Chapter Four: Cats and Rats
"My grandfather and my mother are coming to dinner tonight," Geoffrey said, looking down at Lady Margaery on the bed. "When they see you it will mean trouble. You're supposed to be dead, remember? And I'm supposed to listen to my grandfather Tywin's council. When I don't he has them drug me, and lock me in my bedroom." Geoffrey felt shame and rage, both feelings sharpening his desire for Margaery. For a moment he wanted to squeeze his hands around her slim white neck. Yet as soon as he pictured himself strangling her, he had the oddest feeling of wanting to kiss the bruises around her throat. Geoffrey didn't understand what was going on inside him. One minute he wanted to hurt Margaery, and the next he wanted to kneel down and . . . and worship her.
He should be killing her, not sharing secrets of his throne!
"When they question you, you will fly into a rage," the brown-haired beauty in the enticingly skimpy gown said, almost as though she were giving him instructions. There was a faraway look in her cool blue-gray eyes. "They don't know that you are already a man . . . a man who has already taken the woman he desires."
"Bloody right!" Geoffrey felt warm inside and out at the way Margaery described their first joining earlier in the afternoon. In actual fact it had all happened very quickly, he being both very eager and a little frightened. The way she'd nicked his cheek with his own gold-hilted dagger had only inflamed his desire. Yet at the crucial moment he'd spurted too soon, staining her thigh rather than entering her most sacred place. Instead of mocking him or showing distaste the resourceful Margaery had rubbed the residue of his desire on her face, even smearing some on her lips. Then she kissed him, her sticky mouth fierce and hot, telling him they were now joined forever. Geoffrey believed her; he felt bound to her in an exciting way he couldn't understand. He was becoming more and more enthralled by Lady Margaery's cunning and her cleverness. "I'm not a boy now, I'm a man! If Grandfather Tywin tries to get rid of you I'll stab him right at the council table!"
"Very clever," Lady Margaery nodded. "Strike him before he strikes you. But what if we could find a way to make him rush upon his own fate? You and I could eliminate him and your mother at the same time. Didn't you tell me that you have friends among the Gold Cloaks, and in other places? What I suggest is . . ." Margaery leaned over and whispered in the young king's ear, one hand gripping his shoulder.
"Splendid!" Geoffrey cried. "That's splendid!"
Later that night, at the banquet table, Tywin Lannister was scolding his daughter Cersei. "That son of yours is out of control," the old man said, his precise and quietly spoken words seeming to scrape across the spoiled queen's flesh. "He needs to be placed under strict supervision."
"Good evening, grandfather," Geoffrey said, cheerfully sauntering into the banquet room. "Mother, where's Lady Margaery?"
"Lady Margaery went away," Queen Cersei said coldly. "I sent her on a little . . . vacation. Sit down and eat, my handsome young son."
Geoffrey immediately flew into a rage, almost as if he were putting on an act. "How dare you! No-one leaves my court unless I command it! I am the king here! I will have you and grandfather roasted alive!"
Old Tywin Lannister sneered with unfathomable disdain. "Guards," he said. "Take the young man to his room. And give him something to help him sleep."
"Yes, Ser Tywin." The Gold Cloak nearest Queen Cersei bowed low. But instead of seizing the mad boy king, he whipped his huge blade out from beneath his cloak. Then before Tywin could react the Gold Cloak chopped off his spoiled daughter's head!
"How dare you!" Tywin Lannister was an old man, but his sword was out in a moment. The renegade Gold Cloak had already dashed out the door. Geoffrey clung to his arm, whining and sniveling like the wretched little coward everyone believed him to be.
"Grandfather, wait! Please don't chase him down! That's Ser Jai Brun, a renegade and a murderer. We think he murdered one of his comrades only yesterday in the cellars! It's dangerous to go down there, so dark and horrible!"
"Let go of me, you sniveling whelp." Tywin shoved Geoffrey backwards so that he nearly fell over his own mother's headless body. The floor of the banquet room was sticky with her blood. "Call the other maidservants, you little snot, and have them clean this up. I want my daughter's body prepared for burial."
"Yes, grandfather." Geoffrey kept his face lowered, so Tywin wouldn't see the deadly smile on his arrogant young features.
The old man was utterly confident in his skill with the blade. Without stopping to call for his own knights, he followed the renegade Gold Cloak deep into the cellars. Tywin was like a cat, stalking his prey. There was nothing a cat feared in the shadows of King's Landing. Even the scurrying, rustling sound of hundreds of tiny feet did not alarm him.
Not until it was too late.
"AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIGGGGGGH!"
"Cats and rats," Geoffrey said quietly, hearing his grandfather's final scream. The old man's arrogance had been his undoing. Not even the king of cats was a match for thousands of rats.
"Oh dear, what's happened to your poor mother?" Lady Margaery stepped into the banquet chamber and put her hand on the young king's shoulder, careful not to soil the hem of her skimpy dress.
"Mother betrayed her king. She betrayed me! We should dump her body in the river, like a Flea Bottom whore," Geoffrey said, with a wild laugh.
"Very good, my love," Margaery said softly, caressing Geoffrey's cheek. "But may I keep the queen's head? I want to send it to someone."