The rains fell from the sky as Cersei looked over Blackwater Bay from the window of her chambers. She was still dressed in black, mourning the death of her dear son, Joffrey. However, she soon hoped to have reason to celebrate.
Tyrion set off a sennight ago, and his ship should run into difficulties any day now. A small smile graced her lips at the memory.
"Ensure it happens in the Shivering Sea," she had told the pirate who promised to rid her of the treacherous bastard. "If anything goes wrong, at least I know he will freeze to death. He wouldn't know how to survive out there on his own."
When she first learned of the deal between Jaime and her father, Cersei had screamed, punched, and kicked. Her father had locked her in her chambers. But after some careful consideration, she viewed it as an opportunity.
During her tenure as Queen, she had come into contact with some unsavoury characters—ones who should have been put to death for their various crimes. Most suffered, but occasionally, she persuaded Robert, and later Joffrey, to be reasonable. These were people they could use for their gain.
Cersei had gotten the idea from Robert, who had sent Ser Jorah Mormont to spy on the Targaryen girl. Mormont had fallen afoul of Ned Stark by trading in slaves. Ned wanted his head, but Ser Jorah escaped across the Narrow Sea. Robert tasked him with spying on the girl in exchange for a royal pardon, which he received.
Of course, the fool betrayed them. It was said he had fallen in love with the Targaryen Princess. The man was old enough to be her father, and then some. Why on earth he thought himself worthy of a Princess, even a Targaryen one, baffled Cersei. Perhaps the girl understood the power between her legs and was using the idiot. If she did, Cersei couldn't say she was surprised or even blame her.
As soon as she had calmed herself and promised her father she wouldn't do anything rash, Cersei sent one of her little spies to find a Tyroshi merchant whose life she'd had Joffrey save after he was caught trying to buy orphans to sell as slaves. Neither Cersei nor Joff had any problem with the man's actions, but slavery was illegal in Westeros, and her father wouldn't hear of Joffrey trying to revoke that law.
The merchant, with his purple beard, was called Maanoi Ravarnos, and he owed her a favour. Now the time had come for her to collect. He was to sail after the Storm Crow with a crew that included thirty sellswords. As soon as they got close to the Shivering Sea, they were to attack the ship and kill all aboard, including Tyrion.
Maanoi had told her it would take just over a sennight to reach the Shivering Sea. Once they performed the attack, Maanoi would be free to return to Tyrosh. If she found out the Storm Crow reached Eastwatch, Maanoi would be dead.
Cersei stared out the window, willing this to be the day for the little monster to die. He deserved it. Not only had Tyrion murdered Joffrey, but he had killed her and Jaime's mother. Ever since she had wanted him dead. Cersei took a sip from the goblet of wine in her hand before returning to the dry warmth of her chambers, where she would prepare for the day.
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Much of Cersei's time was spent placating stupid lords or smiling at the insipid Margaery Tyrell, who was to wed her only living son, Tommen. The match was essential, or so her father kept insisting. The Tyrells were the lords paramount of the Reach. Not only were they wealthy, but some of the most useful houses in Westeros were based in the Reach. For instance, the Redwynes had the largest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms. A naval fleet was always useful, especially if someone else paid for it.
Her first meeting of the day was with her father. The Iron Bank of Braavos was making a nuisance of itself. Cersei couldn't understand the fuss. The crown could borrow money from the Lannister gold mines. Her father had mentioned they were empty, but Cersei believed it to be a ploy. Gold mines didn't just dry up.
Cersei made her way to the Tower of the Hand, where she met with not only her father but Jaime as well. She wondered why he was there.
"Morning, sweet sister," Jaime said with a fake smile, but Cersei ignored him.
Ever since Cersei had discovered the bargain Jaime had made for Tyrion's life, she had spoken to her lover. Correction, former lover. From her perspective, Jaime had betrayed her and Joff in favour of the little monster. Now he was leaving for Casterly Rock. She would not forgive him. Of course, he would come crawling back to her bed, but Cersei would refuse until she was certain that little shit was dead.
