Cersei

She stared at the mirror but no matter how hard her gaze was the reflection did not change.

Where once she had seen a beautiful young creature, almost otherworldly in her intense beauty, there was now just a woman. A beautiful woman, of course, but a woman all the same.

Cersei had worked hard to maintain her looks. While they weren't her only asset, for she also had her brains and her charm and her cunning and her many skills, they were a powerful weapon and she refused to give them up. Aging, in her opinion, was merely one giving up the fight and admitting defeat. The old and the wrinkled and the saggy were losers who had not strength to fight. They were no different than the haggard soldiers that marched from a failed battle that had been lost because they didn't have the drive to win. Everyone knew that battles were not won or lost through numbers or the quality of one's weapons but rather through the hearts and minds of the soldiers. It was why a single Westerlander would always be the better of a hundred savage Northmen… assuming they had the right mindset.

And the right leader to put the fear of the gods in them.

But aging wasn't a definitive. It was a choice. One nearly all people made because they were weak. Cersei was not and thus she did all she could to battle back. Only a week after birthing Joffrey she had begun working with her handmaids to remove the bloat she'd put on. While there was some appeal… she rather liked how shapely her breasts and hips had gotten thanks to her pregnancy… she hadn't liked how it made her look and had put in the time, in secret of course, to remove the excess weight and return to her pre-pregnancy body. Everyone had gushed over how beautiful she looked and how she had shown hardly any signs of having a child, all of which helped her legend grow. Later, as she had gone through nameday after nameday, she had sought of treatments to keep her skin tight and glowing, her hair lush and full, and her body as it had been when she'd blossomed into womanhood.

It was hard work but worth it…

Yet as she stared into her mirror that morning she didn't see the young maiden she had once been.

'It takes more and more work to maintain my looks,' she thought to herself as one of her handmaids brushed her hair. 'Where once I needed only a dab of a few Lysini oils to keep my skin firm now I go through whole bottles. My hair had such body and bounce when I was young but now I must put special greases in it so it doesn't hang limp and flat.'

She was losing the battle.

Something that could not come to be. Not with the enemies she now faced.

"Enough," she said, holding out her hand. At once the handmaid nodded and backed away, dipping her head in submission. Good… she at least understood her place. "What are my plans for today?"

"Lady Margaery is having a mid morning tea, your grace," a servant said, remembering that Cersei loathed when anyone called her 'Queen Margaery'. "She has invited many of the ladies of the court to come."

"Of course she has," Cersei said with a sniff. "She knows how weak her power is and thus she needs to gather friends however she can." She lifted up her foot and another handmaid hurried to put on her slippers. "Its pathetic, really. When I married Robert all flocked to me, begging me to attend this event or that. I was able to raise one up and drop them down purely through my answers. But little Margaery doesn't have such strength and thus must bring all those of the court to her. That is not how a queen should be." She shook her head. "She had not even consummated her marriage to Tommen and already she is a failure. I wonder if she will be able to even produce an heir." She paused at that, looking right at Leena; she was one of her best spies in that rather than finding her information she spread it. Sometimes the best way to win the games was to control information. "I remember how Renly was… Robert come again. All said that. And Robert was fertile." 'Or at least the realm must believe that.' "While it is true that Stannis had problems I blame that large-eared wife of his. Clearly she was at fault. So Renly must have had an army in his loins and yet… Margaery never got with child?

"Now I suppose she drank plenty of moon tea… I don't believe that she came to the Red Keep a maid, that is was clever lie. But moon tea… it does ensure that a child doesn't quicken but I have heard tell that drinking far too much of it can affect one's ability to have children. That it can end up settling in the belly long after it has been drunk. I wonder if the Tyrells haven't sold us a barren field rather than the lush garden they claim…"

She smirked as she caught Leena's eye, the woman nodding ever so slightly. By the end of the day all would be whispering how Margaery was infertile. And because of Tommen's youth it would be years before she would be able to prove the rumors to be untrue… it would torment her so and also help as Cersei whispered other dark words in willing ears.

