Chapter 15: Cersei
"Oh, I pray the Seven will not allow it to rain upon the King's wedding," Jocelyn Swyft said as she laced up her gown.
"No one wants rain," Cersei responded. No, not rain, but sleet and hail and ice and lightning instead. She wanted a storm to match her rage. But she would have to settle for not being upstaged, "Tighter. Cinch it tighter, you simpering little fool."
It was the wedding that enraged her, though Jocelyn was by far a safer target. Tommen's hold upon the Iron Throne was not strong enough to risk offending Highgarden. Not so long as Stannis held Storm's End and Dragonstone, so long as Riverrun continued on in it's defiance, so long as Ironmen continued to prowl the seas like wolves. So Jocelyn would have to endure her rage.
The thought of tying her last remaining son to Margaery Tyrell and her hideous wrinkled old grandmother was one that roiled her stomach. She settled for spiced wine in place of a true meal, hoping the liquor would help her with the long nasty day she had ahead.
Jaime did not improve her mood when he came to tell her of the measures Tommen had ordered for his protection, "Men in the kitchens watching as each dish is prepared," he said. "Ser Bronn's goldcloaks will escort the servants as they bring food to the table, to make sure no tampering is done on the way. Ser Boros will be tasting every course before it comes near Tommen. And if all that should fail, Maester Ballabar will be seated at the back of the hall with many different antidotes to common poisons at the ready. Tommen will be safe, I promise you."
"Safe." The word was bitter on her tongue. Jaime did not understand. Nobody, save perhaps Tommen himself, truly did. And he treated it like a bad jape. Only Melara had been in the tent to hear the old hag's croaking threats, and Melara was long dead. "Baelish will not kill the same way twice. He is too cunning for that."
"Suppose he is. Cunning enough to slip past His Grace. And planning to kill him," Jaime said. "Whatever plan he makes, Tommen will be surrounded by some of the finest knights in the realm. The Kingsguard will protect him."
Cersei glanced at her brother's golden hook, "I remember how well they guarded Joffrey, those splendid knights of yours. I want you to remain with Tommen all night. Is that understood?"
"I will have a guardsman by the door," Jaime said.
She shook her head and seized his arm, "Not a guardsman. You. And inside the chamber itself."
Jaime seemed amused by her panic, "In case an assassin crawls out of the hearth?"
"So you say. Will you tell me that you found all the hidden tunnels in these walls?" They both knew better. Of the ones they had found, Tommen had not ordered the opening of at least a third. And who knew how many more remained yet undiscovered? "I will not have Tommen be alone with Margaery, not for so much as a heartbeat."
"I cannot ignore His Grace's commands."
"And you cannot ignore your Queen's either." Cersei had not wanted Tommen and his wife to share a bed at all, but the Tyrells had insisted. And her father, and Tyrion, and even Tommen himself had joined them in their insistence. In the end, she had been forced to relent, if only to preserve the image that her opinion still mattered.
"Husband and wife should sleep together," the Queen of Thorns had said. "Even if they do no more than sleep. His Grace's bed is big enough for two, surely."
Lady Alerie had echoed her goodmother, "Let the children warm each other at night. It will bring them closer together. Margaery oft shares blankets with her cousins. They sing and play games and whisper secrets to each other when the candles are snuffed out."
"How delightful," Cersei had said, not feeling at all delighted. "Let them continue, by all means. In the Maidenvault."
"I am sure Her Grace knows best," Lady Olenna had said to Lady Alerie. "She is the boy's own mother, after all, of that we are all sure. And surely we can agree about the wedding night? A man should not sleep apart from his wife on the night of their wedding. It is ill luck to do so."
Someday, I will teach you the meaning of ill luck, Cersei had vowed.
But still, her efforts were in vain. Tommen insisted that his wife lay with him, and continue to do so after the wedding. In public, he exalted Margaery's virtues, acting as though he were some sick love-struck puppy. In private, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's politics, mother. The best way to secure our alliance with the Tyrells is to put a baby in Margaery."
"You are still young," she had countered. "There is time yet."
"There is always time," he had agreed. "But there is not always opportunity. I need the Tyrells, and the Reach as well, and I cannot afford to let their strength slip through my fingers. There is no avoiding that."
Cersei's fingers were digging in hard enough in Jaime's arm to leave bruises at the memory of that conversation, "I need eyes in that room," she pleaded.
