The people continued to shout the names of King Joffrey and Queen Margaery — though the latter's name was greeted with far greater enthusiasm and joy.
I helped Margaery onto her horse, and together we rode back to the castle. We rode side by side, our knees brushing. With enthusiasm and complete sincerity, I said,
"There is no girl in all Westeros more beautiful than you."
In the courtyard, when I helped her down and jested a little, she laughed — loudly and melodiously. Am I a naive fool, or are our relations truly improving?
I kissed her hand, and we parted until the evening feast.
However, I was not allowed to rest for long. My mother, Queen Cersei, came to my chambers. She stopped in the middle of the hall, dismissed the servants with a light, imperious nod, then sat down and regarded me with a bewilderment look.
"What is going on, Joffrey?"
"What do you mean, Mother?"
"About you. And your bride… Has she already managed to drive you mad?" Cersei frowned disapprovingly.
"She is very beautiful and intelligent," I replied cautiously.
"And not as simple as she pretends to be. Do not forget that."
"I won't."
For a while, we played a silent game of who can stare the other down. Finally, Cersei realised I would say no more and looked away.
"What is this new whim with the cupbearer?"
"I think he will be useful to me," I said, unsurprised by her knowledge. Apparently Jacob could not find such a man himself and could not resist telling Cersei about my wish. So I pretended that all was well.
"Are you afraid of something?" Her nostrils flared — the gesture of a lioness ready to trample and crush all enemies into dust.
"It is merely a precaution. We have plenty of enemies. So — will you help me?"
"I already have," she sighed and relaxed slightly. "I have found the right person."
"Really?"
"Yes — Ser Josiba Spicer."
"Who is he?"
"A loudmouth and a glutton. His ancestor was a simple merchant, but my grandfather, Lord Tytos, knighted his grandfather for some service. However, it did not help the Spicers much — at heart, they remain petty tradesmen," she said with a trace of contempt. "This position will suit him perfectly."
"I want him to attend my wedding feast and play his part," I said capriciously, curling my lips.
"It shall be so, my son. Do not trouble yourself with such trifles."
"Thank you, Mother," I sincerely thanked this beautiful, imperious woman.
Cersei allowed herself a small smile, ruffled my hair, then gathered her skirts and turned to leave — but I stopped her with another question.
"Mother, tell me — what house does my steward Robert belong to? I seem to have forgotten."
"He is of House Brax. They have served us faithfully for many generations," Cersei replied, her voice tinged with surprise — not because I did not know the home of a close servant, but because I was interested in it.
When she left, Jacob Lydden entered the hall, looking slightly embarrassed, followed by Robert Brax.
"The fact that you told my mother about my order can be seen as concern," I said to Jacob with feigned gravity. "She is my mother, and I trust her. But if you — and you, Rob — report every little thing to Lady Cersei, or Lord Tywin, or anyone else, I will have to find myself new stewards. Less talkative, and more loyal. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," both men bowed low.
"Good." I leaned back upon the bed, folded my hands behind my head, and allowed myself to rest a moment. Then I rose, drew Wind of Change from its sheath, and admired the dance of light and shadow upon the blade. Of course, the stewards would not start serving only me at once. Nor did it seem possible to replace them just yet with men more worthy or loyal. So, my words were pure bluff — but one must begin somewhere. At least, I hoped, they would now think twice before running to Cersei with every detail.
They dressed me in tight-fitting breeches striped red and black — they made my legs look slimmer than they truly were. Oh, if only they had more meat and muscle!
Then came a brocade doublet with black satin sleeves and onyx studs along the seams. On my feet, low leather shoes without heels, their toes long and narrow.
And so we set off for the evening feast. Ser Tallad trailed behind everyone, looking miserable and defeated. I had finally decided that I would soon be rid of this man. I had encountered his sort in my past life — those who mistake kindness for weakness; who, given an inch, try to take a mile. And they also love to sit on people's necks and have no objection to becoming lovers for their best friend's wife or their king's spouse. Perhaps, in the canon, he did not become the queen's lover, but rumours seldom spring from nothing.
Our arrival was marked by great ceremony. Trumpets blared, music swelled, and Margaery and I rode straight into the hall on snow-white horses. I had Snow again, and he behaved peaceably enough. It seemed we had become friends.
Horseshoes rang upon the polished marble floor. It would have been amusing if they had dropped apples!
For the feast, Margaery wore a pale green silk gown with a tight bodice that bared her shoulders and revealed the gentle curve of her girlish breasts. Her loose hair cascaded down her white shoulders to her narrow waist. Upon her head gleamed a slender golden circlet. The girl smiled sweetly — and shyly.
It was still more than an hour before dusk, yet the throne room blazed with light. Torches and thick candles burned in every wall socket.
Above, in the gallery, musicians crowded together — violinists, harpists, and lutenists tuning their instruments, while others looked down curiously, watching as heralds announced the name of each lord and his lady—if she was present — and guided them to their seats.
A light breeze brought coolness and stirred the numerous banners, pennants with coats of arms, and fabric canopies.
The royal table — where the king and the highest lords sat — stood near the steps leading to the Iron Throne. For the occasion, the throne itself had been covered with beautiful, richly coloured fabrics. I never saw it bare that day.
Here, near the table, the guests passed by us again, many kissing us both on the cheeks with joy. I received embraces and kisses from my mother, my new father-in-law Mace and mother-in-law Olenna, from Margaery brother Garlan and his wife, my uncle Kevan, and several others.
At last, everyone took their seats.
The High Septon rose and began his prayer. I was surprised to see so many guests bow their heads, listening with such solemn, devout expressions.