A/N: I know that this is a small chapter and I'm sorry but it's just a filler chapter. Something that will hopefully appease you. Also, updates will be slow and irregular, in case you haven't noticed that I'm extremely bad at updating on a regular basis. So apologies for the wait.
Cersei POV
This pig is indescribably delicious. It has been roasted for hours, with mushrooms and apples for extra flavor. It tastes like victory. No, not like victory, it's stronger than that.
It tastes like triumph. Pure, unadulterated triumph.
It is even than I could have ever imagined it to be. I'm unaware if it is actually the pig that tastes immaculate or if it tastes good because that fat oaf, Robert, is actually dead and gone. I will never have to suffer through his drunken gropes again. His body will be transported to Storm's End to be buried soon, and then he will never cross my mind again.
I turn away from my plate, filled with the succulent boar, to look at my children that are seated next to me. Tommen has a sad look on his handsome chubby face. He looks so much like Jaime that it's scary. Only difference is that when Jaime was Tommen's age, he was leaner and much more confident that Tommen is. I have to do something to change his attitude. He has to become a prince that people will follow. He needs to be a person his brother can rely on to handle the tedious affairs that shouldn't bother a King.
Myrcella is maturing into a beautiful woman, just like her mother. She is beginning to fill out her dresses more than she ever could before. What little fat that she had from being a child is slowly dissipating. Once she bleeds for the first time, she will be drawing betrothal offers, and I do not know if I am ready for that. Draedon will not like that day anymore than I.
Speaking of Draedon, he seems lost in thought in his seat next to me. He appears very distant tonight, like he isn't even here. His food is untouched and no conversation is coming from him. Not even when Cella and Tommen try to start one with him. He just smiles and nods at them. He's quiet and reserved, but not depressed. No, not depressed. That is very surprising, I assumed he would've taken Robert's death harder than he has. He didn't lock himself inside his room, like he did when Joff passed. He's just been unforthcoming, and I do not like it one bit.
I reach my hand out and touch his arm to gain his attention, which I succeed at doing. His blank stare becomes fixated on me instead of the open air in front of him. His usually shining blue eyes, are now dull but full of confusion. His brows become furrowed as he silently questions my action, begging for an answer.
I finally decide to break our silent stare off. "Are you okay, sweetling?" I lean towards him and ask him quietly.
He stares at my hand before he meets my eyes again. He smiles a small smile and nods his head slowly. A slim coronet of silver and sapphires rests above his brow. The light metal contrasts beautifully with his midnight dark hair, while the sapphires make his eyes even deeper than usual. Without the coronet holding it in place, his long lustrous mane would be shaking with each nod of his head.
I don't believe him. He's never been able to lie to me, I'm not sure if it's because I'm good at reading him or if he just doesn't want to lie to me, or perhaps a combination of the two. Inwardly, I am smiling with satisfaction.
I tilt my head to the side and glare at my eldest. "Do not lie to me, Draedon. And use your words, you're King now." He flinches lightly at my words.
His eyes do not meet my own. "I'm fine, mother." His tone is quiet. Quiet, but not timid. There's finality in his soft tone, which if I was someone else, I would drop the issue, but I'm Cersei Lannister.
"What's wrong?" I say as gently as I can. I cup his chin and tenderly force him to look at me.
His eyes show a small amount of emotion in his deep sapphire pools. An emotion that I haven't seen in a long time; insecurity.
"Mother, what if..." He looks at Myrcella and Tommen briefly, to see them in conversation with each other, before his eyes return to mine. "What if I'm not capable of being a good King? How long before the Kingdoms turn on me? How long before they revolt against me? How long before you and Myrcella and Tommen turn against me?" He remained calm as he spoke, so as to not cause alarm with his impressionable siblings. They can't see him be vulnerable, not their elder brother. "I'm not prepared for this. I can't handle this. I can't..."
I finally stop him with a well placed hand to the cheek. His eyes, his entire body begging, no, pleading with me for reassurance by the person that raised him. That has lavished him with affection and praise his entire life. The person who made him the man what he is today.
Me.
