Chapter 10

Cersei I

"Are we understood, whore?"

The whimpering woman kept her eyes trained on the ground. "Yes, Your Grace."

Cersei turned away and dismissed her with a wave, her usefulness expired for the day. "Good. Go now, but be ready for when Ser Meryn comes for you the day of the trial."

She did not watch the woman leave, but nonetheless smiled when the door clicked shut. Ser Meryn, Grand Maester Pycelle, and even Varys, the disgusting eunuch, had all agreed to testify against Tyrion in a few days. Her father once said everyone had their price, and while Jaime was busy swinging sticks for glory and fame, she had listened, learned. The whore that once proclaimed undying love to her murderous little brother was now helping with his death, all for a few purses of gold and empty promises of safety.

Lord Tywin should be pleased, she thought snidely. Perhaps he would have paid more attention to her competence growing up if he had realized back then that the only one with a whit of brain between their shoulders and pride in the Lannister name was the one with a cunt between her legs.

Cersei stepped onto her balcony to enjoy the view of night falling over the city, sitting by a table of strawberries and sweetcakes that had been set there for her enjoyment. King's Landing was a filthy thing, she knew, packed to the brim with unwashed peasants and simpering sycophants, and even after twenty years as queen, the smell of the city was like a punch to the gut. Yet, for all of its issues, it was hers. By right. Hers and her children's.

The thought of her beautiful golden children made the strawberry in her mouth turn sour, and she had to drain the last of the iced summerwine from her goblet to wash out the taste.

From her tenth name day on, Maggy's prophecy had been a fly's buzz on the back of her head, real and small and bothersome, but otherwise harmless. Since Joffrey's death, however, since she saw the golden shroud wrapped around his body in Baelor's Sept, the fortune teller's words were as thunder in her head, roaring death and doom day and night.

The little beast had taken Myrcella from her first, sending her away to live in that pit of vipers; then Joffrey, poisoning him at his own wedding. Cersei had thought of his earlier words as she held her dying boy, and she knew the debt was truly paid. Her joy had turned to ashes in her mouth that day.

And now… now Margaery Tyrell had sunk her flowery fangs into her sweet Tommen. The younger—and some said—more beautiful queen-to-be, come to take Cersei's rightful place. She couldn't help the growl that escaped her throat, and she threw her empty goblet against the stone wall, shattering its crystal face into a thousand pieces. With the torch's light on them, the shards glittered on the ground like fresh-fallen snow flakes, or the countless stars in the night sky.

It was a beautiful, broken thing.

And, she realized, it was exactly what they needed to do to the young flower and her family of upjumped stewards. Crush them. Destroy them. If her father and innocent Tommen couldn't see the danger the Tyrells posed to their dynasty, she would have to do it herself.

"Ser Meryn!" she called out. The stormlander knight came rushing through the creaking door with sword drawn, and she could have cursed him for a fool. How could she be in danger if he was standing at the door the whole time?

The knight looked around warily, sword swinging about, until finally sheathing his sword when nothing but the broken goblet seemed amiss in her rooms. "Your grace?" he asked, droopy eyes drawn in confusion.

Cersei smiled apologetically at the kingsguard. "Forgive me, Ser, I did not mean to startle you." He stood up straighter as she spoke sweetly at him, and her smile grew brighter. Men had killed for her smiles. "Tell me, which of your sworn brothers guard my son at night?"

Trant scratched at his patchy, red beard. "I believe it is Ser Balon that watches over King Tommen most nights, your grace."

Cersei clicked her tongue. Of course it was that young fool letting the Tyrell bitch saunter over into Tommen's room like she was already queen. She had tried bringing him to her side once, even promising to share her bed as she did for the Kettleblack brothers, yet Ser Balon remained steadfast in maintaining his celibate vows and made his excuses to leave. He was a fool, yes, and a cockless fool at that. Cersei couldn't see why Tommen kept him close.

"I want you to join Ser Balon in protecting the King at night. Starting now." Ser Meryn started to protest, but she bowled over him. "Do not argue with me, ser. Send one of my father's men to guard me, if you must. But I want you at the King's doors tonight. Let not one bother him. If they insist, cut them down. Do you understand? One of my sons has been killed already, and I will not have the same happen with Tommen. Kill anyone that approaches his room. For the King's own safety."

