AN: This chapter will make more sense to those who've read the A Song of Ice and Fire books (TV series knowledge won't help you much). I do my best to explain things for those who haven't, but there's limits to that.
Also, this chapter is really long. Set aside plenty of time in order to read it.
Lastly, I'll mention where this is in the timeline. This chapter begins on 8/22 of the year 300 AC, while the fanfic began on 7/16. Cersei's trial (the one that ended in wildfire) happened on 7/3 according to the fanmade timeline.
For the third time today, Cersei Lannister resisted the urge to ask for wine.
I am the queen-regent, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms in all but name, Cersei reminded herself. I must keep up appearances, instead of being a rude oaf like my late husband.
Even so, when she had to deal with the stresses of ruling, wine proved to be an endless temptation.
"Your Grace, there's still not enough houses around Visenya's Hill! Over a thousand people are already sick, and with winter almost here, it'll get even worse!"
"King Tommen cannot spare any men to help with the rebuilding work," Cersei said imperiously. "He trusts the people of King's Landing to be capable of doing it themselves, as they always have."
Tommen, who was sitting beside Cersei, nodded silently. Despite being a nine-year-old boy, he had a sense of grandeur thanks to his fine red vestments and the golden crown sitting atop his little blonde head.
The elderly man in front of them lowered his head even more. "Your Grace, please! There's no way to finish in time—!"
Cersei gestured with one hand. "My son has already given his verdict. Bring in the next supplicant."
Red-cloaked guards walked over to the wretch and led him out of the room. Fortunately, this one at least didn't need to be dragged out—Cersei hated it when smallfolk wasted even a few seconds of her time.
The next supplicant approached the Iron Throne and kneeled. This one was a middle-aged woman in a dress that looked like a sack with holes cut out.
"Y-Your Grace…" the woman half-said, half-sobbed. "Lately, there's been a lot more crime, thieving and murdering and raping… Twice as much as before, at least!"
"This falls within the purview of the City Watch," Cersei said impatiently. "Simply speak to your local watchmen and tell them of—"
"Half the goldcloaks are as bad as the criminals!" the woman shouted. "They take bribes from 'em, and don't bother going after 'em! And some of the goldcloaks, they'll only protect us if we pay 'em, with coin or with… other things." She shuddered. "My gooddaughter, she's been having to…"
Cersei was tempted to have the woman flogged for her insolence, interrupting a member of royalty. She restrained herself. She had to prove herself better than Robert or Aerys.
"Do you have any proof of your allegations against the fine men of the City Watch?" Cersei asked.
"Proof? If… If you just ask anyone in King's Landing, they'll have a hundred stories for you! Y-Your Grace…"
"Then come back once you have multiple other witnesses. Until then, do not waste the king's time with unsupported claims. Next!"
The court session went on for twenty more excruciating minutes. When she was finished answering the pointless grievances of fools, Cersei left the audience hall with her son. Well, her son and several knights in white armour—the Kingsguard, a venerated order of knights who protected the royal family.
There were various courtiers along the sides of the audience hall, and these shivered as Cersei's group passed. She knew what the source of their fear was. One of the Kingsguard accompanying her stood head and shoulders above normal men, and his every footstep caused a faint tremor in the floor.
Good, Cersei thought. A true ruler should be feared by her enemies and by would-be traitors.
They went to a parlor with windows along two walls, giving an excellent view of the outside. The bright rays of the afternoon sun entered through the western windows, creating a perfect environment to relax and to study.
Cersei bade Tommen sit down and open up a book. This one was about the history of House Casterly, the rulers of Casterly Rock prior to House Lannister.
"Tommen, please read twenty pages before the end of the day. You can do that, can't you, sweetling?"
The boy nodded. "I can, Mother."
Tommen is so agreeable nowadays… before, he often insisted on being involved in leadership, despite being merely a boy. An idea that Tyrell girl planted in him. But thanks to Qyburn's medicines, he now does as he's told… the ideal son...
Normally, Cersei would not have been instructing her son like this. Tommen previously had many servants to take care of his various needs, including maesters to educate him. But Qyburn had advised her to remove all such servants, since they might be a negative influence on the current Tommen.
If only my other child was here as well… those wretched Dornish…
Thanks to her brother's foolish leadership last year, her only daughter Myrcella had been sent to Dorne with the goal of marrying Trystane Martell, thus forming an alliance. While in Dorne, Myrcella had reportedly been injured by a rogue Dornish knight. Myrcella was meant to be sent back last month, but Nymeria Sand had arrived at King's Landing without the young princess. The bastard had claimed that with war in the Stormlands and pirates in the Narrow Sea, it wouldn't be safe to send Myrcella back just yet.
An excuse just plausible enough that I cannot dispute it… Cersei thought, clenching her fists. But as soon as this supposed Aegon is dealt with, I will show those treacherous snakes the full wrath of the crown, for harming my beloved daughter…
Myrcella was a sweet and delightful girl, someone who should never have been sent into that southern pit of vipers. It was one of the more horrific decisions her brother had made, one she had yet to fix.
Tyrion… you have evaded me for far too long… but you cannot hide forever. With the reward of a lordship, sooner or later a greedy hunter will find you, and bring your misshapen head to me...
Cersei lingered in the parlor long enough to drink half a cup of raspberry juice, during which she enjoyed the view. Then there was a knock on the door, accompanied by the words "Your Grace, the Small Council meeting has begun".
My work is never done… the queen thought. But it is necessary. My dear Tommen can hardly rule Westeros, he is still a boy.
I am the rightful queen. After enduring Robert's humiliations, my accursed brother's treachery, and the Tyrells' schemes… this is what I deserve, nothing more and nothing less.
Cersei stepped out of the room and came face-to-face with an old man in a white robe decorated with gold. He looked quite harmless, though the queen was well aware that he was capable of marvellous… and nightmarish… feats.
"The Small Council awaits, Your Grace," said Qyburn, Westeros' latest Grand Maester and also its unofficial Master of Whisperers. "I also have some welcome news for you, regarding our efforts to root out the Tyrells' influence."
After the burning of the Great Sept of Baelor a month and a half ago, all members of House Tyrell in King's Landing were dead. So too was the wretched High Sparrow and his Faith Militant. Cersei's enemies within King's Landing had been annihilated by the purifying heat of wildfire. Now, all that remained was to clean up the remnants.
"That would do wonders for improving my mood, Qyburn," Cersei said, as she and the maester began walking towards the Small Council chamber, one Kingsguard knight following. "Tell me what has happened."
"We captured three more members of their household today, so the total now comes to eighty-five," Qyburn replied. "Combined with those who have been killed or who have fled the city, I am confident that none remain in any positions of authority."
"Good, good…"
"I also have unfortunate news: there was another riot as recently as yesterday," Qyburn said. "The City Watch do what they can, but malcontents keep springing up, like toadstools after rain."
