A/N: Lena Headey and Jerome Flynn were rumored to have dated each other years before... that's something to think about while reading this :p
Reviews are very much appreciated :D
Chapter Two: Shedding skins
Bronn did not think of Cersei Lannister for days to come since the masquerade.
He had devoted a huge amount of time improving the quality of guards in his house by doubling the sellswords working in his service. They weren't for his protection. He can still cut a man by himself without even blinking. But the additional arms appealed to his vanity. He enjoyed having the means to collect soldiers like trinkets. He can afford that extravagance. It was only when he admitted this to himself that he thought about her again.
They have been avoiding each other on purpose. When he's not summoned to court or required to attend luncheons, he simply barricades himself with the rest of his household.
His wife Lollys sleeps all day like the fat, soft-minded cow she is. Her son born out of rape is denied of milk because of this and he sobs all day if Bronn doesn't cradle him.
"You're a greedy little fuck," Bronn muttered when he finished feeding the baby with goat milk. He carried it in his arms and rocked him to sleep.
"But you are mine," he added. "I will do whatever I please with you so be a good lad and renounce your claim to House Stokeworth once I ask you to. You can be a squire to the Tyrells. I can teach you with the sword. Whatever you like, little lordling, as long as you don't step on my toes." To demonstrate, he pinched the infant's big toe.
He would talk to the boy like this as if it can understand. If anything else, it was the only real conversation Bronn has around here. He wouldn't call it loneliness but it's starting to annoy him. It has also occurred to him that staying cooped up and playing with the baby does nothing profitable for him. He might as well kill someone for fun.
He ventured out that night, carrying his sword on his belt and a dagger on his boot. The streets are dreary with fog. There were no stars and the moon was a large saucer in the sky. Bronn breathed in the pungent air and spitted it out. He made his way to Red Keep.
The castle retained a foreboding presence but it held no majestic appeal anymore especially since commoners freely flock inside its walls. The Tyrells are Southern but they have the hospitality of the free-city folk across the narrow sea. It amused Bronn to no end.
He thought about Cersei more vividly now. She's no queen but it still made her desirable. Bronn had not completely decided on how much that affected him. On a shallow level he wanted to fuck her, of course. What man in King's Landing doesn't? But there was another layer to that carnal yearning, and he is not that eager to peel off whatever it is.
Speaking of fucking, he debated on taking a detour to Chataya's first. It's been a month since his last visit after all. He watched the whorehouse for a while and decided that there could be a better time to waste his copper. He has been slowly losing his appetite for a woman's flesh. Must be that wife of his. Like he's fucking livestock when he fucks her.
Moving like a shadowcat, Bronn managed to enter the palace with little difficulty. The crowd in the throne room was beginning to disperse and he would've stayed unnoticed until Margaery Tyrell bumped into him on his way to the nearest balcony.
The brown-haired queen regent has grown more comely every time he lays eyes on her. Twice widowed had never showed in her appearance. She had a timid smile. The green specks in her brown eyes reminded him of grass blades and all the softness they promise when lied upon. The thought made Bronn cautious of his following movements. He did not want his lust to show. The girl is a maiden still, according to her chambermaids. Her first husband preferred the company of her brother Loras and Joffrey was not even given a fighting chance to take her maidenhead before he buggered off into the arms of death.
"Ser Bronn," she curtsied and then hurriedly corrected. "Lord Bronn. It is pleasant for you to visit. Do you have any business with the castle?"
"Red Keep is for all now, milady." He nodded towards the crowd of merchants about to leave the main door. "These days you can just walk in and take a shit in the Iron Throne."
He was not able to hold his tongue. Manners make him uncomfortable so he did not bother emulating it. Still, it was a relief the queen regent laughed at his jest. Such sweet innocence and kindness—Cersei struggles with that kind of feminine appeal.
"You are most welcome to stay as long as you like," she batted her eyelashes at him and he would've melted at the sight of this if he was a younger man. "Have you sup yet?"
"Yes, but I could sup three times a night if you're offering that."
