CERSEI

The wheelhouse rambled down the kingsroad, wheels bumping on the ground, and Cersei tried to keep her stomach settled. Gods be good, if I knew this is what it'd be like, I'd have ridden something else, she thought, clutching her swollen belly. Or not ridden at all.

"Ooooh, oooh," said little Mirimelle Rogers, leaning out the wheelhouse window, her bright blonde curls gleaming in the sun. She glanced back at Lomas' daughters Bethany and Mae Estermont, who had in the course of the last few days become her dearest friends. "Look, look, a great white tower!"

Gwyndolyn glanced out along with the Estermont sisters, as she pulled the little girl back in. "Oh, that is Spyne Tower, of Castle Spyne. My family's castle. It's very old, and quite tall. Not Hightower or the Wall tall, mind you, but tall. Seven stories. And even more floors below. Ever so many. Nobody knows the precise number. Some of my family have tried to see how far it goes into the earth. Usually, they disappear. Sometimes they go mad." She shrugged. "Occasionally both. And so we continue to have no idea."

"Sounds like an unpleasant place to live," said Marya.

"It is," replied Gwyndolyn. "So we haven't even tried for the last six centuries. Spyne Keep is where we actually live. It's much smaller, and far less interesting, but people don't vanish mysteriously, strange things don't come up from below and there are no rooms with enigmatic bloody handprints. Sometimes one must sacrifice romance for comfort."

Lady Fell looked up from her corner of the wheelhouse. "You know such comforting tales, Lady Chelsted." She glanced at her youngest sister. "Come here, Miri. Stop darting about so. You're making Her Grace's tummy hurt."

"I am not!" said Miri, pouting. She looked at Cersei, worried. "Am I?"

"Not… particularly," said Cersei as the child kicked in her belly. Settle down, I beg you. When you've gotten yourself born, I will be ever so nice to you if you do. Please?

"Should I send for the maester?" asked Lady Errol, leaning forward, eyes wide with concern, her little niece nestled sleeping on her lap, while her sister Flora bit her lip. "Or the Septon? I've heard soothing prayers can help. And Septon Sefton, he has a very calming voice…"

Cersei managed to shake her head, while Lady Fell rolled her eyes at her sisters. "She is fine, Deidre," noted Lady Fell.

"Are you sure, Fiona?" said Deidre Errol.

"Yes," stated Lady Fell flatly, while she played with a lock of her red-gold hair. She glanced at Cersei. "I do apologize for my sisters. Deidre's just found she's with child and Flora is to be wed in a year, and they are both putting all their anxiety on you. As for Miri, she's nine." She smiled. "We Rogers are a rambunctious bunch. Rest assured, it was I they were pestering throughout my first pregnancy. And my second."

Cersei managed a nod at that. The Rogers of Amberly were one of the greater families of the Stormlands, not on the level of the Carons, Swanns or Penroses perhaps, but close. They were also rich from the amber trade – not as rich as her family of course, but far richer than the Carons and Swanns, and possibly a bit richer than the Penroses. Not people one can simply offend. Even if one does wish they were somewhere far away. "It… it is..fuh... fuh…" And then her stomach turned.

Marya's face stiffened, and she stuck her head out the window. "Stop the wheelhouse!" she shouted. Cersei tried to make a protest but her throat leapt and she instead found herself trying to keep her gorge down. The wheelhouse came to a lurching stop, and then Gwyndolyn was opening the door, and pulling down the steps while Marya helped her from the seat.

Lady Adrya stirred from her sleep. "Why… why have we stopped?" she said with a yawn.

"Your goodcousin the queen is feeling poorly," said Fiona, as Marya and Gwyndolyn helped her down the stairs. Ser Cortnay rode up near them, frowning. He seemed about to ask a question, but one look at Cersei and he merely nodded and rode quietly beside her and her ladies as they lead her to a tree.

Cersei knelt and began to retch, as Lady Chelsted and Lady Seaworth pulled her hair back. She felt such a deep sense of humiliation as she vomited. I must be the first queen in all the Seven Kingdoms to have this happen to her, she thought, miserable. "There, there," said Marya soothingly rubbing Cersei's back.

"This will pass," cooed Gwyndolyn, stroking her arm. "You will be fine."

"Thuh… thuh…" began Cersei, only to vomit again. After a while, she stopped. Ser Cortnay, who had dismounted from his horse as she… took care of her business, handed her a cloth.

"For Your Grace's face," he said gently. She took it, and wiped her mouth, glancing at him. If Ser Cortnay was at all bothered by this, he showed no signs.

