Cersei II

"Please, sister, you have to eat something," Jaime begged.

Cersei rolled over, not deigning to give him an answer. What was the point? Her life was over. People at court had stopped asking after her long ago. She couldn't trust anyone. They'd all betrayed her.

"Cersei," her brother's voice grew firmer, "Father is coming."

That froze her under the coverlet. Father? Here?

"Why?" The word came out as a raspy whisper.

"There's to be a tournament, a grand one, to celebrate the rebuilding of the city and Lord Stark's ascension to Hand. All the realm will be here, one last gasp of merriment before proper winter sets in." He bent lower and whispered the last part, as if to tempt her. "Joff is to compete."

That made her roll over and look at him. Joff? Her Joff? He'd only visited her once since he returned from the barbarous North, and not for long. "Does he mean to enter the lists? He's only fourteen."

"Nay," her twin answered. "A squire's melee only. I fought more than my share of those when I was his age."

She smiled at that. "Like father, like son." Only here, alone with her other half, could she dare to speak the truth.

Jaime's expression turned icy. "Joff was never mine, Cersei. And, well, he has the Lannister coloring, but he's a lot bigger than I was at that age."

Cersei wasn't sure she liked where this conversation was heading. She tried to sit up, but found she lacked the strength for it, falling back into her featherbed with a muted and unladylike grunt. "He's always been a big eater, and I'm tall for a woman. It's not so strange our son could grow big and strong."

He gave her a pointed look. "Do you really believe that?"

Something in her heart, a cold dark place where she dared not look, opened up, letting fear flow out. It choked her, pressing down like a heavy weight. It couldn't be true! It was impossible! "Why, of course," she tried to sound sure. "Don't you?"

Her twin smiled sadly and sat down on the chair beside her looking glass. "He's Robert's, Cersei. You haven't watched him fight in a while. He's filling out, growing into a man. The way he moves, the lines of his limbs, the bulk beneath his shoulders. It's pure Baratheon. Robert got at least one son on you. It's plain. A man can tell."

Men knew nothing!

"I...I was so careful, your seed..."

"...Failed," Jaime stated, as if it was obvious. He sighed at her look of dismay. He was wrong! "What does it matter? He's your son still. Joff even asks after you sometimes. He knows I'm the only one you speak to, really speak. Well, usually you let me speak, and you listen. If it were me..."

"If it were you?" She almost couldn't bear to ask the question.

"If my Mother behaved as you do, I'd have given up long ago."

His words felt like a slap. Surely Jaime didn't mean it! But no, there was a bitter twist to his mouth. She knew her twin well. He was disappointed in her.

"What...what must I do?" she asked after a long silence. If she lost Jaime, she'd lost all.

"Eat. Gain your strength back. Father will be here in a few weeks. Do you want to make an account of yourself to him from this bedchamber?"

Cersei certainly did not. She would need to prepare.

***

On the last day of the tourney, Robert was shocked to find his queen sitting in the royal box. It gratified her to no end!

Yes! Here I am! Thought you were rid of me, did you? They traded icy courtesies, conscious of the eager ears of the lords and ladies about. Well, at least he had the sense not to bring the whore. A part of her would've relished that, but certainly not in front of Father.

The presence of the Lord of the West was a small mercy. He couldn't shame her in public either, though she dreaded what her father might say once they returned to the castle.

"Mother!" There was a radiant smile on her son's face when he spotted her. Joff ran to Cersei, and they embraced. It was almost like it used to be.

She studied his features, looking for something of Robert in him. It was impossible, she decided. Jaime lacked a mother's sense. Robert never spilled inside, not when Joff quickened in her womb. Cersei was certain. There was no black taint in the pure gold. He was just a big boy. That's all.

For half a moment, she hoped he'd sit with her, as he used to, but her son turned his back on her with nary a care, rushing to return to his wolf bitch. They sat further down in the stands to be "closer to the action," as Joff called it.

From then on, the jousts interested Cersei not at all. She studied her son and his companions.

It was never that fat-titted cow Lyra Flowers she need fear, Cersei realized now, but the insipid wolf girl clinging to her son. Her son! Lyra was just a pot for Robert to slake his lusts and birth his bastards. One whore was much the same as another. Sansa Stark was after her boy's heart!

It was difficult to hear over the crowd, but she chattered happily while Joffrey hung on her every word.

He's besotted, all right. Elsewise, why does he consent to have those monstrous wolves about him? There were three, one for each Stark girl, and the white one who followed the bastard. Her son taking a Northern bastard for his sworn man was ignominious enough, but sitting with him as an equal? It could not be borne! Yet Cersei dared not correct him. He would refuse her. Joff had ever been willful, and it was worse now. He'd been in battles in the North, Jaime told her, and boys changed after that. They no longer heeded their mothers. Even if she warned him about the Stark chit, he wouldn't listen.

