Chapter 7
It took but a brief second to sense that something was off with the city, as soon as the retinue walked in through the gates. It was late, and yet the city was wide awake, and the guards were all making rounds, while whispers and murmurs drummed through the air.
Steffon was not the only one to notice it all, as everyone became nervous, as Jaime Lannister rode ahead, his hand ready to draw the blade at once.
"Something is wrong," he whispered, and Steffon would agree with him, as he feared the worst. So, he rode forward and summoned a guard unit patrolling the streets.
The captain saw the glistening white armor of the Kingsguard and bowed immediately.
"Ser Jaime. We have been waiting for you," and Jaime nodded.
"What is going on?" he asked without wasting his time, as Steffon prepared himself for the worst.
"We are searching for the traitor, ser Jaime," and those eyes fell onto him, and Steffon was easy to make out within the group with his red and gold armor.
"The one who attacked Prince Steffon," he finished, and the entire retinue perked up at that.
"Who is it?" Jaime Lannister asked, with a promise of violence in his tone.
"It was the Master of Coin. Petyr Baelish...."
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CERSEI LANNISTER
The atmosphere in the King's chambers was chilling as Cersei paced in the room, while Robert sat there on his seat with his face flushed.
"How could you let this happen?" she raged at the Master of Whispers, whose job it was to guard the King and his family against such hidden threats, and yet somehow he had let one of them sit on the Small Council for years.
Robert's silence was an endorsement of her question, as he looked to the Spider as well, seeking an answer.
"Your grace, Petyr Baelish was brought to the Capitol by the late Lord Hand himself, and for all intents and purposes, Lord Arryn trusted him greatly," and she ground her teeth at the mention of the late hand, yet this was good news for her.
"Because of that, it never occurred to me to look into a man who was such a close confidante of our King's Hand," and Robert's anger rose, as the name of his former Hand was maligned.
"You dare accuse Jon Arryn of colluding against me!" and his voice thundered across the room, as the Spider quickly shook his head.
"Of course not, your grace. I am merely saying that the traitor Baelish used his own history with Lord Arryn's family to hide his true nature," and no matter how much he may bristle at the allegations, yet it was obvious to her that the fault lay in Jon Arryn.
"Why would he even do something like this? Steffon has never done anything to him," she asked, and now the Spider turned towards her, and she refused to believe that he had not looked into someone like Baelish, yet she would not voice it out for the Spider was a man of many secrets.
And she had a few secrets of her own.
"While I cannot be sure, I believe this pertains to the letter you received from Lord Tywin some days back," and Robert frowned, clearly not making the connection.
"What letter?" he asked in frustration.
"The Crown has long relied on the mines of Casterly Rock for its Gold, and the debt has ballooned quite a bit over the years. Lord Tywin believed that the Crown's gold was being stolen or mismanaged, and so he had asked Prince Steffon to investigate the matter," and now it made sense.
"He was stealing from us as well!" she raged, and the Spider shook his head.
"I am afraid I cannot say with certainty, yet that seems to be the truth of it. Perhaps he feared that upon seeing the ledgers, Prince Steffon would see that he was stealing from the Crown, and so he decided to assassinate him just to protect his secrets," and this was becoming more and more convoluted by every passing second.
"Where is he now? I want that bastard found so that I can crush him whole!" Robert raged, and she scoffed from the side, for he was the one who bore all the blame for this.
He had done nothing but drown himself in wine and whores all these years while he let that old fool run the realm for him, and that had nearly cost her the life of her son.
"We are searching for him, but he has always been a step ahead of us. There are trails that have him heading for the Vale, while other trails show him leaving the Capitol through the docks," and she doubted they would find him now.
"Find him, Spider! Find him!" Robert's fist hit the arm of his chair as the Spider bowed his head and made to leave until she called out to him one last time.
"What about Steffon? When will he arrive?" she asked, as the bald man from Myr turned to face her once more.
"The Prince's retinue is an hour's ride from the capital. They will reach the city by tonight," and that made her give a sigh of relief, as the Spider left the room with a final nod, as she finally stopped pacing and took the seat opposite to Robert, whose face was morphed with pain, indecision, and rage.
"He is lying," she began, as Robert raised a brow.
"I refuse to believe that he did not know about Baelish's actions," and Robert looked at the door as he spoke out.