"Where is Tommen today?" Cersei asked. "He has not come to see me. A son should visit his mother, after all."

Nevermind that Cersei never sought the boy out; she was far too busy! She was Queen and had matters of importance to see too. And while she knew some would claim that Tommen was king even if he had actually been king and not a boy with a title he should still make time to see his mother!

"Your uncle Lord Kevan is with him, your grace," Banny said softly as Cersei rose. "They are inspecting the repairs to the Red Keep."

"Yes," she said quickly. "Of course."

Normally Cersei would have ranted about that. 'He's just a child!' she had cried out so many times when the Small Council decided to take Tommen to do things far too dangerous for him. Usually it was her Uncle Kevan though occasionally it was Mace Tyrell who was dragging her poor boy around with him, filling his ears with poison. Never the Bastard but she knew that Jon Stark was meddling all the same. He still trained Tommen in the yard, probably waiting for the perfect moment to have an 'accident' and kill him. It was why Cersei had enlisted the Kettlebeck brothers to keep an eye on Tommen, just in case. But they were always taking Tommen places he shouldn't go and having him do things that were far too adult for a little boy. Teaching him to ride. Taking him on tours of the city. Just the other day she'd learned that he'd met with the Small Council and then spent an hour chatting with Lord Otto. Yes, the man was from the Westerlands but he was still of lower birth than the Lannisters! He couldn't be trusted.

But… she didn't say a word about Kevan taking him today. Because that would mean addressing the damage to the Red Keep… and the cause.

'We barely managed to rid ourselves of the servants that saw what had happened,' she thought to herself as she left her room. 'Everyone believes it was simply an accident with one of Qyburn's experiments… nothing more.'

She had to keep telling herself that.

Cersei took the long way to where Margaery held her teas and she paused as she looked out at the open air garden. She glanced towards the sky, expecting Littlefinger to come flying down at any moment, raining death upon them with his stolen armored form. He haunted her dreams every night; his singing about there being 'no more strings' chasing her as she fled. Visions of Joffrey wailing in agony as he cut him down, of Jaime trapped on the other side, wondering why Cersei hadn't to brought him back…

"Your Grace!" Margaery called out and Cersei forced a smile on her face as her good-daughter (and how she hated that term; just as bad as the little whore calling her 'mother' like they had some kind of relationship) waved for her to come over and join them. There were several tables set up filled with the annoying little dandelions that Margaery kept flittering about her but her attention was on the main one where the whore, the old rat, and the Sand Bitch were seated with a few others. It was a court of nightmares, where all those she dreaded were gathered.

'No, not dreaded,' she thought to herself, straightening her back. 'I do not dread these women. They dread me. They are merely tiresome. Countering their little schemes, ensuring that they do no harm to my Kingdom… it is a loathsome and tiring task but one that must be done for the good of the Realm.'

So she walked forward and in her most polite and regal voice stated, "Margaery. So good to see you. Thank you ever so much for the invite."

"But of course!" Margaery said with a smile, linking arms with her and already Cersei planned to have the dress she was wearing burned and its ashes buried. Her father was gone so the limits on her spending had been cast off… one of the only things, she supposed, she could be grateful to the Bastard for. "We are family and family should be close. You know that better than anyone."

"Ah, your Grace," the Queen of Thorns said as she came over. "Come to join us with these young fools?" She waved her hand towards the young ladies in waiting, women of the court, and Reach maidens who were all enjoying tea and small treats. "Feasting away on rather than doing something of importance. You'd think they'd be worried about attracting husbands but no, more important to stuff lemon squares and raspberry tarts past their lips. Though I suppose for some extra is needed if they hope to add some curves to their body. Men only put up with many of us because we have curves they can fondle… stay too manish and they will find a man to be with."

"Grandmother!" Margaery gasped, scandalized, while Cersei noticed several women retracting their hands from the platters they had been going towards which others snatched up seconds.