"Fools… do they still claim that I was responsible for the burning of the sept?" Cersei said irritably.
"Yes. I suspect this claim may be a last effort by agents of the Tyrells. It should gradually die down as we deal with them."
Cersei hoped that it wouldn't take too long for that to happen. She had enough problems to deal with already, she had no wish to be bothered by the delusions of fools.
They eventually reached their destination. The chamber of the Small Council contained a long table surrounded by eight chairs: three on each side, one on each end. Three of the chairs were occupied by middle-aged men, a fourth by a young woman. All of those seated at the table wore fine garments as befit their ranks.
Qyburn sat in one of the chairs along the sides, while Cersei sat in the chair at the head of the table. The latter was normally intended for the king of Westeros—Cersei was occupying it on his behalf. The remaining two chairs continued to be empty, due to a lack of people to fill them.
"Let us begin today's meeting," Cersei declared. "What are the latest events in the realm?"
First to speak was a bald man with a severe expression. "The man claiming to be Aegon the Sixth has taken more territory," said Randyll Tarly, Justiciar of the Small Council. "He now controls even more of the Stormlands, including Storm's End itself. According to rumour, a traitor in the castle allowed him and his forces inside."
That made Cersei frown. Storm's End was among the sturdiest castles in all of Westeros. Its loss to an invader would further undermine the authority of the Iron Throne—her authority.
"What have the forces of Dorne been doing?" Cersei asked sharply. "With the Tyrell army's cowardly retreat, it was their duty to combat this pretender. Does your homeland not boast of being able to field fifty thousand spearmen? Whereas the Golden Company numbers only ten thousand, I hear."
This question was directed at a young woman with olive skin and black hair tied into a braid. As usual, she had a small smile on her face.
"Armies on the march are unable to send ravens," said Nymeria Sand, an advisor to the Small Council. "I'm afraid I can offer no insight into the latest movements of Dorne's army. But I am confident that they have already begun engaging Aegon's forces. Lord Tarly, have your scouts not reported this?"
Randyll narrowed his eyes. He was a lord of territory that bordered Dorne, and due to multiple conflicts in the past, there was an old enmity between his people and the Dornishmen.
"They have reported this…" Randyll said. "They mention dozens of burnt supply wagons, especially for pockets of the Golden Company in the south of the Stormlands. However, your people's efforts have clearly been insufficient, given that Storm's End has been taken."
"We Dornish have our own way of war," Nymeria said calmly. "You may find it unorthodox, but this allowed us to even withstand the Targaryens at the height of their power. Give it time. I am sure my countrymen will soon prevail. Even the mightiest army will wither on the vine without supplies."
Cersei looked at Nymeria suspiciously, and she wasn't the only one. In fact, Qyburn was the only one who didn't seem to care too much if Nymeria was speaking the truth or not.
Dornish are untrustworthy, bastards as well, and this girl is both at once. And in the unlikely event that this "Aegon" is who he claims to be, he would be kin to House Martell, giving them incentive to aid him. But I have no choice but to let her sit in on these councils, given that Doran Martell sent her as a representative… and her family still has Myrcella as their hostage...
"I see… in that case, you should have no issue if we send a raven to your uncle requesting more information and more haste?"
Nymeria shrugged slightly. "There is no issue with that."
"That is settled for now… Lord Tarly, what are your suggestions for stopping Aegon?" Cersei asked. "Are you able to mobilise the army of the Reach?"
Randyll furrowed his eyebrows. "I have sent riders out, yet the commanders of the army refuse. They continue to cling to the Tyrells, and their foolish misunderstanding of what happened in King's Landing."
That drew a response from the man sitting opposite Randyll, a thin man with a few tufts of orange hair on his head.
"You are speaking of our lieges, Lord Randyll," said Paxter Redwyne, Lord Admiral of the Small Council. "They are not acting without reason. Ironborn raiders threaten the shores of the Reach—"
"A foreign army is invading Westeros, explicitly aiming for the throne, and they refuse royal commands to fight them," Randyll said firmly. "Aye, the Ironborn invade as well. If the Reach had proper leadership, we could fight them and Aegon at once, our forces are more than sufficient for the task."
Indeed, the Reach had the largest army in all of Westeros, numbering approximately seventy thousand. It was why Cersei, despite her distrust of the Tyrells, had been forced to work with them… until recently.
"But after the fire, a cripple now leads House Tyrell," Randyll continued. "One whose will is as weak as his body, refusing to deploy the Reach's forces properly."
Paxter glanced briefly at Cersei, only to turn away when he saw her imperious gaze.
This one continues to be suspicious… Cersei thought. He's not as obedient as his fellow lord from the Reach, more loyal to the Tyrells… He may well be plotting treason too.
Paxter had been quite irritating in previous meetings too, repeatedly asking to move his personal fleet to the Reach to help fight the Ironborn, despite the foreign invaders in the Stormlands. At least he'd stopped doing that now.
And Cersei could not replace him with someone else. After the… unexpected loss of her previous Lord Admiral, Cersei had no other good option for managing the realm's ships, not unless she was willing to act like Stannis Baratheon and give the duty to a smallfolk.
I must assuage Redwyne's suspicions… after this meeting, I should remind him of how my wretched brother slew my son, then escaped from prison to even slay my father. In comparison to those feats, starting a fire in the Great Sept would be child's play… And, of course, he had previously made use of wildfire, so there is precedent...
"We can only hope Lord Willas has a change of heart and brings his army to our cause," Cersei said diplomatically. "Until then, we must work with the armies we have. Now, let us move to another topic. How fares the North? Have the Boltons defeated Stannis yet?"
"We have not heard anything new since our raven from a week and a half past," Randyll replied. "But I expect the Boltons have won by now. According to that latest raven, Stannis was caught in a Northern blizzard. Any that survived would be easily crushed by Roose Bolton's force, which outnumbered his to begin with."
Cersei allowed relief to show on her face. She'd thought Stannis had ceased to be a threat after his defeat on Blackwater Bay, but her late father, Randyll Tarly and various others had continued treating him as someone to watch out for. Once Stannis was well and truly dead, she would no longer have to hear them prattling about the "threat" posed by a weak fool.
"That would be good news, if true," said a weak-looking man with a small chin. This was Harys Swyft, the Lord Treasurer of the Small Council. "With Stannis gone, we can better focus on the other threats to Westeros… ah, speaking of which, there was another threat I wished to mention today."
Cersei was tempted to roll her eyes. She suspected most of the others in the room felt the same way. Lord Harys was a fool with the bravery of a worm, whose only use to Cersei was being obedient. There was a good chance that whatever "threat" Harys spoke of would be considered harmless by normal men.
"I recently returned from Braavos, as you all know," Harys began.
Cersei resisted the temptation to reach over the table and throttle her Lord Treasurer for wasting time.
"There, I heard stories—very consistent stories, I must add—of Daenerys Targaryen," Harys continued. "She has taken over Slaver's Bay, and at her command are… three dragons."