"Maybe," and so he had doubts about his loyalty as well.
"Still, why would he do such a thing?" and she shrugged.
"Because they see that you have no interest in being King," and the fault for all this lay with him. He and that bitch whose shadow still hung over these walls, and with the years gone by, she could hardly picture her face, and yet to this day, Lyanna Stark's shadow still haunted her life.
"You have spent all these years as King drinking wine and fucking whores, while you let a fool like Jon Arryn rule in your stead..."
"DO NOT INSULT THAT MAN!" Robert's voice boomed as those blue eyes met her own.
"Jon Arryn was like a father to me, and I will hear no such words against him," but she had long lost her patience.
"Who else am I to blame them! He was your hand, and yet he let a traitor onto your council, who not only stole from us but nearly killed my son! MY SON! That old fool...." and the goblet came for her in the blink of an eye, and it was only by luck that she tilted her head slightly that only its edge hit the side of her forehead.
CLANK!
"AGHHH!" she grunted in pain, as the copper clanked on the ground and she felt her palm grow wet. The pain was sharp and piercing, and as she looked at her palm, she saw her hand fill with blood, before she scoffed and looked up at her lord husband, and the pain was enough to make her tear up, yet she held them back, as she refused to back down.
"I should have expected nothing less. You can do nothing against the men who nearly killed your son, and yet you feel so powerful attacking a woman like me," and he was embarrassed, and yet she cared as she pushed herself up from the chair.
"Cer..." he tried to speak, but she was not listening. Not anymore.
"Jon Arryn was a fool for trusting scum like Baelish, and you are a greater fool for putting your trust in a feeble old man like him," and he bristled at those words, yet she did not wait for him to roar once more, as she turned and walked out of the room, still cradling her bleeding forehead.
The guards outside saw her bleeding and immediately moved to help her.
"Take me to my chambers, and bring my Pycelle," she ordered, and the Kingsguard led her to her chambers. It took nearly three full pieces of cloth to stop the bleeding until Pycelle came in with his acolytes and began to clean up the wound.
"It is a deep wound, your grace. I will have to sew the skin, and it might leave a scar," and she scoffed at that.
"I will wear it proudly," and in that moment, she missed Jaime much, as Pycelle reached for a bottle and presented it to her.
"Milk of Poppy, to dull the pain," and she shook her head, as she took a glass of wine and drowned it whole.
"No," she denied the whitish liquid.
"Steffon is set to return in sometime. I have not seen my son in four years," and that was through her own fault.
"I will bear the pain," and Pycelle's lips thinned.
"Sewing a cut like this can be very painful. It would be wise...."
"Do it, Pycelle," she ordered, and the Grand Maester straightened at her roar.
"I am not afraid of pain," and she never had been, as the aged Maester relented and picked up his needle and thread, and she felt it pierce through her skin, as her nails bit into the arm of her chair, yet she sat still, even as tears slid down her face because of the pain.
Yet not a single complaint escaped her lips, as Pycelle cut the thread.
"That was the last one," and she finally took a deep breath, and the pain was sharp and piercing, and yet she would bear it all.
"I will leave this right here. You should take a few sips, my Queen. It will help you sleep," and she nodded, as she glanced out the window and saw the darkness, and just then she heard the bells ring, indicating the return of her son.
"He is here," and she rose from the chair.
"Your grace. There is blood on your clo...." and she did not care, as she walked out of her chambers, as the guards all trailed behind her. They walked through the corridors and climbed down the stairs until she was at the main Hall, where her eyes found him at once.
She had not seen him for four years, and yet all it took was a single glance to know that it was her son. He stood beside Jaime, while facing Joffrey, and the air seemed thick with tension, to no surprise, for despite being twins much like herself and Jaime, Steffon and Joffrey had never seen eye to eye.
"Steffon..." she called out, as those eyes found her and she saw them turn to her face, before they narrowed onto the wound on her forehead, and in the next second, he had moved past Joffrey, as he broke into a stride towards her.
"What happened to you..." and she did not answer him with words as she wrapped her arms around him, and that one moment had tears sliding down her face, as she basked in the warmth of her son.
'You have grown so much," and indeed he had. He was now a bit taller and broader than Joffrey, and the difference between them was evident, unlike her and Jaime, who were so alike that the servants would often confuse one for the other.
