Chapter 68: This Doesn't Bode Well
Cersei Lannister's sudden summons made all three of them freeze for a moment—then, almost instinctively, tense up.
Bronn was the first to recover. He glanced between Tyrion and Podrick, amusement flickering in his eyes, clearly settling in to enjoy the show.
Podrick and Tyrion, on the other hand, frowned at almost the exact same time.
Something's wrong. Very wrong.
This is twelve kinds of wrong.
Why the hell would Cersei be looking for me? I don't remember ever exchanging a single word with that woman.
And during the meeting she kept staring at me with that strange look…
What—does she want to move against me?
Or… is she trying to pull me over to her side?
But at a time like this, she can't really be stupid enough not to see where I stand, can she?
Or don't tell me she's just bored, has nothing better to do, and suddenly decided she fancies me and wants to drag me into bed?!
The moment Lancel Lannister finished speaking, a flood of thoughts surged through Podrick's mind as he tried to guess what the woman was really after.
Tyrion, clearly thinking along the same lines, looked at his breathless cousin and asked bluntly,
"Cousin—what does Cersei want with Podrick?"
Tyrion had no patience for politeness where Lancel was concerned. His brow furrowed as he spoke plainly.
Lancel shook his head, his expression cold.
"I don't know. The Queen Regent only ordered me to summon Podrick Payne for an audience."
As he spoke, Lancel's gaze shifted to Podrick, carrying with it a faint but unmistakable hint of arrogance.
Seeing there was nothing more to be learned, Podrick and Tyrion exchanged a quick look, a silent stream of meaning passing between them.
"If Her Grace has summoned him," Tyrion said calmly, "then Podrick Payne, as my squire, should naturally be accompanied by me. That shouldn't be a problem, Lancel."
"The Queen Regent specifically ordered that only the Commander of the City Watch is to attend," Lancel replied stiffly.
"And also, little demon—you should address me as Ser."
His jaw was tight, clearly displeased with Tyrion's choice of words.
Perhaps it was the knighthood itself—or perhaps the confidence that came with natural blond hair, green eyes, and a strong, handsome build—but Lancel had grown noticeably more arrogant of late. His recent promotion had only fanned the flames, turning that confidence into open swagger.
In any case, the young knight clearly disliked being called by his name that too by this imp. This was his way of issuing a warning.
Tch. Is it the title of "knight" that's made him so fearless, Tyrion thought, or has Cersei put some new idea in his head?
Sensing the change in Lancel's attitude, Tyrion narrowed his eyes—but the look quickly melted into a smile.
"I think—"
"I think you should stop thinking, my lord."
Before the dwarf could finish what was clearly shaping up to be a threat, Podrick cut in smoothly, reaching out to press a hand against Tyrion's shoulder.
"I've given it some thought, and I'm quite certain the Queen Regent has simply decided she wants me all of a sudden," Podrick said lightly.
"So I'll go alone."
He deliberately stressed the word wants, as if trying to reassure Tyrion that there was nothing to worry about.
Tyrion looked up at him, fixing Podrick with those mismatched eyes—one green, one black.
"You're sure?"
"Of course," Podrick replied calmly. "I'll be perfectly safe here."
"I still think I'll have Shagga and the others bring a few men and wait nearby," Tyrion said after a moment's thought.
"When you're done, I'll wait for you outside the city. We'll have dinner together—Chataya, Alayaya, and Mary have all been asking about you."
Podrick's confidence felt almost unfounded, and Tyrion decided it was best to leave himself some margin for error.
He didn't know where Podrick's composure came from. The boy was so steady, so composed, that Tyrion often forgot his age—but now he remembered.
Seeing the concern in Tyrion's expression—plain as day, practically written in (O_o)??—Podrick thought for a moment, then nodded.
"If I don't make it to dinner," he said lightly, "I'll shout loud enough to warn Shagga and the others."
That earned him a sliver of relief from Tyrion.
"Good. Go, then. If you keep Cersei waiting too long, she'll only be angrier."
Lancel glanced between them, his expression strange. When he heard them mention the brothels of Silk Street, disdain flickered briefly in his eyes.
"The Queen Regent is waiting."
"Very well, Ser Lancel Lannister," Podrick replied agreeably.
He turned and followed Lancel toward Maegor's Holdfast.
They had only just left the council chamber, but judging from Lancel's route, Cersei had decided Maegor's Holdfast was a more suitable place for this meeting.
Tyrion remained where he was, watching Podrick's retreating figure, his gaze dark.
"Shall I call the men?" Bronn asked quietly, the humor gone from his voice.
Tyrion nodded. "Tell the smiths to wait. And don't rush the litter—no… forget that. Come with me. Bring men."
---
Guarding the door to the Queen Regent's chambers was Ser Meryn Trant. As a Kingsguard, his armor was dazzlingly ornate.
He wore a finely crafted white scale cuirass threaded with gold, a tall helm crowned with a golden sunburst. Greaves, gorget, gauntlets, and boots gleamed with polished steel, and a heavy wool cloak hung from his shoulders, fastened with a golden lion clasp.
When Lancel Lannister arrived—with Podrick Payne following behind—Meryn lifted his downcast eyes.
Podrick looked back at him, noting the rust-colored beard framing his face.
"Halt," Meryn Trant said flatly.
"No iron may be borne before the Queen Regent."
Podrick's greatsword—the one that had taken lives that very morning—had been left behind at the barracks. All he carried now was a plain short sword at his waist.
He glanced sideways at Lancel, who was watching him with a faintly amused smile.
Lancel wore a red velvet tunic lined with black silk, a gem-studded dagger at his belt, its gilded sheath gleaming. A sword of similar make hung at his hip.
Seeing this, Podrick smiled, drew his short sword, and offered it up.
"Please keep it safe for me," he said lightly.
"I'd like to see it returned the moment I leave. It cost me two gold dragons—top quality."
As if hearing a joke, both Lancel and Meryn laughed.
Still, Meryn accepted the blade.
"Lord Podrick Payne," he said, "I will personally see that your treasure is returned to you the moment you leave this chamber."
"Excellent."
Podrick nodded. As Lancel pushed open the door, he stepped willingly into the Queen Regent's chambers.
---
Inside, Podrick saw Queen Regent Cersei Lannister, whom he had just seen in the council chamber not long ago. Now she was barefoot, reclining lazily among silken cushions, her golden hair loose and radiant.
Hearing the door, she looked up. Her gold-and-green gown caught the light, shimmering softly—clearly a fresh change of clothes.
That alone might have been unremarkable.
What was remarkable was that besides the Queen Regent, there were four fully armed red-cloaked guards in the room.
Each stood at a corner, encased in armor, eyes forward.
Only when Podrick entered did they tilt their heads slightly to look at him.
Podrick clicked his tongue softly.
"Hmm… looks like this visit won't be a friendly one."