"To see what?" Jaime asked. "It is hardly as if you are unfamiliar with the marriage bed. Tommen is young, but not too much to do his duty. At that age you could not spend half a moon without having me inside you."
"Just... swear to me you will stay by Tommen's side till the sun comes up."
"As you command," Jaime said, as if her fears were groundless.
How could I have ever loved that wretched creature? she wondered after he had gone. He was your twin, your shadow, your other half, another voice whispered. Once, perhaps, she thought. No longer. He has become a stranger to me.
As strange to me as my own son.
It was clear to her now what had happened. Tyrion, the Tyrells, they had all sunken their claws in him. Why else would he defy her, and so often? He had never done that before. His dreams may have been true, that much she would admit, but that did not mean that Tommen did not need a guiding hand. He was a babe still.
She lamented her loss just as she planned to avenge it.
Tommen may have given me back my seat, but he did not give me back my power. Counting coppers and shuffling papers! No matter, I am the Regent still. There is time yet to reclaim my rightful place.
Compared to the magnificence of Joffrey's nuptials, the wedding of King Tommen was a modest affair, though still quite big. No one truly wanted a lavish ceremony, and nobody wanted to pay for one. So the Young King took Margaery to wife in the Red Keep's royal sept, with a few hundred guests compared to the thousands who had witnessed his brother joined to the same woman.
The bride was fair and gay and beautiful, the groom still short and baby-faced. He recited his vows in a high voice, deliberately practiced to make him sound as adult as possible, promising his love and devotion to Mace Tyrell's twice-wedded daughter. Margaery wore the same gown she had wore to wed Joffrey, an airy confection of sheer silk and Myrish lace, studded with pearls. Cersei herself was in black, out of mourning for her murdered firstborn.
His widow may be pleased to laugh and drink and dance and put all memory of Joff aside, but his mother would not forget him so easily.
Baelish would suffer for what he had done.
This is wrong, she could not help but think. It is too soon. A year, two years would have been enough of a wait. Highgarden should have been content with a betrothal. And so should Tommen. Cersei turned her head and looked to where Mace Tyrell stood. You forced me into this travesty of a wedding, my lord, and I shall not soon forget it.
When it was time for the changing of the cloaks, the bride sank gracefully to her knees and Tommen covered her with the heavy cloth-of-gold monstrosity that Robert had used on their wedding day, with the crowned stag of Baratheon worked upon it's back in beads of onyx. Cersei had wanted to use the same fine red silk that Joffrey had used, but Tommen had, once again, refused her.
Thanks to Stannis and that filthy letter, there were already too many rumours concerning Tommen's parentage. Cersei dared not fan the fires by insisting that he drape his bride in Lannister crimson, so she yielded as gracefully as she could. But the sight of that thing still filled her with resentment.
The more we give, the more they demand of us.
When all the vows had been spoken, the King and his new Queen stepped outside the sept to accept congratulations. "Westeros has two Queens now, and the young one is as beautiful as the old one," boomed Lyle Crakehall. She could have slapped him. Gyles Rosby made to kiss her hand, but only succeeded in coughing on her fingers instead. Mace had kissed her cheeks. Pycelle had told her that she had not lost a son, but gained a daughter. Tyrion had made some poor jape, but the King had laughed, and so everyone else did as well.
Oberyn plied her with compliments and charm, which she bore with disdain. That whore Arianne came dressed so wantonly that most men could not avert their gaze, though at least her bastard cousins had some measure of propriety in comparison. Lord Randyll offered a stiff bow and even stiffer handshake.
All the while, Lord Tywin looked on silently. Her father's eyes were cold and threatening, watching carefully his daughter for any misbehaviour.
Jaime escorted her to the Small Hall, where a feast was being readied. "I blame you for all this," she whispered as they walked. "Let them be wed, you said. Margaery should be mourning Joffrey, not marrying her brother. She should be as sick with grief as I am. I do not believe she is a maid. Renly had a cock, didn't he? He was Robert's brother, he surely had a cock. If that disgusting old crone thinks that I will allow my son to-"
"You will be rid of Lady Olenna soon enough," Jaime broke in. "She returns to Highgarden on the morrow."
"So she says." Cersei knew better than to trust any Tyrell promise.
"She's leaving," Jaime insisted. "And half the Tyrell strength is going with her. Garlan has already left. In a few days, the only roses left will be Margaery, her ladies, and Lord Mace."
