Cersei?

  The singers began yet another rendition of The Bear and the Maiden Fair as the oaf beside her guffawed and filled his gut with ever more wine. Cersei had thought to remain close to him to better sell the lie, but even with her close, he behaved more like a beast than a man.

  Even now he pawed at the teats of the wench in his lap as if she were not there.

  She still smiled beautifully as she cradled her belly. By now Solomon's seed must have already quickened in her womb, and in nine moons' time she would give birth to a son and a daughter… twins. It all felt like something from the stories her mother had read to her.

  Cersei had not felt that way since she had first laid eyes upon Prince Rhaegar and his haunting purple eyes, imagining the perfect princelings and princesses she would give him.

  Though perhaps it was for the best that it had never come to pass.

  Rhaegar was lovely to look upon, yes, but a fool. Stealing away with that thin-lipped Stark girl, and for what? To have the drooling beast seated beside her cave his chest in with his hammer and take the throne that should have been his?

  She snorted. Rhaegar was as mad as his father in the end, and what magic the Targaryens had in their veins had long since gone, having run thinner and thinner since the Dance. A dying dynasty that had rightfully been put out of its misery.

  A vicious smile split her lips. The babes that would soon swell her belly will have more magic in their pinky than any Targaryen in a hundred years.

  Cersei imagined the ugly thing around her neck raging impotently, able to do nothing while the band Solomon had placed on her finger remained. If she listened closely, she could even hear Maggy the Frog ranting and raving at being cheated.

  No, not cheated. Bested by a man whose sorcery was like the sun before a candle.

  That ugly old toad could never see her future, and if not for the blood a young and foolish girl had given her willingly, would have had no more power over her than any other woods witch.

  No, she thought again. She would not let it bother her, not when she had already triumphed.

  Drinking deeply of the Arbor gold, a sweet sigh escaped her lips, though her smile curdled slightly when she caught sight of Solomon and the lovestruck girl hanging off his arms as they danced. Ser Cortnay Penrose's daughter, whose name she never cared to learn.

  The bitterness fled when she saw a drought of interest in his eyes, and she chided herself for thinking otherwise.

  After tasting a queen as fair and beautiful as her, the girl with her dull brown hair and crooked teeth could no more entice a man as he than a pig with painted lips. Cersei could only pity the poor thing.

  She peeked at Jaime again, still standing guard as still as a statue.

  The tightness around his eyes betrayed a barely concealed fury, but it would pass as it always had when that wine-sodden beast had taken his rights. One day, perhaps, she would allow him to put his sword through Robert's heart if all the wine and whoring didn't do him in first, but that day would not be today.

  She could never tell him the truth either. He would try to avenge himself upon Solomon, and even if her twin had somehow succeeded, it would still spell their doom.

  Her eyes found the sorcerer again, having escaped the girl to speak with Lord Renly, the Tyrell boy trailing after the both of them not unlike a lost puppy.

  She was soon distracted by another guffaw from her side, and the creak of a chair.

  "Come, Kingslayer," the beast slurred, his fat arm around the serving girl as he stumbled off like the bear from the song.

  Her smile hadn't dimmed at the dishonor, used to it as she was, but the tightness around Jaime's eyes only deepened. She reached out her hand to his in silent comfort.

  He eventually sighed, running his thumb over the back of her hand. Then he squared his shoulders and followed.

  Cersei drank deeply of the Arbor gold again. While she would have preferred not keeping her twin in the dark, it wasn't the first time she had to. Jaime's sword hand was without equal, but he was slow to understand the subtle things, and quick to anger. He would not understand her pact with the old gods, and she still remembered the dark whispers and the laughter on the wind…

  Shaking her head to free herself from their spell, she surveyed those who hadn't left when their king did, mostly Renly's stormlords, though also a few from the Reach.

  Motioning to Solomon that she wanted to speak when she caught his eyes, she watched as he quietly excused himself. After draining her wine cup, she did the same, Ser Meryn in lockstep behind her.

