Tywin had arranged many potential marriage candidates for Cersei: the Redwyne twins from House Redwyne of the Arbor, Theon Greyjoy, Quentyn Martell, Willas Tyrell, and even Balon Greyjoy.Most of them were fresh-faced young men—Cersei certainly had her pick.
Among them, Willas was the highest quality candidate. He was the heir to Highgarden and the elder brother of the Little Rose. If this marriage had gone through, Cersei would've become her own daughter-in-law's sister-in-law—what a tangled mess of family ranks.
Unfortunately, the old Queen of Thorns thought Cersei was nothing more than trash, unworthy of her grandson (she had her eyes on Sansa), and outright rejected Tywin.
Had Theon not been made a eunuch, he actually wouldn't have been a bad choice either.
And then there was King Balon.Yes—Balon and Theon were father and son, yet both appeared on Cersei's list of suitors.
For the sake of his daughter's marriage, Tywin truly threw all decorum out the window.
In truth, Balon's wife was still alive. Even after Balon died, his wife outlived him.
But King Balon controlled the immensely powerful Iron Fleet—his marriage value was too high to ignore.
Even though Cersei was never short of young, strong, handsome companions—and had no desire to give up the luxurious, noble life in King's Landing—her resistance was utterly powerless in front of Duke Tywin.
Had Tywin not died, there's an eighty percent chance Cersei would've already been engaged to King Balon—besides Willas, Balon had the most marriage value.
"Cersei, have you forgotten your father's words? It is your duty to solidify Tommen's rule through marriage!I won't even mention sacrificing for House Lannister. You always say you love Tommen—are you really unwilling to make even a small compromise for his sake?"
Cersei's expression was dark and uncertain.
"To be frank, your market value is poor. You're parading through the streets in five days. The people of the Seven Kingdoms will all witness your betrayal of marriage vows.
And once hundreds of thousands have seen your body, if there's still someone willing to marry you—it'd truly be a miracle." Kevan said, painstakingly trying to persuade her.
Cersei's blue eyes flashed with shame and fear, her voice frail. "Tommen won't let me leave him."
Facing his niece's final struggle, Ser Kevan hardened his heart and said bluntly, "Tommen is still underage and cannot participate in the Small Council.
I am the Regent now, and I've already named Mace Tyrell as the Hand of the King. I've kept Grand Maester Pycelle and Master of Coin Ser Harys Swyft on the Small Council, appointed Paxter Redwyne as Admiral of the Fleet, and named Randyll Tarly as Justice of the King's Bench."
"Do you understand now? They're all my people!"
"You either fail the trial by the Faith, and if convicted of crimes like kinslaying or regicide, you'll spend the rest of your life repenting under their custody;
Or, you miraculously win your trial by combat, regain your freedom, and then either leave King's Landing to marry, or return to Casterly Rock to live alone."
Ser Kevan issued his final ultimatum to his niece.
"Kinslaying and regicide?" Cersei scoffed and asked mockingly, "Why not throw in incest too? If I'm convicted of incest, your Regency ends right then and there."
If Cersei were convicted of incest, Tommen's crown would lose its legitimacy, and his claim to the throne would no longer be valid—making Kevan's position as Regent entirely unlawful.
"Do you want Tommen dead?" Kevan said coldly. "Let me tell you the truth—your madness is meaningless. The one who accused you of incest is Stannis.
And the High Sparrow's greatest enemy now isn't you, or even Daenerys—it's that heretic who converted to the Red God. He has no intention of accepting Stannis's accusations."
That was the real reason Cersei could be released.
Lancel had told the High Sparrow everything—even the color of Cersei's underwear. So the High Sparrow was certain Tommen wasn't Robert's son.
But he couldn't judge that matter directly. If Tommen was a bastard, then Stannis would become the only legitimate heir to the Iron Throne.
—At this point, the Targaryens had even less legitimacy than the Baratheons. It was like the end of the Western Han dynasty, where even Qin Shi Huang's legitimate descendants had less claim than Liu family offshoots.
The dynasty had changed.
"I wish you were dead, dragged off by the White Walkers," Cersei cursed her uncle viciously.