Jaime tried not to look affronted, instead knocking on their father's solar door.
"Come in," the voice of Tywin Lannister called out.
Jaime led the way, annoying Cersei. She was the king's mother; her position was above that of a mere lordling.
"Sit, the both of you," her father said, gesturing to the chairs opposite his desk.
Jaime pulled out a chair for Cersei before taking a seat himself.
"Why are we here?" Cersei asked. "I have things to do."
"Like get drunk?" Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Nothing is more important than this meeting. It is about the continuation of our house."
Cersei resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How many times must they have this conversation? Every meeting was about the continuation of the Lannister legacy. How much more Lannister did her father want Tommen and Myrcella to be? Not that she could say that out loud.
"I have foregone the white cloak, Father. You would find me a bride and send me to Casterly Rock," Jaime said, glancing towards her, but she ignored him. "What of the marriage with Sansa Stark?"
"It appears the marriage is already consummated," Tywin said. "We cannot be certain whether she is with child. Which means we must look elsewhere."
"Why not one of the Frey girls?" Cersei asked.
"Do not be foolish," Tywin sighed. "A Frey alliance is unnecessary, as Genna is already wed to Emmon Frey. Or did you forget your aunt? Hm? Besides, Amerei Frey is betrothed to your cousin Lancel."
Cersei wanted to laugh. Lancel had served his purpose, done his duty when Robert needed more wine. He had fucked her when she needed it. Now that her need for him was over, he had been saddled with Gatehouse Ami, a woman who would open her legs for anyone who wished to plough her.
"Surely that is cruel to the lad," Jaime shook his head.
"It was necessary. We needed to secure the Riverlands and prevent any threat from the North. Hoster Tully is dead, and his son is foolish. I would wed you to him as planned, but I believe our new ties to the Riverlands will suffice for now. If there were any northern threat, Lord Walder would be able to help intercept their host. For the time being, we will watch Edmure Tully."
Jaime laughed. "The late Lord Walder knows little about warfare. His sons know even less."
"That is why the old castle at Oldstones is being rebuilt on the king's orders. It has been gifted to Genna and Emmon as Jaime will be returning to Casterly Rock to take charge," Tywin explained. "Walder Frey will be the first in line to block any southron progress from the northerners. I doubt he will succeed; he has the spine of an earthworm. Genna is no fool. She will be able to deal with any insurgence."
"You still think the northerners will cause problems?" Jaime asked.
"Lord Whitestark was in the capital just before Joffrey's wedding. There was ample opportunity for him to bend the knee to his king, but he did not. He left before the wedding."
"Why was Lord Whitestark in King's Landing?" Cersei asked.
"Ordering glass, or so I hear," Tywin replied. "The northerners claim to be building glass gardens to protect them from the winter, which is predicted to be a harsh one. Either they are being prudent, and Lord Whitestark did not feel qualified to represent the North due to him being a bastard, or something is afoot."
"The northerners may see this as a threat," Jaime said.
Tywin shook his head. "Balon Greyjoy is dead. Murdered by one of his own. There will soon be a Kingsmoot," he told them.
"The Iron Islands plan to break with the Seven Kingdoms?" Cersei said. "If they succeed, it will make Tommen look weak."
"Which is why we must ensure there are forces in the Riverlands. Should anyone question our decision, the Ironborn Kingsmoot will be at the forefront of our answer," Tywin said. "Of course, this makes the rest of the west coast vulnerable. And if the rumours are to be believed, Euron Greyjoy is likely to take the Seastone Chair." He turned to Jaime. "Casterly Rock may be impenetrable, but the west coast is at risk from the Ironborn."
"Won't they attack the North?" Jaime asked. "After all, Theon Greyjoy is a prisoner of Ned Stark."
"Not any longer, or so it seems. He is entrenched in the north. He is wedding a northern girl. A wilding I hear," Tywin replied. "What have you heard about the wildlings?"
Cersei sighed. "Ned Stark claimed he was having issues with them. Which was why he didn't travel south to Joffrey's wedding."