"Thank you, Ser Cortnay," she muttered. "I…"

"My goodsister's pregnancy was much the same," said the knight. "I tried to be of service to her during it. I could do no less for my queen."

Cersei nodded at this. She turned to look at the tree, and realized it was not a tree at all, but a stone pillar covered with ivy. "What is this…?" she muttered, pulling the ivy aside. There symbols carved in the stone – a spear and a crown, a swordfish and then a ship with a star on its sails.

Ser Cortnay's eyes went wide. "An old marker. By the Seven, it's amazing this still stands. It's of the second Spear Kingdom, from after the Conquest." He put his hand to the sigils. "It signifies that this land is claimed by the Spear King, of House Bar Emmon, and held for them by…" He stared at the last sigil. "Hmmm, some vassal…"

"I know this one," said Gwyndolyn. "We have some shields that show it hanging in Spyne Keep. War trophies from when we were the shield to the Briar Kings. It's the Frey sign. A dark blue ship with a seven pointed star on the sails rendered in gold, on a field of grey."

Cersei blinked at that. "What? I know the Frey sigil. Two blue towers on grey."

"That is the cadet line, the Freys of the Twins," said Ser Cortnay. "This would be the senior line, the Freys of Freyhal. Who are now extinct." He shrugged. "This is probably one of the last signs of them in these lands."

"What happened to them?" asked Cersei, as they began to make their way back to the wheelhouse.

"The Durrandons had them destroyed, root and branch, for the treachery of their kin, the Freys of the Twins," answered the knight. "When Harwyn Hoare invaded the riverlands, they sided with him, and even betrayed knowledge of the Storm King's war plans to him, ensuring Arrec's defeat. In retaliation – and to keep them from aiding their kin in the future – Arrec had the Freys of Freyhal put to the sword, and Freyhal destroyed, to its very foundations." Cortnay frowned. "They were not much missed. An ill-loved family, given to treachery and self-importance. Their kin have not changed, as I hear it. Still they are gone from these lands. A blessing, I suppose, however bloodily it was won." The Kingsguard led them back to the wheelhouse.

Cersei glanced at Ser Cortnay. "Your family ruled these lands once, didn't they? The… the Kingdom of the Word?"

"So the chroniclers call it," said Ser Cortnay with a smile. "We Penroses held ourselves to be the true Kings of the Stormlands in those days, chosen by the Seven Above. We contested the Durrandons for rule, and at times ruled more land than they. But in the end, they outlasted us and we became their vassals."

Miri glanced at him as Cersei re-entered. "Why do people call it the Kingdom of the Word then?" asked the girl.

"Because the Durrandons had a kingdom they also called the Kingdom of the Storm," answered Ser Cortnay, "and they were the victors. When the chronicles were written, another name was needed for what the Penroses held. And the most notable title we Penroses claimed besides our throne was 'Servant of the Inviolate Word'." He shrugged. "We still claim it. My father is the present Servant. And should remain so, for many long years."

Little Miri nodded. "Grandfather is the Chosen of the Unicorn and Master of the Maze. My father would have been after him, but…" She fidgeted uncomfortably, and looked away. "When Grandfather dies, my brother Benedict will be the new Chosen and Master. He's nice."

Stannis had mentioned this to her when he told her the Rogers sisters would be traveling with her. "Ser Harrold was a brave man," Cersei said. "He served Robert very loyally."

Miri nodded and looked at her, eyes wide. She looked around the chamber nervously. "Did you really meet my cousin?"

Lady Fell glanced at her little sister with a touch of irritation, while the other sisters seemed more nervous. "I… I might have," said Cersei. "Who is your cousin?"

"She means Lord Stark," said Fiona. "Our mothers were sisters. Branda and Lyarra Stark. The Wandering Wolf's girls." Cersei gave a nod. She says that as if I'd know who it is. Lady Fell smiled. "Obviously, you don't know who that is. A fifth son, who had a rather exciting life. Made his fortune abroad, came home and wed, and then went abroad yet again and again. At one point, he met our other grandfather, and they became dear and bosom friends, which lead to my mother being pledged to my father. There was drink involved in that. In stories involving Rodrik Stark and Lord Conrad Rogers, there is always drink involved. Oh, such stories." She chuckled. "Made quite a bit of money too, and had a wife with a holdfast out in the hills, so Winterfell was quite eager to reunite the lines. They did not want another Greystarks, or worse another Nyrstarks or Colstarks." She shrugged. "Sorry. More things you haven't heard of. The North has an interesting history."

"I assume 'interesting' is standing in for 'bloody'," said Gwyndolyn.

"Some of the time," replied Lady Fell, grinning.

"Well, yes, I did meet him," said Cersei.

