Margaery seemed to have taken a serious and thorough hold on Joffrey. She taught him new manners, instilled refined habits, and generally made him obey her in everything. And her simple-minded son didn't suspect a thing. You have to admit — she managed the whole scheme cleverly!
Of course, the little brat herself would never have had the brains or patience for this, and her grandmother, the Queen of Thorns, had guided her.
But that was not the worst of it. What was worse was that Joffrey had begun to show his undoubted favor and sympathy for the Imp.
On the day when Cersei finally figured this out — when she realized that her nasty, ugly little brother had somehow managed to regain the king's favor — she flew into such a rage that she smashed several decanters and tore the curtains from the windows.
She saw through all the petty bastard's plans and hopes. First, to win the king's trust and begin whispering various nastiness into his ear: to send her off to Casterly Rock; to remove Lord Tywin from power; and ultimately to turn the entire Red Keep into one filthy brothel where drunken whores rolled about with their vomit-covered clients!
It was then, when she finally calmed a little, that she understood she was losing the influence she had once held over Joffrey. He had always been a capricious and sensitive child. But with enough persistence, he could still be controlled. Although at times — when Joffrey pulled another idiotic stunt, such as the execution of Ned Stark — she bitterly admitted to herself that her son was as dumb as a stump and as cruel as the worst executioner.
Disappointment followed disappointment. Her own father showed ever more plainly that she only hindered him in ruling the Seven Kingdoms.
Uncle Kevan obeyed Tywin in everything. Therefore, he too had stopped asking her advice or opinion on any matter.
The king's stewards, Robert and Jacob — boys she herself had chosen and assigned to Joffrey — had begun reporting far less frequently on what the king was doing and thinking.
The Tyrells and their people did not particularly hide their true feelings.
Servants began whispering that a new queen had arrived and would soon drive out the old one. She did not hear these words directly, of course, but she saw the truth of them in their deceitful, duplicitous eyes.
In addition, Joffrey dismissed his former bodyguard, Tallad, and brought in a new one — Orm from the Reach. And she had no influence whatsoever over this man.
Power was slowly slipping through her fingers like water. Something had to be done about it. And urgently!
Thoughtful, Cersei took another sip of wine. Someone knocked confidently on the door.
"Enter," said the queen regent.
The brilliant and magnificent Jaime Lannister appeared in the doorway, dressed in snow-white armor and a floor-length cloak.
His new hand, if one didn't look too closely, seemed almost normal, almost lifelike.
Her twin brother had always been a very handsome and impressive man — tall, muscular, confident, with a manly curve to his lips. Cersei's heart involuntarily tightened with the feelings she held for him. However, it was not in her nature to show them, for that would reveal weakness. So she merely nodded coldly to her brother.
"To what do I owe the honor of your call?"
Jaime closed the door, walked to the table, sat opposite her, and brazenly splashed wine into his glass. He leaned forward, sniffed the cheese, but did not touch it.
"I wanted to talk about Joffrey!" Cersei frowned involuntarily.
"And here I thought you missed me."
"Jaime, be serious! I don't have time for trivialities."
"All right, all right." The Lord Commander raised his hand reassuringly. "So what about Joff? As far as I'm concerned, he's doing very well."
"The thing is, he's changed. A lot. Can't you see it?"
"Nonsense." Jaime shook his head dismissively. "We all change. Especially when we get married. The first night — and everything that goes with it — doesn't pass without a trace." He smiled wryly and lowered his voice a little. "Wasn't that the case with us?"
"Save your jokes for your blockheads in the Guard," the queen cut him off imperiously. "I want to talk seriously."
"Well, all right." Jaime sighed. His voice sounded tired. He adjusted the strap of his sword and stretched his long legs under the table. "I'm listening."
Cersei began speaking about how much Joffrey had changed, how he had fallen under Margaery's influence, and how they were losing their son.
Jaime's expression made it clear that her words did not convince him, that he still didn't grasp the seriousness of the situation.
Cersei forced herself to suppress her rising irritation. Jaime had always been somewhat short-sighted and reckless. Even now, he couldn't see beyond his own nose.
And then the queen mentioned that Joffrey had found common ground with the Imp. But she did so in vain. Jaime smirked, and she saw on his face that he was very pleased with this turn of events. Any last doubts she had managed to plant in his mind left the Kingslayer.
"Forgive me, my dear sister, but I think you've made all this up in your pretty little head," her brother teased when she fell silent. "Nothing terrible is happening. It's all just jealousy — that you're no longer the only queen. Perhaps not even the first."
"So you think that's all it is?" Cersei's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Yep!" He smiled carelessly.
"And that is all you can say to me?" Cersei's voice turned icy as she straightened in her chair.
"Don't be angry, dear." Jaime realized he had gone a little too far. "I'll keep an eye on Joffrey, I promise. And I'll pay closer attention to those around him."
"Well, well…" Her brother's hints annoyed her greatly. The worst part was that there was some truth in his words.
"No, seriously — I'll keep an eye on him."
"At least that's something," Cersei remarked grumpily, secretly relieved that she had managed to make her brother think twice.
Jaime stood and took a step toward her. For a moment, Cersei felt a flicker of hope — that he would come closer, start kissing and caressing her, as he had done before, whenever the opportunity arose.
Her brother let her down again — he merely adjusted his cloak, offered a careless bow, and headed for the exit.
Cersei watched his lithe, well-built figure with disappointment. Something was definitely changing in the Red Keep. And why were all the men around her such short-sighted idiots? How did they manage to disappoint her so often? Was it truly so difficult to notice such obvious things?
(End of chapter)
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