Still, he pushed her back as his eyes refused to leave her wound.
"What happened?" he asked again.
"Nothing," she lied, and he did not believe her.
"You are lying," and Jaime stepped forward and stood beside her son, as Joffrey gave them a scowl. He saw her wound and the blood on her clothes, yet he simply walked away with a scoff, and usually she would have followed after her eldest, but it had been years since she had laid eyes on her twin.
With Jaime looking down at her, she could not lie as she leaned forward and whispered the truth.
"It was Robert," and their expressions turned cold at once.
"He did not take it kindly when I insulted our late Hand who let a traitor enter these Halls," and Jaime's lips thinned as well.
"We have heard," and by now the entire Capitol knew, for the guards were all searching for the bastard.
"The sutures. They seem recent," Steffon asked, as his eyes narrowed.
"The Maester should have offered you milk of Poppy to dull the pain," and she smiled, as she refused to let go of his hands.
"He did, but I did not take it because I wanted to meet my son," and she saw the rage in those eyes melt away, and he always had been the kindest and most caring of her children, and that was why his indifference had hurt her so much.
"You should have taken it. We could have met in the morning," he retorted in frustration, and she gently caressed her face as she gave him a brittle smile.
"This pain is nothing compared to what you have caused me in the last four years," and tears threatened to slide down her face once more, as his face grew stiff at her complaint.
"I wrote to you, nearly a hundred times, and yet you never answered," she finished, as Steffon sighed.
"I was angry," he answered, and she knew that.
"I had no choice. You were so young, and I was afraid that you woud...."
"Not here," Steffon cut in quickly.
"We will go to my chambers," she offered, and Steffon nodded as she turned to Jaime.
"Where is Tyrion?" and he shrugged his shoulders.
"You should already know," and she should have.
"The guards. They are all searching for that traitor, but I do not trust any of them. Have them report to you rather than that fool Slynt, and see if you can find a trail of that traitor," and Jaime nodded.
"Leave it to me," and so they began to move once more, as Steffon slowly led her to the Queen's chambers, and once inside, silence filled the room.
And now that she had gotten a look at him, she began to take in all of the changes. Four years had made him much different, and one could clearly see her father's influence in his mannerisms.
His hair was short and well-combed, and the calluses on his hand told her much about the life that he had lived. But she knew that well. Her father was a hard man, and sending her son to him had been a difficult choice, but she was left no choice.
She had to send him away.
"I am sorry," she apologised, and Steffon met her gaze.
"You should have trusted me," he answered with some heat.
"You should have talked to me. Yet instead, you poisoned and sent to me the Casterly Rock in the middle of the night," and to this day, her actions haunted her sleep.
"I was afraid," she defended herself.
"What you saw that day was someth...."
"Unnatural," he answered, and the words struck her.
"Do not name our union...."
"I will not lecture you about morality or vows, but that was entirely unnatural," and he seemed so much like her father in that moment that she could feel his presence ooze from him.
"I do not judge you for it, but you should have trusted me. I am your son, and yet you..." and she did not let him say anything more, as she wrapped her arms around him.
"You are right. I should have trusted you, and I am sorry that I could not," and she heard him sigh as he wrapped his arms around her.
"So be it. I believe four years of indifference was punishment enough," and so it was punishment indeed, and he could be so cruel.
"You are so much like your grandfather," and he always had been, and she heard him chuckle slightly at her words as he pushed her away.
"You should rest," he said, and she shook her head.
"We have not talked in four years. There is so much I want to know," and he was resolute in his decision.
"You are in pain," he whispered softly, and he was not all Tywin Lannister.
"You should take that milk of Poppy and sleep. We can talk later," and she wanted to ask him a thousand questions. She wanted to know what he had done at Casterly Rock these four years. She wanted to know what he had learned.
She wanted to ask him about everything, and yet she refrained, for their time would come.
"I will be going to my chambers now," and so she nodded, as he headed for the door, yet he stopped while his hand was on the handle.
"About that night," and his voice was a whisper as he spoke those words, and those words filled her with shame once again.
"I have never made a mention of it ever, and I never intend on doing so," and he was her son.
"You can be assured that I will take your secret to the grave...."
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