"Is he nice?" asked Miri.

Cersei thought back to the man begging like a fool in their solar to desert her husband's cause. "I did not meet him very long," she managed.

Miri nodded, and glanced around the chamber again, her fingers idly tapping on the seat. "We and our cousins are estranged," she whispered loudly. Most of her sisters looked at her disapprovingly, though Fiona chuckled. Miri continued. "It is a great and terrible rift in our family."

"It is no such thing," laughed Lady Fell. "I apologize for my sister's dramatics. She is Mother's favorite, and well, everything enters little Miri's ears and gets magnified. It is a dull little family quarrel and the only point of interest is that it's between the richest family in the Stormlands and the Lords Paramount of the North."

"What happened?" asked Marya, and Cersei was thankful because this meant that she didn't have to ask.

"As I understand it, there was some horrible argument before she came to Amberly to marry my father," said Lady Fell. "Something with much shouting and things thrown, and that makes me think it is a good thing he wed my aunt and not my mother. Truth, the passion involved, I half imagine they fancied each other, terrible as that would have been." Diedre and Flora were glaring daggers at their older sister, who was cheerfully ignoring them. "Whatever happened, Lord Rickard and my mother spent the ensuing time trying their best to act as if the other did not exist, something they managed with a great deal of skill and dedication. "

Fiona leaned back and gave a dramatic sigh. "Various quiet efforts to patch things up by others failed. My father, for example, offered to foster young Eddard, but was rebuffed. Lord Stark had other plans for the boy. And then offered to have my brother Gerart foster at Winterfell, but was rebuffed with more vigor." She shrugged. "Mother put it down to spite, pure and simple, but I suspect he had other motives. Likely didn't want any of us getting any ideas. Mother gave up all claims to holdings in the North on the marriage, but we are known to be wealthy, and it would not be the first time a rich house found ways around such an arrangement." She shrugged. "Though spite and hatred doubtless played a part. I've no doubt that when Rickard bothered to think of us we were the cursed spawn of that women instead of the nieces and nephews he tragically did not know. So there the matter stood, quite bad, and then it managed to get worse."

"How?" Cersei blurted out.

"My aunt fell off a horse and died," replied Lady Fell. "Mother broke the decade-long silence to ask Lord Rickard to delay the funeral so she could attend. Lord Rickard refused and strongly suggested that a visit on her part would be unwanted. Mother was so furious, that her yells in the godswood could be heard in the sept. And Amberly's sept is on the other side of the palace." Fiona chuckled. "As you can see, my mother is a formidable woman." She shrugged. "I wish I could say that death has eased the quarrel, but in truth Mother is still quite cross with him. Especially dying in such a grand horrible way. Now she has to mourn him, and it makes her ever so mad."

"And you do not consider that a rift?" noted Gwyndolyn raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no, because all it is a dull squabble kept up by two exceedingly stubborn people, one of whom is dead," said Lady Fell.

Flora looked at her sister. "Mother would be so cross to hear you."

"But she can't hear me at the moment," answered Fiona. "And I'm done worrying about her being cross." She smiled at Cersei. "I've no doubt one of us will make an approach and Lord Stark, unless his father's venom has completely destroyed his good sense on the subject, will be happy to reassociate himself with kin." She shrugged. "It is not as if he has some hideous dark secret that will cause him to keep us at arms length, after all. Mother will protest, and groan, and then pretend this was all at her prompting. And we will all agree with her pretense, for she is, again, formidable."

Lady Errol rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Fiona, you chide Miri for it, but you're a worse gossip than her."

"Oh, I am a better gossip," said Lady Fell. "I make people interested in what I have to say, Diedre." She smirked at Cersei, who squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. There was something so… knowing in Lady Fell's glances. Her aunt had a gaze like that, one that looked as if it was trying to win you over as it sneaked the secrets out of your skull.

Cersei bit her lip and looked at Miri, who was whispering to the Estermont sisters. She smiled. The girl reminded her of herself at that age, always with Melara and Jeyne… Melara's screams came to Cersei's ears, the screams and that sound of hands paddling desperately as she tried to stay afloat. Your fault, Melara, thought Cersei with a frown. Your fault. You had us go to the witch. You asked her that stupid, impertinent question. You made me ask her something… you made me… you made me… Cersei shut her eyes. 'Dark as a raven's wing', croaked Maggie the Frog.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" asked Marya softly, a comforting hand on her shoulder. Cersei's eyes cracked open.

Cersei managed a nod. "It… I am just tired."

"Oh, you poor dear," said Lady Fell, smiling. "Motherhood is such a burden."

"Fiona," snapped Lady Errol.