"Oh hush child!" Olenna Tyrell said with a dismissive crack of her tongue. Cersei settled down next to her, not saying a word as the old woman tore into Margaery.

'Perhaps coming wasn't as horrid of an idea as I thought.'

"All know that most men only desire women for their looks and their abilities to give them heirs. They do not wish for your opinions on the ruling of their homes. Do not seek to include us in their favorite pastimes. It is a duty, nothing more. If a man could produce a baby-"

"The maester would have invented easier ways to do it," Natasha said, cutting her off.

The Queen of Thorns let out a soft laugh at that and Cersei silently found herself agreeing with the Sand Bitch. 'If Robert had been the one trapped on the birthing bed only one heir would have been born and he would have been whimpering and crying about it for decades afterwards.'

"That is true," Olenna stated. "But they would also be rid of us all. Cast off to an island and informed that there was no need for any of us."

"Come now, grandmother," Margaery stated with a little shake of her head as a servant came over and poured Cersei some tea. "Do not think like that. Would grandfather not have missed you?"

"He would have missed my tits."

Several ladies gasped and others awkwardly giggled at that. Cersei merely rolled her eyes; they'd been around the Queen of Thorns for months, how could they not be used to her by now!?

"So there are no happy marriages?" Margaery said in a grating tone.

"Oh, there are some. Most of that though is learning to find as much happiness as you can away from each other so that the time together is tolerable."

"Then I'd say you are horrible at being a wife," Natasha said, sipping her tea.

Margaery pointed at the Sand Bitch, bouncing up and down in her chair in a way that would have gotten Myrcella scolded… when she was 4. "And I should say we should listen to Natasha. Her marriage seems rather successful!" She smiled at Natasha even as she selected a small apple tart and placed it on her plate. "I have seen you often together and never has it seemed as if either of you wished to be anyplace else. Why, just last week you were in the Great Library…"

"Looking up some information," Natasha said simply.

"But you prove grandmother wrong."

"They are exceptions to the rule, of course," Olenna said. "It all comes down to how they were raised."

"Quite," Cersei said, finally speaking, seeing a chance to deliver a wound to the Sand Bitch. "Being bastards both does cause one to look at the world in a different way."

"Well, that is true," Natasha said, not flinching or reacting at all to Cersei's comment. "It granted me greater freedom. I was not expected to merely learn how to sew and to dance and to sing. I learned how to fight. How to ride a horse at full gallop. How to hunt and track. All things my husband enjoys. As for him… he was never taught to hate a woman for such things because he believed that he would never marry a highborn woman-"

'Which he didn't.'

"-so he never was poisoned like so many men are." She paused and looked right at Cersei. "Take King Robert."

"What of him?" Cersei asked, only allowing a bit of distain to color her words. While there was no need to hide fully her hatred for her husband there was also no need for people to believe silly rumors (even if they were utterly true). Some lies needed to be maintained even if she were able to take most of the fountain and tear it away, leaving only a full pillars to support the entire structure that was her life.

"What were his likes?" Natasha asked.

"Sleeping with anything that caught his eye and drinking," Cersei replied with a bitter smile. "I do believe if he could have he would have fornicated with a wine cask."

"I think Brandon Stark did that once," Olenna murmured. "He toured the Reach after the Tournament at Harrenhall and one time I found him far too interested in one of our barrels…"

Cersei swallowed down another mouthful of tea, mentally deciding she'd be off arbor gold for a while.

"But he also enjoyed the hunt," Natasha pointed out before looking at Cersei. "Your grace as a keen eye. No one would ever deny that. You are soft on your feet. You notice small details." Cersei preened at all that praise, for it was very much true and should be said more often. And it wasn't the things she was normally praised for which was always delightful. "With a bit of training you could be a most skilled hunter. It is something that isn't seen as utterly unladylike…"

"That much is true," Margaery stated. "The killing of an animal can be a ghastly thing, of course-" And Cersei scoffed mentally at that; of course the child would hate killings things, she was far too soft, "-but falconing is a respected pastime for a highborn lady. And I myself had ridden during a fox hunt or two."

