Robert looked at her tears, and the rage and suspicion in his heart were suppressed by a more primal urge.
He detested her, but there was no denying that her physical form was highly attractive, especially now when she was deliberately trying to please him, setting aside her usual arrogance.
He roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. Cersei took the opportunity to fall into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck as she tilted her face up, her lips slightly parted.
What followed was only natural.
Cersei suppressed the disgust in her heart, doing her best to cater to him and using every skill at her disposal. She kissed Robert's hairy chest and used her lips to please him.
Even at Robert's most passionate moment, she panted and whispered in his ear, "Your Majesty... you need a truly powerful hand of the king... someone who can overawe everyone... someone who can help you deal with the dragon threat... my father... Lord Tywin... only he is most suitable..."
At that moment, Robert was nearly lost in the soft embrace of pleasure, wanting to agree to her every request.
But after his climax, his reason quickly returned.
He pushed Cersei away, sat up from the bed, and stared at her naked body before suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter—a laugh filled with mockery and anger.
"You think that just by opening your legs, you can make me hand the kingdom over to your father? Cersei Lannister, you are just like your damned family, thinking gold can buy everything and beauty can conquer all."
Cersei's face turned somewhat pale. "Your Majesty, I didn't..."
"Shut up." Robert roared as he jumped off the bed, grabbed a robe from the floor, and threw it in her face. "Put on your clothes and get out. I would rather have Stannis and his dead fish face as hand of the king than let Tywin Lannister set foot in King's Landing again."
"But my father can help you stabilize the rule of the iron throne." Cersei still tried to struggle, after all, she had just sacrificed so much.
"Stabilize what? Stabilize your Lannister theft of the iron throne?" Robert's eyes glared red. "I'm telling you, Cersei, I'm not that muddled yet. Jon Arryn was searching for the truth before he died—investigating you, investigating Jaime, and those three golden-haired, blue-eyed little bastards of yours."
These words were like an icicle piercing Cersei's heart. She jerked her head up, her eyes flashing with unmistakable fear and a hint of ruthlessness.
Robert saw that fear and laughed even more hideously. "What Jon found, I don't know, but he was looking. Now he's dead, and it's so coincidental. Tell me, was it the work of you Lannisters?"
"Your Majesty, you cannot slander House Lannister like this. A Lannister always pays his debts."
"Get out." Robert pointed at the door. "Get out yourself before I call the guards to drag you out."
Cersei said no more. She slowly stood up, put on her nightgown, and even tucked her disheveled golden hair behind her ears. As she reached the door, she looked back at Robert, her voice terrifyingly calm. "You will regret this, Robert."
After the door closed, Robert punched the wall, his knuckles instantly skinned and bleeding. He slumped back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands.
The dizziness from the alcohol remained, but deeper still was the fear in his heart—fear of the Targaryen dragons, fear of the iron throne crumbling, and fear of the woman who had just been beside him.
In the shadows outside the door, Jaime stood there like a statue. He had heard everything that happened, including Robert's roar just now.
He reached out to support Cersei, but was pushed away. Her gaze was as sharp as a blade. "You heard everything just now? Then why didn't you rush in to protect me? Hmph, you really are just a woman with balls."
Jaime wanted to step forward to explain, but Cersei was no longer looking at him; she turned and strode away. Her figure was held perfectly straight as she left, like a true queen.
The next morning, in the Small Council chamber of The Red Keep.
Robert sat at the end of the long table, with heavy dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze was exceptionally clear—at least he hadn't touched a drop of wine since last night.
The Small Council members sat on either side, and the atmosphere of the meeting was quite oppressive. Ser Barristan stood behind him, silent.
Petyr Baelish, also known as Littlefinger, kept his eyes downcast, while Varys sat opposite him, appearing worried. Grand Maester Pycelle was muttering repeatedly about Arryn's cause of death.
Renly sat there dozing off as carefree as usual, clearly having just crawled out of some squire's bed. As for Stannis, he did not miss the meeting this time; although he and Robert didn't get along, he still intended to help him.
"Jon Arryn is dead, but the position of hand of the king cannot remain vacant," Robert said, getting straight to the point.
The council members at the table exchanged looks.
Grand Maester Pycelle spoke tremulously, "Your Majesty, according to tradition, the Small Council should recommend candidates, and then you shall make the final decision."
"To hell with recommendations." Robert slammed his fist on the table. "I have my own candidate."
Robert's gaze swept over everyone present, only to find that there was not a single person he could truly trust.
"I have decided to appoint Lord Eddard Stark as the new hand of the king," Robert announced.
There was an uproar in the chamber. A hint of 'as expected' flashed in Petyr's eyes, which he immediately replaced with a well-timed look of surprise.
However, his expression was fully noted by Varys across from him. Varys, however, showed nothing; after all, Robert's choices were limited, and Eddard had been within his expectations.
Grand Maester Pycelle tried to say something about The North being far away and Stark being unfamiliar with Southern politics, but he was rudely interrupted by Robert.
"What about The North? Eddard is my brother. He is the only one I would never suspect of betraying me."
At this, Littlefinger spoke up, "Your Majesty, The North has always ignored Southern affairs. I fear Lord Eddard will not accept this appointment."
"It's fine, I will go to The North personally. I believe that with me there, he won't refuse. Pycelle, send a raven to Winterfell later and tell them I am coming."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Pycelle agreed readily, though the ravens he released were not all flying in the same direction.
He then looked at his brother Renly. "While I am in The North to invite Eddard, Renly will temporarily oversee the realm's affairs. Varys, Baelish, you two are to assist him well. Everyone else, do your jobs and don't cause me any trouble."
He gave no one else a chance to react before directly adjourning the meeting.
Stannis's face turned pale with anger; he had come with good intentions to help Robert, only for Robert not even to spare him a glance. Furthermore, Robert had actually let his ignorant brother Renly act as regent while he was in The North.
Thus, after the meeting adjourned, Stannis returned directly to Dragonstone, no longer concerning himself with the affairs of King's Landing. Unlike in the original story where he and Jon investigated the truth of Cersei's incest and then fled back in fear, here the timeline had shifted, and since he wasn't in King's Landing at the time, he hadn't been involved.
A few days later, Robert left King's Landing, accompanied only by a few Kingsguard and two hundred Gold Cloaks. With two horses per man, they galloped at full speed along the Kingsroad toward The North.
This time, he did not ride in a slow Wheelhouse, nor did he bring his family. His only thought was to bring Eddard Stark south as quickly as possible, as if only that silent and resolute Lord of The North could provide him a sense of safety in these times of turmoil.
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