Randyll scoffed. "The last dragons died a century ago. I've heard stories of this girl queen too, but they spoke of her obtaining an army of eight thousand Unsullied, as well as several sellsword companies. That would be how she's achieved her victories."
"I would not discount stories of dragons so easily," Paxter said. "The ships under my command trade with Essos regularly. And sailors and merchants from all over Essos—from not just Braavos but Myr, Tyrosh, Lys, Volantis—agree on the queen having dragons. One black, one green, one yellow, and the black at least is big enough to ride. All men agree on these details. Truth be told, if Lord Harys had not brought up the topic of Daenerys Targaryen, I was planning to do so myself."
This caused Cersei to frown. Indeed, the last dragons had died before even her father's birth. But she had seen the dragon skulls once stored in the Red Keep; proof that these terrifying beasts had once existed.
"You are sure of these claims, Lord Redwyne?" Cersei asked. "Is there no chance they may have been exaggerated, by those who lost to this Targaryen girl and tried to justify their defeat?"
"I swear on the Seven that I tell you the truth: all in Essos claim Daenerys Targaryen has dragons," Paxter said.
"I've heard whispers of these dragons and their 'mother' as well," Qyburn said. "I've heard that other nations in Essosi became hostile towards her budding empire, and sent their armies to crush it, but these were soundly defeated. The details vary… some of the things I've heard are quite outlandish… but all agree that these allied armies were defeated."
"And perhaps… perhaps she may now turn her attentions westward," Harys said. He lifted up a cloth to wipe sweat off his brow. "To… Westeros."
"If she does, let her come," Randyll said confidently. "Even with our existing foes, we would defeat her with ease. Knights of Westeros are nothing like those perfumed cravens she has so far conquered in Essos."
"And how many knights in the modern era know how to fight dragons?" Nymeria asked, raising an eyebrow.
Randyll met the Dornish bastard's gaze with contempt. "You seem to be thinking of Aegon's conquest of Westeros. Aegon had three full-grown dragons, and three riders for them. Whereas the current three dragons… do the stories specify how large they are?"
"According to the stories, bigger than men, big enough to require goats or sheep as prey…" Harys said, shuddering even as he repeated this information. "But certainly not as big as the historical dragons."
"Then they would not be a threat to Westeros at the moment," Qyburn said. "From what I recall, Aegon's dragon, Balerion, was over a century old at the time of the conquest, so large that he cast a shadow over an entire town. And Vhagar and Meraxes, the dragons of his sister-queens, still had ages measured in decades. It seems the current dragons are no more than two years old."
"Though even if Daenerys' dragons are still young, we know they are large enough to ride," Nymeria said. "She might still find use for them, such as scouting from the air, or simple intimidation. I do not have your military experience, Lord Tarly, but have you considered these things?"
"...She may find use for them," Randyll conceded, sounding like the words had to be pulled out of his mouth by force. "But her small dragons, even backed by an army of Unsullied, would not be enough to conquer Westeros."
Cersei nodded uncertainly. "I agree with Lord Tarly here. But we should consider what this Targaryen girl may do next… Lord Redwyne, how long ago did she conquer Slaver's Bay?"
"She began by conquering Astapor roughly eleven months ago, and finished by conquering Meereen nine months ago," Paxter replied. "She has remained in Meereen—but that is only from what I have heard. I must remind you all, news travels slowly between Westeros and Essos. The information we have might be obsolete by a month or more."
"Perhaps… she waits in Meereen for her dragons to grow to appropriate size?" Harys suggested. He was still sweating.
"And perhaps to produce other Targaryens, so that she might have riders for the other two dragons," Randyll added. "Though I have doubts that any children sired by some Essosi savage would have enough Targaryen blood for dragon riding."
"In conclusion, Daenerys Targaryen is unlikely to leave her tiny queendom in Essos for years, possible decades," Cersei said. "We could deal with her before then, as my late husband attempted to do so two years ago. But she is not a priority."
"The priority would be Aegon," Randyll agreed. "He actually stands on Westerosi soil, and he commands the Golden Company, some ten thousand men with training and equipment up to the Westerosi standard. He must be dealt with promptly."
Harys nodded. "But he has already conquered so much territory… I fear there will be no prompt victories against him."
"I have a proposal," Randyll said, ignoring Harys and looking directly at Cersei. "Your Grace, we spoke of ravens earlier. But we cannot wait for the Dornishmen to finally remember their duty to the realm."
Nymeria's expression did not change. However, Cersei wondered if the bastard was now wondering how best to poison Randyll.
"A better option would be for me to go to the Tyrell forces personally. If I speak to their commanders, man to man, I will be able to mobilise them."
Paxter looked at Randyll uncertainly but offered no counterargument. Clearly, he also understood that this pretender Aegon needed to be stopped.
"We are all grateful for your dedication to the realm, Lord Tarly," Cersei said. "When will you be able to set out?"
"I shall be out of King's Landing in no more than two hours," Randyll declared. "There is no time to waste."
"We shall leave the matter in your hands," Cersei said. "Now, unless there are other matters to discuss…" she waited a few seconds, "then we may bring this Small Council meeting to an end."
The members of the Small Council stood up and filed out of the room. Most would be thinking mainly about the invasion of the Stormlands by the pretender Aegon. Paxter might have been more concerned about the Ironborn invading the Reach.
Yet as she began walking towards her personal room, Cersei could only think about the last Targaryen in the east.
"Qyburn," Cersei called out. "I have more questions, for you and you alone."
The maester stopped and bowed. "I am at Your Grace's service."
"Daenerys' victory over the other nations of Essos… tell me everything you know about it," Cersei said. "Do not leave out a single detail, even ones you think outlandish."
"Very well. I've heard of armies and fleets being sent from Yunkai, New Ghis, Tolos, Elyria, Mantarys, even the mighty Volantis…"
Cersei didn't recognise some of these names. But even she had heard of Volantis, one of the largest cities in all of Essos. It made King's Landing look like a mere market town.
"These had the city of Meereen encircled by land and sea, a seemingly perfect siege. It seemed their victory was inevitable, unless Queen Daenerys could master her dragons."
Cersei swallowed. "And did she?"
"That is… uncertain. Certainly, I have heard that she was seen flying away from the city atop her black dragon. But… well, now the details grow murky. The human mind is fallible even at the best of times, and men fleeing in a panic from the battlefield… there are a dozen different tales. One claims the queen soon returned, was joined by her other two dragons, and together they burned the hostile armies. According to another tale, she was eaten by her dragon, only to… merge with it, becoming a hybrid being, which flew back to burn the hostile armies. Then there are several tales of her not returning, with Meereen being saved by some other factor. Some say the two dragons still in the city went on a rampage. Others say the hostile armies chose to retreat, fearing that Daenerys would eventually return on dragonback. I've even heard that the hostile armies tried to summon a demon, to help them combat the dragons, but it turned on them."