The knight scurried out to follow her orders, and she hoped that, even if Ser Meryn didn't get to kill Margaery, which she doubted the man would follow through with, he would at least stop her from visiting her Tommen.

When he was gone, Cersei had the night servants clean out the rest of the food and prepare her for the evening. A massive copper tub was brought into her rooms, and hot water was hauled in by a line of servants. Her hair was washed and combed as she soaked in the scalding bath, with salts and cleansing herbs tickling at her skin, while chambermaids prepared her bed in red and gold colors. The smaller hearth inside her bedroom was stocked with fresh wood and lavender powder, and her night clothes were set aside over her dresser.

Soon the servants left and she was alone. Jamie had not slept with her since she'd dismissed him for coming back to her half a Lannister, broken and defeated; the other men had always been lesser than her, tools and means to her plans and her lusts. Her bed was cold and empty when she climbed in.

Sleep did not come easy for her, and when it did, Cersei dreamed of Maggy's smelly tent, her empty mouth and her green skin. She dreamed of Maggy's cruel words and her own cruel thoughts. She dreamed of pretty little Melara screaming in the dark well. Your death is here tonight, little one, Maggy had told the girl. Can you smell her breath? She is very close. She laughed after that. And it was that mad cackle that woke Cersei up, sweating and trembling in the middle of the night.

Her bedroom door was creaking open with the rasp of wood on stone; the sound of Maggy's throaty laugh. Cersei shuffled back under the covers until her back hit the towering headboard, heart thumping wildly in her chest. She wanted to scream, to call for help, to cry for her long dead mother. She opened her mouth to yell, but the words died on her tongue when someone spoke.

"Mother?" It was a small, fearful voice that sounded from the door. "Are you there?" it asked.

Cersei squinted at the darkness. "Tommen?" Her son shuffled closer until the light of the hearth illuminated his face. His beautiful yellow hair was tousled and tangled, and red shot veins traced his eyes, with dark bags hanging beneath them. Cersei let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "What are you doing here, sweetling?"

"I… I'm sorry," he said, voice trembling. "I had a nightmare... about... about you."

Cersei found a small smile coming to her face. He was still just a boy, a child, and she was the only one standing between him and the vultures. "Come here sweetling," she said softly, lifting the covers closest to him.

Tommen moved shyly to the side of the bed and crawled under the blankets. He curled up beside her until his golden head nestled under her chin, just as he did when he was younger.

Cersei felt tears pricking her eyes.

My boy… my youngest boy.

She brushed back his soft hair and kissed him on the forehead. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she whispered.

She felt him hold her closer. "You were back in the sept," Tommen said. "With Joff laid on the stone. Except… except I was there beside him, too, and Myrcella, covered in golden silk. I… I tried to escape, thrashing and kicking out, but the silk held me tighter each time. We called for you, screamed for you… but you just watched us" He shook his head. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry. It just… it seemed so real."

"It wasn't." She wanted to deny it, to discredit his dream as nothing but a bad night's sleep. But the shrouds… the golden shrouds. It was her turn to hug him tighter. "I'm not going to let it happen," she said fiercely. "Mother will protect you, my sweet boy. Always. Do you understand?" He nodded against her chest and withdrew from her arms to favor her with a gentle smile. Cersei turned around to reach for one of the pillows still left on the bed. "You can sleep here tonight. You won't have any more nightmares. I won't let it."

"Thank you, mother." Tommen's breath tickled at her ear.

Can you smell her breath—

Her boy hugged her from behind, one arm around her stomach, another around her shoulders.

She is very close—

Then that same arm snaked around her neck and pulled. Cersei's hands shot up to claw at him, prying fingers digging, but his forearm was as iron clinched around her throat. She felt something being crushed, and then there was no air in the world anymore.

"Shh. It's really me, mother," Tommen whispered in her ear. His trembling voice of just a moment ago was gone. It was something cold now; cold and cruel. "I want you to know it's your own son choking the life out of you. You deserve to know that."

She tried to call for help with her last breath, only to realize the crushing feeling had been her windpipe breaking.

When her vision turned black at the edges, and her eyes started to sting with the pressure, she didn't want to cry out anymore; she just wanted to talk to him, to ask why, but her lungs burned at the very idea of speaking.

The last light faded, and Cersei felt herself being dragged into the darkness of a well by small, cold hands.