Three years ago, Euron's face was scorched by the Black Dragon's fire. Though he survived, he lost his handsome features and became
Three years ago, Euron's face was scorched by the Black Dragon's fire. Though he survived, he lost his handsome features and became a scarred, disfigured man.
Before Cersei's walk of atonement, the septas had shaved her hair clean, leaving not even her eyebrows. Now, her head was covered with uneven, bristly stubble, making her look dreadful.
"Hair will grow back, but the scars on your face will never heal," Cersei said coolly as she returned to her seat.
"If you knew how I got these scars, you wouldn't be so harsh."
Euron touched the dark, hardened skin and said, "They came from dragonfire. Daenerys and her three dragons attacked me together.
In this world, who else could escape an ambush by three dragons? She turned Slaver's Bay into scorched earth, burned hundreds of nobles alive in Volantis, melted a dozen princes of Lys into flesh and blood, and even Braavos was not spared.
So this scar represents glory.
I can proudly tell everyone that this is my medal from fighting three dragons and their Mother."
He leaned closer, his tone sharp. "You, on the other hand, will have your golden, silky hair grow back as radiant as before. But the honor you lost in the gutter will never be recovered."
The skin on his cheek had lost its natural texture, with no pores, smooth to the point it reflected sunlight.
But the scar was black and rough, full of pockmarks and ridges. When he spoke, it split into fresh, raw cracks—terrifying to behold.
Cersei glared at him several times, only to turn her head away in revulsion.
"Marry me, and I can forge you even greater glory," Euron said with a grin.
"You?" Cersei raised her smooth chin proudly, eyeing him with disdain. "If the Hound were still alive, he'd be delighted to see you, because at last there'd be someone uglier than him.
Oh, wait—there's also my white knight, Loras.
He's even uglier than you. You should go meet him. After seeing him, you might feel more confident about yourself."
"The Hound, you, Loras—you could form the 'Fiery Knights of Westeros' together. Hahaha!" Cersei covered her mouth and laughed softly.
Euron leaned back in his chair, shifting lazily as he said, "A man's confidence never comes from his looks. There are certain abilities you'd never discover unless you experienced them for yourself."
Cersei's bright eyes flicked downward for an instant, and the scorn in them deepened. "Don't bother. I have plenty of experience. I can see right through you."
Euron wagged a finger. "No, you don't understand. You don't know what I can do.
I told you, only I can restore your honor. Or have you truly given up?"
"Given up on what?"
Euron's gaze gleamed. "Revenge. And the Iron Throne."
Cersei's body jolted. She leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Go on."
"You want revenge on the High Sparrow, and on everyone who mocked you, don't you? You don't want to leave King's Landing, you don't want to surrender the Iron Throne, do you?"
As Cersei's expression shifted between light and shadow, Euron's smile widened.
"I can help you."
"The Lannister armies have returned from the Riverlands to King's Landing, but your uncle has no intention of bathing the Great Sept in blood. Yet some shames can only be washed away with blood."
Euron leaned forward too, close enough to catch the sweet scent of her hurried breath.
"I can," he said firmly.
Cersei looked at him, and for a moment, she imagined she could smell blood on his deep-blue lips—a scent that entranced her.
She licked her full red lips and asked, "What can you do?"
"I can kill all your enemies. Every single one of them," he said, staring at her moist, alluring mouth.
"Men always boast, especially when they want something from a woman."
Cersei suddenly laughed, charming and seductive.
"If a man has no designs on the Queen Mother, then he isn't a man. But unlike the others, I never boast," Euron replied with a grin of his own.
Cersei leaned back, creating distance between them. Settling into her chair, she smoothed her expression and said calmly, "Prove it to me."
"You must marry me first."
Before she could retort, Euron quickly raised a hand. "Killing him would be easy. But without him, how could I be certain you'd marry me?"
"Killing who?" Cersei's eyes flickered.
"Who else? The one standing in your way to the Iron Throne," Euron said with a wicked smile.
"Perhaps… he doesn't have to die," Cersei said hesitantly, her face pale.
"Don't be foolish. The entire court belongs to him. The Lannister armies are under his command. Even you are in his grasp, aren't you? You don't like me, yet you still have to marry me," Euron sneered.
"How dare you speak to me like this."
Cersei's lips pressed into a thin line, her lovely face like ice, her hands clenched into fists at her waist, trembling ever so slightly.
"Because I am your husband. United, husband and wife can cut through steel."
For a fleeting moment, Cersei's mind blurred. In her vision, she saw Rhaegar, then Robert.
Finally, the image froze on a radiant, golden-haired man, shining like a son of the sun.
Jaime, where are you?
Do you know I am about to wed?
And yet, once again, the groom is not you.
A dull ache stirred in her chest. But her eyes hardened with resolve as she declared, "Forget it. I will never marry you.
I want the Iron Throne so that I can live as I please. I will not trade one for the other!"