"Balon is dead. He died before his wife, so you won't have to marry him."
Kevan didn't react at all to her curse, though the warmth in his voice had completely vanished.
He said coldly, "Now Euron Greyjoy has inherited the Seastone Chair. The Ironborn are strong—they control the Bay of Ice in the North and harass the region; in the South, they've taken the Shield Islands and raided many coastal villages along the Reach.
Lannisport hasn't been attacked yet, but who can say what the future holds? Euron is a valuable ally to win over."
"I've heard of Euron," Cersei replied. "A handsome man in his thirties. In terms of looks, he's not much worse than Jaime. In terms of martial skill, he's called the 'Barristan of the Seas.' And in terms of wit and talent, he's sailed across the Jade Sea and even explored the ruins of Valyria, bringing back treasures and arcane knowledge."
"A once-in-a-generation suitor like that, willing to marry you—you should count yourself lucky!" Ser Kevan concluded.
"It's a done deal? You've already sold me off?" Cersei asked in disbelief.
"All that's left is for you to say yes, and it's done."
"I'll keep shaking my head," she said, and began shaking her head left and right like a rattle-drum.
"As you wish." Kevan stood up, adjusted his thick crimson wool cloak, and turned to leave.
At the doorway, he paused, and in front of the approaching septa, said calmly, "The walk of atonement is in five days. I'll be waiting for you in the Red Keep.
If you refuse to suffer humiliation, you can always smash your head against the stone wall and die.
That would be the best outcome for you, for Tommen, for the Lannisters, and for the people of the Seven Kingdoms."
Suddenly filled with courage, Cersei shouted like a vow, "Just wait—I will return to the Red Keep!"
A faint smile tugged at Kevan's lips as he walked away.
Five days later.
Three septas, shriveled like pickled radishes, entered Cersei's cell and shaved off her golden hair, armpit hair, and leg hair.
Smooth and bare as a newborn chick, Cersei exposed herself completely to the people of King's Landing without the slightest concealment.
DONG—DONG—DONG —the bell atop the tower rang out, summoning every soul in the capital.
Beneath the statue of Baelor, the broad marble square was packed shoulder to shoulder with a sea of people. The countless eyes gazing upward were denser than stars in the midsummer night sky.
Except for the Warriors' Sons, the Poor Fellows, and the septas, all of King's Landing had turned out—men and women, young and old.
Innkeepers, merchants, tanners, stable boys, mummers, beggars, thieves, silk-clad courtesans, and pox-ridden streetwalkers—everyone had come to witness the Queen Mother's goose-pimpled, pale body on display.
Three elderly septas walked ahead of Cersei, loudly declaring:
"This is Cersei of House Lannister, Dowager Queen, mother of His Grace King Tommen, and widow of His Grace King Robert. She has confessed to the grave sins of deceit and lust.
The sinner has admitted her crimes and begged for forgiveness and mercy. His Holiness has decreed that she cast off all pride and falsehoods as a sign of repentance.
Before the eyes of all the faithful in the city, she will show herself as the gods made her.
With a humble heart, the sinner lays bare all secrets and privacy. Before gods and men alike, she walks the path of atonement in the nude."
At that moment, the majesty and sanctity of the Iron Throne were dragged through the mud. The supreme royal power that House Targaryen had spent a century of bloodshed with the Faith to establish had crumbled to dust.
An invisible crown now rested atop the High Sparrow's head—he had become a king without an Iron Throne.
"Whore!" someone shouted.
It was a woman.
Women were the first to cast stones when other women suffered, while men only wished their eyes could stay glued to the scene forever.
Their mouths were too busy drooling and licking their lips to speak.
This was the Queen Mother, after all!
Since the First Men invaded Westeros, over twelve thousand years of history had passed, and never before had a Queen Mother exposed her body to commoners.
Not just in Westeros—this was the first such spectacle in the entire world.
The High Sparrow was undoubtedly the most formidable High Septon of the Second Age.
Benerro, the High Priest of Volantis, would surely feel ashamed in comparison.
The High Sparrow had no magic, his god was false, and he was terribly poor—so poor, in fact, the Faith's bank had been sold off. Even the Faith Militant was once weaker than the Fiery Hand.
