And so long as she remained blatant about her intentions, Cersei reckoned, she retained the freedom to act. If she presumed that he knew everything that she knew, Tommen could not catch her unawares.
Not that he would have reason to do so. Not when all she intended to do was help him.
...
But these matters were best left for another day. For now, Nymeria Sand was first and foremost her informant. A remarkably useful one, as it came to be.
"Ser Osney is away to the Wall," she said. "His Grace had him in the Black Cells for a good while, or so some of the men tell me, but now he is well and truly away. Evidently they were told not to call him by name. His Grace greatly feared being found out - understandable, given Ser Osmund wears the white cloak."
"Hmm," Cersei grumbled, noting the news and disdaining it once she knew how ultimately useless the revelation of Ser Osney's fate was to her. "And Lyra? The girl?"
Nymeria shifted in her seat. Whether her discomfort was true or feigned, Cersei could not tell.
"There are... rumours, Your Grace," Nymeria began. "Here men were far tighter with their tongues, even when faced with my finer tricks. What I did learn was often confusing. One claimed she was the king's paramour. Another proclaimed her exactly as she was: his baseborn half-sister. Another claimed she was both, that His Grace has developed Targaryen inclinations in matters of the flesh, and that the girl would often leave his chambers beaming, dishevelled as though from some rough bout of love-making, or else with eyes brimming with tears.
Some proclaim her Sansa Stark in disguise. Others declare she is secretly a boy, prevented from squiring to a true knight due to some grave failing, who put on the airs of a girl to win the Dame Brienne's favour as a last desperate ploy for knighthood."
Cersei frowned. This reeks of the Imp. Her son, for all his cleverness and foresight, tended to be blunter with his schemes. There was an assuredness in his movements, a certain straightforwardness that made one feel a fool when the simplistic truth was revealed - even in his grandest plots and plans - that spoke of either supreme confidence or else childish arrogance. This cloud of confusion seemed to suggest something more. That the rumours were not natural, that they were designed to confuse, to excite, to obscure the real, more plain truth beneath it all.
And then there was the outrageous element to it. A part of what she'd heard made her jaw clench, her hands tight with fury. Tommen is fucking his half-sister... Is this the dwarf's idea of a jape? Yet her fury fast morphed into fear. If someone wants to pit lion against lion than this would be the way to do it, she thought.
Her disdain for her dwarf brother was well-known. The lesson of Baelish had been burned into her mind. You were so distracted by your hatred of each other that you failed to spot the real danger, sat just a scant few seats away, Tommen had said.
Her distraction, her disdain had cost her Joff his life. She could not allow herself to be led astray again, lest her last remaining son suffer the same fate. For the moment at least, she would have to swallow her pride.
I shall have to keep a closer eye on Lyra, Cersei resolved. Rash decisions at this time would only serve to weaken her. And with Tommen's dreams, Cersei struggled to see how he might be duped. He had taken this girl into his own personal confidences, and so quickly.
Did he know? Was he using her, playing some hidden game for some unknown purpose? Or was he behaving his age, taken in by a little impish girl who reminded him of more innocent times? The seeds of envy stirred in her heart at the thought, a black simmering hatred that she had to work hard to keep hidden.
"And finally," Cersei said, "comes the question of your cousin."
Nymeria shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking bashful. "Your Grace..."
"You said you wished to enter my confidences, yes? That you wished to become more than Oberyn's baseborn girl, to win some fame and glory for yourself? To perhaps even be made a dame? You said these things, and Lady Taena listened, did she not?"
Nymeria Sand seemed to wage a war with herself, hands fidgeting in her lap, eyes flitting about nervously. "Yes, Your Grace," she finally said.
"Well, I can make that happen for you," Cersei said. "But first I must ask you tell me of your cousin's plans."
"Arianne doesn't have a plan as such..." Nymeria trailed off. "She intended at first to seduce His Grace, but has grown frustrated after he repeatedly rebuffed her. Now..."
"Now what?" Cersei asked, leaning forwards.
"I'm not certain," Nymeria warned. "She could simply persist in her efforts."
"Guess."
"...The princess is a hot-blooded woman, you must understand," Nymeria explained cautiously. "As are all Dornishwomen, I suppose, but none moreso than her. She is rarely rebuffed. The Prince of Dorne was loathe to deny her anything, and has seldom punished her for her acts of defiance or daring." I'll need to correct that, Cersei thought. "And so now that she is finally faced with some resistance she is driven to evermore extreme measures to get her way."
Cersei felt herself tense. "So if not my son then who?" she asked. Who do I need to dispose of?
"If she can't have His Grace's heart," Nymeria said, squirming, bashful, "then I believe she reckons the Lord Hand's will suffice."
Cersei at first blinked in shock, then balked, then burst out with laughter. "My father?" she asked. "Ha! Let her try. Lord Tywin Lannister has not been stirred into lust since the death of my lady mother. Hells, it may well do him some good to share his bed with the Princess! As it is Arianne would be better off trying to get blood from a stone."
"That's just my guess, Your Grace," Nymeria was quick to assure her, in spite of sharing Cersei's look of bemusement. "I could well be wrong. For all I know the princess still intends to pursue the heart of His Grace. In this matter she has not taken me into her confidences. Not yet, at least."
The princess is not likely to be any more successful with Tommen than she is with Tywin, Cersei thought. Not if she has already tried and failed to win his affections. Yet she could not deny the part of her that still harboured doubts. I need to see my son.
Cersei shot a glance at Taena, and made to leave, slowly standing from her seat. Keep a close eye on this one, she said with her eyes.
Of course, Your Grace, Taena answered with hers.
"Well done, Lady Nym," she said. "You have won my confidences. Serve me well and I will see to it you are properly rewarded for your efforts."
Nymeria Sand inclined her head with respect. "Anything for Your Grace."
Cersei offered the baseborn girl a brittle smile. "Of course," she said, and turned on her heel and walked out of her solar. She passed through the passages of the Red Keep swiftly, but this time without urgency. A storm of thoughts and worries plagued her mind as she wandered. Even still, it was not long before she found herself standing outside Tommen's chambers.
At this hour, her son was fast asleep, Ser Loras standing vigil at his door.
She found him sprawled on his bed, his little wife missing. On occasion the king liked to sleep alone, more often than not it seemed as of late. In place of a little queen Tommen had little kittens adorn his bed. There was Ser Pounce, Lady Whiskers, Boots. Yet they kept their distance, sleeping on the corners. Tommen looked fitful, face furrowed and strained with worry, skin slick with sweat. He is having one of his dreams, Cersei realised.
...
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