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The moment the words left her mouth, Cersei felt the panic drain out of her and something sharper take its place.
Crisis was opportunity.
Her father had taught her that, even if he never believed she was smart enough to learn it.
"A better idea?" Obara's smile showed teeth. "Let's hear it, Lannister."
"First," Cersei said, lifting her chin even though she was half-naked and clutching a sheet, "you will learn some manners. When you speak to the Queen Regent, you put your weapons down."
The three Sand Snakes looked at each other.
"You giving us orders now?" Tyene raised an eyebrow.
"I'm reminding you," Cersei answered, voice steady. "If you actually want to save your sister, you need to act like adults. Otherwise you won't even make it out the Red Keep's gates, let alone rescue Nymeria Sand."
Obara's grip tightened on her spear, but she didn't move.
Sarella leaned in and whispered, "Big sister, she might have a point…"
"Shut up," Obara snapped without turning.
Cersei kept her eyes on Obara. "Do you want to save your sister or not?"
"But why would you help us?" Obara asked. "Your father said Lannisters are all liars and murderers."
"I already told you. My daughter is betrothed to Prince Trystane."
"So we're family now?"
Cersei's mouth twitched. "…Something like that."
Before she could press further, footsteps sounded outside the door.
Ser Balon Swann's voice called out. "Your Grace? We heard noise. Is everything all right?"
The Sand Snakes raised their weapons at once, ready to fight their way out.
Cersei's heart jumped, but she answered loudly and clearly. "I'm fine, Ser Balon!"
A pause. "Are you certain, Your Grace? I thought I heard strangers."
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
"…As you command, Your Grace."
The footsteps faded.
The Sand Snakes slowly lowered their weapons.
"You really mean it?" Obara asked. "You'll help us?"
Cersei allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. "I told you. We're not enemies."
Obara was quiet for a few seconds. Then she said, voice much less hostile, "Maybe… we're not."
Tyene still looked doubtful. "Father always told us never to trust a Lannister."
Cersei didn't argue. Instead she let her expression shift into something weary and wounded — the look of a woman who had been beautiful, powerful, and still treated like nothing.
She knew exactly how to use that face.
"It's true," she said softly. "I am a Lannister. Tywin Lannister's eldest daughter. And he has never trusted me. Not once."
She gave a bitter little laugh. "I'm smarter than Jaime. I'm a thousand times more capable than that twisted little dwarf. But he would rather pin all his hopes on a one-handed brother than let me touch real power."
"He never saw me as an heir. Only as a tool. A broodmare to be married off for advantage."
For a moment the room was silent.
"She really does sound miserable…" Sarella muttered.
Obara nodded, voice rising with sudden heat. "Women should not be treated this way!"
"Princess Nymeria crossed the Narrow Sea with ten thousand ships and carved a kingdom with her own hands! Her light was brighter than any man's!"
"Without women there is no Dorne!"
"Without women there is no Dorne!"
"Without women there is no Dorne!"
All three Sand Snakes struck their chests and shouted together.
Cersei blinked.
She hadn't even started her real performance yet, and they were already on fire.
This was better than she could have hoped.
"So you understand my position," she said, voice warm with shared pain. "I hate my father. That's why I'm willing to help you."
All three nodded, looking at her with genuine sympathy.
Cersei felt a rush of satisfaction. These women were almost too easy.
"So what's your plan?" Obara asked.
Cersei leaned back against the pillows, the Queen Regent once more. "You want to rescue Nymeria, yes?"
They nodded.
"But running around the Red Keep like this will only get you caught. There are hundreds of Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard. You think you can fight your way through all of them?"
Tyene opened her mouth. "We already knocked out one—"
"And he was the weakest one," Cersei cut in. "What happens when you meet the rest?"
Tyene shut up.
"So, ladies," Cersei said smoothly, "you need an inside ally. Someone who knows the Red Keep and can help you at the right moment."
She placed a hand on her own chest.
"Me."
"I'll help you free Nymeria. In return, you help me… remove certain obstacles."
Obara's eyes narrowed. "You want us to work for you?"
"Not work for me. Cooperate."
"What would we have to do?" Tyene asked.
Cersei smiled, sweet and dangerous. "It's simple. Stay close to me. Pose as my serving women."
" Serving women?" Tyene's voice shot up so high it nearly cracked the ceiling.
Even Obara and Sarella looked offended. "Sand Snakes don't become slaves."
Cersei bit back the urge to call them idiots and explained patiently. "Not real serving women. Just a cover so you can stay in the Red Keep openly. You'll be able to search for Nymeria without raising suspicion… and deal with my problems at the same time."
The three of them exchanged glances, thinking it over.
After a long moment Obara asked, "Can we keep our weapons?"
Cersei's eye twitched. "…No."
"Why not?!"
"Because serving women don't carry weapons. Only Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks are allowed swords inside the Red Keep."
"What if someone tries to kill us?"
"No one in the Red Keep would dare attack the Queen Regent's people."
"But you just said there are hundreds of Gold Cloaks—"
"Enough!" Cersei snapped, rubbing her temples. "You can keep weapons if you hide them. But they stay hidden. Understood?"
The three nodded reluctantly.
Then Tyene raised her hand again.
Cersei closed her eyes and counted to five. "What now?"
"If we're pretending to be serving women… what about Nymeria? How do we save her?"
"I'll handle that."