"And Ser Loras. Or have you forgotten your Sworn Brother?"
"Ser Loras is a knight of the Kingsguard."
"Ser Loras is so Tyrell he pisses rosewater. He should never have been given a white cloak."
"He would not have been my choice, I'll grant you. But no one troubled to consult me. Loras will do well enough, I think. Once a man dons that white cloak, it changes him."
"It certainly changed you, and not for the better."
Jaime smiled wanly, "I love you too, sweet sister."
He held the door for her, and walked her to the high table and her seat beside the King and her father. Margaery was on the other side of Tommen, in the seat of honour. When she came in arm-in-arm with her little King, she made a point of stopping to kiss Cersei's cheeks and throw her arms around her. "Your Grace," the girl said, bold as polished brass, "I feel as though I have a second mother now. I pray that we shall be very close, united by our love for your sweet son."
"I loved both my sons." Behind Margaery, Cersei could see Tommen quirk a single eyebrow at her choice of words.
"Joffrey is in my prayers as well. I loved him dearly, though I never had the chance to know him."
Liar, she thought. If you loved him even for an instant, you wouldn't be in such an unseemly rush to wed his brother. His crown is all you ever wanted. If she could have, she would have slapped the blushing bride right there upon the dais, in full view of the court.
Much like the ceremony, the wedding feast was quite modest. Only seven courses were served. Butterbumps and Moon Boy entertained the guests. Musicians entertained the guests, with only one singer who sang a few love-songs and retired. "What a disappointment," Lady Olenna loudly complained. "I was hoping to hear the Rains of Castamere."
Lord Tywin did not rise to the bait.
Whenever Cersei looked at the old crone, the face of Maggy the Frog floated to the surface, wrinkled and terrible and wise. All old women look alike, she tried to tell herself, that's all it is. And though in truth Olenna looked nothing like her, the sight of her nasty little smile was enough to put Cersei back in Maggy's tent again. She could still remember the smell of it, stuffed with queer eastern spices. The softness of her gums as she sucked the blood from Cersei's finger.
Queen you shall be, the old woman had promised, with her lips still wet and red and glistening, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear. Cersei glanced past Tommen to Margaery. She is pretty enough, she had to admit, but most of that is youth. Even peasant girls are pretty at a certain age, when they are still fresh and innocent and unspoiled, and most of them have the same brown hair and brown eyes as she does. Only a fool would ever claim her more beautiful than me.
The world was full of fools, however. Most of all herself, for being taken in by that miserable old hag, so many years ago.
Her mood was not improved when Mace Tyrell arose to lead the toasts, swaying slightly, smiling at his pretty little daughter, and in a booming voice said, "To the King and Queen!" The other sheep all baaaaaaaed along with him. "The King and Queen!" they all cried, smashing their cups together, "The King and Queen!" She had no choice but to drink along with them, and even the little King, who had yet to partake in any wine, was forced to have a cup or two.
Cersei drank several cups of wine, and pushed her food around a golden plate. Her stomach refused to settle. Jaime ate even less than her, and seldom deigned to occupy his seat on the dais. He is more nervous than I, Cersei realised as she watched him prowl the hall, twitching aside the tapestries with his good hand to assure himself that no one was hiding behind them. Only her father and Tommen seemed relaxed, though she noted that even his appetite seemed diminished.
My son is safe, Cersei told herself. No harm can come to him, not here, not now. Yet every time she looked at him, she saw Joffrey clutching his throat. And when the boy began to cough the Queen's heart seized for a moment, knocking over a serving girl in her haste to ensure he was safe, relaxing only when the fit passed and he sipped some water with a smile on his face.
"Only a little wine that went the wrong way," Margaery assured her. She kissed Tommen's fingers, taking his hand in her own. "See, you scared your mother half to death."
It was more than Cersei could bear to watch. I cannot let them see me cry, she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. She wandered past Meryn Trant and out into the back passage. Finally alone, she allowed herself a shuddering sob, and then another. A woman may weep, but not a queen.
"Your Grace?" said a voice behind her. "Do I intrude?"
It was a woman's voice, flavored with the accents of the east. For an instant she feared that Maggy the Frog was speaking to her from the grave. But it was only Lord Merryweather's wife.
"The Small Hall is so stuffy," Cersei heard herself say. "The smoke was making my eyes water."