"Draedon." My hand moving to cup his chin. "My dear, sweet Draedon. You will never have to fret over whether or not your family will support you or not. We will always be there for you, no matter what. That, I promise." I say as sweetly as I can, as lowly as I can before I am completely inaudible. His attention never wavering from focusing on me. Good, it should make this easier. "And if you feel that you're not yet ready for the throne, I can begrudgingly rule in your stead as regent. I would have done this anyways, but as you are of age, it is your decision." My sweet smile never falling from place.
His eyes darken just a bit, to look like the sea right before it begins to send vicious waves to crash and destroy the base of Casterly Rock. Hearing that as a girl frightened me, but to see it first hand, in my eldest cub no less, terrifies me. He should never look at me like that. He couldn't have figured out my play that quickly.
"Thank you, mother, for the offer. But how would that look, for the boy King to have his mother rule for him. That would make them lose what little respect that they hold for me to disappear. No, I have to do this." He says as his eyes trail away from me and to the crowd of people in front of our table, solemnly chatting amongst themselves. He turns back to me and grabs my hand with his much larger one. "But I need help, mother. I... I need you. You will help me with this, right?"
He squeezes my dainty hand gently. His eyes have lightened up tremendously and I can clearly see the vulnerability that my eldest child holds within. He is mine and I hate that he is feeling what he is feeling. But I am a lioness. And as such, I must strike when opportunity strikes.
I lean forward before I speak. He follows my lead, and leans closer to me. "Of course I will, sweetling. Never question that. I will help you however I can." I finish with a light kiss to his hand. A gesture that fixes him, as he releases a heavy breath.
It isn't much, but I have worked with less before. I can maneuver this into my favor. He is my son, I know him better than anyone else. I sip my delicious arbor wine as plans begin to formulate in my mind. As I'm thinking, Draedon beckons Selmy over to his seat. He speaks lowly, so only the old knight can hear. Probably just letting the old man know that he is the one transporting the fat oaf's body.
I ignore their conversation, and turn back to my meal of triumph and sink my teeth into a potato. I can't help the smile that follows.
Doran POV
As I am making inquiries to send out to my bannermen, Oberyn graces me with his presence. He has a smile that personifies his viper namesake. His smile is dripping with venom, as if preparing to strike an unsuspecting victim.
"What can I do fo-" He cuts me off before I can even finish my question.
"He has died, brother. He is finally dead." I lift my eyes to see him almost leap with joy by the end of his statement. I turn back to the parchment on my desk to continue writing.
"Who has died, Oberyn?" I ask slowly, something I do not think my brother would be capable of doing. He walks over to my wine and quickly pours a cup for himself.
"We should celebrate. A feast should be held on this night, every year for the rest of your rule." He finishes his first cup quickly and pours himself a second cup. His smile has yet to leave his face. It is beginning to frighten me that he still has that smile.
I put my quill down and stare at him. "Focus, Oberyn. Who has died and why should we be celebrating?" He walks over to me and places a cup of wine down beside my letters.
Oberyn sets his goblet down and pulls a rolled up piece of parchment from his breast pocket. He clears his throat, as his eyes land on the now unfolded parchment. "It is on this day that we announce Robert of the house Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, has perished in an most unexpected hunting accident." His smile grows, while my brow furrows in deep thought.
Robert Baratheon is dead? An unexpected hunting accident? All of my planning and scheming since Elia's death, has been for naught. I did not even have to do anything, the fat drunkard was his own undoing. I could have focused my entire attention on Tywin and his mad dog.
Oberyn snaps his fingers directly in front of my face to gain my attention. His dark eyes alight with glee. "Did you not hear me, Doran? One of the people that hurt Elia is dead. The man who denied us justice and stepped over the bodies of our niece and nephew to usurp their rightful throne." Beginning to lean over my desk to get closer to me. "We can strike while they are in turmoil and despair. While they are weak, we can end this fucking travesty before it gets worse." He brings his fist down on to my desk, hard enough for my goblet to jump off of it just a bit.
I look Oberyn directly in his dark viper eyes. "We will strike, brother, believe me." His smile is that of a predator about to pounce on its prey. "But not yet." His smile drops quickly.
"What do you mean 'not yet'? This is the best opportunity to strike that we have ever had and you do not want to? Is this a joke?" He asks in quick succession of one another, each getting more incredulous than the last.