—When Cersei was first imprisoned, the Faith Militant was no match for the Fiery Hand. Afterward, a surge of hedge knights and minor lords began to pledge allegiance to the Faith. By now, their strength surpassed even that of the Fiery Hand.
Benerro was a master orator, calling daily during prayer for slaves to revolt and rise against their masters—but he had never so much as harmed a hair on the heads of the Black Walls nobility.
The High Sparrow, on the other hand, was ruthless and silent. One moment, he bowed deferentially to Queen Cersei, and the next, after obtaining permission to restore the Faith Militant, he lured her into the Great Sept—and imprisoned her.
Ahead, an old septa rang a bell and sang loudly, "Shame, shame, come see the shame of the sinner. Shame, shame!"
An old man widened his eyes and muttered, "Good…"
"Shame!" an old woman shrieked, grabbing her husband's ear and twisting it hard while shouting at Cersei, "Whore! You are a shameful sinner! Shame! Shame!"
Cersei held her head high and glanced at the old woman with contempt. She deliberately straightened her back and lifted her chin.
"Awoooo—!" the old man howled, eyes rolling back, limbs twitching as he collapsed to the ground.
He had suffered a stroke.
"Ah! Old man, old man, what happened to you?" The old woman forgot all about cursing the Queen Mother and instead knelt by her husband, weeping over his body.
The louder the women cursed, the more the men ogled.
They had walked two streets—nearly a kilometer—surrounded by tens of thousands of onlookers, yet only the women shouted insults.
It was truly a spectacle!
Until something yellowish and warm—launched from above—splatted on the Queen Mother's back with a wet smack.
The pungent smell and revolting color instantly snapped the men out of their rosy fantasies.
No one could lust after the Queen Mother now, not with dung on her back.
Then came rotten eggs, spoiled tomatoes, wilted lettuce, and even dead cats and dogs bloated with white maggots—all hurled mercilessly at Cersei.
The springtime illusion shattered. The men sobered up and joined in the roaring curses.
"Whore," "sinner," "adulteress," "slut," "traitor"—and a flood of words unfit to print, all screamed in unison.
The pride Cersei had so desperately forced onto her face cracked like an eggshell, slowly flaking away. Fragility and fear, like a newborn chick, poked through the broken shell, struggling out and revealing themselves completely to the world.
Cersei slipped into a filthy gutter, scraping her knee and cutting the sole of her foot. Her steps grew staggered and weak, just like her expression.
But the Queen Mother's vulnerability only became a badge of honor for the mob. Their fury grew louder, their shouts more vicious.
"Aaaaah!" Cersei finally broke down, wailing in agony. She could no longer hold herself together, one hand covering her chest, the other shielding her thighs. She was as humiliated as the "Little Grandmother" her father once punished.
Even Daenerys, who had planned to mock the "Queen of Lust," fell silent.
Drogon remained hidden beneath the darkening sky, never once revealing himself to the people of King's Landing.
Death would have been kinder—this punishment was too cruel for a woman.
---
(P.S.)
After the death of his wife, Tywin's father, Tytos Lannister, took a candle merchant's daughter of common birth as his mistress.
She fawned over him constantly and quickly seized control over Casterly Rock, even wearing the jewelry and gowns of Tywin's late mother. She gave orders to knights and servants of House Lannister and sat in Tytos's place at feasts when he was absent, acting as though she were the lady of the castle.
After Tytos's death, twenty-five-year-old Tywin returned from King's Landing and had her stripped naked and paraded through Lannisport. She was forced to confess to theft and whoredom, doused with water, and banished from the Westerlands.
Now, history had come full circle. Cersei had nearly repeated that woman's fate.
It's worth noting that parading the Queen Mother through the streets was never a tradition of the Faith.
In fact, the Faith had never before possessed such power and ambition.
The High Sparrow was a devout follower of the Seven, but his worldview was…
Well, judge for yourself.
One of his infamous quotes:
"All women are wanton in their hearts. Given the chance, they will use cunning and beauty to manipulate men."
One can only imagine what the old man must have gone through in his youth.
(End of Chapter)
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