  Solomon leaned against a wall not far away, a handsome smile falling on his lips at the sight of her, though his eyes flickered to the knight at her back.

  She took his hand and made for a room out of the way, bidding Ser Meryn to wait outside.

  There was a window that had moonlight dancing across the stones beneath it, and Cersei took him there, where she commanded a kiss from the dark-eyed sorcerer.

  She placed her cheek against his chest after and listened to the steady beat of his heart, feeling him playing with her hair as she did. When she deigned to raise her head, she saw him watching the stars.

  Drawing his eyes back to her, she graced him with a smile. "What do you see now?"

  His fingers moved lower to her slender neck, dancing across her skin. "It is subdued, and will grow weaker with each day. At worst it might try and provoke you to folly, but you are not so great a fool as to listen."

  Cersei sneered at the very thought. She would sooner hurl herself from a tower than listen to the thing Maggy the Frog spawned and tied around her neck like a noose.

  Solomon understood her resolve without any words spoken, smiling down at her. "It is for your strength of will that I agreed," he whispered.

  Her own smile only deepened. He had chosen her, just as she thought.

  Her hands had found his belt when he stopped her. "I still have certain matters to discuss with Renly Baratheon."

  She pouted at him, not content to take that as an answer. Instead she brought his hands to her full breasts. "I picked this out for you, my lord." The front of her gown plunged low enough that he could take liberties if he so wanted, and he did.

  Cersei couldn't resist a soft groan as he peeled her dress back slightly and cupped one of her bare teats. His dark eyes stared into hers, and she wouldn't look away.

  "There is a purpose to my dealings with Renly," he finally said, his fingers ghosting over her supple flesh. "The Hand and Stannis Baratheon suspect that the princes and princess are not the king's, though they have no proof as of yet."

  Her blood ran cold in her veins, and she only stirred when he brought his hand up to cup her cheek instead.

  "Do not trouble yourself with it. They will not act unless they are completely certain, for the Hand is a cautious man." Solomon gave a soft sigh then. "Nor are they what worries me. There is a red priestess at Dragonstone who commands Stannis's ear."

  Her brows scrunched together as she thought. She vaguely remembered some whisperings of the sort, that a red priestess had arrived at Dragonstone, but she had thought nothing of it. Robert had a pet red priest as well, as much a drunk as he was.

  She raised her hand to his. "What does she want?"

  "Lady Melisandre as she has come to be known is operating under the belief that Stannis is something he is not, and as such is only your enemy by circumstance. Though it does not make her any less a snake in the grass."

  Cersei noticed the foreign lilt to his speech had almost gone completely as she chewed on her lip.

  "The king's youngest brother serves as an effective counterbalance," he continued, "and so do the Tyrells. The Faith of the Seven will not easily swallow a king who professes a fire god from Essos."

  "I could also demand her head," she argued boldly. "Stannis would have no choice but to obey his elder brother, and that would be the end of her."

  His eyes stared into her own again. "It might work." He shrugged his shoulders after a moment. "And it might not. If she sees what you mean in her fires, she might send a shadow to silence you before you could devise a suitable reason, let alone speak the words."

  "A s-shadow?" she asked in half a stutter.

  "She learned something of shadowbinding during her time in Asshai. Though of course she wouldn't succeed," he added with a curious smile. "I would not allow it. She would however be sure of my involvement after." Cersei found herself moving closer to him, breathing deeply of his scent. "That kind of chaos breeds uncertainty, and uncertainty is not your friend, Your Grace."

  "Then I won't," she quickly said. "We will do what you believe is best, Solomon."

  "You are strong and wise, but unfortunately sorcery makes fools of us all." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips that told her everything would be fine. "You need only make sure that it never leaves your finger."

  "I will," she promised, separating from him to fix her garments. The way his eyes followed her returned a smile to her lips.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Cersei departed from the room after, Ser Meryn wordlessly falling in step behind her again. Her children were already asleep when she returned, though that didn't surprise her. Even her eldest was only a boy, even if each day he looked more and more like the splitting image of a younger Jaime. Joff would be a strong king one day, she knew.

