Let the story begin!

TW: Infidelity, betrayal, discussion of miscarriage, pregnancy, war.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


Upheaval

She should not want him; she should not desire him. She should not gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame. She should be truthful and faithful, no matter what Robert does.
She should not find him attractive, especially since, on paper, he is not better than Robert.

Just - that's not quite true, isn't it?

He argues with her, yes, but, he argues, he doesn't just shout over her. He fights with her, physically, but only when she is ready for training. He never hits her. He takes care of his children, and in return, they adore him, or at least the girl does. The boy is hesitant, as he should be - after all, he has been raised far away until now.

He is respected and well-liked, at least by a big fraction of court, most notably the ones that are not so happy with either Jon Arryn or Robert. Faramir is the young alternative, level-headed and pragmatic, sharp enough to gain respect and just enough of a flirt to have the women in his pocket. His looks don't hurt either, she thinks, and neither does his money.

Oh, Cersei has no illusion, that man has made a fortune in the last couple of years, money earned from gambling and then smartly invested in real estate and businesses. People might turn up their noses at it, but usually they don't anymore once they are in debt, and he isn't. What most don't see how cautious he is with every penny, but she notices. It's mostly annoying. Especially when she wants something, but she cannot help but see her father's teachings in it. His daughter will have a good dowry one day, Cersei thinks, she will marry well, even without a proper last name.

Most days she tries to forget any involvement or connection to the little girl, which is obviously helped by the fact that she has objectively very little of herself and very much of Faramir, at least on the outside. Otherwise, she is certainly louder than Faramir, though whether that's the wolfsblood or Lannister determination is hard to say. She isn't truly boisterous though, it's more a sort of inner joy she seems compelled to share with the world, which has people fall on their knees in front of her, even though she is only a toddler. It's also something that Joffrey - the future king - utterly lacks. Sometimes it is hard for Cersei not to resent her own child in favour of her son, so she mostly ignores the girl.

Of course, Faramir notices her reaction and rejection, though he never says anything. She is certain he knows what she is thinking and maybe is even a little bit smug about it. Male pride and all that.

The two of them are still playing that damn dangerous game and steal kisses and more whenever possible. They argue enough in front of other people for their antipathy to be believable and often call others to supervise and "chaperone" during appointments, so nobody ever dares to question them. People see what they want to see, it's that easy. They see a spoilt queen and an involved Master of Coin who clash over nonsense – which is true anyway. At the same time, it is more often than not also foreplay to him pushing her up against the wall later and making her see stars while he trying not to leave marks on her skin.

But while Faramir is addicting, of course Cersei also has another motivation.
He might think he is the mastermind, that he orchestrated the whole thing, but he is very wrong about this. He isn't as level-headed as he thinks, because if he were, he wouldn't risk his relationship with Jaime. There is no way in all the seven hells her brother would ever forgive him another dallying with her if he were to find out, so she will take that as a compliment. It's also bloody convenient to finally be the most influential Lannister in his life.
Nevertheless, at the same time, she still tries to make Robert happy, because then he won't become suspicious - though sleeping with him gets more and more tedious since she knows what it can actually feel like, if a man puts in just a little bit of effort. But she is very aware she needs more children and Faramir knows that as well - someday, she tells herself. For now, she takes moon tea, bitter and comforting, and prays each month that she will bleed.

~ o ~

And it goes well - it all goes so, so well - until one day, it suddenly doesn't anymore. Until her moon blood doesn't come for the second month (not unusual) but she feels queasy all over again and she knows what that means, though until now, she has tried to deny it. The thought finally settles, slowly, over a couple of days, until she is left pacing her chambers with her hands trembling. There is nobody to talk about it with, well, the only possibility is at the same time the reason for the current problem. This is driving her mad, she needs to do something!

Still, even though she's the queen she can't just barge into Faramir's chambers like that, so she tries to meet him in the hallway. He stops as soon as he sees her, concerned, because her eyes are red, and she probably still looks a bit snotty from ugly-crying. Cersei just shakes her head and mouths "roof", hoping he will understand – they cannot talk here.
He does.

