Chapter 77: The Lord's Daughter
King Robert's warhammer was indeed fearsome.
Queen Cersei's solution was to ensure Robert Baratheon could never stay sober. If he couldn't even stand steadily, how could he possibly hold his warhammer?
Jaime's repeated admonitions still had some effect on Cersei.
This time, Queen Cersei was willing to be more patient. This waiting was like a gamble, one that could make her heart race. Perhaps one day, it would bring her an unexpected, pleasant surprise.
Queen Cersei was inwardly very pleased. In House Lannister, aside from Tywin Lannister, only she could have devised such a brilliant and flawless scheme.
…
Queen Cersei strode toward Lancel. He couldn't help but back away, his eyes fixed on her.
Before long, Lancel's back hit the wall. He had nowhere left to retreat.
Queen Cersei stood only a fist's width away from him. Lancel wished he could melt into the wall.
Queen Cersei lowered her gaze, then raised her eyes to look directly at Lancel. "Lancel, what you need to do is very simple. Swap what I've prepared for Robert to drink. That drunkard might even praise you for it."
Lancel's pupils contracted, his teeth chattering. "Cersei, are you going to poison him?"
Queen Cersei frowned, her voice rising slightly. "Lancel, have you been scared witless? Are you even fit to be a lion of House Lannister?"
Lancel paused. The honor of his house seemed to help him find his courage. "Cousin Cersei, what is it you want me to swap?"
Only then did Queen Cersei nod slightly in satisfaction, the corners of her lips curling. "I've specially prepared a large amount of strong red wine. You need to make him fall in love with it. Perhaps you won't even need to do anything; he'll get addicted on his own. He's already a filthy drunkard."
*Is it really just a matter of swapping it for a stronger wine?*
Queen Cersei's words allowed Lancel to breathe a sigh of relief. He had been terrified by his cousin's jest.
Lancel, who had been sweating profusely, ignored the beads of sweat dripping down his face and smiled innocently. "Cousin Cersei, your joke nearly scared me to death. Leave the matter of swapping the strong wine to me. I think King Robert might even like it very much. If he's happy, he might curse at me less. Thank you for your consideration. Why didn't I think of that..."
Lancel couldn't continue.
Queen Cersei was smiling, but in Lancel's eyes, that smile looked increasingly strange, making him feel like a complete idiot.
Queen Cersei patted Lancel and said softly, "So adorably stupid."
Lancel's body stiffened. He felt an unfamiliar yet soft pair of hands moving around below his waist.
"There are two kinds of wine. One is twice the usual strength, the other is three times..."
"Cou...sin, your...hand..."
Queen Cersei lowered her eyes, her voice clear and cold. "Lancel, don't move... Tell me, how should this wine be arranged?"
Lancel's breathing was heavy, but he maintained a thread of clarity. "I... think... the double-strength is for His Grace to drink normally. I can't think of a use for the triple-strength."
"Besides drinking, what else does Robert like to do?"
*Finding whores!*
Lancel, his mind racing, swallowed the answer on the tip of his tongue. "Hunting?"
Queen Cersei raised her eyes, stared at Lancel, and said, "Do you know what to do now?"
Lancel swallowed hard and nodded silently.
"Well then, my future loyal servant, would you like to receive your reward from the Queen now? Or after your success? I see you're a bit too energetic. Your cousin can make an exception for you, just this once."
Lancel's Adam's apple bobbed. His gaze couldn't help but drift downward. After getting a clear look, he immediately averted his eyes and said in a low voice, "Cersei, I'm your cousin."
Queen Cersei simply looked at Lancel with a faint smile, not replying.
*This can't be happening. Cousin Cersei must be drunk. I have to leave immediately.*
Everyone in the Red Keep knew that Queen Cersei was never far from her wine cup.
Lancel took a deep breath, broke free from Cersei's grasp, and straightened his clothes. "Cousin Cersei, rest assured!"
After speaking, without even bidding farewell to Queen Cersei, Lancel fled the room.
After Lancel left, Queen Cersei hummed a little tune, picked up her wine cup, and took a sip of Arbor Red.
Having achieved her goal through her own methods, Queen Cersei was in a very cheerful mood.
…
…
That evening, in Glyn's tent.
"Good evening, Lady Margaery."
"Good evening, Lord Glyn."
Glyn, having just finished his dinner, received a direct visit from the Little Rose of Highgarden.
After Glyn invited Margaery Tyrell to sit, he generously ordered the attendants to light a few more candles in the tent.
Glyn looked at the smiling Margaery and thought to himself, *The Little Rose is much easier on the eyes than that Willas, who only pretends to be kind.*
Compared to the understated luxury of their last meeting, Margaery Tyrell's attire this evening was far more splendid.
Margaery Tyrell's light brown hair was gathered to one side, hanging languidly over her beautiful collarbone.
Margaery Tyrell sat with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap, her posture exceptionally elegant.
From the moment Margaery Tyrell entered the tent, everything Glyn saw—her attire, her posture, her expression—made it clear that the Margaery Tyrell visiting him tonight was the daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, not the approachable noble lady from their first meeting.
*The Lord's daughter...* Thinking of this, the image of Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish suddenly flashed through Glyn's mind.
It seemed Littlefinger would only ever fall in love with a Lord's daughter.
…
A hint of a smile flashed across Margaery Tyrell's eyes. "I heard in Highgarden that Lord Glyn was injured. I was truly worried, so I came overnight to visit."
An ordinary person might have felt a bit awkward at this moment, but Lord Glyn was no ordinary person.
Glyn frowned slightly and placed a hand on his chest, his voice feigning weakness. "Thank you for your concern, Lady Margaery. I'm fine."
The air in the tent froze for a second.
Margaery Tyrell covered her mouth and chuckled lightly, her beautiful eyes curving into crescents. "Lord Glyn, I somewhat admire your... swordsmanship."
Glyn spread his hands. "I must once again thank Lady Margaery for her consideration."
After a pause, Glyn added, "Lady Margaery, I am a knight, unskilled in beating around the bush. If there is anything you need my help with, please speak directly. I would be more than happy to be of service to you."
Margaery Tyrell's delicate hands tensed slightly but immediately relaxed. "Lord Glyn, I was indeed very worried after hearing of your injury. You are, after all, our guest. House Tyrell must guarantee your safety in the Reach. This concerns the honor of House Tyrell."
Glyn's eyes moved slightly as he bowed his head, placing a hand over his heart in a gesture of courtesy.
Margaery Tyrell beamed. "To show our regret for House Tyrell's inadequate care, and to allow you to return and recuperate in peace, my grandmother specially asked me to bring you some gold dragons."
*The Little Rose's grandmother? The one known as the Queen of Thorns, Olenna Redwyne?*
*The mother of the Pufferfish Lord...* Glyn's expression became a little strange. "Forgive my rudeness, Lady Margaery, but may I ask how many your grandmother had you bring?"
Margaery Tyrell blinked, paused for a moment, her tone still gentle. "Three thousand gold dragons."
*As expected!*
Glyn raised his head, looking up at the roof of the tent.
What was running through his mind was: *Here's five million, now leave my son!*
(end of chapter)