  She sent the Hound away and left Ser Meryn to guard her door, allowing one of her sleepy handmaidens to undress her inside.

  Though the dreams that followed were pleasant at first, one of them had terrified her. Her own face watched her from the roots of the heart tree at Casterly Rock. They smothered her, and still she watched…

  And watched…

  And watched…

  Davos?

  "I do not like it," his lord ground out, his balding head shining in the torchlight.

  Why Stannis had decided to hold this conversation in a musty and salt-soaked cabin aboard his Black Betha, Davos could not guess, but he must have had his reasons. It was not as if his men would not talk if offered some great sum of gold, or even a middling sum.

  "You have already said as much," Lord Arryn said after a sigh.

  Stannis ground his teeth at the irreverent response.

  "You would call it a coincidence that she convinces Robert to take to Storm's End a mere day after that man appears at the Red Keep?"

  "On the contrary," the Hand replied. "But we agreed to meet because you said you had information."

  Davos knew what he was referring to. "It would be more accurate to call most of it hearsay," he admitted.

  "Ser Davos sells himself short. He has discovered something important."

  "At least we do not have to rely solely on Lord Varys," the Hand grunted. "He has grown even more reclusive of late. Makes all the right noises still, but I have learned to trust my gut."

  "I warned you and Robert to take his head and be done with it, but neither of you would listen," Stannis hissed sourly. "Speak, Ser Davos."

  He tried not to make a fool of himself as Lord Arryn's keen eyes turned to stare at him, coughing into a gloved hand.

  "He had not arrived by way of the docks at all, my lords. Investigating further, a number of the gold cloaks stationed at the Iron Gate were happy to reveal as much after some silver had traded hands. In truth, he had come into King's Landing in the company of a fisherman."

  Davos saw Stannis's face sour further at the mention of the silver, and he moved past that comment quickly.

  "The fisherman had family in Flea Bottom, though they told me nothing until I promised to do him no harm. On your name, my lord."

  His lord found no issue with that much.

  "The fisherman lived alone with his daughter, his wife having passed of a summer chill some years prior. He told me he had fished this Solomon out of the sea, as if from a shipwreck. He must have been adrift for some time, as he reported seeing no signs of one."

  Lord Arryn looked pensive as he finished, thrumming his fingers on the table.

  "I find it hard to believe that the only survivor of a shipwreck we've heard no mention of decides that very same day to travel to King's Landing to speak to the queen." His long white hair shifted when he shook his head slightly. "More likely that he paid the fisherman in coin to sell us this story."

  "It is possible," Davos admitted, "but I think it unlikely. They showed no signs of a sudden windfall of wealth."

  "Then he intimidated them. The end result is the same, that this story is a lie," the Hand concluded.

  The cabin was silent for a moment, the only sound that of his men above deck and the waves.

  Davos turned to Stannis hesitantly, a delicate question in mind. "My lord, perhaps your brother might know more? Besides the queen, Lord Renly has seen to him the most."

  He waited at the sound of grinding teeth.

  "I have already spoken to Renly. He believes Solomon a dear friend, and knows nothing more."

  Davos had nothing to add to that.

  "I could ask Baelish to look into the man," Lord Arryn commented.

  Stannis gave him a miserable look. "I would not trust a word that comes out of that whoremonger's mouth."

  "Sometimes we must make use of men of low character. It was Baelish that first suggested the queen's infidelity."

  "To his own benefit," his lord argued. "Ser Davos, you will search for any signs of this shipwreck. Once we have confirmed without a doubt that it is nothing but a bold-faced lie, we can confront him. And Lord Arryn—"

  They were interrupted by his son, who seemed uncertain. "What is it, Matthos?"

  "The red priestess is here. She seeks an audience with Lord Stannis."

