Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun

Chapter Forty-Eight.

Cersei's frown was heavy as she rubbed at her swelling stomach, she wasn't a fool as to believe such a thing but she was almost certain that it seemed a little bigger each day and every day was more uncomfortable than the last. The baby was more active than most at this stage and it's favourite place to sit as of late had been her bladder, she hadn't been able to go an hour without making water for weeks.

She would have been able to endure that easily enough but the lack of affection from her prince had been shortening her temper as of late and to make things even more unbearable her only constant company that she had any more was from her goodmother, the foolish flock of hens that called themselves her ladies, her dear prince's beastly little brother and that foolish old lickspittle Pycelle.

They had all the wits of a monkey between them and that was only on a good day and yet she was forced to surround herself with all of them and not with her prince, where was where she had wanted to be more than anywhere else. She had gone to see him the other day and yet those arrogant guards had turned her away, saying that her husband had said not to be disturbed by anyone as he was in the middle of a meeting with the Hand of the King.

At that moment she had wanted to sized a sword from one of the guards that had been hanging from their belts but she knew that she couldn't do that, for one a sword was too heavy for her to hold and she couldn't fight both of them off and she had no training when it came to using a sword and her prince would probably not take too kindly to her killing his guards.

She sighed as she adjusted herself trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed, most of her time was spent sleeping when she wasn't forced to spend time with her ladies or reading the same old books over and over again. Her goodmother often invited her to walk the streets and pay custom to goldsmiths or to seamstresses or to go and pray in the sept of Baelor.

Many times she knew that she had no choice but to go but as of late she had been able to use her belly as an excuse to escape the long hours of tedium, so there had been some relief there. Still, she had to wonder if it was truly wise. The queen clearly had her son's ear and when the king wasn't using her and her son wasn't speaking with the Hand, she was speaking to him. Cersei wondered how much of what she was saying was about her.

Soon she abandoned the idea of finding a comfortable spot and pushed herself up, calling for one of her handmaids, a girl from one of the lesser branches of House Crakehall who had come to King's Landing to serve the future queen which was in truth apparently a gift from Cersei's father to hers, to come and dress her for the day ahead.

She choose a dress of green silk, loose around the waist with a golden hairnet with emeralds woven through it. She caught sight of herself in the looking glass and smiled, she was the most beautiful woman in all seven kingdoms. Many simpering fools who had been foolish enough try and court her had told her so but Jaime and Rhaegar had always told her so as well and neither of them would lie to her.

She chose two rings, one made of solid silver and shaped into the likeness of a roaring lion with a ruby set into his mouth and another that was a dragon's roaring maw carved out of jet with an amethyst set into it's mouth. Next came a golden amulet with an emerald the size of a goose egg set into it, it almost glow in the soft sunlight.

And then finally, was her crown.

It was silver, finely made and so thin that each time it was picked up that she thought that it would snap like spun sugar. A large fire opal was set into the centre of it and it looked like a dozen colours were at war inside of it. It was pretty enough, to be certain, but she wanted something more. She wanted a crown of gold with diamonds clear and black and rubies and emeralds and carved dragons and lions roaring among pillars of gold.

But not yet, when she was a queen, but a princess would make do.

Her maid brought her food with which she broke her fast, a loaf of bread with freshly churned butter and a jar of honey, two ducks eggs cooked so that the orange blood slipped through the gooey white flesh and a bowl of raspberries, blueberries and grapes. To wash it down was a cup of mint tea which she sweetened with her entire pot of honey.

Once she had eaten and her plates were taken away there was a knock at the door and her maid opened it to see outside, she shut the door for a moment before she turned back to Cersei. "It is the queen and prince Viserys, princess."

Cersei stood up, using a hand to support herself. "Let them in." The maid nodded and pulled the door open, Queen Rhaella was dressed in a gown made of crushed purple velvet that made her eyes stand out, a necklace of moonstones encircling her pale neck. Prince Viserys was clinging to his mother's hand tightly and was dressed in a dark black doublet with a red cloak hanging from his shoulders with a sliver three headed dragon clasp keeping it fastened.

Cersei noticed that the little prince's eyes were red, as though he had been crying heavily just before coming to her chambers and the Queen's face was carved out of stone, not even her eyes giving anything wrong. Her voice was cold as winter when she spoke. "Gooddaughter, my royal husband is holding court. You are to come with me?"

She couldn't hide the stab of fear in her gut, she was no fool. She knew that the king was mad, his temper was a fierce thing and as uncontrollable as the wildfire that he was so fond off. The king hadn't held court since Cersei and her husband had been summoned back from Dragonstone, it had fallen to his hand to hold that honour and deal with the complaints.