"You are adorable," Euron said, smiling slyly.
"The Ironborn hold the gates of Highgarden and the Shield Isles. The Ironborn have sealed the North at Moat Cailin, keeping Roose Bolton's ten thousand troops trapped for two years. The Iron Fleet keeps the Lannister navy bottled in port, while also restraining the fleet at the Arbor, preventing the Redwynes from making a move."
"If I wish, I could immediately march on Haijiang City, sweep through the Riverlands, ravage the royal domains, and even seize the undefended Western Territory."
"Everyone hopes you will marry me. If you marry me, all of these problems can be easily resolved. If you marry me, the royal family can also be rid of a piece of foul filth."
"Filth?" Cersei gnashed her silver teeth.
Euron shrugged with indifference and said, "Don't doubt it. You are fouler than filth. If you don't believe me, walk the streets of King's Landing. You've practically become the very emblem of a shameless, fallen woman, enough to be remembered for generations."
Cersei's face turned ashen with fury.
"Your Grace, you must understand, look around you—everywhere you see are your enemies. Even the High Sparrow and Daenerys, two powerful foes, have united closely together.
You need strength, and strength cannot appear out of thin air.
Either you return to Casterly Rock, spend the rest of your life as a secluded widow, or you find an ally. And who could be more trustworthy than a husband?
Within the Seven Kingdoms, who else holds more power and strength than I?"
This time, Cersei did not mock him, nor did she argue back. She remained silent, lost in deep thought.
Even with her walnut-sized mind, she understood that Euron's words were painfully accurate.
She needed an ally.
That night, after a lavish and extravagant welcome banquet, Kevan came alone to the queen's bedchamber.
"Well?" he asked.
"You once said he was very handsome."
In the candlelight, Cersei's pale and luminous face was shrouded with flickering shadows.
"He truly was very handsome before. And scars from dragonfire, no matter where they are, cannot be considered ugly. They are marks of honor," said Ser Kevan solemnly.
This was not empty courtesy.
Among all but the shallowest people, scars left after a knight's battle were never mocked.
And scars from fighting three dragons and the Mother of Dragons herself were the most glorious of marks.
At the banquet that night, when it was revealed that Duke Euron (though in truth he was a king) bore the scars from being burned by the Lord of Light's champion, countless knights raised their cups in his honor. Countless noblewomen and ladies felt their hearts stir, offering him hints both subtle and bold.
The Seven bear witness—everyone knew how terrifying the Lord of Light's champion was. Yet Lord Euron had stood alone against four foes, battling the Mother of Dragons and the three brothers of the champion.
Not only in King's Landing but in any seaport city across the world, once the story of those scars was told, they would earn him sincere admiration.
"What about Jaime? Has he been found?" Cersei asked.
"Someone once saw him with the 'Maid of Tarth' in Saltpans," Kevan replied.
"The Maid of Tarth, Brienne? That pig-faced woman with the buckteeth?"
Cersei's nails dug deep into her palms without her realizing it.
Yes, even in King's Landing, Cersei knew of Brienne's name—the 'Maid of Tarth.'
"Jaime is not dead. He left the army of his own accord, chose to leave with her, and later…"
Here Ser Kevan sighed, shaking his head. "If Jaime could be released from the Kingsguard, letting him marry Lady Brienne would not be so bad. She is a knight of integrity and nobility, her spirit radiant as gold."
"Are you senile? You actually take the Mother of Dragons' praise seriously?" Cersei snapped, eyes blazing.
"Daenerys is a legendary knight. Whether you believe it or not, her words carry weight with everyone," Kevan replied.
"In my youth, I was skilled with the sword as well—I even made Jaime cry in defeat. But Father forbade me from training in arms. Otherwise, I would have led armies myself, and today I would not be in such dire straits.
Perhaps I might even have won the Crown of Love and Beauty, and become a legendary knight before that woman ever did," Cersei said bitterly, full of resentment.
"You were three years old then, or was it four?" Kevan's mouth twitched.
"Jaime cannot marry Brienne. He is a Kingsguard!" Cersei said firmly.
"The Kingsguard can be dismissed. Have you forgotten Ser Barristan? Marrying the Maid of Tarth could cleanse Jaime's shame, and it would be no bad thing for him to return and inherit Casterly Rock," Kevan sighed.
These words held not a trace of selfishness. They were spoken purely for Jaime's sake, and for the sake of House Lannister.
"You're imitating me?"
"Why shouldn't I? I do this for all of you!"
The realization that she and Jaime had their fates bound and controlled by others filled Cersei with both fury and helplessness. Overcome with impulse, she lashed out, her words wild and venomous:
"I commit incest. I am wanton. I killed a god. I killed a king. I hold law and morality in contempt. Can you imitate that?"
Kevan's face flushed scarlet, his eyes blazing, yet he had no words with which to rebuke her.
(End of Chapter)
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