~ o ~

The cool night air of King's Landing sweeps across the rooftop of the Red Keep, carrying with it the distant sounds of the bustling city below. The stars above are faint, almost swallowed by the clouds and the glow of the torches lining the walls far below. Faramir is already leaning near the edge, gazing out over the city, though he looks at her as soon as she steps out of the small doorway. His silhouette is tall and imposing, but his face is shadowed with worry. Cersei approaches quietly, her footsteps soft on the stone. She joins him at the ledge, and together they sit down. For once, she tentatively leans back against him, not yet ready to face the inevitable. She can feel him stiffen and then he gently but decidedly pushes her away. Something in her cracks at the simple movement, the rejection, but before she can get up, he has shuffled further back against the wall and pulled her onto his lap in a gesture so casual as if they did it every day. They don't. There is seldomly familiarity of that kind, though there has been an increasingly concerning number of tender touches, now that she thinks about it.

He kisses her shoulder once and then leans his head back again, happy to wait her out. The silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words.

"I'm pregnant again," she finally whispers, her voice breaking.

She thinks he might have stopped breathing altogether.

"Are you alright?"

He doesn't ask whether she is sure, he doesn't doubt her judgement. Still, it's such an odd question she starts giggling, slightly hysterical.

"No. I'm not," she answers, when she can finally talk again.

He hums.

"Is it mine?"
"Yes."

He hums again, and it strikes her how delicate the question is likely for him – he didn't know about two children until they were long born. She sighs.

"It's impossible it's Robert's."

They never discuss what she does or doesn't do with her husband, though she knows he always touches her differently if he suspects she has been with him. It's sometimes with a sort of jealous possessiveness, but mostly it's tender, almost hesitant.

"Is it mine?" he asks again.

She rolls her eyes, but it's a fair question after all.

"Yes, Lord Faramir, yes it is," she confirms with a sigh.

Cersei could swear his arms around her tighten for a moment, but she doesn't look at his face.

"But how -?"

That's the question, isn't it.

"I don't know. The moon tea - I did take it, I didn't WANT to get pregnant, I promise," she answers, surprised about her own pleading. She doesn't know why she cares about his opinion about her, but apparently, she does now.

He scoffs.

"I believe you, Kitten. You are a bit dumb, but not that stupid." Faramir kisses her shoulder again, though she can feel he is trembling, too. "But you should inquire after the moon tea they gave you. This shouldn't have happened."
"What do we do?"

He shuffles her around, so she finally has to face him in the moonlight. His brows are pinched, but he doesn't look angry, more concerned.

"Do you want that child?"
She blinks. "You are asking me?"
"Of course I am asking you. You are the one carrying it, after all."
"You have two children, and both look almost exactly like you. I doubt it will be any different with this one," she answers.
"Possible. The Stark looks seem to run strong, but allegedly Robb and Sansa Stark both favour the Tullys, so it's not a guarantee. How far are you along?"
"Two months? Maybe a bit more?"
"Losing it on purpose might kill you then, so we don't have to debate that," he tells her dryly.

She wonders why and how he knows about that.

"And yet you just asked me what I wanted."
"That was before I knew it might get you killed. Against popular opinion I do prefer you alive."

She rolls her eyes, but somehow is happy to hear that.

"I hardly showed with the others. Maybe it will be the same," she tells him. She can see he is not convinced, but that is what she has to believe. "I don't know what else to do."

Faramir sighs.

"The first thing you need to do is take Robert to bed and make sure he remembers. Very very clearly." He looks slightly sick at that. "Then you need to tell Jaime. I can't do that, he will most likely kill me. Thirdly, you need to find out how that could have happened and whether they know about us. Maybe it was all just the odd mistake, but if it wasn't, if someone knows something -" he doesn't finish, but she hears him clearly anyway.

If it wasn't, heads will roll.

He can be callous like that, she thinks, though she has the feeling it would cost him more than both want to imagine.

"And then? When is the child born?"
"Then we will see whether the child has the Stark or the Lannister looks. If it is a Lannister, it's all good. If not - I will claim the child as mine. The court will talk, again, but they will not dare to challenge us openly. Not when we stand together."
"You will claim another child?" Cersei asks, just to make sure.