Margaery Tyrell showed him a more certain smile now. She placed a hand on his elbow and he took that as a sign to walk with her on the halls. She clutched his arm naturally and Bronn measured his steps to keep up with her. "Lady Olenna enjoys the company of the common folk and they love her. She's always been eccentric, my grandmother." The queen regent remarked but Bronn was distracted by the scent of her hair and neck. I should've gone to Chataya's…
"Lord Bronn?" They were already approaching the dining area when Ser Lancel Lannister appeared out of nowhere. The boy was still nineteen years young but he was so weathered by battle and weak nerves that he looks to be the same age as Bronn. The sword on his belt looked like it was wearing him. Being a squire suited him better.
"Ser," Margaery beamed at him. "Ask the servants to prepare an extra place for our good friend. My grandmother prefers a full table of familiar acquaintances," she tightened her clutch on Bronn as if to show Lancel that he cannot say otherwise.
The boy does not understand though. "I must inform my cousin, Her Gra—Lady Cersei." He darted a nervous glance at Bronn. "She does not like surprise visitors."
"It saddens me," Margaery Tyrell looked down and for a moment her sadness was convincing. "I've already lost her son. I cannot lose her too. But I am afraid for her. She would lock herself for days in her chambers and if she does decide to join any of us when we break fast or sup, she offers no conversations." She looked at Bronn now as if he can provide her an answer or soothe her worries. "She is a strong woman but even the strongest of us cannot bear everything without aid. Do you not agree, my lord of Stokeworth?"
Bronn shrugged his shoulders. He could feel Lancel's heavy eyes on him. "I'm sure you're trying your best, milady. But I hear time heals all wounds…" he felt fucking ridiculous.
She blinked. "But how much time does she need?" A fair question, Bronn thought.
"She has lost a son. Her other children are far away too." Lancel reasoned out.
The queen regent shook her head and regained her smile. "Inform her of Lord Bronn's presence if you must. But please tell her that my dear mother and grandmother kindly request for her to dine with us tonight. It is not a command. Make sure she knows that. The invitation comes from a daughter addressed to her mother by marriage."
Lancel bowed and limped away to the other direction.
Bronn faced Margaery Tyrell, unable to hide his growing amusement. "If I may freely speak my mind, sweet lady," she nodded so he went on. "That woman will still believe you commanded her because everything asked of her that she doesn't want to do will always come off that way." He gestured to go on to the dining room but she disengaged from him.
"That woman is Cersei Lannister and she was a queen," she said sternly but not unkindly. "I know you have a unique relationship with her but you are in no position to know her better than any of us, my lord." If she did take offense, it was hard to tell because she was smiling at him again and clutching his arm. "Come, Lord Bronn. It will put my grandmother in such a mood when you tell her stories of your brave battle in Blackwater."
"She does not command me?" Cersei repeated her cousin's words—echoing the Tyrell bitch's words—and the taste was acid in her mouth. "I? Her mother by marriage?"
The last statement was true but her son is gone and Margaery meant nothing to her. But that was not the worst thing that angered her. It was that parasite again. It's been a blessed week since the masquerade. Now she could not look at him again without the strong desire to claw her eyes out. "Did he invite himself?" she asked
"It appears so," Lancel made no move to approach her when she's like this. "I was surprised to see him talking to the girl. He has no reason to be here anyway."
"Too many people have no reason to be in Red Keep and yet they are," Cersei stood up from her chair and turned her back away from her cousin. "You may leave. I will announce my presence once I'm dressed properly for this dreadful sup. Beige garments will no doubt complement the dullness of the affair." When she glanced at him, he was still standing there. "You broke some ribs and your left ankle but not lost your ears. Leave me."