Cersei found that she couldn't find her tongue to speak and so she simply nodded before she found a long cloak of crimson with a dragon and a lion entwined on it, she felt cold all of a sudden. But as she was about to clasp it her goodmother's hard voice cut through the silence of the chamber. "Find a different cloak, you shall not wear that one to court."

A flare of irritation consumed her then and Cersei found that could not hide it even if she wished to do so, she turned back to face the Queen. "Why not?"

"Because I said that you will not."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Do not argue with me girl!" The sudden fury that had entered the Queen's voice was so different to how she normally spoke that it caught Cersei off guard and made her take a step back, the Prince Viserys let out a whimper and Rhaella sighed before she placed her hand on top of her younger son's head, bringing her fingers through his hair before she turned her attention back on to Cersei. "I am your Queen, if I tell you to wear a different cloak then you will wear a different cloak. Now, hurry. We must not keep the king waiting."

Cersei said nothing but made her displeasure known by taking her cloak off and throwing it roughly as it landed at the queen's feet, the queen said nothing as she stared at her with that blank expression back in place. Cersei walked over to the chest where the first cloak had come from and her maid began to dig through it to find one she was fond of.

"Enjoy you're little power while you can, you old cunt. When I'm queen I will have you sent to Dragonstone to rot and convince Rhaegar to send your snot-nosed little brat to the Wall." The thought was a sweet one and it would not be beyond her power to do so, Viserys was only needed around the Red Keep until Rhaegar had an heir of his own and Cersei did not plan on stopping giving him them.

Besides, there was great honour to be fond at the Wall and if Prince Viserys happened to have his head caved in by a wilding's axe, well, no one would weep harder than her. She would teach this old woman that she was not one to be crossed.

A new cloak was soon found of her, it was made of silk and not as thick but that was fine enough. She found that the chill she had been feeling had left her and this one she was able to clasp on without a single word of protest.

The royal family, such as it was, made their way through the corridors of Maegor's Holdfast. Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur and Ser Lewyn pale and silent ghosts following after them.

The Great Hall was throbbing with lords and ladies when Cersei, Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys took their place in the gallery. Cersei spied Jon Connington standing next to the Iron Throne on it's right, his expression hard to make out from where she was standing. She could not make sight of her husband but then she imagined it was possible that he had not arrived yet.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Rhaegar walked into the throne room via the King's Door and spoke some word into Lord Connington's ear before he took his place on the left of the Iron Throne.

The Herald's voice cut through the muttering of the great hall. "Now presenting Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, King of the Andels, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm." With such a long list of titles you would expect a tall man, handsome and powerful if no longer in the height of his youth.

But the man who came in through the king's door, guarded on all sides by the other four members of the Kingsguard, was a poor old wretch wearing purple robes so filthy that they looked more black than they did purple. Along with not letting his hair be shorn or his nails cut, he had apparently forsworn bathing now as well as to not appear vulnerable to any man.

And yet all the king had succeed in doing was make himself appear more vulnerable than ever before, he was as thin as a rake and how he had the strength to get up in the morning alluded her. Baelor Targaryen had fasted himself to death, unless his own hand poisoned him, perhaps that would be the way that another Targaryen met their end.

The king ascended the throne and sat down on to it, Cersei thought that she saw him wince but said nothing of it. She knew that some called him the scab king for how often he cut himself on the blades of the Iron Throne. There was some peasant superstition that if the blades of the throne cut into the flesh of the ruler that sat upon it then it was a sign that the throne had rejected them and that they were not meant to sit upon it.

It was foolishness, it was a chair made out of burnt and twisted metal. She imagined that every king and every hand that had ever sat on the throne had cut themselves on it at least the once. Still, the Mad King cut himself more often than most had ever been said to done. And yet he still sat upon it, he still ruled. But maybe not for much longer.

The court carried on for a time, lords and merchants and peasants came forward and presented their grievances and much to Cersei's shock, it seemed as though the King was having a calm day. He had not summoned the Pyromancers as of yet nor had he order anyone's tongue to be ripped out. It seemed that same shock that she felt was being mirrored on her goodmother's face.

There were a few close moments, a begging brother had come forth and reminded everyone of the burning of the High Septon and compelled the lords and ladies to rise up and stand against the king lest they be condemned to the worst of the Seven Hells. The brother was not burned for his words nor was his tongue removed but he was dragged off to the black cells, more than likely to be burned at a later date.