"Ah, so you were listening," Tywin smiled. "What have your spies told you about the North?"
"I don't have spies north of the Neck," Cersei told him. "They are difficult to find and it's pointless. The North is a law unto itself. Anyway, isn't that what Lord Varys is up to? Setting up spies in the North?"
"I haven't heard from Varys in two moons," her father admitted, which surprised Cersei. From the look on Jaime's face, it had come as a shock to him, too.
"Father, why would Varys stay quiet in the North?" Jaime asked.
"I suspect he has been captured by the northerners. But that is irrelevant for now. I have other information regarding the situation in the North. Lord Whitestark has allowed the wildlings to migrate south of the Wall, with the consent of Lord Commander Mormont."
"Shouldn't the Night's Watch stay neutral in all matters of the realm?" Cersei asked.
"It seems they have struck a financial deal. The wildlings farm and work on the Gift, which belongs to the Night's Watch. In return, taxes and food are contributed to the Night's Watch. Men are now flocking there, for the prospects seem a little better. Food and a simple life, as there are no wildlings to fight."
This made no sense to Cersei. Get rid of the threat from north of the Wall but increase the number of men serving.
"Are you saying the North might recruit men via the Night's Watch?" Jaime asked.
"I cannot be certain. However, we must concede the crown has played a part in the demise of the Night's Watch," Tywin turned to Cersei. "You were married to Ned Stark's best friend. Why would he have forsaken the need to bolster their forces?" he raised an eyebrow as if he knew the answer but was expecting Cersei to understand her late husband.
"Robert never discussed matters of the state with me," she said.
"Robert took a wealthy nation and plunged it into financial ruin. And yet, you say you cannot explain how he managed such a feat?" Tywin raised his voice. "You were by his side. You have some idea. Did he upgrade the sewage systems in King's Landing to the tune of three million gold dragons?" Cersei opened her mouth, but Tywin cut her off. "And don't tell me it was all spent on whores and wine. There aren't enough whores in all the Seven Kingdoms to account for such a deficit."
"Maybe you should consult the ledgers now that they have been returned," Cersei said.
"I have, and do you know what I found?" Tywin asked. Cersei shook her head. "Large amounts spent on stupidity. Tourneys, gifts for Joffrey. Your annual purse would fund the Riverlands for two moons. Frivolity, which continued into the reign of Joffrey. The wedding was ridiculous."
"The Tyrells paid for that," Cersei interjected.
"Of course they did," Tywin snapped. "Their desperation to wed Margaery to Joffrey, and now Tommen, allowed them to pay for it. They think the crown's coffers are full, just like their own."
"Nobody knew the state of the crown's purse, other than Lord Baelish," Cersei countered. She knew she had to plead her case, as Jaime was already looking bored with the conversation.
"There have been no preparations for winter. We are going to depend on the Tyrells to last through the harsh winter, which is expected. And at this rate, we will need to beg and plead from the north. While the crown has sat idle, the north allowed the wildlings south, put them to use, and farmed the land of the Gift," Tywin continued. "This has produced an enormous amount of crops. They are exporting grain as their stores are overflowing. They are building glass gardens, just in case winter outlasts the grain they have stored. Soon, the north will be wealthier than the Reach."
"Are you saying the North is preparing for war?" Jaime said.
"That is exactly what I am saying," Tywin nodded.
"Has there been movement?" Jaime asked.
"I have heard rumours of Lord Manderly building a fleet of ships. Of course, with the new exports, they will need more ships, so it is of little surprise," Tywin glared at Cersei. "You should have pushed Robert to take on a Northman for the small council. He ignored his greatest ally and best friend, who always supported him."
"What has that got to do with me?" Cersei was angry. How could their father lay all the blame on her?
"You could have had Robert's ear," Tywin started.
Cersei remembered her conversation with Robert. There was never a chance he would listen to her; he admitted it to her face.
"He told me he would never have listened. All he cared about was Lyanna Stark and that she was taken from him," Cersei spat.