"And mine, Your Grace." Lady Merryweather was as tall as the queen, but dark instead of fair, raven-haired and olive-skinned and younger by a decade. She offered the queen a pale blue handkerchief of silk and lace. "I have a son as well. I know that I shall weep rivers on the day he weds."
Cersei wiped her cheeks, furious that she had let her tears be seen. "My thanks," she said stiffly.
"Your Grace, I... " The Myrish woman lowered her voice. "There is something you must know. Your maid is bought and paid for. She tells Lady Margaery everything you do."
"Senelle?" Sudden fury twisted in the Queen's belly. Was there no one she could trust? "You are certain of this?"
"Have her followed. Margaery never meets with her directly. Her cousins are her ravens, they bring her messages."
"If this true, why tell me? You are one of Margaery's companions. Why betray her?"
Cersei had learned suspicions at her father's knee, and this could well be some kind of trap, meant to ensnare her or sow discord between lion and rose. "Longtable may be sworn to Highgarden, but I am of Myr, and my loyalty is to my husband and son. I want only what is best of them."
"I see." In the passage, Cersei could smell the woman, and under her perfumes she smelled ambition. She gave testimony at Tyrion's trial, Cersei suddenly recalled. She saw the Imp put the poison in Joff's cup and was not afraid to say so. Of course, she had been lying, but that didn't much bother Cersei. "I shall look into this," she promised. "And if what you say is true, you will be rewarded."
And if you've lied to me again, I'll have your tongue, and your lord husband's lands and gold as well.
"Your Grace is kind," Lady Merryweather smiled. "And beautiful."
When Cersei gathered the courage to enter the Small Hall again, she found Jaime observing the proceedings from the corner, eyes shifting relentlessly as Tommen addressed the Hall, giving a speech to the sheep. "It was only a small gulp of wine that went down the wrong way," Jaime whispered. "Though it startled me as well."
"My belly is such a knot I cannot eat," she growled at him. "The wine tastes of bile. This wedding was a mistake."
"This wedding was necessary. The boy is safe."
"Fool. No one who ever wears a crown is safe." She looked about the hall, at all the lords and ladies paying rapt attention. Lords Rowan and Tarly were sharing furtive glances as the King spoke. Uncle Kevan sat brooding over his wine. The Redwyne boys, Horror and Slobber both, were sat next to Lancel. The Dornish whores continued to attract glances, even as the King demanded full attention. Grand Maester Pycelle looked half-asleep.
There is no one I can rely upon, not even Jaime, she realised grimly. I will need to sweep them all away and surround the king with mine own people.
After a good long minute, Tommen looked to be finishing his speech, "With this blessed union," he offered a small smile to Margaery, "we bring order back to this great land of ours." He raised his cup in a toast, "To peace, prosperity and fertility, my lords!"
There was a great round of thunderous applause accompanied with chants of, "Peace, Prosperity, Fertility!" from the crowd. Though it stung her pride to admit, Tommen looked to be a better orator than she had ever been. No matter, Cersei reminded herself, the lioness does not concern herself with the opinions of the sheep. So what if he can make them baaaaaaa better than I can? They are sheep still.
Later, after the meals had all been taken away, Margaery and Tommen began the dancing, looking a sight ridiculous as they whirled and twirled about the floor. The Tyrell girl stood a good six inches above her husband, and though Tommen proved surprisingly adequate at dancing, he lacked Joffrey's easy grace. And no sooner was he done that Margaery's cousins all swooped in, one after another, all insisting that His Grace must dance with them as well. They will have him stumbling and shuffling like a fool by the time they're done, Cersei thought resentfully. Half the court will be laughing at him behind his back.
Finally, when he was done with the cousins, Tommen danced with the Dornish whores, finishing with Lady Arianne, who seemed all too eager to provoke Tommen with her harlotry. Still, Cersei was glad for it if only to witness the flash of distress on Margaery's face as she watched them whilst dancing with her brother Loras. They could be twins, Cersei thought as she watched them. They looked the perfect pair. A ripe crop of pimples would teach them some humility.
Cersei was interrupted from her reverie by her own twin, "Would Your Grace honour her white knight with a dance?"
She gave him a withering look and refused, making to refill her cup. Cersei refused Mace Tyrell, and later Lancel. The others soon took the hint. Our fast friends and loyal lords. She could not even trust the westermen, her father's sworn swords and shields.
