The Red Keep was still a haze of blue and green and grey when Kevan Lannister thanked his squire with a curt nod, took the bridle of his horse with one hand, and looked around the forecourt for the last time, dew shimmering beneath his boots like the dreams of the hundreds of people sleeping within the walls around him. Many had attempted, in vain, to make him prolong his stay in the capital, all of them citing the same reasons. Robb Stark could not possibly invade the Westerlands immediately when every gossip in the Seven Kingdoms knew that he had finally settled an accord with Walder Frey and was on his way to the Twins to offer his Uncle Edmure up in sacrifice to some rat-faced Frey girl that he had fornicated his way out of marrying himself. And 'Casterly Rock is impregnable' and 'the campaign is doomed to fail' and 'why dignify such nonsense by rushing back immediately?' Kevan snorted. He had no intention of underestimating his opponent, even if everyone else in this wretched city seemed hell-bent on doing so.
Kevan had hoped to reassure both the populace and the army by returning with the new Lord of Casterly Rock, but though Jaime had insisted, multiple times, that he would lead the defence of the Westerlands himself, he had also insisted on remaining a few days longer in the capital, citing a need to finalise his affairs. Kevan knew full well that the word 'affairs' was a synonym for 'Lady Arya,' and he smiled to himself despite his indignation; remembering the golden shade that he had noted in his nephew's eyes when they had spoken of her. He had seen that particular expression before. In Tywin.
Kevan abruptly cleared his throat and forced himself to frown.
Yes, to be sure. And quite right too, from a strategic point of view. It keeps the girl's money within House Lannister, and it would infuriate the Starks beyond measure.
He heard footsteps behind him in the courtyard, and groaned, inwardly, as he turned and recognised Cersei. His niece looked far too beautiful for such an early hour, though her loveliness was somewhat diminished by the additional presence of two disgruntled Kingsguard who seemed to be asleep behind their visors.
'Your Grace,' Kevan greeted, bowing stiffly, 'how kind of you to see me off.'
'I could hardly do otherwise, when you are the only person who still appears to have some respect for our family name,' Cersei replied, not curtseying in return.
Kevan could not help but smirk at the girl's lack of subtlety.
'Indeed?' he ventured, 'what happened to hurting me, incapacitating me, and having my head on a spike?'
'Sarcasm does not become you, Uncle,' Cersei proclaimed regally, impatience flickering across her face like the crack of a whip, 'and killing you would be foolish. It would imply that you had some influence over the will. An absurd notion, since Father didn't allow himself to be influenced by anybody.'
'True,' Kevan acknowledged, not rising to the bait.
Cersei's eyes were like jade bought with the blood of a thousand slaves.
'That little grey-eyed Stark whore seems to be an exception to Father's rule, however. She must have had a tight cunt indeed to make him forget years of loyalty, both to my mother's memory and to his own family.'
Kevan's temper flared.
'That is a slanderous statement, Cersei. And if I were you, I would not repeat it.'
'It isn't slander if it's true,' she smiled smugly.
'Clever,' Kevan snapped, 'where did you learn that, I wonder? From Tyrion?'
'How do you account for such a generous legacy, then?' Cersei shot back a little too quickly, 'Father never had the slightest desire for another woman after my mother's death, and yet he allowed himself to be seduced by this little – '
Kevan almost laughed aloud. Tywin had definitely never liked them that young.
'Cersei,' he smiled, 'sweetling. Do you really believe that your Father 'never had the slightest desire for another woman' after your lady mother's death?'
As he watched Cersei's face turn pale with anger; and confusion mould her lip into a gruesome line, he remembered the first time that Tywin had taken a whore after Joanna's death. His brother had burst into his chambers, his eyes wild and his hands shaking, and had told him, in a terrifyingly emotionless tone, what he had done, when and with whom. The guilt convulsing his body had been a horrifying contrast to his voice and his face, and though Kevan had sat up all night with him, listening to his brother unburden himself, they had never spoken of it again; though Tywin's eyes had born a constant, guilty, desolate glow since that day that had never been present before.
Cersei was glaring at him.
'What do you mean, Uncle?' she demanded.
'Nothing at all,' Kevan replied gravely, 'forgive me. I spoke in anger.'
Cersei's lip curled.
'Is there nothing we can do about this wretched will?' she asked.
'No,' Kevan replied, beating anger down once again, 'and if there were, I would not permit you to do so.'
'You would not permit me?' Cersei repeated in indignation, drawing herself up to her full height, 'I am the Queen – '
'No, I would not permit you,' Kevan growled, exhausted with grief and war and this wretched girl's insistence on trampling all over his brother's final wishes, 'I will permit no one to besmirch your Father's memory or to tamper with his legacy, no one, not even the Queen Regent.'
