( Cersei POV )
Dragonstone is yours.
What a stupid thing to say, Cersei thought as she sat in the throne room, watching Garlan Tyrell kneel before his king, an irrepressible grin tugging at his lips. Dragonstone is yours. Was that something to be proud of? A piddling stone jutting out of the sea? What was that miserable, windswept rock really worth? Robert had won her a whole seven kingdoms. Jaime had won a dozen true battles, and killed a king with a single swipe of his sword.
By what right can a simple rock grant you glory from a king? Cersei wondered, but she held her peace and let Tommen speak all the way till court wound down to a close. Jaime could have taken it half a day.
Nevertheless, Garlan Tyrell got his glory, and his return from his victory at Dragonstone heralded the arrival of a hellish week.
The usual fare of gold and red and black that decked the halls of the Red Keep briefly turned green, in honour of the success. Tommen was keen to emphasise the first true victory of his reign. Red lions became roses. There was merriment in the mud-soaked streets. Margaery and her hens seemed to never stop clucking, chittering and chattering with the kinds of smiles on their faces that made Cersei want to reach over and slap them back and forth across their rosy cheeks till they were all bloody.
I am a queen who has lost her court, Cersei lamented. I have my pride and yet no power. I sit on the small council and say nothing. And day after day, that whore from Highgarden thinks to take a little more of what I have left.
It was becoming increasingly hard to control her irritation as of late, Cersei found. Jaime was gone, despite her best efforts. Osney had disappeared without a trace, and without being able to account for him she could not rest. All he needs do is open his mouth and I'm ruined. Yet he is not entirely necessary. Margaery Tyrell has a great many admirers, any one of which could wind up in her bed. When she prayed, she switched back and forth between praying for his return and praying for proof of his painful demise. Yet, not even his brother Osmund could offer that.
She came upon him in the yard the day after Garlan's return, as he was sparring with the one remaining Redwyne twin. She sat and watched for while, quietly seething, and then called Ser Osmund aside. "Walk with me a bit," she commanded him, and then once they were far enough away from prying ears she continued, "and tell me the truth. Your brother Ser Osney. Where has he gotten to?"
Osmund frowned. "I don't know," he said. "The king told me he had some task for him, and I haven't seen him since."
Cersei stiffened with alarm. "The king?" she asked, feeling her heart briefly seize in her chest. I've been found out. Was it the dreams?
"Aye," Osmund said. "My brother's a good sword. Not as strong as me or Osfryd, but he's quick enough to the kill."
"Yes, yes," Cersei cut him off before he could continue, suddenly uninterested in what he had to say. Then, she said her farewells and left him, scowling all the way back to her chambers. Up the stairs she went, passing through the passages of Maegor's Holdfast at a quick pace. She slowed as she walked past Tommen's solar, but thought better of it at the last second and continued on towards her chambers.
If he will say nought to me then I need not concern myself with confrontation, she told herself. I will meet his silence with silence. He will come to me of his own volition, when he learns what it truly means to rule. He will learn from my example once he sees my hour in the sun.
Inside her chamber, Cersei found none other than Taena, sat talking with Dorcas and Jocelyn. They stood and bowed their heads when she entered, but Cersei did not deign to acknowledge them. Instead she went for the wine, pouring herself a healthy glass and taking a sizeable swig as she sat herself at her table. Unable to stand the looks that timid Jocelyn was shooting Dorcas, Cersei sent the pair of them away to prepare her a bath. After what felt like an entire day in the company of the Tyrells, she felt the sudden urge to purge herself of the lingering stench of the rose perfume they all seemed to wear.
"Is something the matter, Your Grace?" Taena asked once they were alone.
Cersei felt herself flatten in disappointment. "I am sure you already know," she said. "I will not speak of it further."
Taena nodded. "Undeserved praise, I know, but a victory is still a victory, regardless of what soldier did the fighting. The king's commands cannot be ignored."
"What about the queen's commands?" Cersei asked bitterly.
