Compared to when Tywin was still alive, Kevan Lannister had aged considerably. He remained tall and broad-shouldered, but the once-thinning golden hair on his head had completely receded at the front.
He had been having a rough time lately—his elder brother had died a tragic death, his second nephew had killed his own father, the eldest nephew had gone missing, and his niece had become the Mad King III (II being Joffrey). White Walkers had appeared beyond the Wall, Dragonstone had changed hands, and the Targaryens had returned.
Even his eldest son, Lancel, had given up his title and lands to become one of the High Sparrow's most trusted underlings—and had even exposed Cersei's secrets.
Even the ever-steady Ser Kevan could feel that the Lannister grip on power was starting to slip.
He stroked his thick, neatly trimmed golden beard and sighed. "For the sake of a mere million gold dragons, you unleashed a beast you cannot control. Look at you now—was it worth it?"
Cersei's pale face twisted in fury as she growled through gritted teeth, "I'm the Queen Mother. The High Septon should answer to me."
"The Targaryens had dragons, and even they never dared say such things," Kevan replied, a strange expression of mockery and pity flickering in his eyes. "The High Sparrow accuses you of regicide, deicide, incest, treason, infidelity, and false accusations.
And the Faith had once deemed the Targaryens' incestuous unions to be violations of natural law—grounds enough to declare holy war.
Compared to you, even Maegor the Cruel looks like a saint. What made you think the High Septon would ever obey you once he had an armed force of his own?"
"Ha—deicide?" Cersei actually laughed. "I wish I could! But is that even possible?"
"That's exactly the problem," Kevan said grimly. "The High Sparrow believes the High Septon is the living voice of the Seven. To plot against him is to kill a god.
Do you understand what that means?
If the High Septon equals the Seven, then what is the Iron Throne worth—just a handful of copper coins?"
"Then why don't you raise an army and wipe out the Sparrows?" Cersei hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Slaughter the High Sparrow's beggar army, and make him lick the dirt off my feet!"
"Turn the Holy Sept into a slaughterhouse?" Kevan blinked, then shook his head with a bitter smile. "If Tywin were here, he might've done exactly that. But me? Sorry—most of our elite troops went with Jaime to the Riverlands, and I don't have that kind of resolve or courage. Actually, if Tyrion were here—"
"Don't mention that beast!" Cersei exploded. "He murdered my son, then killed our father! Everything—everything—I've suffered is because of him!"
Her rage surged like a storm, pale fingers clenched so tightly around the chair's armrest that her veins bulged visibly.
("Achoo! Achoo! Who's cursing me?"
In the Bay of Grief, Tyrion rubbed his nose and walked to the ship's railing, staring at the distant blue-green mountains. He muttered, "Finally reached Slaver's Bay… Wonder if the Dragon Queen will be just like my whore of a sister—only interested in headless, deformed little monkey-demons.")
"Achoo! Achoo!"
"Are you catching a cold?" Kevan asked, concerned as he watched his niece sneeze violently.
"No—just that name makes me nauseous," Cersei said, breathing heavily.
Kevan leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples with a sigh. "Alright. You hate Tyrion, I get it. But Margaery is Tommen's wife—your daughter-in-law.
What kind of mother-in-law sends her lover to seduce her daughter-in-law, then publicly declares to the whole realm that the girl's a whore? Have you ever considered how Tommen must feel?"
('Green' and sobbing in the bathroom, Tommen: "Boo-hoo-hoo… Finally, someone who cares about my feelings! Thank you, Second Uncle!")
Cersei clenched her fingers tightly together and growled, "Tommen's only nine, and Margaery's sixteen. As a woman, I know—she won't be able to hold out. She will crack! Otherwise, why would she ask Pycelle for moon tea?"
Kevan said casually, "You just said it yourself—the age gap is too big. Not holding out is only natural. If she's drinking moon tea, it means she won't bear Tommen any bastards. Life is full of disappointments. Just endure it—it'll pass."
(Tommen, expressionless: "Second Uncle, how could you say that? Why don't you endure something for a change?")
"Hmph. And how do you know Margaery won't give birth to bastards?" Cersei lifted her chin slightly, a strange sense of superiority swelling in her voice.
"Uh…"
Looking at his niece's smug and mocking expression, Kevan finally realized—this woman was no amateur. She was a master.
Stealing men, bearing bastards, murdering her husband, raising a son to usurp the throne—her "poison queen combo" flowed with frightening ease and proficiency.
Ser Kevan spoke earnestly. "But we can't afford to lose Highgarden's support now—especially with the Targaryens back in Westeros.
Daenerys has dragons!
Even if Margaery did bear ten bastards, you, me, Tommen—and every Lannister—would still have to happily acknowledge them.
Besides, Tommen's last name is Baratheon. It wouldn't be too much of a disgrace for us Lannisters."
"Uncle, what are you saying?" Cersei exclaimed, shocked and angry. "In the game of thrones, you either win or you die. There's no middle ground. No compromises."
"Did you not hear me clearly?" Ser Kevan raised his voice, questioning her sharply, "Daenerys Targaryen is back. She has dragons. Dragons. Dragons, understand?
The Lannisters alone cannot hold the Iron Throne for Tommen. Understand? Our true enemy is the Targaryens. Understand?"
"Daenerys…" Cersei repeated the name like chewing gum, her mind beginning to turn toward the prophecy.
"Is Daenerys beautiful? More beautiful than me?"
She asked out of nowhere, completely confusing Ser Kevan.
"What?" he replied in bewilderment.
"Is she more beautiful than me?" Cersei asked again.
