Cersei glared at Jaime with such burning fury that the air between them seemed to crackle. Her anger was raw and unrestrained, flaring up like wildfire catching dry branches. Jaime had seen her angry many times, but this time—this time felt different. Her rage wasn't simply irritation. It was focused, sharp, poisonous.
She looked like a lioness cornered and ready to tear apart the nearest living thing.
Jaime stood helplessly before her, lifting a hand in a slow, calming gesture. He spoke softly, as if soothing a wounded animal.
"Cersei… he didn't do anything."
He stepped forward carefully and placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch was gentle, his golden eyes full of concern. He wasn't defending Karl Stone as much as he was trying to calm the storm inside Cersei.
"He just returned from the Free Cities," Jaime continued. "He's only been in King's Landing for half a year. He doesn't know anything. He's just trying to make his life better."
Jaime meant what he said. Unlike Cersei—whose dislike for Karl was instinctive, fierce, and irrational—Jaime actually respected the boy.
Karl Stone had crossed the Narrow Sea alone. He had lived by his wits, worked for mercenary groups, survived on the streets of foreign cities, and somehow made it back to Westeros alive.
A boy who dared chase his fortune, even knowing he might die, was a boy with courage.
And courage, to Jaime Lannister, was the purest seed from which a man grew.
But before he could say more, Cersei snapped her head toward him. Her eyes, bright and cold as polished emeralds, narrowed dangerously.
Her expression twisted.
As if Jaime had just uttered the most unforgivable betrayal.
She slapped his hands away from her shoulders and hissed through gritted teeth:
"Listen to me, Jaime—no one is a fool!"
She pointed a trembling finger the way they had come, toward the camp where Karl rested.
"He definitely knows something! If he didn't—why didn't he return to that gods-forsaken Vale to roll around with donkey dung? Why would he choose to come to King's Landing?"
She sneered viciously.
"Don't tell me it's because the whores in the Vale are dirtier than the ones here!"
Jaime's mouth tightened into a thin line. He didn't answer. She wouldn't listen anyway—not when she was like this.
Cersei took a deep breath and continued her tirade, her voice lowering into something far more dangerous than mere anger.
Her hatred had roots.
Deep, tangled roots.
---
The Queen's Unease
The truth was simple.
From the moment she received word that Robert's bastard—Karl Stone—had appeared in King's Landing, something inside Cersei had twisted. Not because she was surprised by another bastard. Robert littered the Seven Kingdoms with bastards the way a drunken man scattered lost coins. Everyone knew it.
Cersei had tolerated it for years.
She simply pretended not to see.
After all, she knew what she wanted, and Robert's bastards were irrelevant.
But this time… this time felt different.
Karl Stone was different.
His appearance was like a shadow creeping down the halls of the Red Keep. He was too tall. Too bold. Too calm. Too familiar.
Too much like Robert in his youth.
Worst of all, he arrived as Jon Arryn—the only man who had stood between truth and disaster—mysteriously died.
A coincidence?
She didn't believe in coincidences.
The moment Karl appeared at her doorstep, Cersei felt a faint, unsettling dread stir inside her chest. Something cold wrapped around her spine, whispering that her world—her children—were no longer safe.
Like a predator, Karl Stone didn't even need to act. His existence alone was a threat.
This boy, this outsider, this bastard—
This problem that refused to go away—
Made her uneasy in a way she couldn't explain.
And unease in Cersei's heart always transformed into hatred.
Into fear.
Into murderous intent.
---
Cersei's Curse-Laced Logic
"That damned bastard," she continued, pacing like a frantic animal. "I felt something was wrong the moment he entered the city."
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with rage sharpened by fear.
"And now Jon Arryn is dead! Tell me that isn't suspicious, Jaime!"
Jaime inhaled slowly.
He knew Cersei too well.
He knew the patterns of her paranoia.
He knew that once she convinced herself of something, nothing could undo it.
But he tried anyway.
"Cersei," he murmured, "Jon Arryn's death… no one knows what happened. But Karl—he had nothing to do with it. He stayed in the Free Cities for years. He's lived alone. He doesn't even—"
"Jaime," Cersei interrupted sharply, "don't be an idiot."
Her voice turned mocking.
"So you don't think Jon Arryn's sudden death and Robert immediately dragging his bastard into his inner circle is suspicious?"
She let out a humorless laugh.
"Or perhaps you think Robert simply wants to make up for his lost love for his child?"
She looked at Jaime with ice in her eyes.
"What is he trying to do?"
She jabbed a finger into Jaime's chest.
"Don't pretend you don't know!"
Cersei grimaced as if the thought itself disgusted her.
"Robert had this idea before. Don't tell me you've forgotten."
Jaime stiffened slightly at her words.
Because he hadn't forgotten.
Robert had always been reckless.
Emotional.
Stupidly impulsive.
But even Robert Baratheon knew a threat when he saw one.
And a boy like Karl—a boy who looked like Robert, who acted like Robert in his younger days, who even shared Robert's height and strength—was a threat to someone like Cersei.
In the darkest chambers of her thoughts, Cersei believed the King had plans.
Dangerous plans.
Plans she couldn't allow.
---
Jaime's Defense of Karl
Jaime shook his head slowly.
"Karl Stone's appearance may be strange, yes. But he did nothing wrong."
His voice softened.
"We can't kill an innocent boy simply out of jealousy. Or because of a guess. Or because you're angry with Robert."
Jaime's face grew serious.
"He doesn't know anything, Cersei. And he's no threat to you. Or to Joffrey."
"And even if he did know…"
Jaime stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"So what?"
His golden eyes locked onto hers.
"Only the blood of Lannister and Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne. Only that blood matters. Everything else—the bastards, the rumors, the shadows—they are just vanity."
Empty air.
Nothing that could truly threaten them.
Not unless Cersei let it.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)