"Men's imaginations are wild indeed…" Cersei said. "But regardless of what truly happened, she does have dragons? You are certain of this?"
"I have ironclad certainty of that fact." Qyburn replied. "Why, it would be such an opportunity if I could somehow study them in person… there is much that might be learned from the biology of dragons…"
"Take that interest of yours and channel it into gathering more information," Cersei ordered. "I want to be kept fully informed about this dragon queen to the east. Treat it as a higher priority than rooting out Tyrell influence."
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Cersei and Qyburn parted. The former made her way to her personal rooms. Her accompanying Kingsguard stopped at the door while she stepped inside.
Finally… an end to today's labour.
But Cersei could not truly rest. She could not rest until she'd dealt with the latest problem to demand her attention.
The sister of Rhaegar… born at the end of the rebellion, so she would be around sixteen now…
The Targaryens were famous for their beauty… Rhaegar in particular… if his sister has even half of her brother's looks…
Cersei looked at a full-length mirror that was in a corner of her room. Even ten—no, five years ago, she'd been a beauty to make men fall to their knees and other women weep in envy. Nowadays, she still had dazzling golden hair and emerald-green eyes. Yet when she looked closely, she could make out faint lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. And if she were to take off her clothes, she would see how her chest had begun sagging, how her belly had begun thickening.
Even a lioness is not immune to the ravages of age… in twenty years' time, it wouldn't just be the last Targaryen who surpasses me in appearance…
Cersei had known about the girl's existence for a long time. She'd seen her as harmless, nothing more than a survivor of a fallen dynasty. When word came that Daenerys had been impregnated by a Dothraki horselord, Robert had ranted and raved about dragonspawn, and eventually an assassin was sent after her. Cersei hadn't cared at the time since, despite not knowing much about the cultures of Essos, she was aware that the Dothraki didn't own a single ship or even boat.
But now, with three dragons, and a record of conquest… I find myself wishing the assassin succeeded.
Cersei poured herself a cup of wine and drank half of it in one gulp. She then sat on the bed and took several deep breaths.
"Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear."
Even though she'd achieved everything she ever wanted, Cersei shivered in fear.
Logically, she should not be a threat… it would take years for her dragons to grow…
Cersei recalled the great skulls of the dragons, most of which had been large enough to swallow her whole. She shivered again.
But what if she diverges from our expectations? As Redwyne noted, our information about her is out of date… And Tarly is leaving tonight. If she were to attack now, with our attention focused on Aegon and the Golden Company, she might well take King's Landing…
Feeling thirsty, Cersei drank more wine. Soon enough, her cup was empty.
And what if she allies with Aegon!? Whether his claim is true or not is irrelevant. Should she marry him to form an alliance, their combined armies would be nigh-unstoppable!
Should I send assassins now? But even my twisted brother has managed to survive many months, and a queen would be far better protected… still, there is no harm in making the attempt. Unless she tracks the assassins to their source!
Calm down… I must calm down. I won't have any good ideas with a mind in chaos…
With shaking hands, Cersei refilled her cup and drank more.
Tomorrow morning… at first light… I shall call another meeting of the Small Council, and come up with a plan to kill the Targaryen girl before she becomes a threat. Tarly would have objected, but he will no longer be present…
Yes… that should suffice. It must suffice. I won't allow anyone, Targaryen or otherwise, to take the power that is rightfully mine...
With that resolution in mind, Cersei left her room and headed for the royal dining room, as it was already time for dinner. She came to find Tommen already seated at the table. Standing nearby was Ser Robert Strong, the largest member of the Kingsguard.
Tommen said nothing when Cersei entered and sat at the table. That was fairly typical for him nowadays.
"It is time to eat, sweetling," Cersei said.
Only then did Tommen pick up knife and fork and begin to eat. The medicine Qyburn was giving him made him obedient, but it also caused him to rarely act on his own initiative. All medicines had their side effects.
But it's still a net improvement, Cersei thought as she began her own meal. When the fire occurred, he was so distraught. He cared too much for Margaery Tyrell, never even noticing her treachery… yes, this is for the best.
Tonight's dinner was roasted chicken in honey and cloves, minced pork, stew with half a dozen kinds of seafood, steamed carrots and beans and mushrooms. As sumptuous as ever, yet she could not enjoy it.
To try to distract herself, Cersei conversed with her son, asking him about what he'd learned today, even about his kittens—and she normally disliked her son's obsession with kittens.
"They are all healthy, Mother," Tommen said in a flat voice. "Ser Pounce is a little more assertive lately. Other than that, they are the same as before."
That was all the boy said before returning to his dinner. Unlike his past self, there was no pride in the pets under his care, nor any desire to have more.
This is for the best… Cersei reminded herself. A king should not be an innocent child who delights in small animals, or treacherous courtiers would overthrow him in an instant...
The distraction worked. Cersei didn't think about Daenerys for the rest of dinner. Instead, she had a bitter feeling gnawing at her heart.
When dinner was complete, Cersei had consumed perhaps half as much as she normally did. She bade her son farewell and he walked towards the king's rooms, accompanied by Ser Robert.
Tommen is safe, healthy… no assassin could get past his guard, who has unrivalled strength and never requires rest… I must be reassured by this fact.
Cersei returned to her rooms, where a handmaid changed her out of her gown and into her nightclothes. Then she lay down in bed and attempted to sleep.
I wish Taena were here… her words of advice were ever wise… but she and her husband have fled the court, abandoned my service… Even if they were to return now, their cowardice would have to be punished.
Then Cersei's mind moved on to another person who once shared the same bed as her. Instead of being a woman from the exotic locale of Myr, he was a man who shared her background in almost every detail… including birth.
Jaime…
Approximately two months, Cersei had heard a bizarre report of her twin abandoning the Lannister army and running off with some noblewoman who played at being a knight. A week later, more news came. Jaime had been found… but as a badly mutilated corpse, surrounded by the corpses of those who'd killed him.
Jaime… Cersei thought, clenching her fists tightly enough that her nails drew blood. Jaime… even now, your loss is like a wound to my own heart…
Apparently, the report involving the woman knight had been false. Jaime had instead been caught by the Brotherhood Without Banners, a gang of bandits formed thanks to the machinations of the late Eddard Stark. It was thanks to this that he wasn't able to return to King's Landing to help her against her various foes.
He hadn't abandoned me… but now, he is gone. I shall never know his touch again...
That was why Cersei needed to remain strong. With her father, uncle and twin brother gone, only she could safeguard House Lannister—there were plenty of Lannister cousins, but none had the intelligence or the determination needed for this task.
I must eliminate all threats… Tarly will deal with Aegon… the Boltons have already dealt with Stannis… and the Ironborn are fools only skilled in piracy, they will be dealt with sooner or later…
The only threat remaining is from another queen…
And now that Cersei was thinking about Daenerys again, she couldn't stop thinking about her.