"You act as if Robert would have enjoyed me being around him during a hunt," Cersei replied. "My lord husband hunted to escape his problems. He left on his last hunt after Ned Stark's shameful attack on my brother, after all."

"Only because he was trained to not want you there," Natasha said. "So many women are taught what is expected of them, of how they should behave, despite it making no sense. We are just as smart and cunning and capable as men. Why should we not hunt? Fight? Rule?" It was only the last comment that kept Cersei from dismissing Natasha outright. "And yet we are taught this by our own mothers, just as they teach our brothers that they are to only go to their lady wives for the very things that Lady Olenna stated when it comes to men. That they are to desire us for our bodies and then cast us aside. Allow us only trivial things to do. Lead separate lives. And then, when we become mothers, we do the exact thing. A continuous trap, one where the victims become the builders of the snares for the next generation."

"Then what would you suggest?" Margaery asked.

"Break the trap."

The Queen of Thorns laughed at that. "Perhaps you will have an easier time with that with your Iron Wolf, girl, but husbands will not take kindly to their wives making their sons soft."

"I know it is the custom of those of a certain age to try and make themselves feel younger," Natasha said with a bland smile that hid a dagger's edge, "but even reducing me to 'girl' will not make you young again."

Several of the Reach girls began to squawk at that but Cersei merely sipped her tea; she did love it when the beasts decided to eat each other.

Unfortunately the Queen of Thrones merely chuckled at her comment. "I'd have to render your mother a babe in the womb to make myself young again." Her eyes danced with mirth. "But my point remains. Lord Jon is of a different cut than most men one can find now in the world. I won't bore us all to tears, wasting time until Margaery's nethers are as dusty as mine-" And now Cersei would demand her maids step up the cleaning so she didn't have to think about THAT either, "-by preaching that your husband is something out of a song or fable. We are all too mature for that… I hope." She cast her eyes upon all gathered and even Cersei found herself trying not to wiggle in place under that gaze. It remaindered her far too much of her mother and when she had found her and Jaime… no, she would not think of the dead. Or the lost. "But he is from an age long gone. He is a cup found by a steward as he prepares for a grand feast." Olenna held up her own goblet. "Beautiful. Wondrous. But not of this age. Not fitting in with all the rest. I dare say if I were to hold a tea for all the men of the realm who were like him… no, I'll make it easier. Men willing to actually listen to their wives. They don't need to agree, just listen. If I were to gather them all up… there would be more empty chairs in this garden than there would be those full."

"Oh come now, grandmother," Margaery protested. "You will depress us all."

"Sometimes we need to be depressed," Olenna argued. "It reminds us of the joys of life."

Cersei found herself agreeing with that. After all dealing with Robert and the rare times he forced himself upon her made her times with Jaime all the better, for she remembered that fat drunken oaf and how unskilled he was and the stallion that Jaime became when they coupled…

"But that is the fate of most of us, I am afraid," Olenna said. "Or at least the stupid. The clever know how to manipulate things to get their way."

"You can't claim in the same breath that men never listen to us and that they do," Margaery said with a laugh.

"I did no such thing," the Queen of Thorns argued. "I stated that men are designed by nature, for the most part-" she nodded to Natasha, "-to ignore us. A lazy or stupid girl accepts this. A cunning one does not."

Cersei could tell that was a jab at her. Olenna never looked at her but she knew it was an insult meant for her and only her. Her father had made such comments himself, only far more direct. How it was her fault that Robert had become as he did because has she been a true Queen she would have led him to glory.

'Everyone believes that Robert was some pliable stupid thing who I could lead about like a loyal lap dog upon a rope. That all it would take is a single yank to get him to go where I desired. But they have no idea… Robert was a vain and stubborn man, refusing to see any reason. Jon Arryn spent Robert's entire reign trying to get him to do the right thing for the Seven Kingdoms. All he managed to do was curb his excesses in some areas by directing him towards others. Keep him from blundering his way into more Civil Wars by allowing him his tourneys and his feasts.