This is ridiculous, almost unheard of, at least outside of Dorne. Not even Robert truly cares about his illegitimate children, and Cersei is quite certain there are a couple around. She knows of two for certain and has heard rumours of more, all dark-haired with bluish eyes, apparently. It's ironic - Elwing is dark-haired and Joffrey is not, even though Joffrey certainly is Robert's son. Her thoughts move back to the matter at hand. Another child would be a scandal, a huge one at that, and certainly draw a further wedge between him and the rest of the Starks. So, why would he -

"Of course. That's not a question," he tells her firmly, " they are my responsibility, too."
"But you wouldn't have to claim them to take care of them."
"True. But I will claim them as long as it protects them and gives them a chance of a better life. That would be the other possibility - sending them North, or to Dorne, for that matter. It might be the safer option."

She nods. It probably is - and after all, it isn't as if she truly wants that child, is it?

~ o ~

Cersei takes Robert to bed, repeatedly - the Rebellion's anniversary gives her a good excuse to do so, to "celebrate". Her husband seems surprised but not unhappy, and for once Cersei wonders whether they might have had a chance, in some universe. But she doesn't see him later when he holds her far too tightly, she sees grey eyes instead of blue. Thankfully, she doesn't show too much yet, so with her nightshift on the king doesn't notice, and yet she can already tell there will be no hiding this time - her body betrays her.

Jaime is livid but she begs him to let Faramir breathe, after all, he didn't intend to knock her up. Her brother only calms down after he tracks down the kitchen maid who always smuggled up the moon tea and they finally find the reason for the whole dilemma: It's Jon Arryn, so at least it has nothing to do with Faramir and her, at least not directly. Somehow, the man had gotten wind of the moon tea thing and suspected she wanted to avoid birthing heirs by Robert - therefore "not doing her job" in order to keep more power for herself on the Council. That's even a little bit true, maybe, though under certain circumstances, another son might even strengthen her position. In conclusion, Arryn's considerations are as smart as they are short-sighted – just as the whole man.
To guarantee a royal succession, he had decided to take matters in his own hands and had them mess up the brew repeatedly in the hope of her bearing a spare for the throne.
Well, it didn't quite out how he intended it to work, it seems.

She still feels sick, and her dresses grow tight even though she can barely keep anything down, and then there is no point in trying to hide it anymore: They have to work with deception this time, because whispers are growing louder. Of course, Robert is absolutely gullible and overjoyed, no suspicion whatsoever.

"You are with child?" he asks, his voice echoing in her chambers.

Cersei nods, tears in her eyes. She hopes he thinks they are happy tears. "Yes, my lord."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Suddenly, Robert's elation almost turns to anger, but beneath it lies confusion and hurt.

"I didn't want to tell you lest I wasn't fully certain my body would take to the babe," she explains.

Thankfully, he swallows the lie. Just as Jon Arryn does, when she confronts him a couple of days later. It's honey sweet and vicious and just a tad devious - she makes him think the moon tea was for health reasons, to give her body a respite in a difficult time after discussing it with her midwife. She also drops a hint that the change of the tea might have harmed the child, so that there is an increased chance of miscarriage - which of course is entirely his fault. Given the number of events of that sort in his family, the blame fully hits its mark.

Aside from the emotional stress and general tension, the pregnancy comes with a couple of surprises, mainly that Jaime and Faramir are still talking, even though Faramir sports a couple of new bruises. Additionally, Faramir's attraction to her also doesn't seem to wane, even as she finally puts on weight.

Robert, after a brief period of increased attention and care start to prefer his whores again and she wonders whether it is due to the aesthetic or whether it is because he still wishes it was Lyanna who was pregnant with his child. That in turn makes her wonder about Faramir's motives, but she won't question it loudly, since his attentions are certainly welcome. Once the morning sickness has mostly subsided, the feelings hit with a vengeance, and she feels perpetually ready to combust. She is itching in her skin and wants him out of his clothes and thankfully, he is just too happy to oblige (as soon as the ledgers are balanced and the checklist is done, of course).