I am Robert's widow, and sister to the man who killed her father… even if I am the reason Robert is now dead, and Jaime simply did what any sane man would, she is hardly going to accept that…
She might be on her way to Westeros… perhaps she has already arrived! If she has already made an alliance with Aegon, that could explain the latter's rapid successes!
No, I'm being foolish… if dragons or Unsullied were in Westeros, I would surely have heard by now…
I must take action before she arrives. No younger queen shall ever depose me…
And yet… Robert tried the same thing, and to no avail… The girl now has better guards than mere savages on horses…
But I am not Robert. I slew him, and more recently the Tyrells, without anyone being the wiser… I will ensure that the girl does not live to see year's end.
Hours passed before Cersei could fall asleep. And when she woke up the next morning, she had to force herself to crawl out of bed.
A drowsy Cersei went through her morning routine, assisted by three handmaids. Once she was fully washed and dressed, she left her rooms and began walking through the corridors of the Red Keep.
Cersei called an emergency meeting of the Small Council, hoping to plan the assassination of Daenerys Targaryen. It was here that she learned something new.
"My brother is with her!?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Qyburn said. "I only learned this the previous night—such information being less notable than dragons, you see. But there is indeed a rumour of a dwarf with blonde hair, green and black heterochromic eyes, and a nasal scar, in the court of Queen Daenerys."
Nymeria covered her mouth with her hands. This only lasted a moment before she burst out into laughter.
"In her court, you say!? So he has a public position!? Do you know what it is!?"
While most of the Small Council was irritated by Nymeria's laughter, Qyburn showed no reaction. "Supposedly, he holds an administrative position, and a high-ranking one at that."
"Perhaps he is now her Hand," Nymeria said in a quieter but still amused voice. "That would be quite the irony: Hand to a king in Westeros, then Hand to a queen in Essos."
"This is no laughing matter," Cersei snapped. "Tyrion is the monster who murdered my eldest son, my father, and then hundreds of people in the Great Sept!"
"The first two, yes… but your brother must be quite cunning indeed, to orchestrate that fire from the other side of the known world."
Cersei forced herself to show no reaction. She didn't trust Nymeria any more than the Dornish bastard trusted her. It was quite likely that Nymeria suspected her as the true culprit.
"I have never denied his cunning," Cersei said carefully. "And a stunted creature like him has always worked through agents, like that sellsword-turned-knight who once served him."
"Yes… Yes, that makes sense, Your Grace," Paxter said. "But this… makes it difficult to bring your brother to justice. If he now serves Daenerys Targaryen…"
"That should not be an issue," Cersei said. "In fact, that is the very purpose of this morning's meeting."
Cersei paused, as Qyburn had raised his hand.
"Pardon my rudeness, Your Grace," Qyburn said. "Queen Daenerys has another subordinate who you ought to know about: I've heard whispers of an old knight in splendid white armour, possessing remarkable skill despite his age."
Nymeria blinked. "Barristan Selmy serves Queen Daenerys? I was wondering where he'd gone after his… dismissal."
Cersei ignored the barb. Yes, it was true she'd had the old knight dismissed from the Kingsguard, but that had been the best course of action. The man was over sixty years of age, no longer fit for the task of protecting the king. And as this latest revelation showed, his loyalty was not to be trusted.
"He was a Targaryen loyalist to begin with, so this is not unexpected," Cersei said. "Thank you for this information, Lord Qyburn. It only lends further support to my decision: Daenerys Targaryen must be eliminated promptly."
That caused a stir among the Small Council. Once again, only Qyburn did not react. He understood Cersei well.
"We agreed just yesterday that she would not be a threat for, at the very least, years," Nymeria said.
"And even if she was, e-e-eliminating her would be… difficult," Harys said. "The late King Robert tried just that, yet she is still alive and healthy to this day."
"My husband, for all of his virtues—" even saying that word made her nauseous, "—was a man built for war. He was skilled at solving his problems with his hammer."
"Whereas you, Queen Cersei, are skilled in the assassination of foreign monarchs?" Nymeria asked pointedly.
Cersei refused to fall into that trap. "I have no such skill… but that is what this meeting is for. It is my hope that our combined knowledge and wisdom will result in a solution. And, for any who wonder if this is necessary, recall that we face multiple enemies already. If Queen Daenerys were to invade in the midst of turmoil, how confident are you in our victory?"
Some of the members of the Small Council exchanged nervous glances.
"Your Grace, I agree that we might have difficulty in fighting her if she invaded now," Paxter said. "Even so… I am sure the various other rulers in Essos have tried to assassinate her as well. If all their efforts have failed, our chances of success appear bleak."
"We cannot use that as a reason to give up, not when the danger to Westeros is so great," Cersei insisted. "We must consider every possibility. For example, she has taken Slaver's Bay by force. I'm certain the local nobility chafes under her rule, there may be opportunity there…"
The meeting went on for a half-hour. Harys and Paxter were of little help, Nymeria had some useful ideas, and Qyburn had many useful ideas… so much so that the others became nervous around him.
But all rulers need followers with… unscrupulous skills, Cersei thought. Or they eventually cease to be rulers.
"Then I entrust this matter to you, Lord Qyburn," Cersei said eventually. "Do not fail me."
"I will not, Your Grace."
The meeting came to an end and the Small Council separated. Cersei had a servant bring her wine—while it was still early in the day, she liked to celebrate after a major achievement.
While sipping her wine, Cersei went to a window and looked out over the city.
King's Landing was a sprawling, overcrowded city, and part of it was still ashes. But it was still the largest city in Westeros, the seat of power for an entire continent, from Dorne in the south all the way up to the dreary North.
Daenerys… you may rule a few cities in Slaver's Bay. But my domain exceeds yours by orders of magnitude. If you think to overthrow me and take back the Iron Throne for your family, you will be sorely disappointed.
Thinking about Targaryens caused Cersei to remember Rhaegar again. The late prince had been perfection embodied: divinely handsome features, a player of the harp who could captivate any audience, and a formidable warrior.
If my father had instead sided with the Targaryens… would they have won? Would I have been able to… wed Rhaegar afterwards?
Unlike his mad father, Rhaegar had been perfectly sane… if one excluded his eloping with Lyanna Stark. To this day, Cersei still didn't understand why anyone would elope with an unkempt barbarian.
If Rhaegar could be convinced to set that girl aside… no, Elia Martell would still have been in the way. But if he had never wed Elia, if I had originally been his betrothed…
Cersei pictured babes with silver hair and purple eyes. And then, thanks to recent revelations, she pictured older children riding on the backs of dragons.
A pleasant dream… but it can never be. I must focus on the present.
For the rest of the day, Cersei went about her daily routine. She ate her meals, oversaw a court session and spent time with her son.
But when night arrived, she began to feel anxious again.