'No one ever recognizes my victories over him… not that they can know.' She sipped her tea and selected one of the treats on a platter that Margaery was eating from; she hadn't died yet so not poisoned. 'Half of the Kingsguard was selected thanks to my whispered commands to Jaime, who played that old fool Selmy like a lute. The City Watch too. I was unable to do much with the Small Council but positions in the Red Keep?' She looked about at the gathered women. 'If I wanted to I could have them all dead by sunrise tomorrow morning. Command my spies and my allies to snuff them out in their sleep, drown them in their tubs, poison their food or send them hurtling from the battlements. They would answer with a single command.'

She smiled at that as the conversation turned to other topics.

'So enjoy your little games, all of you. Mock me to my face and believe me foolish enough to think you are not. You do not realize that the sword is pressed to your neck already and all I have to do is give the command and it will swing down, ending you all.'

Her thoughts on her revenge and what it would mean for her hated foes disappeared from her mind however when a servant came in with a small bit of parchment, crisp and white and on a tray. She frowned before opening it up… and felt her eyebrows raising and her stomach dropping as she read it over again. And then again.

"Is everything alright," Margaery asked.

Refusing to show weakness in front of the little whore Cersei forced herself to smile. "Perfectly fine. Just some news out of the Westerlands... nothing of note."

She clung to the message through the rest of the tea.

~MC~MC~MC~

"Stop here," Cersei commanded and at once the wagon driver called for the horses to stop. She had considered taking a litter into the city but had finally decided against it; while Jiffsun had done well to bring peace back to King's Landing there was always a risk that one of the smallfolk would get it in their tiny little brains to try and cause harm to her. A wagon would be far better for escaping in and offer greater protection than a litter. And it was more regal. That was important.

The shop was a new one on the Street of Looms and Cersei had to take a moment to admire it. Rather than like most shops which used at worst a large sign to advertise their wears or at best had shutters that could be opened or close to allow people a chance to look inside the owner had bought clear glass, thick and strong, that allow them to display the dresses that could be made. There was a crowd already gathered in front of the store when she'd arrived and it only thickened when all realized that it was the Queen who had come. They murmured and whispered amongst themselves and Cersei smiled at them as she approached the door, a guard nodding and opening the door as she did so. Not a bow, as she would have preferred, but she was willing to let that go because he needed to be alert to protect her.

Inside the shop several women moved around, examining fabrics that lay spun around great long wooden planks that had been smoothed and polished so much they were as slippery as ice, ensuring that they would not mar the precious fabric. Myrish lace, Lysini cotton… there were the deep reds of the Westerlands, the burning oranges of the Dornish and the southern Reach, and the wild exotic patterns of Pentos. Painted on the walls were different designs so that a lady could have a visual idea of what the seamstresses could do. And in the back she could hear the faint sounds of the looms at work, smallfolk hard at work churning out the lovely designs.

It was with a reluctant sigh that Cersei moved towards the stairs, not bothering to speak to the owner as she approached. The woman made no move to stop her; a wise thing as Cersei wasn't in the mood to take tongues at the moment.

The steps were of the standard quality one would find in lesser keeps and buildings; wooden things that squeaked and groaned with every step she took. Her guards remained at the top, standing before the opening to ensure that no one got any bright ideas and decided that it would be a good idea to follow after her. Down she went into the darkness and halfway along the stairs suddenly found herself struck by the odd sensation of being caught. The light of the doorway above was still behind her and she could see at the bottom of the stairs light coming from that entryway… but where she stood was just darkness. The point where the light from both sources couldn't reach and left only twilight. A strange, dizzying sensation filled her, making her stomach tremble and her head swim for just a moment.

Cersei reached out suddenly and grabbed the rail, holding onto it with her flesh and blood hand, using it to ground herself.

'You are Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,' she hissed mentally to herself, unable to, much to her annoyance, voice the words. 'You are the Queen. You are not a child. You are not frightened of the dark!'

Still… her descent down the stairs quickened.