"I am sympathizing with the Queen, Diedre," replied Lady Fell. Lady Errol seemed about to say something when the sound of horses approaching near the wheelhouse was heard.

"Is everything all right?," called out a familiar voice. "We saw the wheelhouse stop and…"

Gwyndolyn smiled at Renly. "Your goodsister was feeling poorly, Your Grace. On account of the child within her."

Renly smiled winningly on his little pony, flanked by a group of knights and young squires and noblemen. He was wearing a green and gold doublet and a large fringed cloak with a silver brooch showing a rearing stag. Cersei noted the Plumm brothers a little behind him. "I do hope the Queen is feeling better now," he said.

An older man with an axe at his side glanced at Lady Fell. "Are you all right, my sweetness? The ride comfortable, and… so forth?"

"I am excellent, Darwyn," said Fiona. "And as always pleased to have such a considerate husband." Cersei blinked as she realized she was looking at 'Silveraxe' Fell. I thought he'd look more impressive.

Miri glanced at Renly, blushed and bit her lip. "Is the trip nice, Prince Renly? Are you liking the scenery and the air and… so forth?"

"It is pleasant enough, Lady Mirimelle" replied Renly. "There are few things I enjoy more than a hearty ride with some sturdy companions."

Miri nodded nervously. "I hope… I hope this doesn't mean you won't mind the feast at Bronzegate… when we get there…"

Renly chuckled. "Do not worry, Lady Mirimelle. A fine feast in good company is among those few things." He looked at Cersei. "I hope you are feeling better soon, goodsister." Cersei forced out a nod. Renly smiled at her, then spurred his pony on, and rode forward, the others following him.

Diedre frowned at her elder sister. "I see you still have Lord Darwyn twisted around your little finger."

Fiona smiled. "I have some small talent in that direction." She glanced at Adrya. "I understand that you might be in the market for a second husband in the near future. While I can hardly claim to know your taste, I suggest you buy aged." She leaned back in her seat. "They do pamper one so."

Marya shook her head. "My mother had a word for women like you," she muttered.

"My mother has the same word," said Lady Fell. "I own my nature, it is mine, same as my hands, my feet and my hair."

Miri had been staring dreamily at the ceiling. "Prince Renly is so dashing," she said with a sigh. The Estermont sisters giggled at that.

"He is the very image of Robert at that age," said Lady Adrya, sighing herself.

"Robert didn't dress so well," said Marya. "At least, not when he was riding about."

"A silk cloak on the road," noted Gwyndolyn, shaking her head. "Father would be furious. He used to grumble that some men think silk grows on trees. Then one day Rys pointed out that it more or less does…"

Miri twiddled her thumbs. "I thought he looked very well. The prince I mean." The Estermont sisters giggled again, and Lady Fell smirked at her little sister. Miri squirmed in her seat, and then looked at Cersei. "Is it true you fell in love with the King on hearing of his great valor?"

Cersei blinked and then laughed. She considered telling the girl that of course it was true, but little Miri looked so absurdly hopeful that she could not lie. "No, that is just… something they have us all say. I… when my father had us betrothed, all I knew of Stannis is he was Robert's brother and had held Storm's End for him."

Miri seemed disappointed by this, biting her lip, and fiddling with one of her blonde curls. "So, when did you fall in love with him?"

Cersei blinked at her. "Gradually," she said. "Over time. As I came to know his… goodness. And his strength." That should satisfy the little fool, she thought. She did not know what she had with Stannis, but she wouldn't call it love. Fondness, perhaps. I do wish he was here. It would be nice to talk to him. He doesn't waste time with claptrap such as this. She sighed.

Thankfully, Miri seemed to accept this. "It was very dashing, when he rode up to the wheelhouse just as you were out the gates." The girl fiddled with her curls, then twiddled her thumbs. "And then you and he kissed."

Cersei smiled, despite herself. "Oh, yes. Very dashing indeed." Cersei could hardly believe Stannis had done it, ridden right up to them. She was certain he'd had some message for her, and perhaps he had, but whatever it had been, he'd forgotten it, and they'd just wound up staring at each other, for a while. I should have said something, she thought, but of course, she hadn't, and then…

Miri and the Estermont sisters giggled suddenly, and Cersei realized they were giggling at her. It struck her that she should be annoyed at this, and yet somehow she was not. I wonder if I looked like that, when I was her age… And then she was thinking of herself, and Jeyne, and Melara, stupid Melara, stupid treacherous Melara… She was crying for help, afterwards. Still crying, when I… when I left… And then Cersei was back in the tent, listening to that horrible old woman. Cersei had asked her if she would marry the prince, and Maggy the Frog had told her she would marry the king. She'd thought that this meant she would marry Rhaegar after Aerys had died…