"What do you know of the boy? His son, the one that is going to take his place." I ask calmly. He blinks at me like an owl would.
He scoffs as my words finally click in his mind. "I know he is boy, one that is untested in the manner of war. One that can easily be dealt with." His carelessness of the situation is concerning.
"So you know nothing of your enemy, and you want to just charge in with brute strength without even thinking of the consequences? That is arguably the worst idea you have ever had, brother."
"So what? We wait for ten more years to exact revenge on the people that have continued to wrong our family?" His eyes shine like black fire, so much intensity that it is difficult to look into for too long.
"Oberyn, allow me to deal with this. I have always been the one to think things through, so let me do what I am best at." Our eyes clash once again. "We will make our enemies beg for mercy at the end of our spears, but I need time to construct a plan. So allow me that time, and put your trust in me for this, okay?" He continues to peer into my eyes, before his shoulders slump and he sighs.
"I trust you, Doran. Think on your plan and let me know what you decide for our course of action." He finishes with a small smile, before it grows even more. "While you do that, I am going to go and drink my fill of in, and take my paramour, and perhaps a few others, to my bed for a very good night. So I will leave you to it then." He exits my solar rather hurriedly, leaving me alone with my thoughts. "Have a nice night, brother." He calls out as he leaves for his nightly adventures.
I shake my head at my brother's antics. I begin to think of a plan as I go back to writing my inquiries. It takes me a few minutes but my mind finally clears enough to think straightly. It takes me a few minutes of pondering to formulate a plan. I release a heavy sigh, as if I follow through with this hastened plan, it will set my family on far different path than what I have ever intended us to be on, but it could be the best thing for us. I will have to think this through to be sure that it is the right action to take.
Until then, I grab a new piece of parchment and smooth it out. I dip my quill in the inkpot, and begin to scribble a new letter. One addressed to the Seven Kingdoms future Lord. A letter of condolences for his loss, perhaps he will be easier to communicate with than his fool of a father.
Davos POV
The room is tense. So full of tension that it could be cut with a knife. Lord Stannis is silent and he reads the same letter for what seems like the hundredth time. We are sitting in the War Room, the room that contains the new Painted Table, inside of the colossal tower here in Storm's End. The Red Witch is staring into the flames of the brazier. Maester Cressen is constantly changing between glaring at the woman and glancing perturbedly at Lord Stannis.
The room is quiet, so quiet that the flames crackling sound as loud as a child screaming directly into your ear. The grinding of my Lord's teeth does not help the matter. I am patiently waiting for him to speak and give me my orders. I need to know what to expect in the near future.
The parchment glides across the Painted Table that separates the occupants of the room. It gains the attention of Melisandre, who finally turns away from her precious flames, her gaze fixed solely on Stannis.
"Robert is dead." Stannis states simply. We all have heard this already, but no one speaks up and interrupts him. "The current Hand has asked me to return to King's Landing, so that I can take my place on the future King's small council." We all process this new information. He is quiet for a few more moments. "My only true born nephew will sit atop the throne, with his mother whispering lies in his ear. Polluting his mind with deceit and false niceties. That will happen if we do not stop it, but I am sure that if I travel back to King's Landing, I will die, same as Jon Arryn. So does my esteemed advisors have any ideas?" Tension still heavy in the room, I am not quick to speak. Melisandre turns back to the brazier with no answer for him.
Maester Cressen is the first to speak. "The risk is too great for you to go back to the lion's den. I hate to say it but the boy will have deal with his own problems, and learn who to trust in his lifetime by himself. You can not be there to hold his hand at every step, my Lord, he has got to grow up quickly now that he is King." Stannis' dour expression does not change as he listens to the older man that has been with him his entire life.
The Red Witch turns away from the fire and back to our impassive Lord. "The Lord of Light has yet to show the boy to me. I do not know what will happen with him, or to you if you go back, for that matter. But you have a purpose for our Lord, a purpose as his champion. You are Azor Ahai reborn, you can not put yourself into more risk than you already are in."