"He didn't care about Lyanna Stark, he cared about not being able to have her. It was his pride, you foolish girl. I am sure you can manipulate a man to your will. Hm?" Tywin asked. "As the only person I have in the Vale is Lord Baelish, and he is not a Lannister, I am considering a match with Harrold Hardyng."
Cersei frowned. She had never heard of him. "Who is he?"
"A knight of a minor house," Tywin pressed his lips together. "I hear he is most comely and is rather receptive to a woman's charms."
Cersei was confused. From being married to a King to a simple knight was the highest insult.
"I will not marry him," she stood.
"You will, and sit down!" Tywin said in a voice that was not to be argued with. Cersei sat, still fuming. "You will wed him. I have already contacted his ward, Lady Anya Waynwood. They are in financial difficulties, and a substantial dowry will buy his hand."
Cersei was suspicious. Why would her father wed her to a knight and even offer a financial incentive, after all, she was a Queen. Why would a large dowry be required for a knight?
Tywin must have read her mind. "Lord Robert Arryn is a sickly boy. I doubt he will live for more than a year. Ser Harrold is the heir to the Vale of Arryn," Tywin turned to Jaime. "I want you to take charge of the Westerlands," he returned his gaze to Cersei.
"You will rule the Vale. All the major ports must be under Lannister control. This is about the Lannister legacy. Cersei, you are still fertile. I want you to give Ser Harrold legitimate children. Jaime, I will still endeavour to find you a northern bride. I believe Lord Manderly is suitably wealthy and has two granddaughters of age. If that is not an option, I will ask Roose Bolton to rebel against Ned Stark. It is about time the Starks were removed from Winterfell. Now, leave me. I have work to do."
Cersei stood up, as did Jaime. "When do you want me to leave for Casterly Rock, father?" he asked.
"The sooner the better," Tywin replied. "When can you be ready?"
"Tomorrow," Jaime replied.
"Good," Tywin smiled for the first time. "I will see you off."
"What about me?" Cersei asked. "When do you want me to leave?"
"Ser Harrold will come to King's Landing. However, I only sent the request to Lady Waynwood yesterday. I do not expect an answer for another moon. Should the dowry be insufficient, I will increase it until Lady Waynwood cannot refuse."
With that final comment, Cersei knew the meeting was over. Both she and Jaime left the solar and returned to Maegor's Holdfast.
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Jaime followed Cersei towards her chambers like a lost puppy. Once upon a time, he had been her twin, shadow, other half, and entire world. Now, with age, he was no longer the shining knight he had once been. His hair was shorter, leaving it looking darker and duller. Stubble grew on his face, which Cersei didn't appreciate, and Jaime knew it. It was coarse against her skin when they kissed. Yet, he persisted, which was why she no longer kissed him. Well, that was her excuse. How could I ever have loved him? She wondered.
"Your grace," a woman's voice came from behind as they were about to make their way up the stairs to Cersei's chambers.
Cersei stopped and turned. The woman was a tall, raven-haired, olive-skinned Myrish beauty. Her white teeth stood out against her full red lips. A stab of jealousy brewed inside Cersei, especially as she knew the woman was younger than Cersei by a decade.
"Jaime, leave us. I will meet with you in my solar," she commanded. Jaime bowed his head and left her alone with the woman.
"Your Grace," The Lady Merryweather woman lowered her voice. "There is something you must know. Your maid was bought by Lady Margaery. She tells her everything you do."
"Jocelyn or Senelle?" Anger rose in the queen's belly like bile.
"Senelle, your grace."
"Of this you are certain?"
"Have her followed. Lady Margaery never meets her. Her cousins are her messengers. They meet in the Sept of Baelor and pretend to pray. Put one of your own in the gallery tomorrow. He will catch Senelle with one of Lady Margaery's cousins, beneath the altar of the Maiden."
"Why are you telling me? Are you not one of Margaery's companions? Why betray her?" Cersei suspected this could be some trap, a lie meant to sow discord between the lion and the rose. Not that it was needed. Cersei already hated Highgarden.
"I am of Myr, and my loyalty is only to my husband and son. Longtable may be sworn to Highgarden, but I am not," the woman replied.