When the boy was gone, Cersei locked the door. She removed her gown with deft hands. She has been undressing by herself because even the company of a maid preening over her every move is too much human contact for her. She took off everything, even her small clothes. Naked and chilled to the bone, she picked her most plain evening wear and put it on. The soft garment was tighter than she expected. She hissed when she heard a seam rip as she tried to pull it down. She took it off at once and grabbed the silver looking glass from her bedside table. The years had at least been compassionate to her face, but it has become apparent that the small mounds of fat in her forearms and stomach were another sort of cruelty by the gods. She has given birth to four (a stillborn, two sons and a daughter) and her body has not suffered the consequences until now. Too much time and wine in her hands and look at her, the new Robert Baratheon, too fat for her gown.
Had Jamie not already stolen away all her tears when he left her, she would've cried by now. Instead she took out one of her mother's gowns. It was laced green with a modest cleavage embroided in a thousand small rubies. The green fades into gray by the skirts. It was loose enough to accommodate a baby in the belly but you could not tell it was tailored for that at all. Cersei remembered her mother wore this when she was expecting Tyrion.
Cersei run her fingers through the garment like she was almost afraid it will cut her. Making up her mind then, she slowly put it on. The gown embraced the ugliness of her body and turned it beautiful again. She rubbed her hand on her stomach one last time and then began combing her hair. She decided to tie it into a neat bun. It will accentuate her flawless neck and drew more attention to the rubies in her chest. Cersei also applied rosemary oil under her eyes and on her forehead, just to smoothen the lines of her age.
Far from satisfied, Cersei left her chamber and silently walked to the dining area. She crossed the threshold leading to the throne room but she never once looked at it.
When she entered, everyone at the table stood up to greet her. There was Lady Olenna at the very foot of the table, a silver-haired doll they call the Queen of Thorns. Beside her was her daughter Lady Alerie whose soft-spoken ways always bothered Cersei. And next to the empty seat where she's supposed to take was Margaery, dressed in a luscious yellow gown that screamed her youth and beauty. She beamed at Cersei and it blinded her. Her cousin Lancel and even that eunuch Varys were present and they sat across Margaery.
"My ladies of the court, forgive my tardiness," she began but Lady Olenna dismissed her by a wave of the hand. Cersei took her place beside the now queen regent. She did not realize that the parasite was seated on the other foot of the table until she sat down, and when she met his devastating gaze, she did not allow it to linger for long.
It was fortunate that Margaery was eager to attempt small chat with her as Lady Olenna addressed everyone else at the table with her booming voice that defied the frailty of her looks. "Come, Lord Bronn, tell us more about the siege of ships and Renly's ghost!"
"Gladly," the parasite spoke up. He was about to continue when Varys interrupted.
"Beg pardons," the bald eunuch said. "But I do not think the conversation will please the Lady Cersei. And haven't we all grown tired of the tales and wars of kings?"
"Do you not want to reminisce your father's crowning glory in that battle, my dear?" Lady Olenna asked Cersei. "It's quite an enchanting narrative our Lord Bronn had told us."
"Lord Bronn must be a remarkable storyteller, I am sure," Cersei readily replied.
"He is very gallant," Margaery added. "Your father knighted him for such display of bravery and strength. I should like to see him joust soon enough."
That put an unexpected smile in Cersei's lips. She cannot help herself. "And have you jousted before, my lord?" she risked a glance in his way.
"You know I have not, Your Grace." The parasite smirked.
Cersei could feel Varys smile as her cousin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She was no longer queen and yet the parasite insisted on the wrong address.
The Tyrell women did not seem to mind it. Margaery jumped in for another comment. "You are skilled with the blade. Surely jousting will be child's play for you, my lord of Stokeworth." Cersei did not have to look at the stupid child to see her sparkle. The way she keeps dangling his title—a lordship Cersei has given herself—hinted something else.
"How is your wife?" Lady Alerie spoke this time. "And your son?"
"Lollys and Tyrion are in good health."
Margaery giggled. "I have heard stories about your friendship with Lord Tyrion."
"Purely a business association," the parasite answered. "The Imp had no friends."
"Lord Bronn used to be a sellsword of massive means and skills, everyone knows that, milady," Varys added. "He was employed by Lord Tyrion to be the captain of his personal guard and he has done very well for himself since." He raised his goblet towards the parasite's direction. "We should all learn from his example."