Qyburn will arrange the assassins, but it won't be immediate… travelling to Slaver's Bay is a voyage of months. And if she is already in Westeros…
I'm being foolish. Fearing a girl not even half my age… there's a chance she has no interest in Westeros at all. She's remained in Meereen for the better part of a year… perhaps she's decided to carve out her empire there, rather than going west seeking a throne she has never even seen in person.
But if I'm wrong about that… Tarly claimed she would be no threat, but did he underestimate her due to her sex? Does he assume a girl could not replicate the conquest of her ancestors?
But she is not the only danger. My accursed brother serves her now… Just why would she take him into her service? Surely his mind is not so valuable as to make him an attractive choice as Hand. Is she a deviant with a liking for scarred dwarves?
Cersei recalled another part of that prophecy from all those years ago: "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you." As she'd learned later, "valonqar" was High Valyrian for "younger brother".
I thought he would soon die… even the most cunning man in the world could not survive all the hunters seeking the bounty on his head, not with his body so weak. But he has managed to not only survive, but regain power.
If Qyburn's assassins can kill him before or after killing Daenerys, that would be ideal. Otherwise, he might escape again, like a rat scurrying into the shadows...
That night, Cersei was again unable to sleep restfully. When morning arrived, she needed to paint her face to hide the bags under her eyes.
Three days passed. On the first day, Cersei saw assassins in every shadow, and she ordered increased vigilance from the Red Keep's guards. On the second day, Qyburn told her that he'd sent out his own assassins. On the third day, Cersei was much better rested than before.
I did not need to worry so much… Cersei thought while playing with her son's kittens. Qyburn has yet to fail me.
Cersei looked up at Robert Strong, who currently stood guard over her and her son. Unlike other members of the Kingsguard, he never hesitated to carry out orders, nor did he need to spend any time eating or drinking or sleeping. He retained all of the incredible strength he had as a normal man. He was a perfect knight, aside from the unfortunate pseudonym given to him.
In addition to that, Qyburn also calmed down Tommen after my son's overreaction to the fire. Overall, he has proven much more competent than the lickspittles and possible traitors that make up the rest of my Small Council.
On the night of the third day, Cersei fell asleep mere minutes after she began lying down. She dreamed of Tyrion being brought before her in chains, his ugly face snarling in hostility and fear. Then she made him drink the very same poison given to her dear Joffrey, and Tyrion choked and spluttered until he eventually stopped moving.
This was only the first in a series of pleasant dreams. In another, she wrapped her hands around Tyrion's throat and squeezed until he perished. After that, she killed her wretched brother using wildfire, using knives, using a wild boar, using Qyburn's unique skills.
It was in the middle of one such dream that Cersei woke up. Or rather, she was woken up by hands gripping her body.
"Wha—Who are you!?" Cersei gasped. She began struggling.
"Hold her down properly!" said one of the strange men restraining her.
"Heh, that's a nice order," said another man with a lustful grin on his face. "First time I ever got to hold down a queen!"
"Don't forget what we're here to do!" said a third man.
Cersei struggled desperately, but she had no chance of overpowering three strong men. She feared the worst and was tempted to bite her tongue rather than let these oafs take their pleasure from her.
I faced… enough of that from Robert!
But the men simply tied up her arms and then led her out of her room. When she stepped out the door, Cersei saw the Kingsguard who'd been standing outside was now a bloody corpse on the floor.
Impossible… then… Tommen!
Cersei remembered that Robert Strong would be on duty outside Tommen's bedroom. That gave her a slight sense of relief.
That ended when she turned around a corner to see her son also tied up and being led by strange men. Strong was nowhere in sight.
"Tommen!" Cersei called out. "This… cannot be! What are you doing to my son!?"
"What are we doing?" said one of the men near Tommen. "What did you do to this boy? He's not scared even when we caught him!"
"It ain't natural," agreed another man. "He's like a slave, all the fight's been taken out of him."
While holding down her fury at that comparison, Cersei observed the strange men who'd invaded the Red Keep. They wore the same clothing as the servants, no doubt so they could move around more easily. And they had strange accents, unlike any she'd heard from other Westerosi.
One of the men eventually moved in a way that caused his sleeve to shift, revealing a gold bracelet. That was when Cersei remembered. There was an Essosi sellsword company famous for wearing their wealth in the form of gold.
"The Golden Company… Impossible, how could you get here!? You should still be in the Stormlands!"
"That's simply where the bulk of the army is, Your Grace. But some members went ahead for this little incursion."
Cersei recognised that voice. How could she not, when she'd heard it at every Small Council meeting?
"Nymeria… Sand!? You accursed TRAITOR!"
Nymeria walked up to Cersei. She was smiling at first, but then that expression was replaced by one of fury.
"This… is for Tyene!"
The bastard punched Cersei in the face. She might have done it again had the surrounding men not restrained her.
"Easy there, m'lady!" said one of the men holding Nymeria by the arms. "We're supposed to take her alive!"
"SHE KILLED MY SISTER!" Nymeria screamed. "EVERY TIME I SAW HER, I WAS TEMPTED TO SLICE HER THROAT!"
"Sister… what sister?" Cersei said, despite the stinging pain in her right cheek. "I haven't even interacted with any Dornish besides you, and the servants you brought with you!"
Nymeria glared. "Tyene… she was infiltrating the Great Sept. The Great Sept that you destroyed with wildfire!"
Cersei's face twitched. It was quite plausible for the sly Dornish to send more than one agent to King's Landing. But it was hardly her fault that one spy, who she hadn't been targeting and had no idea even existed, was now dead.
If she didn't want to die, then this Tyene should not have sneaked into the Great Sept in the first place!
"I get why you want her dead, m'lady, but King Aegon said no killin' the royals!" one of the Golden Company men said.
Nymeria continued looking venomously at Cersei. Unsurprisingly, the others did not release their grip on her.
What has the world come to, that I need sellswords to keep me safe from a bastard…?
"Nym, please calm yourself," said the voice of an unfamiliar woman.
Cersei and various others turned towards the source of the voice. This was another Dornishwoman, one with olive skin and long black hair styled into ringlets. She wore an elegant dress of green and blue silks. Walking in front of and behind her were four knights, also Dornish.
"Arianne?" Nymeria said. "You shouldn't be here yet, it's not safe—"
"But it's safe for you to be here, Nym?" said Arianne Nymeros Martell, heiress to House Martell. "Please don't undervalue your own life, simply because you are a bastard and I am not. More importantly…" She looked at Cersei with an expression no less furious than her cousin's. A small knife appeared in her hand—had she pulled it out from under her dress? "I, too, want her dead for what she did to Tyene. I would like to pierce her gut and let her lifeblood slowly drain over a matter of hours."
Cersei shuddered. She wanted to beg for her life, but what good would that even do in this situation?
"But my new husband believes in giving her a fair trial first," Arianne continued. "Don't worry, Nym. After all she has done, I am sure she will be sentenced to death. And I believe Aegon will permit us to carry out that sentence…"
Nymeria looked back at Cersei and grinned. "Very well."
