( Cersei POV )
"Her saddle girth burst whilst she was riding," said Ser Balmar.
Lady Falyse looked like she was about to cry. "Mother's hip shattered in the fall. Maester Franken did all he could, but to no avail. So now all we can do is pray..."
Cersei plastered a sympathetic smile on her face to hide her contempt for the simpering fool of a woman before her. "Of course, my lady. I shall add your poor dear mother to my prayers tonight."
"Your Grace is most kind."
I am more bored than kind, Cersei thought. A pity I am not supping with Lady Merryweather. Taena would be with one of Oberyn's impudent bastard girls tonight, and though Cersei knew it was best not to interrupt them, she could not help the urge when she felt it. Making pleasantries with these people was torture. Still, Cersei thought bemusedly, if all goes well this should have proven a fruitful evening indeed. Another thorn in my side removed... another tool in my hands...
Or so that had been the plan originally.
"How was your journey?" Cersei asked as though she did not already know, if only to break the silence.
"Uncomfortable," complained Falyse. "It rained most the way, and we were at one point accosted. Ser Balman dealt with them quick, but it was scary for a while."
Ser Balman nodded sagely. "Right ruffians, they were. Filthy, unkempt, with hide shields and stars on their foreheads. The Seven Pointed Star, in spite the evil looks in their eyes."
Cersei tutted in false commiseration. "It must have been terrible, my lady."
Falyse sniffled slightly uncomfortably and shrugged. "They were lice-ridden," she said. "But elsewise it was not so bad. Ser Balmar saw them off quick enough."
"Then I must commend his valour and bravery," Cersei said, laying it on thick. "I feel terribly guilty. After all you suffered on the road, I made you wait so long before granting you the simple courtesy of a meeting!"
Falyse flushed and shook her head. "Think nothing of it, Your Grace. The capital has been a pleasant enough place for us to stay for these past few weeks. Dare I say it seems cleaner and more orderly than when I was here last? And certainly safer, ever since the Mad King's wildfire was removed. To think he could do such a thing..."
"The Mad King had his name for a reason, my lady," Cersei simply said.
"Aye," Balmar said. "Year after year we seem to find evermore reason to be grateful to the late King Robert for rebelling. And His Grace has of course availed himself."
"High praise, ser," Cersei said. "Though I do agree. Tommen will make a good king when he comes of age."
Ser Balmar nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Your Grace... An awkward matter yet... lest bad feeling linger between us, I should think you ought to know that neither of us had a name in the naming of Lady Lollys's bastard child. She is a simple creature, and her husband given to black moods. I told him to choose a more fitting name. One that would not offer insult upon your family. He laughed."
Cersei sipped her wine and studied the pair before her. Why must you tempt me so, Ser Balmar? Here was the perfect opportunity to be rid of her son's spymaster, and yet she could not say a word for fear of being revealed. No matter how subtle, how careful she was, Tommen's dreams...
Cersei shook herself from her reverie and plastered another false smile on her face. There is no single catspaw in all Seven Kingdoms that could hide my hand from my son's accursed sight. "My brother is known for his good sense of humour," she said, biting her lip. "And he and Bronn were close before the latter was rewarded for his brave service at the Blackwater and became Ser Bronn. I am certain he will not find it an insult."
Ser Balmar opened his mouth, thought better of it, and then pursed his lips in thought.
"And yet," Cersei said, unable to help herself, "Ser Bronn is well known as ever a tricksy sort. It would not be unwise to keep a close eye on him. Or, at least, that is what I would suggest. A burst saddle girth..."
Falyse balked. "Your Grace... Are you suggesting it was cut or tampered with in some way?"
"No, not at all," Cersei assured the pair. She might not be able to dispose of the sellsword, at least not so brazenly, but it was the least she could do to make his life a little more difficult. "I am certain Ser Bronn would never be so brazenly treacherous. But these are strange times. I mean, just a few years ago if anyone would have told you that Stannis Baratheon of all people would rise in rebellion against his own nephew, would you have believed them?"
Both Falyse and Ser Balmar shared a look. "We will take your advice to heart, Your Grace. Caution."
Cersei offered another smile and nodded, slowly standing from her seat. "It has been a great pleasure to sup with you both. I will be sure to keep Lady Tanda in my prayers tonight. And now if you can forgive me, I must be off."
"Of course, Your Grace."
Cersei turned and departed at a quick pace, eager for something besides boredom, allowing her pleasant demeanour to fall away as soon as she was alone. She marched through the halls and passages of the keep with purpose. Her gait made her feel like some great lord, an army at her back. Thoughts of Taena, and of the girl she was presently occupied testing, plagued her mind.
Nymeria Sand dreams of glory in war, she thought. Alas, the poor bastard whore was born a woman.
But that did not mean that the girl's life would be without purpose. Through the queen, she would attain power beyond her wildest imaginings. And for a brief moment before she lost her usefulness, she would have the ear of some of the most powerful people in the world. Her and her sisters both.
Bastard girls were often whores, were they not? Especially Dornish ones. And Nymeria certainly looked the part. She was slim, waif-like with straight black hair pulled back into a single long braid, breasts protruding proudly from a rib-lined chest. Large dark eyes blinked prettily, lashes batting. Lips full and luscious and red, more than fit to wrap around some lordling's cock. A violet gown covered her body, loose in some places and tight in others.
Yes, she thought, this one will make a far better slut than soldier. Not that her ambitions weren't in some sense admirable. Cersei had once desired to wield a blade and stand beside her father in battle in her youth, but such was not a woman's place. The bitch Brienne was the exception. An ugly freak. Beauty was a woman's best weapon, and wielded properly it could be more deadly than any blade.
A look from Taena affirmed her hopes. The girl is eager enough, the dusky woman was saying with her gaze. That was good, though Cersei still felt a certain hesitance. Oberyn Martell was a fiery man, after all, and Myrcella was still far away in Dorne. But in light of Tommen's dreams, Cersei would have to be more careful, and so she would need not one catspaw, but many. And having Nymeria in her circle would enhance her power regardless of how Cersei used her. The threat of the spears of Dorne would go some way in helping curb the Tyrell's power at court. It was a worthwhile risk. Especially if Cersei could pull Arianne Martell away from the Maid Margaery. The two had been getting far too close for comfort as of late, or so went the court gossip. Close enough, perhaps, to hint at scandal. Certainly close enough they might pose a threat to Cersei's already precarious position.
That was unacceptable.
And so long as she remained blatant about her intentions, Cersei reckoned, she retained the freedom to act. If she presumed that he knew everything that she knew, Tommen could not catch her unawares.
Not that he would have reason to do so. Not when all she intended to do was help him.
...
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