The entryway was lit by lamps filled with sunstones, allowing her to walk without gagging on soot. She followed along the path, the sounds of the looms above her now a rumble like the belly of some great drake. Once more the odd sensation of dizziness filled her and she felt for a moment as if that was exactly the case: she was walking through the throat of a great dragon, a roar slowly building in its mouth, and the lights were its flames that would burn her.

She did not run.

A Queen did not run. She did not flee or scurry or race. She moved at a proper pace… perhaps a quicker one than she normally did but it was not a run.

Finally reaching the door she flung it open to find Qyburn sitting at a table, looking over some rope he had suspended in some sort of amber liquid in a jar.

"Ah… you got my missive," Qyburn said, barely glancing at her before returning to the jar. "This is rather interesting. The webbing of one of the spiders… I am still running some tests but I believe it is the female."

"How-"

"Did I get the webbing?" Qyburn said, cutting her off. "Oh, it was dreadfully hard. Dreadfully. It turns to little more than dust after about 2 to 3 hours, depending on the temperature and if it has rained. I had to try all sorts of different fluids to preserve it… I found honey of all things does the trick. I wonder if it is connected the animals that originally produced them? Bees and spiders-"

Cersei stepped forward. "How are you still here?"

Qyburn glanced at her, muted red eyes taking her all in before he shrugged. "It was difficult to find a place to settle within King's Landing. I considered the Dragon Pit but heard rumors that some thieves had made their home there so decided against it. Even if they have left you never know what might be left behind that could contaminate an experiment. Luckily the history of King's Landing has always been people working in secret to carve out little places they can tuck themselves away in. Sometimes I wonder if Maegor's attempt to place his soul in his armor didn't cause it to dissipate throughout King's Landing, infecting everyone ever so slightly. Would explain many of the odd events… the sudden bouts of cruelty, the need for secrets, the stillborns… ah, but that is something to study a century or two from now. Come, look at this webbing, it is very interesting. The smallfolk say there are three spiders, a female and two males. I wonder if it isn't like an ant colony, where there is a queen with her male servants-"

"Qyburn," Cersei said, cutting off his rambles that even on a good and pleasant day she would have had no time for. He looked up at her and she said in a cold voice, "I thought it was agreed that you would leave King's Landing?"

He was a threat. He knew far too much. She did not know where Littlefinger had gone off to but she had no doubt that eventually he would begin to spread chaos throughout all of Westeros. It was his nature to do that; she had heard him more than once boast during the Greyjoy Rebellion how sometimes wars were a good thing as it 'got rid of the deadwood and allowed new saplings to grow' and that 'chaos is a ladder'. That upheaval allowed people to rise up. As someone at the top naturally she couldn't have that. So yes… Littlefinger would begin spreading chaos and while she had utter faith in the power of the Westerlands and the Crown to defeat him she didn't need the smallfolks and the minor lords learning that it had been her who had unleashed him. So… Qyburn had to be eliminated.

And yet there he was. Still in King's Landing.

Still alive.

"Did we? I remember you saying I needed to leave the Red Keep. Which I agreed with… I thought the power blessed to those stones would aid me but I was wrong. The books were rather nice though and I do apologize but I have taken many with me but be assured they will be safe here. Very good for keeping old books, this place."

"I meant for you to leave King's Landing," Cersei repeated. "That is why I had the guards escort you."

"Yes, that," Qyburn said with a casual shrug. He walked over to a cabinet. "It was the oddest thing… as I was packing up the last of my supplies-"

'Which were to have been burned on my order,' Cersei thought.

"-and leading the wagon out the men you sent to escort me… well, there must be some sickness going around, probably brought in by one of the soldiers returning from fighting the Northmen, because they tried to attack me." He turned his back and Cersei pulled off her false hand, creating the purple energy blade from her stump. It seemed she would have to take care of matters herself-

Qyburn opened the cabinet and Cersei reared back in horror at the sight of the four severed heads suspending in jars much like the webbing, faces twisted in silent screams. There were also hands and feet and organs as well. Hearts and other fleshy bits. Ears and eyes. All lined up like perfume bottles on her vanity.

