Chapter 41 — "The Queen's Fury"
Joffrey found his mother in her chambers.
She was sitting at her writing desk with the composed posture of a woman who maintained composure as a woman who has been in politics for far too long.
She looked at her son when he entered.
At his face.
"What happened my boy," she said obviously his face said something.
Jofferey "Mother , those damn dogs has disobey and disrespected me . Thier prince."
Jofferey narrated the whole thing. Obviously tampered and false to his favours.
Joffrey talked and she listened and her expression changed from angry to rage and when he finished she went on a angry mother rage.
"Those direwolves," she shouted
"They almost attacked me," Joffrey said. "In the yard. In front of everyone. They moved towards me and almost—bit me if I hadn't run. Those are crazy animals."
Joffrey's jaw tightened with anger.
Cersei looked at him for a moment.
Then she moved on because some conversations were not useful to finish.
"The Stark children all of them has those filthy wolfs" she said.
"All of them. Even the bastard Snow." He said the name with a specific emphasis — the emphasis of someone who had been told things and was now using them. "He was there. He was the one who intervened first."
Something shifted in Cersei's expression.
Not dramatically. Just the specific quality of a woman receiving information that connected to other information she had been carrying.
Alaric Snow.
She had heard the name at King's Landing far too many times— had heard it from her father, from Tyrion who had found the whole situation amusing, from the women at court who had heard about the incident that led to mocking of Lannister name.The bastard from the North who had apparently decided that Lannister marriages were his particular area of interest.
Lord Tywin, My father had taken it personally.
"He touched your arm," Cersei said.
"He told the Hound to back off," Joffrey said.
"In front of everyone. Like I wasn't—"
"I understand," Cersei said.
She stood.
Robert was where Robert usually was at this hour — in the great hall with wine and with whoever who had been unfortunate enough to be in proximity when he decided he wanted company.
Cersei entered with the specific walk she used when she had something to say and intended to say it regardless of what else was happening.
Robert looked at her.
Put his cup down.
"The direwolves they bit Jofferey almost, those filthy beasts" she said.
"Joffrey was nearly—"
"I heard it Cersei." He said it with the patience of a man who had been hearing things for seventeen years. "Nobody was hurt."
"Nobody was hurt this time," she said.
"Those animals are a threat. They should be removed. All of them."
Robert was quiet for a moment.
"They're Stark children's pets," he said.
"They are wild animals in a castle full of people," Cersei said. "One of those people is your son and heir, who could have been bitten to death."
Robert looked at her.
"And the Snow bastard," she said. Keeping her voice level. "He interfered with the Hound following Joffrey's instruction. In front of the entire yard.Thats a challenge to royal authority. To your authority. That's disrespectful."
"Joffrey was trying to take a direwolf," Robert said.
"That is not—"
"A direwolf Cersei. The sigil of House Stark. In the Stark's own yard." He picked his cup back up. "What did he expect was going to happen."
Cersei's composure worked harder than usual.
"He is your son," she said. "And he was disrespected."
"He was stopped from doing something foolish," Robert said. "There's a difference." He drank. "I'll address it. Tomorrow. I'll speak to Ned and we'll sort it out."
"I want the wolves gone," Cersei said.
"I said I'll address it."
"And the Snow bastard—"
"Cersei." His voice had changed slightly. Not anger exactly — the specific tone of a man indicating that a line had been approached. "Go to bed."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she left.
Robert sat alone with his cup and the dying fire and the specific tired expression of a man managing too many things that shouldn't need managing.
He thought about Ned
.
About the Handship that Ned hadn't formally accepted yet but would because Ned always did what needed doing.
He drank.
Cersei walked the corridor toward her chambers with the composed fury of a woman who had learned to move her anger inward rather than outward and had been doing it for so long it had become structural.
A door opened.
Jaime.
He had the specific quality of someone who had been aware of the conversation and had positioned himself accordingly — not obviously, just available. The way Jaime was always available to her when she needed him to be.
He looked at her face.
Read it completely in the way he had always been able to read it — the way nobody else could, the way she had stopped expecting anyone else to try.
"Come inside," he said quietly.
She went inside.
The door closed.
Later — much later — with the candle burned low and the castle settled into its deep night quiet, Cersei lay looking at the ceiling with the specific stillness of a woman whose mind hadn't stopped moving regardless of what her body had done.
"Snow," she said.
Jaime was quiet for a moment.
Jaime said nothing.
"He needs to understand," Cersei said, "that some things have consequences."
Jaime looked at the ceiling.
He thought about the yard that morning. About the way Alaric Snow had stood between the Hound and the direwolf with his hand on his axe and his eyes completely flat. The specific quality of a fighter who had assessed the situation and made a decision and was not revisiting it.
He had seen that quality before.
In mirrors, mostly.
"He's a bastard with a mercenary company,"Cersie shouted mostly in frustration"He's not—"
"He's Brandon Stark's son," Jamie said. " We need to be careful. Lot of men in the North are crazy enough. But you don't worry. I will kill anyone who will oppose. I will take care of him"
The candle guttered.
In the darkness Jaime stared at the ceiling and thought about a bastard with an axe who had stood his ground against the Hound.
Interesting.