"When?"
"When I find the right moment."
"What if she can't wait that long?"
Cersei took a slow breath. These women had the collective attention span of a drunk squirrel.
"I have someone on the inside," she said. "If your sister is in any immediate danger, he'll tell me."
Tyene leaned forward. "Who?"
Cersei's mind raced. She needed a name they would believe.
"Ser Taubert Hetherspoon," she said at once. "Captain of my father's personal guard. His daughter was secretly executed on my father's orders when she was eleven."
The Sand Snakes looked thoughtful.
Cersei allowed herself a small internal smile. It was true enough. Taubert's daughter Mela had been her childhood friend. She really had died at eleven. And Tywin really had given the order.
Cersei just happened to be the one who asked him to do it.
"When can we meet this Taubert?" Obara asked.
Cersei's stomach dropped.
Meet him? Now? She hadn't even turned the man yet.
But if she refused, the fragile trust she had just built would shatter.
She forced her face to stay calm. "Tomorrow. It's late."
"No," Tyene said stubbornly. "Now."
Cersei's eye twitched again. "Now? In the middle of the night—"
"You said he answers to you," Sarella pointed out innocently. "Wouldn't calling him in the middle of the night prove it?"
Cersei stared at her.
The little one had a point.
And if she pushed back now, everything she had gained could collapse.
Fuck.
She would have to turn Taubert on the spot. He didn't know she had asked for his daughter's death. Given how much he had loved the girl, it shouldn't be impossible.
If it failed, she could always have these three idiots arrested later.
She made her decision and turned toward the corner where Osney Kettleblack was still huddled under a sheet, shaking.
"Osney."
"Y-Your Grace?"
"Go fetch Ser Taubert Hetherspoon. Now."
Osney's eyes went wide. "Now? But—"
"Do it. Stop wasting time."
Osney looked at the three armed Sand Snakes, then at his unconscious brother on the floor, and swallowed hard.
Cersei softened her voice just enough. "They won't hurt you. Go."
Osney nodded shakily, wrapped the sheet tighter around himself, and edged toward the door.
"Wait," Obara said.
Osney froze.
She walked up to him, studied his face for a moment, then grinned. "You're not going to call for help, are you?"
"N-No! I swear I'll obey the Queen Regent!"
"Good." Obara patted his cheek. "Remember — people who keep their mouths shut live longer."
Osney fled.
Cersei watched him go and prayed silently that he would actually bring Taubert back.
Outside Maegor's Holdfast, the night air was cool.
Osney stumbled down the steps wrapped in the silk sheet, nearly tripping over the hem. He steadied himself against the wall and let out a long breath.
Seven hells.
Tonight had been more exciting than the rest of his life combined.
First three Dornish madwomen burst in while he was in the Queen Regent's bed. Then they pointed spears at her. Then Cersei somehow talked them into being "family." And now she wanted him to fetch the captain of the guard in the middle of the night while wearing nothing but a bedsheet.
He was halfway down the stairs when a voice came from the shadows.
"Ser Osney?"
Osney nearly fell down the rest of the steps.
He spun around. A young Gold Cloak stood there, looking confused.
Thank the gods. One of his own.
But then Osney remembered what he was wearing. If word of this got out he would never live it down.
"You—you—you stay right there!" he hissed, pointing.
The Gold Cloak stopped.
Osney tried to arrange the sheet into something vaguely dignified. It was impossible. Eventually he just threw one end over his shoulder like a cloak and straightened up.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "What is it?"
The Gold Cloak stared at the embroidered sheet, then wisely decided not to comment.
"Ser… there's a problem with the business."
Osney blinked. "Business? What business?"
The man lowered his voice. "The child business."
Osney's brain finally caught up. "What happened?"
The Gold Cloak swallowed. "Tonight the boys grabbed someone in Flea Bottom. They… they got the wrong person."
"Wrong person?" Osney frowned. "So they grabbed a girl instead? Just grab two next time. The price is lower but—"
"No, ser. They didn't grab a child at all. They grabbed…"
"Lord Tyrion Lannister."
Osney felt his mind go white.
Tyrion Lannister?
The Imp?
His own men had snatched him?
"What the fuck did you just say?"
"It's true, ser! They were supposed to take a little boy. It was dark. The Imp was pissing in an alley and… well, he's small. They thought he was a child."
Osney opened and closed his mouth several times.
Tonight was completely insane.
First Dornish assassins. Then the Queen Regent turning the assassins. Now his own kidnapping crew had accidentally taken the Hand of the King's son.
"Where is he?" he finally managed.
"Still at the usual drop point. They realized the mistake after they delivered him and didn't know what to do. They sent me to find you."
Osney stared at nothing for a long moment.
Cersei was waiting for him to bring Taubert Hetherspoon.
But his men had just kidnapped Tywin Lannister's son.
If this went wrong, they were all dead.
He made his choice.
"Go," he told the Gold Cloak. "Right now. Find Ser Taubert Hetherspoon. Tell him the Queen Regent needs him urgently."
The man hesitated. "But ser—"
"Now!"
The Gold Cloak nodded and ran.
Osney stood alone on the steps, clutching the silk sheet around himself.
Tyrion Lannister…
He shook his head and started down the stairs again, the embroidered sheet flapping in the night wind like the wings of a very lost moth.
Please, he thought. Please don't let anything else go wrong tonight.