Margaery raised her goblet as well, holding the parasite's gaze as she drank. Cersei inwardly rolled her eyes. If the stupid child wants to get him between her legs, she should just get on with it and spare the rest of them with this unusual torture.
"Do you like your pork, milady?" Lady Alerie has a knack for asking questions unrelated to topics at hand. Cersei is starting to like her for that.
"It's cooked beautifully," Cersei bit down the meat and savored the taste.
Lady Alerie brightened up. "I had it specially served for you."
Cersei allowed a smile. "You are most gracious."
"Cersei," her cousin finally found his tongue. "Would you like some more broiled potatoes? They're almost scarce in your plate. You must have liked them."
"Sure, love." Cersei smiled at him although she did not mean it but the way he lightened up made her slightly warm inside. He excused himself from the table so he could get the potatoes himself. Lady Olenna laughed as he left.
"Poor boy forgets he's no longer a squire!" she hooted.
"She worships Her Grace," the parasite said. Cersei flashed a glare at him and he returned it with a grin. She didn't speak or look at him again for the rest of the evening.
The supper ended on a peaceful note. Lancel retired to bed early. His left ankle still torments him and he needs to nurse it soon. Varys faded into the walls as usual. The older Tyrell women kissed Cersei on both cheeks and left her with Margaery who insisted on escorting her to her bed chamber. The parasite stayed behind as well and when he said nothing else, Margaery asked him to come with them and escort her. Is she a diminished old lady, incapable of finding her own room? Cersei swallowed her rage once more. The taste was less pleasant than the pork earlier and it settled in her stomach like a plague.
"Thank you, my lord, for a delightful sup," Margaery offered her hand to be kissed and the parasite obeyed. When he pressed his lips on her hand, Cersei shivered in disgust.
"Your Grace," the parasite approached her. Cersei did not offer her hand. She stood there with a completely blank expression in her face. He kept his distance. Margaery was behind him, waiting patiently. He whispered low so only Cersei can hear. "That gown is not like you at all. It makes me wonder if it suits a lesser woman."
Cersei did not blink when she replied. "Any woman is lesser compared to me."
When he smiled, his black eyes glinted almost as sharp as Valyrian steel. "I jest, Your Grace. You are very beautiful…" he takes her hand and it took all of her control not to hit him with the other. He pressed his lips on her knuckles. The kiss lingered for another heartbeat.
"My lord, shall we?" Margaery spoke from behind him.
The parasite looked into Cersei's eyes once more. He wants me, she saw.
"Sleep well, Your Grace," he said as Margaery clutched his arm.
Cersei's smile was ice. "And you might not, Lord Bronn."
Because now I know you want me.
She dreamt of her brothers again.
They were ten. Cersei was looking for Jamie around the gardens in Casterly Rock. She finally found him but he was not alone. Their younger brother Tyrion has used him as a pretend horse and the ugly little shit was riding him. The stupid smile he had on only made his face more horrible to look at. Jamie looked happy about it though.
When Jamie saw her, he got back to his feet and walked to her, clasping Tyrion's hand on his. Their brother is so tiny and will always be tiny. Jamie had asked her to play with them and she wanted to cry because ever since the imp was born, she can't have Jamie all to herself anymore. "You shouldn't be scared of him," her twin remarked.
"I am not scared of him!" she protested. But then Jamie took Tyrion in his arms and kissed him on the cheek. Tyrion wriggled in his clutch, giggling. The shrill sound made Cersei want to kick him over and over. But Jamie only kissed him on the other cheek.
"Now you kiss him," Jamie grinned as he offered their brother to her.
Cersei found a blade somehow and she stabbed the imp with it. Only it was Jamie. He had put himself between them and the blood didn't stop pouring out of him. She could hear Tyrion saying, "Your joy has now turned to ashes in your mouth, sweet sister."
She bolted up from the bed, wide awake. But she wouldn't cry. She never cried.