[King's Landing]
Several days had passed since King Joffrey's death, yet King's Landing was still in turmoil.
The city gates remained tightly shut, and no citizen, be they commoner or noble, was allowed to leave the capital. The ships in the bay had been anchored, their crews arrested; hundreds of people were being held without explanation.
Riots in the lower districts were constant, but unlike other times, this time the City Watch had been ordered to respond with extreme prejudice, crushing any sign of unrest with harsh force.
In the Red Keep, the atmosphere was not much different.
Tywin had ordered that all guests from the wedding be escorted and confined to their quarters, and no one, except those directly connected to the crown, would be permitted to leave. Unfortunately, this included the Tyrell's, who were supposed to be the Lannisters' greatest allies.
Vlad could only laugh at the irony.
He had spent the past few days in his chambers, or at least that was what it looked like, but in truth, he often slipped out through the back door to visit Oberyn or to meet Lena, who brought him rumors and news.
The Lannisters, on the other hand, had spent the last few days deeply engaged in an exhaustive investigation.
Jaime, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, devoted his time to interrogations, searches, and arranging patrols and guards.
Needless to say, he hadn't found a single conclusive clue, and thanks to the ever-gracious Lady Olenna, the only things reaching him were the most obvious rumors and speculations.
Among the most likely suspects was Oberyn Martell, a known expert in poisons and someone who bore a very public grudge against the Lannisters. Then there was Tyrion, who, though he had never shown open animosity toward the king, had more than once found himself on the opposite side of Cersei, earning both her suspicion and resentment.
For Tyrion's misfortune, every past argument with his sister in which he had come out victorious, whether through words or threats, was now one of the main reasons to suspect him.
As for Cersei, she appeared devastated by the loss of her son and had not left her chambers in two days, and now Jaime had the unpleasant task of going up there to tell her that nothing had been found.
The door to Cersei's chambers was guarded by two gold cloaks, who stepped aside when they saw him. Jaime said nothing; he simply pushed the door open without knocking.
What he found inside made him stop in his tracks.
The room looked as though it had been ransacked, cushions were scattered across the floor, a table lay overturned, and tapestries were torn. Shards of broken vases littered the corners, and a spilled pitcher of wine had formed a sticky puddle beneath his boots.
Cersei was sitting on the edge of the bed, her bare feet on the carpet. She was still wearing the gold and crimson gown from the feast, its front stained with her son's dried blood, and her loose, tangled hair fell over her shoulders.
Her smeared makeup streaked her cheeks like black tears running down her face as she held an empty cup in one hand and fiddled with a broken belt buckle in the other.
She didn't look up when she heard him enter.
—Did you catch him? —she murmured hoarsely, her voice low and emotionless.
Jaime watched her in silence.
—Not yet… but I promise we're doing everything we can…
Cersei shot up suddenly, as if something inside her had snapped.
—I asked you to bring me the king's murderer. The murderer of your son… and you let him slip through your fingers! How?! —scream, stepping toward him, her eyes blazing with fury.
He could only shake his head. He couldn't argue with her, not only because she seemed broken by grief, but because deep down, he felt just as useless for not being able to find the culprit.
Cersei began pacing the room, her movements jerky and erratic; she ran her hands through her hair, pulled at it, covered her face, and muttered to herself as if speaking to someone unseen.
—You swore you would protect me… you swore you would protect us… —she cried, turning toward him with her finger pointed, trembling with rage and a glimmer of madness in her eyes.
Jaime didn't move; he could only watch her, unable to comfort her.
She kept walking, pacing in disordered circles, breathing unevenly.
—There's no one left I can trust… —she said in a low voice, pacing from one end of the room to the other— No loyalty. No loyalty.
Jaime felt a chill watching her like that, her face flushed, eyes bloodshot, lips trembling, as if the woman before him were no longer his sister.
Then she stopped, turned sharply toward him, and her face twisted in what Jaime could only describe as madness.
—None. Not even yours —she screamed— Where is he?!
Jaime flinched under her fury but tried to calm her.
—I promise I'll find who did it. You have to trust me.
Cersei froze; all the violence of her outburst seemed to drain from her at once, leaving her hollow. She stood silently for a few moments, staring at nothing, breathing heavily.
Then, slowly, she turned her face toward him—but there were no tears, no anger left in her eyes.
—You're right. I have to trust you —she said flatly.
And without pause, without even changing her tone, she continued as if giving orders to any subordinate.
—How many Kingsguard are stationed outside Tommen's door?
Jaime blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
—Ser Boros is on duty tonight. Tomorrow, I think…
—So, one? —she interrupted coldly— You have only one man guarding the future king?
—I promise Tommen is safe. We're protecting him —he answered cautiously, sensing the conversation slipping into dangerous territory.
—The way you protected Joffrey? —she replied, not shouting this time, only stepping closer, her gaze fixed on him— I want four men at Tommen's door. Day and night.
Then she turned away, giving him her back without another glance.
—That will be all… Lord Commander.
Jaime stood there motionless as Cersei turned toward the window, as though he were no longer in the room.