Everything Cersei took pride in—
—beauty, birth, power—
—shattered in an instant.
Her body trembled.
For the first time, fear flickered in those blue eyes.
He knows.
He knows everything.
"You're talking nonsense!"
Her voice cracked.
A desperate attempt to salvage her dignity.
"I don't understand!"
"Don't understand?"
Lynn smiled.
"Then let's discuss something you can understand."
His voice dropped. Each word a blade in her chest.
"Your dear cousin. Lancel Lannister."
"Such a thoughtful boy. When the king went hunting, he prepared wine three times the usual strength."
"After all, a drunk king reacts a bit slower to a boar's tusks. Doesn't he?"
Cersei's pupils contracted. Her breath caught.
Lancel.
She'd only told him.
And she'd been planning exactly that.
But Ned had kept warning Robert not to hunt. Not to drink while hunting.
The plan had failed.
Because of Lynn.
Lynn gave her no room to breathe.
"And poor Lord Jon Arryn."
"He only wanted a book about family lineages. Then he suddenly died of illness."
"His widow—Lady Lysa of the Eyrie—must have been heartbroken."
"Otherwise, why would she write to her sister Catelyn, insisting the Lannisters poisoned him?"
"Oh, and that book Jon Arryn read to tatters? Lord Stark has it now."
"The only reason we haven't confronted you is because we don't want to start anything."
"But if Ned told Robert, you wouldn't just be confined here."
BOOM.
Cersei's world spun.
She staggered back. Her back hit the cold wall. Barely kept herself upright.
"That bitch Lysa!"
"How dare she accuse the Lannisters!"
"We didn't touch Jon!"
Lynn shrugged.
"I know."
"Otherwise, do you think I'd be this polite?"
"So, Your Grace."
"Your enemy isn't Stark."
"It's the snake hiding in the shadows. Trying to make the wolf and lion tear each other apart."
Cersei tried to speak.
Lynn cut her off.
"I'm not done, Your Grace. Don't rush."
His calm smile looked more terrifying than any demon.
"Your greatest asset is your father, Duke Tywin. And Lannister gold."
"But do you know? The mines west of Casterly Rock haven't produced real gold in ten years."
"Your invincible father has been borrowing from the Iron Bank of Braavos to maintain the family's image."
"A hollow shell... How long do you think it can protect you?"
If the earlier words were knives—
—this was a battering ram.
It shattered the last wall around Cersei's heart.
She was finished.
Completely finished.
Before this man, she had no secrets.
She was a prisoner stripped bare. Waiting for his judgment.
"No... no..."
Cersei shook her head. Golden hair stuck to her pale face. Eyes unfocused.
"How do you know? Who told you?"
Suddenly, she grasped at a straw.
Madness flared in her eyes.
"Tyrell! Yes! The Tyrells!"
"I'll have Joffrey marry Margaery Tyrell!"
"With Highgarden's support—the Reach's grain and armies—none of you can touch the Lannisters!"
She screamed like a drowning woman.
"Brilliant idea, Your Grace."
Lynn even clapped.
"But you forgot two things."
"First, Joffrey is a prince. His marriage needs the king's approval."
"Do you think Robert will agree to a match that strengthens you and the Lannisters?"
"Second..."
His tone turned mocking.
"Even if the king agreed—do you think the ambitious Tyrells would let their 'Rose of Highgarden' marry a... bastard with tainted blood?"
"Once that secret leaks, will the Tyrells offer friendship—or turn their two hundred thousand soldiers against you?"
"Or perhaps... pledge their loyalty to the king?"
A perfect trap.
Every hope. Every escape route.
Blocked.
Cersei's pride crumbled before absolute information dominance.
"What... what do you want?"
Her voice went flat.
"Simple."
Lynn stepped close.
Reached out.
Brushed the back of his fingers across her cold, terrified cheek.
The gentle touch made her body jolt.
"You see, Your Grace."
His voice was a lover's whisper. But it carried absolute command.
"Your secrets. Your wealth. Your family's future."
"None of it matters to me."
"But..."
He paused. A flicker of desire in his black eyes.
"I'm a generous man."
"I'll give you a choice."
Cersei slapped his hand away.
"Show some respect!"
"I'm the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!"
Lynn smiled. Withdrew his hand.
"Remember. Only you and I know this secret."
"If you tell anyone—"
"I'll make sure your secrets spread across King's Landing in a single night."
Cersei collapsed onto a velvet couch.
Robert isn't dead.
As long as he lives, no one will ally with the Lannisters.
Robert already hates us.
He'll never let us grow stronger.
All her schemes depended on Robert being dead.
She had no choice.
"What... choice?"
Her voice was weak.
Lynn nodded, satisfied.
"Simple, Your Grace."
"Submit to me."
Cersei's breath stopped.
She stared into his predatory eyes.
Understood the meaning behind those words.
A humiliation worse than death.
"NEVER!"
She screamed. Raised her hand to slap him.
Lynn caught her wrist.
His grip was iron. She felt her bones creak.
"Your Grace. Think carefully."
His voice went cold.
"You have no leverage left."
"If I walk out that door and whisper half a sentence of what we discussed—"
"You. Your three children. Jaime. All of House Lannister—gone."
"Renly. Stannis. Ned. Every lord loyal to the king will be thrilled to destroy you."
"Even the Lannisters can't survive that."
Lynn released her. Stepped back.
Adjusted his cloak. As if nothing had happened.
"Of course, you can refuse."
"The choice is yours."
He looked down at her. Like a hunter admiring his prize.
"But if you obey, these secrets stay buried."
"While I'm gone, as long as you don't touch the Starks, I guarantee your safety. And your children's."
"And if you submit—"
"I promise. As long as I live, House Lannister will survive."
"No matter how the realm burns."
"Think about it, Your Grace."
"It's a good deal."
Lynn turned toward the door.
Not to save the Lannisters. Just to keep them from causing trouble while I'm gone.
"Oh. One more thing."
His hand on the doorknob, he glanced back.
"Don't tell anyone. Not Jaime. Not Tyrion. Not Tywin."
"I'll return tonight."
"I hope you'll have an answer."
"Don't make me bring my gold cloaks to fetch you."
He paused.
"And that mole on your inner thigh? Very... distracting."
SLAM.
The heavy door closed.
His footsteps faded down the corridor.
Cersei sat alone.
Disbelief on her face.
How does he know?
That place—no one should know—
Is he truly omniscient?
She slid to the floor. Her black gown pooled around her.
Fear consumed her.
Finally.
A single hot tear slipped from her blue eyes.
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