"Are you insane?" Ser Kevan stared at her in horror, as if she had suddenly transformed into some terrifying, unfamiliar monster.
"Did I guess wrong?" Cersei muttered, her eyes dazed, staring at her uncle. "The younger, more beautiful queen who will cast me down and take all I hold dear… It wasn't Margaery. It's Daenerys?"
She mumbled words that Ser Kevan could not make sense of.
"Daenerys won't conquer King's Landing right away," Kevan said, trying to calm her. "She's sworn a holy vow to the world: 'The one who ends the Long Night shall be king.'
So you don't need to worry about fire-breathing dragons torching the capital just yet. The Targaryens are a threat—but a future threat. Don't panic. Don't be afraid. And please, don't go mad."
Cersei snapped back to reality. After understanding her uncle's words, she sneered coldly and said,"You actually believe a woman's words? I'll bet that little whore is secretly building a massive navy. She feeds us lies to lull us into complacency, then uses Dragonstone as a beachhead to lead her army across the Narrow Sea straight to King's Landing."
"If it were me, I'd do the same—and yet none of you can see it?" Cersei lightly shook her head, full of scorn and disbelief.
Ser Kevan shot her a glare. "The Dragon Queen's credibility is unmatched. Everyone says now, 'Targaryens keep their word.' She's been on the world stage for years and never once broken a vow—let alone a sacred one."
"'Targaryens keep their word'? Please—what a self-serving claim. I bet she said that about herself," Cersei replied with a mocking laugh.
"You think I'm a fool? These days, talk means nothing. What matters is what she does." A glimmer of admiration passed through Kevan's eyes as he sighed. "Don't doubt it—there are Lannister agents at the Wall. Every move she makes is written into reports and sent to Casterly Rock by raven."
"I can swear to you—she is truly a Queen of the People. Just, faithful, and fearless. A real knight in a woman's form."
"Are you insane?" Cersei cried, as if she had just seen a monster.
"Only by recognizing your enemy's strengths can you defeat them," Ser Kevan said, locking eyes with her, his words measured and heavy. "During the War of the Five Kings, your father once admitted that compared to the Young Wolf's unorthodox tactics, his own strategies and experience were outdated.
So, he avoided direct confrontation and chose instead to beat him in the areas where he was strong and the Young Wolf was weak."*
"Alright then, tell me—what's Daenerys bad at, and what are you good at?" Cersei scoffed.
A cold glint flashed in Kevan's eyes as he smiled faintly. "She's brave and responsible—so let the White Walkers take her."
"What kind of nonsense is that?" Cersei rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Only the most ignorant peasants believe that curses have any effect.
I wanted the White Walkers to take Margaery too, but that bitch is still lounging by the warm fireplace in the Red Keep, feasting and laughing like a queen."*
Ser Kevan rubbed his brow in frustration. Talking to his foolish and mad niece exhausted him. At the same time, he missed his clever, decisive elder brother more than ever.How could such a great man die in a privy?
Damn you, Tyrion!
Suppressing his weariness, the Lannister "old hound" forced himself to continue. "Margaery's not in the Red Keep. Neither are Tommen nor Pycelle."
"Where did they go?" Cersei asked, startled and suspicious.
"I sent a letter to Dragonstone. On behalf of House Lannister and the Iron Throne, I acknowledged the pact that 'He who ends the Long Night shall be king' and proposed an alliance with Dragonstone to form a united front against the White Walkers, ensuring King's Landing would not be attacked by dragons.
Daenerys hasn't replied yet, and with the Red Keep at risk of dragonfire, we change residences every day to avoid a surprise attack or assassination."*
As he said this, Kevan's expression turned strange. "In a way, you're actually safest in the Great Sept of Baelor. The Dragon Queen is a devout follower of the Faith of the Seven. She would never burn the Sept. Maybe you should just—"
Before he could finish his ill-conceived suggestion, Cersei waved her hand forcefully to cut him off, her tone unwavering."I'd rather sit high upon the Iron Throne and be turned to ash by dragonfire than rot slowly in a cold, damp dungeon!"
"Cersei, you can no longer sit the Iron Throne. Regardless of the outcome of your trial, your reign is over. I will serve as regent until Tommen comes of age."
Ser Kevan leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced, his eyes locked on Cersei, studying her every reaction.
"I am the Queen Mother! You should serve me, just as you served my father—not replace me!"Cersei clenched her fists and glared at her uncle with fierce intensity.
"You confessed to adultery and infidelity before the High Sparrow. The Faith demanded you atone—by walking the city streets. Naked."
Kevan turned his head aside, as if he couldn't bear to look at her twisted, anguished expression any longer.
"No. Absolutely not," Cersei pleaded weakly like a helpless child. *"Uncle, you must refuse the High Sparrow's outrageous demands.
He's humiliating me, humiliating the Lannisters, humiliating the King, the Iron Throne—humiliating the entire realm!"*
"Cersei, you do not represent this realm," Ser Kevan sighed. "Do you remember the arrangement Tywin made for you while he was alive?"
"Arrangement?" Cersei froze for a moment, then shook her head furiously. "No! I won't marry again. I am Tommen's mother. I'm the Queen Mother. I will not leave the Red Keep. I will not leave King's Landing."
In this world, women live tragic lives. Even someone as forceful and unhinged as Cersei couldn't escape misery.
In her youth, she was forced into marriage with Robert, a man she never loved. As queen, she suffered daily abuse at his hands. After killing him and hoping to enjoy a carefree life as the lustful Queen Mother, Tywin immediately tried to marry her off again.
(End of Chapter)
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