"Well… I can't blame you for their sickness, can I?" Qyburn said in a sweet voice, never bothering to glance back at her. "And I've been give so much to study! Normally I like to consider the living but sometimes we are able to learn so very much from the dead."

Her mind raced. How had he done it? How had he managed to kill the men? Did he have allies? Had he led them into an ambush?

"It was of course a bother to have to deal with them," he continued on, lifting up one of the jars that had the head of one of the men, a dusky haired man with a nose that had been broken many times. Now his nose was forever smashed in, driven right into his skull. "Getting my hands dirty. It is such a loss of potential when you have to kill a man. All they could become… all that they could pass down to their children. Do you know if they had children?" There was something in his tone that made Cersei shudder in revulsion. "I would like to see to them, if they did. To make sure they aren't… infected with whatever battle sickness took their fathers and made them believe it was a wise idea to attack me."

He turned and Cersei hurriedly drew back the energy blade.

"Oh… your hand came off." He walked over and held out his own hands, palms up. "May I?"

Cersei nodded numbly and Qyburn smiled, gently working to reattach her false hand.

"There we go," he said with all the patience of a nursemaid, "all better." He went back to his table and sat down.

"You… sent a message," Cersei found herself saying, making no move to join Qyburn at the table. She had sent four guards, strong and strapping. Bulls and boars all of them… not that bright but smart enough to know how to kill someone. She'd sent them to deal with plenty of servants who had stuck their noses where they didn't belong. Ones who thought because they were close to her they would be able to do things that were simply against the order of the world. And who might know a bit too much. All four had heard plenty of screams and pleading and bribes in their years serving her and never once faulted. And they'd never failed to return from… escorting… someone out of King's Landing. If they died on the trip back home, as she would inform concerned parents or siblings, then it was a matter for the lords of those lands. The world was dangerous, after all.

And… it seemed… so was Qyburn.

"Just to let you know that I have settled here. It's a good workshop. And it will allow you to visit me often, as I am sure you will want to do." He smiled and Cersei heard the threat in his words. "After all… we must plan to deal with the Ultron Armor. It wouldn't do to let him go unchecked, razing the countryside. No no no… we must work together on this, to ensure that he is properly handled. I have a few ideas… but I admit I will need some things for you."

She had been expecting that and normally would have become angry at being extorted in such a manner. But with the heads of her guards still staring back at her with their lifeless eyes she had no choice but to swallow her rage.

"How much?"

"Oh, not gold," Qyburn said with a laugh. "No need to worry about that! I have managed to squirrel away plenty of coin. No… think of them as favors."

He paused.

"You can start by using your influence as queen to help move some things along."

"What things?"

"Alysanne Targaryen was known as a great match maker," he stated. "Arranging marriages, bringing the right people together… and keeping them together. She understood that children were important. That they could bind the great houses, rise up lesser ones, and broker peace amongst the feuding factions. And, of course, with the right matches the children would be greater than their parents. Why… just look at you!"

"At me?" Cersei said, confused.

"You father chose well. Your mother and him creating you and Ser Jaime. Yes, there was Lord Tyrion but that can happen… all the negatives rather than the positives."

"Quite," Cersei said, feeling a bit better where she stood when she was able to engage in her favorite activity of mocking the Imp.

"Alysanne understood the power of a queen… how they could convince people to do their duty and produce the children the realm needed. Oh… she learned so much from me…" He blinked. "I mean I learned from her. Of course." He shook his head, Cersei not quite understanding what he had been trying to say. "The point remains that what you can do for me is assist in assuring that such matches are made and children are produced."

Cersei frowned. It… wasn't the hardest thing to do. Make some small talk, perhaps some veiled insults about one's ability to produce… yes, she could do it. "Very well."

"Excellent," Qyburn stated, red eyes burning into her own. "You can start… by getting Natasha Stark with child."