To a point, he is still a means to an end, but one she has gotten very used to now, in more than one way.

Cersei won't tell him that either, but she loves the way he has started to touch her, even though she prohibits herself to question why. It doesn't feel less greedy, but it's more careful, and she thinks he is afraid to hurt her – them.

This child is a mistake, just like the first, but somehow, she can't let herself think about it in these terms anymore. It is hard to do so when he is laying next to her, head close to hers on her pillow, hair a total mess, still just for a moment, before he will get up and leave. He always does, he never stays, it's too dangerous, and it's also not what they are. She might have come to think of him as her lover, but that's it. Even the thought that he is her children's father often seems unreal.

Right now though, she is distracted by the feel of every single callous on his hand against her skin, where he has sneaked it under her shift to rest on her bump. She always complains a little when he does it but secretly enjoys it, just as the feeling of his warmth and his fingers. Cersei concentrates – there they are, the marks from a quill, from a sword, but most notably from a bow. They show that under the scholarly exterior, he is a warrior - no, not quite right. Jaime is a warrior, Faramir is more of a hunter. He is stealthier, smarter, he will build snares, only confront an enemy if necessary. Hide in plain sight, bring back a bounty, but no glory.

Cersei can see he is smiling faintly, almost dreamily, but his eyes are closed, and his lashes draw patterns on his cheeks in the light of the single candle. He looks like a painting in that light – they will have beautiful children, she thinks unbidden. Smart children, good fighters, most likely. For a moment, she can almost fool herself that this is her real life.

It wouldn't have been such a bad life with him, would it?
A husband who respects you. Two sons, a daughter, and another child on the way.

Her breath hitches the same moment that the child kicks against his hand and he opens his eyes. She can see that he is somewhere completely else - it happens sometimes, and she doesn't know where he is going in his mind. Maybe he is thinking about Ashara Dayne.
Then the moment passes and his eyes find hers. He seems happy, she cannot understand how he can be happy about all of this, about this mess, but he leans over and kisses her until she is breathless and crying because that child is making her weepy again and she doesn't know what do with herself other than kissing him back until the tears have dried on her cheeks.

He leaves, though at the door, he turns around and looks at her again for a moment. He seems thoughtful, his eyes still a little cloudy.

"Maybe it's twins."

~ o ~

They had wanted to do it differently, they had wanted to fake a fall down the stairs to pretend a miscarriage, but now that it comes to it, she simply cannot do it. It's too dangerous, she can see it, there is too high of a risk involved since she might really fall and really hurt the babe - after all, she has grown like a floppy balloon over the last weeks and now can hardly waddle about. Maybe Faramir is right about the twins, she thinks. Though she should be happy about a miscarriage, shouldn't she, because it would solve so many problems - but somehow the idea fills her with dread. It almost seems as if she wants this child - and she does, though not really. But also, not really not. Maybe it's because there suddenly seem to be other options, or because she feels she is getting somewhat even with Robert and his continuous humiliation, in any case, she won't risk it by falling.

Cersei knows Faramir has bought an estate outside of the city, a place to raise the child - or children - because let's be real, if there are twins, there is no way they can pass that as a coincident. But she still doesn't know how this is meant to work; despite all the help they might be able to get. Faramir is good at these things, at inspiring loyalty without threats (or with threats). Additionally, he has a small group of loyal, indebted women and men who won't ask too many questions for the right price. Sometimes she thinks he has just as many spies as Varys, though that is probably not true. He is also a hundred times more attractive than Varys, but that is not the point right now.

She is scared, is getting more and more scared, and she thinks Faramir is, too, even though he doesn't say.
But then fortune seems to favour them, suddenly, in the oddest way possible – because the Ironborn rebel. Balon Greyjoy starts a war and attacks Lannisport and Robert rises from his throne to defend his claim. He is joint by her father and Stannis and Eddard Stark – and calls on Faramir, too.