  Davos could not hide a grimace at the words. That woman, now of all times? That she even knew they would be here set his hairs on edge.

  Stannis was grinding his teeth again, while the Hand showed a bemused expression.

  "Allow her in," his lord finally muttered.

  Matthos went to fetch her, and Davos found himself palming the small leather pouch that held his fingerbones. A viper was less dangerous than her.

  The red woman entered the cabin in a flurry of skirts and an uncanny heat, gracing them all with a treacherous smile framed by hair the color of burnished copper. Davos couldn't deny her beauty, but it only made him think of Marya.

  His wife's kind eyes were worth a thousand smoldering glances from that woman.

  "Why have you come from Dragonstone unannounced?" Stannis asked.

  "My lords," she started with a deep bow, her voice not unlike a lullaby or a melody. "It was urgent that I warned you." He watched as she lightly touched the ruby over her neck. "I am sorry to say that this man that has come to court is an agent of the Great Other. Already he works to subvert your brother."

  Davos could detect no falsehood from her, though that only meant she believed it. It seemed too convenient to him.

  "Shall we also suspect him of being a grumkin or a snark?" the Hand asked doubtfully.

  Her red eyes turned on him. "Your own histories speak of the Long Night, that time when the enemy came ever so close to victory, where the dawn would never come again. Tell me, Lord Hand, did the First Men build the Wall seven hundred feet high to keep out men?"

  The old lord looked at her with distaste, like he had swallowed something awful.

  "You cannot help but doubt," she continued more softly. "I understand. Even I sometimes shy away from what the Lord of Light wishes to reveal to me."

  Lord Arryn continued to stare at her for another moment longer. "What you say your fire demon shows to you is none of my concern." He turned away from her, to Stannis. "We have until they return to come up with a plan of confrontation. Keep me abreast of your search of the bay."

  His lord agreed, but the Hand paused suddenly.

  "I might send a raven to Eddard Stark. He is a good man, and I hesitate to take him from Lady Catelyn and their children, but this intrigue only worsens." He looked away and let out a tired sigh. "As things stand, there are very few men I can trust to act with honor in the face of Lannister coin and promises."

  He swept out of the cabin past the red woman after, who only smiled at him sweetly.

  Stannis had the farthest thing from a smile about him. "Did you intend to humiliate me, Lady Melisandre?"

  "Never, my lord," she answered with her head bowed. "I hoped he would see the danger, but I see now that the old falcon is too enamored with his false gods of stone altars and stained glass. They will not save him from what is to come."

  Davos was well practiced at holding his tongue, and so he held it as Stannis glowered at her.

  "This was ill done," he insisted.

  Her heart-shaped face crinkled slightly. "I will try to be more tactful in the future, my lord."

  "I should have you go and get Solomon's measure yourself."

  There was a flicker of something in her eyes before she bowed again. "If that is what you command."

  Stannis stared at her for a long moment. "No. Return to Dragonstone, and this time do not come to King's Landing unless I give you express permission."

  "Yes, my lord," she easily agreed. "But please, I must ask that I be there to protect you if you do confront him."

  "Go," he commanded.

  Lady Melisandre left as quickly as she had come, though not before meeting his eyes. There was a knowing glance there, as if she had expected defeat, but he turned away to take in the deep frown cut into his lord's face instead.

  "I am surrounded by grasping fools of every stripe, all as the queen continues to make a fool of my brother and the whole realm."

  "It should not take me more than a fortnight to confirm," Davos quietly said.

  "See that it doesn't, Ser Davos."

  He did not begrudge the harshness in his tone. He owed Stannis too much to be so petty.

  It was just him in the cabin after his lord's departure, at least until Matthos returned. "Lord Stannis has left with his men. What shall we do now?"

  He clasped his son's shoulder. "We will visit an old friend. Chart a course for the Stepstones."

  If anyone would keep an eye and an ear open for the comings and goings of ships in the Narrow Sea, it would be Salladhor Saan.

  He only hoped the old pirate would be in a good mood.