At a gesture from Arianne, the Golden Company men released their hold on Nymeria.
"Speaking of Aegon, he is currently on the floor below us." Arianne looked at Cersei. "I expect you would like to meet him, Former Queen Cersei."
Cersei refused to dignify that with a reply. Even so, her mind was working rapidly.
For the Martells to side with him, is he the genuine Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Elia Martell? Or perhaps they chose to side with a pretender, wanting his forces to help in their revenge…
And then Cersei realised. The Aegon being spoken of claimed to be the rightful king. The wife of a king was, by definition, a queen.
Cersei knew of Arianne's exact age. The Dornish princess was sometimes the topic of gossip of court, being still unmarried at the age of twenty-four. Some whispered that she had some secret deformity that turned off suitors.
But that is still a decade younger than I…!
"I-Impossible!" Cersei cried out. "No Dornish slattern could ever be more beautiful than me, the Light of the West!"
That caused most people to flinch in surprise. Tommen simply and calmly said, "Mother? Is something wrong?"
"...I am unsure what prompted those words," Arianne said, looking at Cersei as if she was a madwoman. "Regardless, your era is done. House Lannister's domination of the Seven Kingdoms ends today."
Cersei looked desperately at Tommen. She recalled another part of the witch's prophecy: that her children would all die before she did.
"You… what have you done with my daughter!?" Cersei roared.
"Myrcella is alive and well," Arianne said, though Cersei detected a faint hesitation in her words.
"DO NOT LIE TO ME, SLATTERN! YOU HAD HER EAR CUT OFF!"
"GEROLD DAYNE DID THAT, AGAINST OUR WISHES!" Arianne retorted.
"EVEN IF THAT WAS THE TRUTH, SHE WAS MEANT TO BE UNDER YOUR CARE!"
Arianne showed a flash of guilt, though that was soon replaced by anger again. "We have treated Myrcella far better than you, Lannister!" She said. "We did not treat her as an ornament, to be ignored until she is useful! We did not force her to grow up with a monster of a brother, who bullied his siblings without his mother caring!"
Cersei struggled against her captors. She might have no fighting prowess, but she could not rest until she silenced the insolent little girl in front of her.
"MORE LIES! YOU DARE TO CLAIM YOU TREATED HER BETTER THAN ME, HER MO—mmph!?"
Cersei's mouth was suddenly blocked by a strip of cloth—Nymeria had slipped behind her in order to gag her.
"There's no point conversing with her, Arianne," Nymeria said. "She's a fool without equal, who refuses to see what is inconvenient for her. I know that all too well, thanks to far too many Small Council meetings…"
Arianne nodded. "I see what you mean, Nym…"
"What is happening up here?"
These words were spoken in the voice of a young man. They immediately caused both the Dornish and the sellswords of the Golden Company to turn around.
A young man appeared from a nearby staircase, accompanied by a few more sellswords in servants' garb. As soon as she saw him, Cersei gasped.
R-Rhaegar!?
He could not have been more than eighteen years of age, possibly even younger. He was clad in polished steel armour with a black and red cloak over his shoulders. His hair was the silver of moonlight, while his eyes were a mysterious shade of purple.
"We've captured both royals," one of the Golden Company men reported. "Just like you asked for, Your Grace."
"But, Your Grace, this former queen lost her temper and began to shout," Nymeria said. "To spare our ears from her nonsense, I gagged her."
The young man nodded in understanding. Even that action was reminiscent of his supposed father.
Impossible… Cersei thought. Clegane had crushed his skull as an infant… or was that infant truly him? With a crushed skull, no one could have recognised him by his features...
"Greetings, members of House Lannister," the young man said in a polite tone. "I am Aegon Targaryen, sixth of that name… and as of today, the new king of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros."
Cersei's mouth went dry. Just a few days ago, she'd been told that this so-called king and his sellsword army were a manageable threat. Randyll Tarly had claimed he would be able to defeat them simply by riding out.
How… How is this possible…?
"Are you curious as to why Lord Tarly didn't stop him?" Nymeria said. "The answer is simple: he was killed in an ambush, shortly after leaving King's Landing." Her lips curled into a smile. "That is the Dornish way of war."
"It is more than that," Aegon said. He looked at Cersei coldly. "You have been a horrendously incompetent leader to King's Landing, Cersei Lannister. We hardly even had to bribe the city guards to let us in—they were actually eager to do so, preferring even a strange king over you. The Red Keep's guards were more loyal, but we found our way in nonetheless."
Cersei clenched her teeth. She was surrounded by enemies and her nearest soldiers had been slain. There were plenty of Lannister soldiers outside the Red Keep, but what good would they be if their own queen was being kept as a hostage?
But Qyburn… yes, Qyburn may be able to save me. He's a shrewd man, probably disappeared into the shadows the moment intruders broke into the Red Keep. If he can—
Then Cersei saw Aegon approach her son, and she felt fear once again.
"Tommen Lannister, do you understand your situation?" Aegon asked, dropping to one knee.
Tommen did not respond. He simply stared blankly, and this caused Cersei to feel that bitterness in her heart again.
"I read your reports, but I did not expect he would be this… affected, Lady Nym," Aegon said sadly. "He truly does not respond to people other than his mother. Do we know what the cause is?"
"We're still not sure if this was caused by medicine or magic," Nymeria replied. "But we've already killed her maester—or perhaps necromancer would be more correct. Perhaps the boy will recover now that the source of his affliction is gone."
That destroyed the last hope Cersei had. She slumped in her captors' arms.
"For now, put him back in his room, and stand watch over him," Aegon ordered. "He is not some enemy king I must defeat. Merely a boy with a crown thrust upon his head… We do not need to hurt him further."
Several of the Golden Company nodded and led Tommen into his room. Cersei tried not to weep as she saw her son, her only surviving son, leave her sight.
"As for you…" Aegon said, turning back to Cersei. "You may not be guilty of your father's sins, but you have no shortage of your own. Just the burning of the Great Sept alone would be enough to condemn you to the seven hells."
Arianne, Nymeria and the Dornish knights all glared at Cersei.
"My dear husband," Arianne said. "I hope that you will allow your wife, and your wife's family, our rightful vengeance."
"Lady Tyene's death shall not go unanswered," Aegon agreed. "But I must ask a little patience. We must make sure our hold on King's Landing is secure, and then we can put her on trial."
"Her father did not show Elia or your sister such mercy," Nymeria said. She took out two knives and spun them in her hands. "And she is no less ruthless."
"This is my decision," Aegon said firmly. "The Lannisters trampled over the laws of gods and men in their quest for power… and look at them now, a defeated queen and a boy with no will. I have no intention of going down the same path."
"Very well," Arianne said. In a lighter tone, she added, "You are lucky to be so handsome, Aegon. I would not be so patient with a less attractive husband."