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Oh, Joff's little darling was pretty enough, but no match for her! Those auburn curls swayed arrogantly in the wind, taunting her. Clearly inferior to her hair of spun gold, Cersei decided. Still, she might grow prettier in time. There was not yet cause to fear the one who should supplant her.

Her son sat at ease, laughing and smiling and cheering the riders until the field narrowed to four. Her brother Jaime numbered among them, along with Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Loras Tyrell, the knight of flowers, and Ser Gregor Clegane, her father's man.

If Jaime can just overcome old Barristan, the Mountain should yield to him. With the champion's crown, her twin was sure to name her Queen of Love and Beauty. Wouldn't that be a delicious little honor to usher in her return to court?

A herald announced the squire's melee was next, and Joff departed to arm.

"My grandson took me on a tour of the city yesterday," Lord Tywin said suddenly, shocking her out of her thoughts.

"Did he?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"Yes," answered the Warden of the West. Lord Tywin Lannister sat beside the king, but his eyes were fixed on Cersei, pinning her in place. "Much has changed since my tenure as Hand. The Dragonpit is gone. King's Landing is clean and more orderly than ever I have seen it. The boy showed me his model, explained how he planned it all. It was...educational. If he were not heir to the throne, I should've liked him to inherit the Rock. The mines might prove more productive. Ah, and his retinue was with us all the while. Those Stark wolves are nought but hunting hounds to him. They follow the prince everywhere."

"And you approve of this?" Cersei questioned. Surely he saw the madness in it. Joff was a hostage wherever he went!

Father inclined his head slightly as if to say, "What is it to me?"

"Sansa will make a fine queen!" Robert spoke up for the first time in a while. "See there? She's giving him her favor."

Sure enough, the red-haired interloper was tying a gray strip of cloth around Joffrey's mailed arm. There was a wildness in her eyes as she touched him, the glint of triumph! Well, Cersei would not let her win so easily.

Over his mail, Joffrey wore a breastplate of black steel, lobstered gauntlets, a helm, and greaves. There was a heavy shield of ironwood strapped to his left arm, painted in Baratheon colors. He bid farewell to the wolf-girl and closed his visor, heading for the ground where the melee was to take place.

Neither Father nor Robert spoke for a while, both eager to watch her son's performance. And what a performance it proved to be!

When the herald's trumpet blew a fanfare, Joff picked a target and charged. The poor lad tried to avoid him, but the prince's long legs closed the distance in a few short strides. With a few casual sword strokes, Joff battered him to the ground and forced a yield, the first of the melee.

"He attempts to knock out the older squires first, whilst he's still fresh, a strategy not without sense," Lord Tywin remarked, though his tone sounded mildly critical.

"You don't approve?" Cersei asked.

"Strong and clever he is, there is no doubt, but the boy lacks subtlety. He fights battles he need not, just for the fun of it. Jaime was much the same. Mayhaps he still is."

Hearing Joffrey compared to her twin gladdened Cersei's heart, and she made an effort to cheer louder than Sansa Stark as the fight progressed.

Soon, the boys realized none could stand against the prince alone, and they attacked in twos and threes. Joff danced away nimbly, not allowing himself to be surrounded. Every strike of his could be heard even in the royal box, making his rivals yelp in pain. They learned a lion is not to be cornered, to their sorrow.

Due to Joffrey's strategy, the older boys on the cusp of knighthood fell first, and once the field narrowed, all that remained were lads his age or younger. Needless to say, it looked very much like the Mountain facing normal men.

"None is a match for my son, but they don't lack courage. See? They're starting to fight back!" Robert bellowed.

Cersei wanted to strangle him. They are hitting him, and you're praising it!

Her son was slowing down. She could see it. Everyone could. A group of small squires was hammering at him with their tourney swords from all directions. But could a swarm of ants undo a lion? No!

One by one, Joff knocked them in the dirt with well-placed counterstrokes. None rose quickly. Some didn't rise at all. Even blunted, her son's sword was stronger than any of them.

The cheer that erupted from the stands when Joffrey overcame his last opponent was like to deafen her. She wanted to run and embrace him, but couldn't with Father looking over her shoulder.

Sansa Stark beat her to it! The girl, wolf at her side, vaulted over the railing and ran through the muddy field straight into Joff's arms, completely uncaring about dirtying her skirts. They embraced, and he spun her around, much to the crowd's delight.

When fat Lady Lollys Stokeworth said the wolf-girl was a fair match for Prince Joffrey, Cersei wanted to vomit. Joff didn't even look into the stands. He only had eyes for Sansa Stark!

Could she make her son forget her so easily? Mayhaps getting out of bed was a mistake after all.