'So I will be queen then?' she'd asked. 'Oh, yes,' said the old woman. 'You will be the queen of summer, until the queen of winter comes, to blight your green and your gold, with a smile on her icy blue lips…' Maggy the Frog had grinned at that, and Cersei had felt so frightened. 'Will we have children?' she had sputtered out. 'The king and I… I mean…' And Maggy had only grinned more. 'Fine babes will he have of you, three princes and two princesses, and all shall take after their father, and be dark as a raven's wing…" She wondered at that, wondered how Rhaegar could be described as dark, how she and he could have children who were dark, but she then thought that this meant they would share their father's temperament… and then Maggy the Frog had let out her last most wicked foretelling.

'Yes, fine princes, but no kings,' said the old woman and that grin had become so cruel. 'You will see them all die,' she continued. 'Die before you. And the queen of winter shall laugh, and the valonqar shall come for you, and end your life with his cruel black hands. And they will find the tatters that were your body and weep bitter tears…'

Cersei whimpered to herself. She'd whimpered in Maggy's tent then too, because she'd felt so tiny, and so frightened, and so alone… It is no wonder I listened to that ridiculous idea of Melara's. I was so terrified, I'd have grabbed any foolishness that seemed an answer… Your fault, Melara! Your fault! It's all your fault! All of it!

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" asked Marya. The woman was looking at her as if there was something wrong with her. They all were, and Cersei wished she could vanish, wished that she could somehow make it so they weren't looking at her. She took a deep breath and tried to say something, but her voice would not work. Mirimelle Rogers crept up to her and put her little head on Cersei's lap.

"Please be all right, Your Grace," said the girl.

Cersei stroked the girl's fair curls. "I am fine, Miri. Simply… bad memories. About my little brother."

"The dwarf?" asked Miri.

"Miri!" snapped Lady Errol, while Flora simply glared at her little sister. Cersei wondered what offended them so.

"But he is a dwarf," mumbled Miri.

Lady Errol leaned forward. "Miri, would you like it if someone else called grandfather a crookback?"

Miri shrugged. "Well, he is…"

Lady Fell chuckled at that, and then glanced at Cersei. "As he has come to Bronzegate to see you, do not call grandfather a crookback. Unless he tells you to call him a crookback. Then do so. Much like my mother, Lord Conrad Rogers is quite formidable, so you are best off giving him what he wants." She shrugged. "He usually gets it anyway."

"I will try to remember that," said Cersei, glad that this had proven a distraction from Miri's inquiry about Tyrion. Dreadful little creature, she thought. You'll not get my sons. I'll not let you!

"Will I get to sit next to Prince Renly at Bronzegate?" asked Miri quietly.

Flora rolled her eyes. "Mother's Mercy, Miri… first it was young Bryce Caron. Now…"

"What?" said Miri, crossing her arms. "I just want to know if I will be allowed to sit next to the King's little brother. That is sensible! He is important!"

Cersei felt a sudden chill. She told herself she was being a fool, but… She just said 'valonqar'. A little brother. Not necessarily my little brother. She shook her head. It had felt so sensible that it be Tyrion! But… no, no, that was often how this sort of prophecy worked. Cersei knew her tales, the stories of kings told they'd be killed by a certain beast, who died at the hands of a man who used that for the sigil. Or even as a name. And cases that went the other way… King Lancel the Ill-Omened had started a war against the Brackens because he was told to beware the horse by a sage, then been thrown from his horse on the way to the battle. And that lead to a costly defeat for the Rock, she thought.

Renly was young, he loved glory and people fawning over him… It could be him. But… it could also still be Tyrion. Or… The more Cersei looked at it, the more interpretations it had. Ser Cortnay… Ser Lomas… Ser Brynden… Ser Lyn… By the Gods, the world is awash in younger brothers! No, this path just lead to further bafflement. She needed a clue. The queen of winter… she had never truly thought about that part, thought that Maggy had just meant that winter would come and she would… And it struck Cersei, all at once, that Ned Stark, whose cousins she was now traveling with, was a younger son, and that it seemed not unlikely that he might have some relation to a queen of winter.

She took a deep breath. It was… it was a great deal of guessing. It might be nonsense. There was a part of her telling herself that Tyrion was the most likely culprit. But she now had an idea to look into. A way to keep my children safe…

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" asked Marya. "You look… pained."

"It is nothing, Lady Marya," whispered Cersei. "I am fine." A smile came to her face. "In fact, I am feeling much better now than I have in a long time."