Stannis frowns and turns and looks to me now. Internally, I take a heavy breath before I speak. "It would be unwise for you to go back to King's Landing." His frown becomes even more prominent on his stern face. "But perhaps sending someone to help keep an eye out for him. Someone to help watch over him and keep you informed on what moves are being made in the capital." Stannis stares at me, before he nods in acknowledgement.
"I believe that would raise suspicion. If some person turns up in the Red Keep suddenly, they would be held out of every conversation. Especially if they hold any sort of relationship to Lord Stannis." Cressen speaks methodically.
Stannis is staring at the Painted Table, grinding his teeth as a sign that he is thinking. He is showing no expression on his serious face. His large jaw moving slightly with each gnash of his teeth.
"We could send someone that they would never suspect. One that would not draw too much attention for his showing up." Stannis speaks slowly, still thinking most likely.
"Like who, my Lord?" Cressen asks with a downtrodden look. I suppose he does not like this idea.
Lord Stannis looks up from the table and towards me. "Davos," I look to the man that I owe everything to, "Draedon was friends with your boy, Maric, when he fostered here, correct?" I blink at the question.
"They were friends, my Lord. Maric and he still write to each other every other moon." As I speak, I move the fingers on my shortened hand.
"Would he be willing to do this for me?" Stannis asks.
"You wish to send the young son of a low born knight to King's Landing to spy on your nephew?" Cressen is unquestionably skeptical, as he spits the question out at Stannis.
"No, Maester Cressen. That is not what I want." Stannis speaks calmly as he turns to the old Maester. "I wish to send my grieving nephew a friend he is known to communicate with. A person who is there for moral support in his time of need. A person no one would think twice about since he would be there for a specific reason." It is a very solid, thought out scheme. "And like you said, Cressen, he is young, right around my nephew's age. No one is going to take the boy as a threat."
"He would be happy to do it, my Lord. He has been wanting to go see Prince Draedon for some time now, and now he will have the resources to go." I say as I drum my uncut fingers on the table. "Give me leave, and I shall go retrieve Maric so that he can be informed of the plan."
"Yes, go, Davos. Go get your boy. Hastily." Stannis gives me a parting nod, same as Cressen. The woman just stares at me as I leave the room.
As I close the door, I lean against it. Taking a deep breath, I begin my trek down to the docks, where I am sure to find my son. I am glad that he is getting this opportunity. I am so grateful that I smuggled that food into Storm's End all those years ago. Had I not done that, Maric would not be friends with the Prince. My sons would not have had as good of a life that they have had thus far.
I make it to the docks and to the Fury, Lord Stannis' ship that my boy works on. I can see him on the deck of the ship, leaning over the railing so he has a good view of the hull. Something makes him look up to where I am on the boardwalk. His amber eyes land on me, and it only takes a second for him to recognize me. He smiles and nods in greeting. I beckon him over with a wave of my hand. His smile drops slowly, and he begins to make his way over to me. His sandy brown hair is dripping droplets of sweat. The heat of the summer day has made him take his shirt off earlier in the sunlight. His lithe body does not show his true strength.
Being an oarsmen has made him strong, easily the strongest of all my sons. He makes his way to me with caution in each of his steps, as if I am going to attack as soon as he gets close.
"Hello, father. Has something happened to mother, or one of my brothers?" His worry is evident in his voice. I smile lightly and clamp my hand down on his firm shoulder.
"No, nothing of the sort, son. Everyone is fine, I promise." He deflates at my casualness of the situation, and smiles to show his worry is gone. "Some good news for you. Lord Stannis has a task for you, actually." His brows raise in Surprise and his smile grows even more pronounced. He is always wanting to prove his worth to our Lord. "So throw a tunic on and we will make our way up there, so he can tell you everything himself." He smiles and jogs back to the ship.
I smile at his excitement, I can not wait to see his reaction when he is told that he is going to the capital. I just do not know if he is ready for what he is being sent into. King's Landing is poisoned, and he will have to be very careful about what he says and does, but this will help him understand the world beyond ships and docks. I just wish I could help him more.
I see him with a tunic on and making his way back to me, a smile still on his face. I hope that this is an good decision for my son. I hope he can do what is asked of him. And with that last thought, I put a smile on my face and place a hand on his back when he gets to me. We begin our walk back to the War Room, to Maric's future.