That was the worst that happened however and sooner than Cersei had been expecting, it was over. The king stepped down from the Iron Throne and hurried out of the king's door with three of his guard and his hand hurrying after him. Her husband spoke softly to Oswell Whent, words she could not make out from here, before they left the hall as well.

Cersei could not hide her frown at that even if she chose to do so, he couldn't be ignoring her. He just could not, the babe seemed to pick up on her upset and writhed in the confines of her womb. She placed her hand on her belly and tried to breath to calm them. "Cersei? Are you well?" Her goodmother's voice seemed so very far away.

She cleared her throat and nodded and made her excuses, claiming tiredness and needing to rest. She did not wait to hear an excusal before she turned and walked away, trying to bite back her tears of rage as the heavy footsteps of Ser Arthur followed after her.

Soon enough she was back in her chambers and laying on her bed, rubbing at her eyes while trying to hold the tears back. Her husband loved her, she was sure of that. He had too, she was the most beautiful woman in the world and all that she did, she did to please him and make him happy. If he wanted a hundred children then she would bare them for him, she swore that she would. Rhaegar had to love her, he had too.

She hated how pathetic she felt, how weak she must have seemed. A sad and silly wife who wept buckets every time her husband didn't pay a scrap of attention to her but she could not help it. She wanted him to touch her like he used to, to fuck her till she screamed and wept from the pleasure of it all. She wanted him to play his harp only for her.

Dragonstone, she wanted the man she had back on Dragonstone.

The sound of the door opening made her sit up and rub at her eyes, no one living would ever see her like this, and she turned to face her maid. She presented a letter that had been brought to the room and Cersei dismissed her as she stared down at the red wax that sealed the letter. She broke the seal and ran her eyes over the letter, allowing the words to burn into her mind.

And in that moment she wanted flames to consume the world and all the people in it.

Lysa Tully? That simple minded cow? What could her father be thinking, wedding Jaime, her Jaime, to that foolish sow. No, no, no. She would not have it, she would not. She would burn all of Westeros from Last Hearth to Sunspear to the ground before she let that happen. Cersei throw her cloak back on and stormed over to the chamber door, wanting all of the Red Keep to feel her rage.

She pulled the chamber door open and found Ser Arthur standing outside waiting, he seemed surprised at her sudden appearance and her temperament but said nothing about it. "Princess? Are you leaving?"

"I need to see the Grand Maester." And with that Cersei pushed past him, caring little and less if he was following her or not. Pycelle was her father's creature, she had always known that to be the case. Whenever she overheard him speaking with his brothers he would often speak of Pycelle, of what he had to report on the small council or of the king's condition.

And if Pycelle was his creature then that made him hers as well. She stormed over the drawbridge of the Holdfast and made her way to the tower which held the Rookery and the Grand Maester's chambers. She ascended the stairs but made no move to the door, she turned to Ser Arthur and granted him her sweetest smile. "Might I ask you to wait out here, Ser Arthur? I promise you that it will not take long at all. It is simply a womanly complaint."

Ser Arthur said nothing, merely nodded and made his place beside the door. Cersei did not knock, she opened it and walked inside.

Pycelle was sitting at his desk, his long snowy white beard touching the desk itself. She found herself wondering how funny it might be if one of the candles on the desk caught it on fire. Pycelle seemed stunned at the entrance but relaxed once he noticed it was her, she wanted to slap him for that insult. "Princess, more beautiful with each and every day that passes."

Even the smartest of men passed out the same empty platitudes again and again, it seemed. Still, it served her best to play along. Cersei sat down and open her mouth to speak, before deciding instead to sob. "Oh, oh princess. What could ever be of such upset to bring this on? Are you worried for the babe? Is there some pain that I might help you cure?"

"In a fashion Grand Maester." Cersei spoke once her tears that she had summoned dried on her cheeks and were wiped away by her soft, pale hand. "I fear for myself, and for my husband."

"Fear?" The old man's eyes went as wide as boiled eggs and Cersei could feel the snare tightening, she had him. "Princess, what could there be here that you woulf need to fear? Your husband shall keep you safe from any threats, no doubt. And the kingsguard are sworn to protect you from any and all who would dare do you any harm?"

"It is the Kingsguard that I fear for, not that I would think any of that noble order would do me any harm. You understand." She rubbed at her eyes again. "But if I am attacked, if my Lord Husband is attacked. I would be safer in mind and heart if I know that there were sure and strong swords around him, and while he is a noble knight worthy of his cloak, I can not call Ser Grandison either sure or stable."