"I see." Cersei recognised the scent of ambition.
"I shall look into this," she promised. "If what you say is true, you will be duly rewarded."
"Your Grace is kind and beautiful." Lady Merryweather nodded her head and smiled before leaving Cersei to continue to her chambers.
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Jocelyn was hanging a new black gown in the wardrobe in Cersei's chambers when she arrived from her conversation with Lady Merryweather, while Jaime stood at the window, looking out over the Blackwater.
"Jocelyn, send for Qyburn," Cersei demanded.
Jocelyn curtsied and left her alone with Jaime, while Cersei poured herself a goblet of wine to wait for her new assistant.
Qyburn was a recent addition to her household. He had journeyed south with her uncle Kevan and offered his services to Grandmaester Pycelle, who had thrown him out in disgust. Why Pycelle had reacted in such a way to another Maester, made Cersei curious.
When she interviewed him, it was clear why Pycelle was against the man. Qyburn was once a Maester but had his chain revoked due to his unusual practices. He had no qualms about experiments on both the living and the dead. His loyalty was to his studies and nothing else. All Cersei required was material to keep him happy, and he would be as loyal to her as a well-trained dog.
She wished he'd been in her services before Joff's death. Maybe he would have been able to save her son. But it was of little consequence, for their introductions were made between the death of her son and Tyrion's trial.
Cersei had found multiple uses for him. But the most important one was to use him as her new spymaster. He had already recruited some of Littlefinger's network. Littlefinger being in Essos affected their livelihood, and Qyburn just picked up the pieces, like the fatherly man he appeared to be.
"I don't like him," Jaime continued staring out the window.
"What does it matter? You won't be here to take care of me. You can't even take care of your only son. Not that you were of much use when Joff was dying."
Jaime rolled his eyes. This argument had taken place too many times since Joffrey's death for him to bother replying. He was a coward, Cersei decided. She would be glad to be rid of him. Maybe it was for the best. Her new husband might be fairer than Jaime, and with any luck, more malleable.
A knock on the door broke the silence as Qyburn entered the room. He was a tall man with greying hair and a stoop. He appeared to be a sweet, fatherly figure, but Cersei already knew he was anything but.
"Your grace," he bowed his head.
"What do you know of House Hardyng?" Cersei sat and took a sip of the wine, which warmed her belly.
"Very little, I'm afraid, Your Grace. They are a small house in the Vale," he replied.
"I want you to find out everything about them and, most importantly, Harrold Hardyng," she told him.
"As Your Grace commands," Qyburn said in his soft voice.
"I also need you to send one of your little friends to the gallery of the Sept of Baelor tomorrow morning. They are to look out for Senelle attending her prayers. I want to know who she meets behind the statue of the Maiden and what is said."
"As you wish, Your Grace. Is there anything else?" Qyburn asked.
Cersei rose from her chair. "Leave us."
Once Qyburn was gone, Jaime approached and took her empty hand in his. "Can you ever forgive me?" His voice was soft and pleading. "I only wanted to keep our brother alive."
Cersei felt tears pricking her eyes. Not because she was losing Jaime, but for the death of their son. That boy had felt like an extension of her own body. The loss was so devastating, it sometimes made her breathless. What she couldn't understand was Jaime's lack of grief for his firstborn son. Even as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckle, she knew he only wanted to fuck her. How could it ever be about love?
Cersei looked up at Jaime, who smiled. He must have mistaken her tears for something else, though she knew not what it could be.
"Never," Cersei replied, gazing down at her hand, Jaime's movement had come to a halt. She raised her eyes and smiled. "I want you to leave this room, and never come back. I don't want to see your face ever again. Go, go to Casterly Rock. Wed your little northern girl and have lots of blonde babies. Do not return, Ser Jaime," she snatched her hand from his and turned her back to him.
His footsteps grew quieter as he crossed the room. Cersei heard the door close before turning to find her chambers empty. It was only then that the sense of loneliness crept upon her. Cersei sat down once again, refilled her goblet, and cried.