tyrion's pointed look that her attempt to change the subject had not gone unnoticed. He followed along anyway. "I have no reason to believe he won't. His fleet was seen leaving Dragonstone and Storm's End is far closer than I'd like."
"And what are you doing about it?"
"What am I doing about it?" He gulped down more wine and rolled his eyes. "Exactly what I said during the small council this morning. Fortifying the walls, gathering men."
"I want to send Tommen away from here." Had he been younger and perhaps more biddable, Cersei would have already moved to do so. But he had it in his mind to stay and help defend the city, and that Cersei couldn't allow.
"No," Tyrion answered.
Cersei balked. "No? It isn't safe here. If the city falls, Stannis will kill Tommen as well. He's Joffrey's heir. But then again, you would like to see this family fall, wouldn't you?" If he truly wanted to, Cersei knew Tyrion could come up with a better plan to defend the city. She wasn't entirely convinced he wouldn't fail on purpose. It was why she took matters into her own hands; and the alchemist's guild were all too eager to assist the King.
"Despite what you might think, sister, I do care about this family. And I'm not in the business of organizing the slaughter of children," he accused. Cersei busied herself with refilling her goblet of wine which was fastly depleting. "And in case you've forgotten, we're fighting the North as well. We can't spare the men needed to escort him safely."
"What is it you think I've been doing? We've tripled the size of the City Watch. Hired sell swords."
The City Watch. Cersei knew exactly who'd been allowed to join the City Watch these last few weeks. Common criminals, the lot of them. "And have you sent word to father?"
"We sent a rider to father to inform him. We just have to hope the riders will reach him in time."
Another sip of wine. "And what of Baelish? Surely he's reached the Tyrell's by now?" They'd sent him weeks ago after learning of Renly's death. The little fool had yet to send word, a fact which irritated Cersei more as each day passed. If he had sent word, Cersei didn't know of it. Tyrion had an irritating habit of trying to keep things from her.
"We received word this morning, actually. The Tyrell's are entirely unreceptive to an alliance." Cersei furrowed her brow. Unreceptive?
"Why was I not informed of their response?" Cersei demanded.
"We discussed it during the council meeting this morning. You would know, had you been there rather than crawling around the city with the alchemist's guild."
Cersei tensed. How had he figured that out? She scowled at the smarmy grin on his face. Did he dare to have her followed? Or was it Varys or one of the Kingsguard who betrayed her? "How do you know of that?"
"You aren't half as discreet as you seem to think you are. Oh, don't give me that look. You have me followed and watched just as much as I."
Cersei hissed a breath through her teeth and looked away. That was entirely different. She was the queen mother. What was he? Merely the Hand in their father's absence. She had every right to know what he was plotting. And besides, she wouldn't have to do so if he'd only be more forthcoming in matters. She steered the conversation back to the Tyrell's. "What does Baelish mean, they were unreceptive?"
Tyrion shrugged. It infuriated Cersei when he did so. Everything about Tyrion infuriated her in that moment. The way he sat, the way he held his goblet, the very sound of his breathing grated on her. "They're willing to provide food to the city, but that's all. They don't wish to be involved any further."
Willing to provide food, they say. Little good it would do now. The savage beasts had torn the High Septon limb from limb just weeks ago, so hungry were they. It wouldn't have happened had the Tyrells continued to send their harvests. As far as Cersei saw it, the Tyrell's agreeing to send food meant nothing. They were only doing as they were supposed to.
"The Tyrell's have grasped for power from the beginning. Why would they not jump at the chance now? They're withholding something," Cersei warned. For all they knew, Littlefinger was lying.
"Of course they are. They always are. But until we know what, there isn't much we can do." Tyrion answered.
Of course there is, Cersei wanted to shout at him. They should summon them anyway, make them answer for choosing Renly from the start. They had already stepped foot into the conflict, they couldn't play neutrality now. Tyrion would only brush her off, ignore her arguments as he usually did. If she wanted the Tyrell's summoned, she would have to do so herself.
Not for the first time, hot anger bubbled in her chest at the fact her father had trusted the stunted fool to act in his place rather than her. And why? Because he had a cock and she didn't? Her father despised Tyrion.
Tyrion eased himself down from the chair. "As wonderful as tonight has been, I'm afraid I must turn in." Tyrion had waddled halfway to the door, and she was left alone.
Her head pounded, and she helped herself to the wine that remained in the pitcher in front of her. No doubt the servants would talk, and word of this night's row would reach every rat in King's Landing by daybreak. How often had she spoken to Tommen on the matter of the Stark girl? She deliberated going to speak with him once more, but decided against it. Tomorrow, when he was rested and his temper cooled, then she'd speak with him. He'd be far more willing to listen then.
Joffrey and Tommen's relationship had been… fraught, ever since they were children. Time and time again, she'd pleaded with Tommen to not provoke his brother. And now this. It would do them no good to appear so divided. Tommen had to be seen as supporting his brother, didn't he understand that?
Cersei's lips pressed into a thin line as she remembered the missive from her father they'd received earlier. Her father's seal, addressed to the King, but Pycelle had handed it to her, anyway. Lucky he had, for Cersei had no doubt Joffrey would have obeyed her father if only to rid himself of Tommen. She'd wasted no time in burning her father's demands. Ravens were lost all the time, more so in times of war. Perhaps this one had been lost as well.
Even though the missive had been reduced to ash, her father's stern scrawl was still seared in her mind's eye. His hand was just as severe and unyielding as the man himself, but still Cersei refused to bend to his will. If he thinks I will send Tommen to him, he is just as mad as Aerys. It was not the first time her father had thought of taking Tommen from her. The first time had been years ago when she convinced Robert to name Jaime to the Kingsguard.
"Tommen will come back to Casterly Rock with me," he told her. "I will raise him as my heir." Oh, how Cersei had raged. She would not abide by sending Tommen away to the Rock, so far away from her and into her father's claws. Not my and Jaime's first boy. Tommen needed her, and her place was with Joffrey. She could teach him how to rule the Rock and the Westerlands just as well as her father could.
Her father had seen sense eventually, of course. He'd agreed to allow Tommen to remain with her, where he belonged. Her father had relented that night, though every few years he would broach the topic again. It seemed that time had come once more. "It's time Tommen learned how to command," he had written this time. "Send your brother with a contingent of men, and he'll serve as my squire." Tommen was just a boy. Cersei would no sooner send him off to war than her father would make Tyrion his heir.
Another glance at Myrcella's vacant seat darkened Cersei's mood further. Would her father and Jaime finally see Tyrion for what he was if harm came to Myrcella? A part of Cersei doubted it. Her father hadn't cared what happened to her under Robert's hand.
She rose from her seat and started towards the door which led to her apartments, pausing at the open window. A breeze rustled her skirts and mussed her hair as she gazed out over the Blackwater. There were few ships that night, leaving the horizon empty and yawning.
The water was far too peaceful, Cersei thought, for how tormented it left her when it carried away Myrcella. Were the gods just, the waters would rage just as she was. Were the gods just, they would have carried away Tyrion instead. But there were no gods, and if there were they were far from just.
With one final glance out the window, Cersei turned her back on the events of that night. Servants filed in as she left, no doubt carrying away songs as well as cold food and untouched platters. Dogs and rats alike would be well fed that night.