"Ser Harlan?" The Grand Maester's brow wavered and Cersei know that she was dancing on rotting ice, every word must be just so and the right amount of pressure had to be placed or she would slip through and be dragged down into the darkness. "Ser Harlan is a noble knight, princess. Who has many great deeds of valour listed in the White Book-"

"All of which I do not deny, not for a moment." It had to seem that these words pain her to say, pained her to even think them. She could not seem too eager or all would be for not. "But he is an old man, tired and forgetful. Has he needed to prove his metal as of late? He needs hours to get up, he is old and done and can not protect us if need be. Rhaegar needs a strong sword."

"I...I understand your fear Princess, to be sure I do." The Grand Maester muttered as he played with the link of chains around his throat. "But I can not think of how to consul you on this matter, Kingsguards serve for life. That is indeed the nature of their vows, the nature of their duty often means that their lives are cut short but Ser Harlan has lived longer than most."

Cersei frowned heavily, she knew that this was to be the hardest challenge. "I am aware of the nature of the Kingsguard vows, Ser Harlan drifts closer and closer to the arms of the stranger with each and every day that passes." Cersei stood from her chair and walked around the table, taking the Grand Maester's wrinkled hands in hers. "Is there naught we can do to...speed his passage?"

The old man's eyes grew even wider and for a moment, Cersei thought that she had shocked him into having a heart attack. She could almost laugh at the absurdity of it, in trying to kill one old man she had accidently killed another. His mouth quiver for a few moments and when he did speak, it came out as a hushed whisper. "Princess, such a suggestion is shocking and wicked. Perhaps the babe is affecting your humours in such a way that such an idea seems sensible to you but I-"

Cersei slapped him then and there, the heavy sound of her hand colliding with his face was a sweet one and Pycelle stared up at her with his mouth open and quivering as her red hand print burned against his skin. "Now listen to me, you old fool. I am not asking you to give me something that will make him cough up his lung in front of all the court. Simply something that will make him drift away to sleep, as old men do from time to time."

Under the thick cloud of his beard, Cersei saw the old man's chin wobble. "Princess, he is a kingsguard."

"Yes, and have you considered the Kingsguard's loyalties? Who is loyal to the king and who is loyal to the prince? A new sword is needed, a strong sword, a Lannister sword." That reached him, the Maester grew quite for a time but he eventually stood up and walked over to a large cabinet and rooting through it before returning to her side with a red pouch with golden string holding it closed.

Cersei opened the pouch and stared down at the fine yellow power inside for a few moments before she looked back up at Pycelle for an explanation. "Sweetsleep, Princess. Used to calm a pounding heart and bring deep and dreamless sleep. Alas, it does not leave the flesh and builds up as it were. A pinch or so in a cup of wine, every night for a fortnight should bring the desired affect."

Cersei smiled brightly as she bound the bag back up again as slipped it up her sleeve. "Thank you Grand Maester, most helpful." She walked back over to the door but turned back to him before she left. "Oh Grand Maester? Best not let this spread any further than us, I should so hate for you to have a deep and sweet sleep."

She strode out of the chamber and Ser Arthur followed her all the way back to her chambers, she stared at the pouch as she laid in bed and wondered how she would get the old man to drink it in over a fortnight. She couldn't very well put it in his wine herself, that would make her too suspect to the matter and all would be lost to her.

And then just like that, it struck her like a thunderbolt. It would be perfect, she placed the pouch in her bedside table and would see to ensuring it was placed in Ser Harlan's wine from now on. Soon, there would be a spot on the kingsguard, Jaime would be clad all in shining white and all Lysa Tully would be left with would be bitter tears.

Cersei had no need for sweetsleep to drift off that night, nor would she want it as she felt into a sweet dream of Jaime in his armour, her husband as beautiful as any man could hope to be and a dozen children at her feet. Elia Martell was drab in a dress made of wool and the colour of sheep dung, tears welling in her big black eyes and running down her brown cheeks while Eddard Stark stood at her side, a firm hand kept wrapt around her arm.

Tyrion was nowhere to be seen and her Father stood there, a smile that she hadn't seen in so long on his face and he and Cersei's Aunt and Uncles knelt before her.

And all through her dream, Cersei sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

End of Chapter Forty-Eight.

Please review, follow and favourite if you enjoyed this chapter and please give constructive criticism.

I've said it before, and I will say it again. There are few characters in this series who are as fun to write as Cersei, I was originally going to revel how she planned to poison Ser Harlan but I am going to leave it open for now and spread some clues through other character's POVs.

With Love,

Doctorwhofan12345.