She instinctively touched the scar beneath her veil, where a dull ache still throbbed.
Tywin did not answer her question. Instead, his gaze shifted toward Petyr Baelish.
Littlefinger caught the signal at once. A smooth, faintly mocking smile curved his lips as he bowed slightly to Cersei. "Your Grace, your concerns are perfectly reasonable. But you may rest easy. The very moment Lord Tywin's grand host reached the Gates of the Gods, our esteemed Commander of the City Watch, Lord Janos Slynt, led every gold cloak in swearing absolute loyalty to Lord Tywin. As we speak, every gate and street in King's Landing is firmly under Lord Slynt's control—and in the hands of those loyal to House Lannister."
Tywin continued seamlessly after Littlefinger's words, his sharp gaze sweeping over every man present—a silent warning in his tone. "In addition, I will leave two thousand of the finest soldiers from the Westerlands here in King's Landing. They will garrison the Red Keep and key positions throughout the city. They are to report directly to the Queen. Their duty is simple: to silence dissent and crush treachery wherever it appears."
At those words, the weight pressing on Cersei's heart eased slightly.
Though she still resented that her father left soldiers instead of Jaime, the thought of holding command over an army dulled her fear. A warped sense of satisfaction began to bloom in its place.
She straightened her back. Beneath the thin veil, the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
In her mind, she was already planning her next move—once her father departed, she would name herself Queen Regent and rule the Seven Kingdoms in truth.
Tywin caught the faint shift in her expression. His face darkened. "This is only a temporary arrangement," he said, his tone like ice. "Before long, I will send a man from the front to serve as Hand in my stead and govern this city. Until then, you will do well to restrain yourself. Do nothing foolish—nothing that will disappoint me. Keep your mouth shut and your children in line."
Cersei's foolishness and indulgence had nearly ruined their entire house. The disgrace of it still burned Tywin like acid.
Had he not arrived in time, House Lannister would have been the jest of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Queen's face flushed red, hotter than the sting of her wound, as her father's fury fell on her before the court. She bowed her head, fingers twisting the edge of her gown in humiliation.
Still, compared to Robert's violent cruelty, she preferred this wrath a hundred times over.
Tywin no longer looked at her. Turning back to Littlefinger, his tone softened slightly. "Lord Baelish, you have served the realm well. Your swift action stabilized King's Landing when it was on the brink of chaos. Once I have pacified the Riverlands and crushed the rebellion in the North, I will personally choose a prosperous castle for you and grant you an appropriate title, as a reward for your loyalty and cunning."
He added, "Lord Slynt, too, has performed admirably. When the realm is secure, I will see that he is rewarded."
Littlefinger's smile widened. With practiced grace, he bowed deeply. "My lord, your generosity humbles me. House Baelish will remember your favor for generations. I shall, of course, convey your gratitude to Lord Slynt myself."
He spoke with charm and reverence, even as his mind raced.
When Robert had stormed back to the Red Keep in fury, Littlefinger had already scented opportunity.
He had quickly reached out to Janos Slynt—the greedy, wavering fool—and prepared enough gold to sway him, waiting to see which way the wind would blow.
His plan had been to hedge his bets.
If Robert triumphed, he would be hailed as the savior who stood by the King.
If the Lannisters prevailed, he would be their most convenient ally.
But Tywin's sudden arrival had shattered his careful balance.
At once, Littlefinger guessed whose hand lay behind it.
It had to be Varys—the one who told Robert of the Queen's affair, the one who summoned Tywin's host to the capital.
He hated being maneuvered by the Spider's schemes, but in that moment, he had no other choice.
When the crimson banners of the Westerlands appeared beneath the city walls, Littlefinger acted. Gold opened doors where loyalty would not.
Janos Slynt, ever the greedy turncloak, had wagered everything on the Lannisters' gold and might.
At Tywin's command, the members of the Small Council bowed and withdrew, grateful as if they'd been pardoned from death itself.
The heavy oak doors shut behind them with a slow, final thud, leaving only Tywin, Cersei, and Jaime in the vast chamber.
The mask of icy authority Tywin wore cracked at last, giving way to fury barely contained.
His palm slammed down on the ebony table with a thunderous crack.
"CRASH!"
The violent impact sent the wine cups rattling across the table.
"Look at what you've done!"
Tywin's voice was a low growl of fury and disgust. He rose to his full height, a towering shadow falling over Cersei and Jaime.
Cersei flinched, trembling so hard she nearly slipped from her chair.
Jaime stepped forward instinctively, placing himself between her and their father. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with defiance. "Father! Cersei and I truly love each other! This love—"
"Truly love each other?!"
Tywin's interruption cracked like a whip. Every word came through clenched teeth, sharp as a blade. "Because of this damned 'love,' the honor of House Lannister was almost destroyed! You nearly dragged Casterly Rock into the abyss! Are you pleased with yourself? You killed the Mad King and earned the name Kingslayer—and now you've killed Robert! Unless we tear down every castle in the Seven Kingdoms and rip out every tongue, this stain will never be cleansed. Not in this life, nor the next. House Lannister will never be free of your shame!"
Jaime met his father's eyes, voice rough and trembling with fury. "Honor? Father, I stopped caring for that long ago! When the Mad King tried to burn King's Landing—when he would have turned hundreds of thousands to ash—it was me who stopped him. I saved this city. But what did I get for it? They called me Kingslayer, an oathbreaker!
And Robert—the man who started it all—what of him? He sat the Iron Throne without guilt, showered in praise. No one dared speak against him. The Targaryen siblings could marry and call it sacred tradition, but when it comes to us, we're called monsters! Beasts! I don't care what those hypocrites think. I did nothing wrong. I saved King's Landing. I protected the woman I love!"
His words shook with bitter rage, pain pressing behind every syllable.
"Enough!!"
Tywin's roar exploded through the chamber like thunder. The sound reverberated off the stone walls.
He snatched a silver goblet from the table and hurled it to the floor. Wine splattered in golden arcs across the tiles.
"Jaime, you have shamed me beyond words! Because of you, the name of Lannister is filth!"
His chest heaved as he pointed a shaking finger at his son, eyes blazing with anguish. "All your life, you've been the same—reckless, selfish, ruled by whim and want, never once thinking of the house or your duty!
Tell me, how many years will it take? How many failures, how many humiliations before you understand? Before you finally put the honor of House Lannister above yourself!"
Jaime stood as if struck. His golden eyes flickered with pain, pride, and a trace of defiance—but he said nothing. His jaw tightened.
Cersei sat curled in her chair, pale and shaking, barely daring to breathe beneath her father's fury.
The council chamber fell silent, the only sound Tywin's harsh, uneven breathing.
After a long moment, he sank back into his chair, the fire in his eyes cooling to ice.
"Before I came to King's Landing," he said coldly, "I received three letters. Each said the same thing—that Robert had learned your secret, and that your lives were in danger."
Jaime's head jerked up, shock written across his face.
Tywin's tone turned even colder. "The first letter copied your handwriting, Jaime—near perfect. The second was identical in content, but sealed with the Lannister sigil. The third bore no signature, no mark, only the message itself."
He stared hard at them both. "Now tell me—what do you think that means?"