Tommen approached her, then, and asked her to dance. It was not a request she could refuse, she knew, and she forced a smile on her face and stood and entered the floor with him. They began to slowly twirl to the music, and Tommen leaned forwards and whispered in her ear, "You look anxious. Or drunk."
"I'm fine," she said, much too curtly.
"No," Tommen asserted, "You're not. But I think I know what's troubling you. It's Margaery, isn't it?"
Cersei stiffened, and then forced herself to relax as she continued to twirl, "The bedding-"
"-Is necessary. We've been through this, mother. I need their loyalty, and this is by far the best way to get it."
"I do not believe the girl is a maid," she blurted out, echoing the concerns she had voiced to Jaime. "Renly had a cock, did he not?"
Tommen offered a half-shrug in response, "What of it? Father's wedding to you did not stop him enjoying other women. So long as she is virtuous from now on, and I can be assured of the parentage of any children she bears me, it hardly matters."
Cersei resisted the urge to scowl, "Robert bedding me did not keep me loyal."
Tommen smirked as their dance wound down, "Don't worry, mother," he said as he kissed her cheeks. "I won't moan another's name as I finish."
She could have slapped him.
Their dance ended, his words leaving her simmering with rage as she watched her son walk over to his table to nibble on some applecake. She returned to her seat, finishing her cup of wine hastily, stomach unsettled by the reminder of her son's knowledge. She scowled again as she saw him share a laugh with his bride. Margaery is spying on me. When Senelle came to refill her cup, the Queen had to resist the urge to throttle her. Do not presume to smile at me, you traitorous little bitch. You will be begging for mercy before I'm done with you.
"I think Her Grace has had enough wine for one night," she heard Tyrion say.
No, Cersei thought, all the wine in the world would not be enough to see me through this wedding. She rose so fast she almost fell. Jaime caught her arm and steadied her. She wrenched free and clapped her hands together, preventing Tommen from doing the same later. The music died, the voices stilled, "Lords and Ladies," Cersei called out loudly, "if you are so good as to come outside with me, we shall all light a candle to celebrate the union of Highgarden and the Iron Throne, and a new age of peace and prosperity for our Seven Kingdoms."
Tommen had arranged the display, and in a moment of pettiness, Cersei hoped it would fail. Let it set the city alight. We will build a new palace, across the river. Away from this cesspit. Hells, for half a groat I would move the capital from here to Lannisport and rule the realm from Casterly Rock.
Laid out on the floor were queer little paper lanterns, resembling little onions in shape, of Tommen's own design. They were available in every colour possible, of which she had selected a red one. Servants came through the crowd, handing out small stumps of candle, the wicks lit. Slobber accidentally set his on fire, and was left bereft of any lantern. She placed the stump in the little basket, taking care not to set the paper alight.
Tommen looked about him, to see if all the lords had prepared their lanterns correctly, "On my word, yes? One, two, three!"
Tommen wafted his lantern up into the breeze, and hundreds more soon followed. The lanterns rose into the night sky slowly leaving it alive with light, red, yellow, orange, green, blue. A symbol of the unity of the realm, the King had said. The Queen could see the lights drift across the sky, as if stars themselves. Some of the ladies gasped, others cheered. Many, including herself, were gripped with wonderment at the sight.
It's beautiful, she thought, as beautiful as Joffrey, when they laid him in my arms. No man had ever made her feel as good as when she had felt when he had taken her nipple in his mouth to nurse.
Tommen gazed at the sight solemnly, until Margaery whispered something in his ear that made him chuckle. Some of the knights began to place bets on how long it would be before they began to disappear.
"It's a pretty sight, I'll grant you," Lady Olenna said after a while, leaning on her cane. "Pretty enough to see us off to bed happy, I think. Old bones grow weary, and these young ones have yet more excitement awaiting them on this one night. It is time the King and Queen were abed."
"Yes," Tommen beckoned to Jaime, "Lord Commander, escort us to our pillows, if you would."
The three left, and Cersei stood alone, watching the little stars drift away and all blink out, one by one.
Still not back from my hiatus. Way behind on my work now.
But I thought you guys might enjoy it, and I couldn't get it out of my head.
See you all in a few months! For real this time.
Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Hope you guys enjoy!
P.S. May be subject to a rewrite in the future