"You need only say the word, Your Grace," Taena said, her head bowed, her lashes fluttering seductively. "My loyalty is to you and to the little king only. I desire only to serve you, however you might require."
Cersei felt a small smile tug on her lips as her mood suddenly went from quietly apoplectic to contemplative. "I would be ever so sad if you ever betrayed my trust, Taena," she purred like a cat. "I would have no choice but to give you to the King's Justice, though you ought to know I would weep all the while."
Taena shook her head, her curly hair bobbing. "I will never give you cause to weep, Your Grace. And I assure you: Any words you share with me will fall on no other ears save my own without your express assent."
Cersei sipped her wine as she listened to the sounds of the bath being filled by buckets in the adjoining room. When the water stopped, and a sweaty Dorcas came in to announce that her bath was ready, Cersei stood from her seat and gestured for Taena to follow. In the adjoining room, Cersei dismissed Jocelyn and Dorcas before she stripped down and slowly immersed herself in the bathwater, her golden tresses floating on the surface, her breasts glistening half with sweat and half with water as steam filled the room. I'm still beautiful, Cersei knew as she saw Taena stare wide-eyed at her in the water. Jaime was a fool to spurn me.
"Come, Taena," Cersei beckoned. "Join me. I require your service."
Taena nodded almost timidly, and then slowly stripped from her dress and gingerly climbed into the steaming water, causing it to rise and spill over the edge of the tub. As she entered, Cersei watched her. The Myrish woman was beautiful; long-legged and full-breasted with smooth skin and ripe nether lips and huge dark nipples. She looked and smelled of sin, though her usually sultry demeanour had shied somewhat now that she was completely exposed.
Robert would have loved her, Cersei thought, if only for an hour. Even still, she would have been one of his finest whores, and had he chosen her I don't doubt she would have been bred a dozen times over and borne him many bastard children by now.
"Tell me, Taena," Cersei began, watching her bare body for even the slightest hint of deception, "have you seen or heard of Ser Osney as of late?"
Taena shook her head slowly, uncertain, her hair becoming wet in the water, her curls softening. "No, Your Grace."
Cersei felt her eyes narrow slightly with suspicion, but even as her gaze flicked up and down Taena sultry curves, she saw no lie. A sudden fury filled her again as she continued watching Taena shift beneath the surface of the bathwater.
"Regarding Lady Margaery..." Taena ventured, breaking the lingering silence. "I believe there may be another way to... undermine her."
Cersei slid one of her feet between Taena's legs to rub her lower lips, and watched as the Myrish woman's mouth opened with surprise, her lashes fluttering in anticipation of further pleasure. Taena slowly splayed her thighs, bit her lip and began gently caressing one of her own breasts, silently begging for one of Cersei's toes to push forwards into her. What a little slut you are, Cersei thought, briefly distracted.
But alas, there would be nought but teasing today, for her plots took priority over her pleasure, no matter how much she enjoyed toying with the Myrish woman.
"Do go on," Cersei urged with a coy smile that promised rewards.
"W-Well, Your Grace," Taena slowly answered, forcing herself back into full awareness, "as I understand it, the Princess Arianne has expressed some significant interest in His Grace. What better way to loosen Lady Margaery's grip in the absence of Ser Osney than to threaten her position at the king's side?"
And hand my son over to that Dornish whore in the process? Cersei thought, suddenly furious as her smile soured into a scowl. She thrust forwards with her foot to elicit a sharp yelp of pain from Taena, demonstrating her dissatisfaction with the suggestion. That princess is far too daring and far too dangerous, Cersei knew. Especially with my Myrcella all alone in Prince Doran's custody, I cannot humble her for fear of retribution. Hells, even Maid Margaery, insufferable as she is, is a better choice.
"No," said Cersei in a tone that that left no room for argument. "I will not pull my son away from one harlot only to push him into the arms of another. And I will not hear of this again, do you understand?"
...
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