Her features were waging war with themselves, her paleness and her eyes wilfully suppressing the bloodlike crimson of her anger.
Of course, he thought, How obvious. She wants something from me.
'I need you, Uncle,' she pleaded.
'I doubt that very much, Cersei,' he replied curtly.
'My brothers have abandoned me,' she continued, her beautiful green eyes heavy with tears, 'they have abandoned Joffrey. They devote their lives to defying him, to ensuring that he is an object of nothing but ridicule –'
They can hardly do otherwise when the little brat clearly has similar ambitions for his own reputation.
'I have heard tales of these battles of wits in the throne room, Cersei,' Kevan remarked, 'and every version I hear seems to cast your brothers in a most favourable light.'
'A favourable light?' Cersei shrieked.
'Is it true that he ordered the little fingers of the Lady Sansa and the Lady Arya to be chopped off and sent to their brother?' he spat in distaste.
'A harmless joke, Uncle,' Cersei said, smiling unconvincingly.
'Was it?' Kevan insisted, 'Jaime tells me that had he not been present, Joffrey would have committed this folly in full view of the court.'
'Jaime is incapable of thinking rationally when it comes to those girls,' his niece sneered, bitterness warping the beauty of her face, 'the youngest has her claws in him.'
'Good,' Kevan declared approvingly, 'I only hope she keeps her claws in him. He's acting like a man for the first time in his life. Now tell me what you want, Cersei. I am anxious to return home to defend Casterly Rock in the war your son started.'
'Stay, Uncle,' she commanded, 'Stay, and be my Hand.'
Not this again.
'No, Cersei.'
'Why not?'
Kevan ground his teeth, wondering if the girl was illiterate.
'I'm afraid I'm rather tired of that conversation,' he said, 'kindly refer to the fifty or so letters that I sent you before my arrival. I'm fairly sure that every possible reason for my refusal is outlined in them, along with arguments, justifications and examples.'
Cersei was glaring at him with an expression of the deepest, bitterest contempt.
'What has happened to the men of this family?' she spat, 'you're all miserable, gutless cowards now that Father can no longer tell you to be otherwise –'
'No, Cersei, we're tired. Particularly of you and particularly of your son.'
'How dare you –'
'If you wish to appoint a suitable Hand, and I advise you to do so before you become a laughing stock as well as your son; you would be wise to choose Tyrion.'
'Tyrion? Tyrion is a lecherous little stump who thinks with nothing and of nothing but his cock!'
'Tyrion is his father's son.'
'I am my father's daughter!'
Kevan smiled ironically at her. She could not have said anything more injurious to her father's memory.
'Yes, Cersei, you are your father's daughter,' he said, 'in name and in blood, but in precious little else. You have allowed your little imbecile of a son to do precisely what he wants without a second thought for the damage to the crown, or to the thousands of lives that have been lost, that are still being lost; because of that little bit of theatre on the steps on the Great Sept of Baelor. If you were truly your father's daughter, you would have stopped it. You would have realised the consequences of such a foolish action, you would have hit the little fool in the face in front of the entire city, and you would have stopped it. You would have saved us. You could have saved us. Instead, you let it happen. You have allowed the past four years to happen. And both of us know, Cersei, that had your father been present in King's Landing for those four years instead of at Harrenhal, Joffrey would have been so frightened that he wouldn't have taken so much as a shit without Tywin's permission.'
Kevan almost jumped in surprise. He didn't swear often.
'You say you are your father's daughter,' he continued, 'prove it. Reward intelligence, and encourage it wherever you find it. Don't toss it into a corner out of sheer spite. Because if you do not provide a mind like Tyrion's with some distraction, he will find his own.'
'Return to his drinking and his whores, you mean?' Cersei laughed bitterly.
Kevan shrugged.
'In the past, that might have been true. But now that he knows what true power is, drinking and whoring won't be enough for him. If you keep him under your nose; if you let him believe that it is he who rules in Westeros; you can keep an eye on him; rap him over the knuckles if he gets too rebellious; and profit from his intelligence at the same time. Tyrion has a fine mind for warfare and a fine mind for ruling. Tywin's mind. Use it.'
Cersei's face lit up with genuine glee at the idea of deceiving her brother, and as Kevan rode away from her, delighted to put the Red Keep behind him, he resigned himself to the fact that his niece was a complete and irredeemable fool.
If it is this easy to manipulate her, then I shudder to think how amusing it must be to watch her manipulating others.