"I am simply sticking with my principles," Aegon said. However, his cheeks had reddened at these words.
Cersei observed this exchange carefully. Aegon might be a king who commanded the respect of an army, but he was still a young man, and apparently not one experienced with the opposite sex.
Could I make use of this opportunity…?
Her odds of success with this tactic were abysmal. For one thing, it was unlikely that Arianne would allow her new husband to ever be alone with Cersei for any period of time. But Cersei had no other options, so she was ready to try anything.
"We have lingered here for long enough," Aegon said. "I believe it's time for a change of scenery… and for me to take my throne. All of you, come with me."
Aegon led them all towards the nearby staircase. And at the foot of this staircase, Cersei could glimpse a huge body in white armour.
Qyburn had told me he would be a champion no man could possibly defeat… Cersei thought bitterly.
"Do watch your step," Aegon said casually. "The oil should have been wiped up by now, but perhaps some traces still linger on the steps."
Cersei looked down at the stone steps of the staircase, then at the crumpled form of Robert Strong—no, of Gregor Clegane—below. Realisation struck her.
"You might have thought your pet abomination invincible," Nymeria said. "But my father," she clenched her fists, "already proved he was not. And the bigger a man is, the greater his injuries from a fall."
"All it took was to pour a little oil on the first few steps, then have one of our men draw Clegane's attention," Arianne said. "Our man ran to these stairs and then ducked to the side instead of going down. Clegane was not so cautious… and this is the result."
They soon reached the bottom of the staircase. Now Cersei saw that Gregor Clegane was still twitching. Yet he couldn't even rise back to his feet, something easily explained by the countless holes in the weak spots of his armour. The liquid oozing from these holes was black instead of red. Lastly, despite his situation, Clegane did not scream in pain—indeed, he said nothing at all.
After he fell down the stairs… they must have stabbed him, again and again, to cripple him fully…
"Still alive, even now…" Aegon said with disgust. He delivered a kick to the head of the fallen Kingsguard. "He… no, it is something which should not exist on this earth. Will it keep moving until we burn it to ashes?"
"A wicked queen who abuses her own subjects, and is served by a necromancer and an undead monster," Arianne remarked. "She is just like a villain from the stories we all heard as children."
Cersei ignored the insult. She continued thinking of ways to turn the situation around.
Seducing this self-proclaimed king may be impractical. However, the men who serve him are not so guarded, I've already seen it.
It grated on Cersei to plan to seduce filthy, uncultured men like these sellswords. Yet that was infinitely better than waiting for her trial and her death to vengeful Dornishwomen.
They continued walking through the Red Keep. Through the windows, Cersei saw a dark sky with faint rays of sunlight on the eastern horizon—the attack had been carried out before dawn, when most people would still be asleep.
"Lady Lannister, we shall soon reach the throne room," Aegon said. "We could remove your gag, and spare you a little shame in front of the many assembled here. But if you should lose your temper again, we will put it back on. Understood?"
Cersei nodded quietly. The gag was untied from her face, after which she resisted the temptation to spit.
A few more moments of walking later, they reached the throne room. This was already filled with a few dozen nobles and servants, as well as just as many sellswords and Dornish soldiers.
Cersei spotted Paxter Redwyne and Harys Swyft among the crowd. No doubt they had also been dragged out of their beds in order to swear fealty to the new king. But they were not the focus of her attention.
Her focus was on a fat man with a bald head. He wasn't dressed in the colourful silk and velvet he'd typically worn in the past, but in more practical garb of brown and grey wool. Even so, she could never mistake him for anyone else.
"Varys…" Cersei hissed. "You were involved too!?"
The former master of whisperers looked at Cersei and smiled. That infuriating smile of his, hinting at all the secrets he knew, had occasionally given her nightmares.
"Indeed, Your Grace," Varys said, his high-pitched voice overflowing with formality. "While I did not show my face in the Red Keep, I never truly left… the secret tunnels and chambers of this castle are a mystery to all but me."
And, no doubt, that is how he let the intruders in… Cersei thought. How long has he been working at this? Since Robert's reign? Since Aerys'?
"We are grateful for your service, Lord Varys," Aegon said. "You shall be restored to your position in the Small Council shortly."
Varys bowed. "I simply do what is best for the realm. Your Grace."
Cersei couldn't fail to notice the slight uncertainty in Aegon's voice when talking to Varys. Similarly, his wife and Nymeria also looked suspicious of the eunuch. Another opportunity she could exploit.
Aegon passed by Varys and walked through the crowd, who quickly parted before him. Some even began dropping to their knees already.
Cersei was led in Aegon's wake. She noticed quite a few people in the crowd looking at her, showing glee at her downfall. She made sure to remember their faces.
When he got near the Iron Throne, Aegon met two knights and talked to them briefly. One knight had red hair starting to go grey, the other orange hair. Cersei didn't pay them much attention, instead looking longingly at the Iron Throne, the throne she'd been standing on as recently as yesterday.
After finishing his conversation, Aegon reached the base of the Iron Throne. Cersei and the rest of the group stopped some distance before it.
You may have this for today… Cersei thought. But I promise you, Aegon, that you will not keep that throne for long.
The young king walked up the stairs leading to the throne proper. Due to his careful pace and the massive size of the Iron Throne, it took him about ten seconds of walking.
Finally, he sat down on the throne and looked forward.
There was some uncertainty in his posture. Even so, Cersei had to admit: he looked every inch a king.
The two knights in front of the throne shouted, "All hail King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"ALL HAIL KING AEGON!" the crowd repeated.
AN: Some exposition I couldn't fit into the chapter itself:
Cersei changed the titles of the members of the Small Council. Most (except for Hand of the King) are traditionally in the form "Master of X". Cersei changed them because she didn't want any "Masters" in her Small Council.
In the TV series, Loras is the only son of Mace Tyrell, thus the death of him, his sister and his father means the house is doomed. In the books, and thus in this fanfic, he has two older brothers, Willas and Garlan, so the house persists. There are also various Tyrell cousins.
Similarly, the series has Trystane as the only son of Doran Martell. The books have two older siblings, Arianne and Quentyn (the latter of which you've seen in previous chapters). Arianne has her own subplot in the fourth book, elements of which were used for the coup in Dorne in the series. At the end of this subplot, Doran sends out the Sand Snakes to various places, including Nymeria to join the Small Council and Tyene to infiltrate the Great Sept of Baelor.
Myrcella is still alive at this point in the books. However, she's been mutilated due to a murder attempt by a rogue Dornish knight, hence Arianne's hesitation when talking about her.
Aegon VI is a book-only character with no equivalent in the series. Well, to be morbid, he exists in the series but as a dead baby. He and his invasion of Westeros are one of the biggest divergences between the series and the books.
Also, something to note is that terms like "Small Council" and "North" are not actually capitalised in the original books. I capitalise them because I think they should be treated as proper nouns.