It's ridiculous, she thinks, Faramir would do much better as a Protector of the City, but maybe that's the problem: He is too good, and Robert is afraid Jon Arryn alone might struggle too much against the young, increasingly popular Stark. It's probably a fair assessment, but the development helps nothing to ease her fears.

Oddly enough, Robert spends a night with her before he leaves, and it's not great but also not exactly unpleasant if she is honest, which makes the last conversation she has with Faramir even stranger. She would have expected him to claim her for the last time, maybe even a bit brutally, but instead he just holds her to him as long as time permits, conversations murmured against her hair.
It is only much later when he is long gone that Cersei understands he was laying a totally different claim on her, something Robert never did.

"Worrying is bad for babes," he has told her, and she is quite certain he has meant that both literally but also as an option, an opportunity.

She has nodded back then, but there is just so much to worry about. Not Robert, mind you, though his death would be truly inconvenient. But her father is mixed up in the fights at Lannisport, and despite everything, she doesn't want to lose Faramir either. She prefers him alive, both for her own sake and the one of her children.
His eyes were stormy, as if memories were threatening to overcome him – probably they were. He has seen too much war already, she thinks, just like her brother, and now he is going again.

"If anything happens to me, please take care of the children," he told her quietly, "make sure Ellard gets back to Dorne and Elwing comes to Winterfell."

Cersei has nodded. That she can do. When he kissed her, it felt awfully like a final goodbye.

~ o ~

With Robert gone and Jon Arryn busy, she can move out of the city again, "for the better air and a reduced danger of catching some illness", she says. It all happens with the sincere approval of two maesters and a midwife who are all certainly deep in Faramir's or her own pocket. While these people of course wonder about her motives, they probably only think she is eccentric and wants to get out of the stink, so no big deal, at least for now.
At least Cerenna is around, while Jaime stays at the Keep to guard Joffrey. The girl is too dumb to be a part of the scheme, but she is helpful and genuinely kind and concerned. It's refreshing, that concern.

She is supposed to have the child at another small private keep, without much fuss, and then, before the men return from war, an exchange is meant to happen if they show too many Stark traits - if that is possible to tell right now.

It all seems so vague, so dangerously vague, but there has been too little time to organise with Robert meddling about while at the same time raising money for a campaign. He wants this child, which is scary, though she is fairly certain he only wants it if it's a boy.

Sometimes she wonders whether she should simply pass it up as his - but then she has seen him with Joffrey and Faramir with Elwing and thinks that maybe not.
Still, the doubts and the fears knap at her and it's not helping, she feels worse and worse with every passing day. Cersei is scared, and lonely, and confused, and she would truly like some guidance, but there is none on how to cheat on your husband and then deals with a pregnancy while him and your lover go to war.

She thinks about names, about the names the children will never have if they will look and be raised as Faramir's - because she would like a little Joanna, dearly, or maybe a Jemma. Even Jeyne would be fine. She would settle for Jocelyn, too.
Cersei would love Tommen for a boy, or Loren. But no - they will probably have as Northern a name as possible. Probably Brandon or Rickard, or maybe Artos if Faramir wants to be less on the nose. Her eyes fall on her storybook, the one Faramir picked Elwing out of. Maybe they should just use something completely else, another original name - "they", as if the child were truly "theirs".

Then, Jaime finally arrives, and she is so so glad because now she feels less alone, though on the other hand, there isn't much he can really do other than hold her hand and distract her from her swollen feet and hurting back.

"What are you thinking?" Jaime wants to know one afternoon while she is flicking through the pages again, staring at the book as if it were his ultimate enemy.
"I was thinking about names."
"Anything good?"
"No. Only that they most likely won't have any name that I will like."
"I shall remind you, you refused to name your last child," he argues dryly.

She cannot deny that. Jaime sighs.

"Any great ideas from your book?"
"No good name with J. None with C, really. There are some others though… and for twins? Elros and Elrond. Elladan and Elrohir. Or Eluréd and Elurín," she comments.
"Why that? Is it because they match the others?"
"Yes. But also, because in the book, the last two are Elwing's siblings."
"Faramir would probably be on board with that," Jaime only replies, but she can see his faint smile.
"He would, wouldn't he."

If he comes back.