When the lords gather for council, Cersei expects a seat at the far end of the table- this is unprecedented in the South, after all, and surely Ned will not wish to alienate his wardens and vassals. But she finds her chair positioned directly to the right of her husband; Jon Arryn looks a little ruffled, but he does not dare to object.
They begin, and Cersei is at once unsure- she has plenty to say, that isn’t the trouble, but she has no knowledge of protocol or hierarchy...
Her fears are quickly dispelled when Ned turns to her and asks her directly for her opinions. And then she speaks, softly and quietly at first, but her poise and confidence grow as the hours pass. A tingle of pleasure sweeps through her body when she imagines what the future will bring- Queen Cersei of Houses Lannister and Stark, the Lion Queen, the Golden Lady, the great diplomat, the famed wit, a warrior who fights not with iron and steel, but with words and cleverness.
I am the first of my kind, and the bards will sing of me for centuries after I’m gone.
They discuss fairly small matters at first- the division of coin, the state of the grain supply, the management of the ports. Cersei glances across the table at Robert Baratheon, who props his elbow on the table and drops his head into his hand, blue eyes hooded as he yawns. Probably drunk already, the fool.
But there is a tension in the air, palpable and uncomfortable. The subject that lurks in everyone’s minds, which no one can decide how to broach. Cersei has her father to thank for her own awareness- he’d pulled her into a corner that morning and told her what must be done, for the good of the country, for the good of their family. She’d gritted her teeth and nearly laughed in his face- you think to tell me what must be done, when you only have a place on this council because I begged Ned to re-admit you?
(Although Lord Tywin had sworn up and down that he did not order the murder of Princess Elia and her children, that it was all an unfortunate mistake- his overzealous men were to blame- Ned had wanted the crown to seize Casterly Rock’s holdings and to send the Warden of the West to the Wall. And he would have done, if she hadn’t asked mercy for her father. The words itched at her mouth nearly every time she spoke with Lord Tywin, but to tell him, to make him understand that he owed his livelihood to his daughter- petty and childish. Not the behavior of a Golden Queen of legend.)
And now he wishes to kill another innocent child. Her husband’s nephew, the Targaryen bastard- she hadn’t known what to do, when Ned placed the child in her arms and insisted that they take him in, asked her to try to love him as her own. She’d been furious at first- must I be constantly reminded that Rhaegar Targaryen chose not one woman over me, but two? But when she looked into the baby’s little pink face, with the long-lashed grey eyes...when she stroked her finger over the pitch-dark hair- just like Ned’s...
She hasn’t been paying attention for several moments now, and she jerks back to reality at the cool, crisp sound of her father’s voice. He’s done it, he’s asked Ned about Jon...
FILL: Cersei/Ned; Rebellion outcome; "The Lion Queen"; PG-13 (Part Two)
They begin, and Cersei is at once unsure- she has plenty to say, that isn’t the trouble, but she has no knowledge of protocol or hierarchy...
Her fears are quickly dispelled when Ned turns to her and asks her directly for her opinions. And then she speaks, softly and quietly at first, but her poise and confidence grow as the hours pass. A tingle of pleasure sweeps through her body when she imagines what the future will bring- Queen Cersei of Houses Lannister and Stark, the Lion Queen, the Golden Lady, the great diplomat, the famed wit, a warrior who fights not with iron and steel, but with words and cleverness.
I am the first of my kind, and the bards will sing of me for centuries after I’m gone.
They discuss fairly small matters at first- the division of coin, the state of the grain supply, the management of the ports. Cersei glances across the table at Robert Baratheon, who props his elbow on the table and drops his head into his hand, blue eyes hooded as he yawns. Probably drunk already, the fool.
But there is a tension in the air, palpable and uncomfortable. The subject that lurks in everyone’s minds, which no one can decide how to broach. Cersei has her father to thank for her own awareness- he’d pulled her into a corner that morning and told her what must be done, for the good of the country, for the good of their family. She’d gritted her teeth and nearly laughed in his face- you think to tell me what must be done, when you only have a place on this council because I begged Ned to re-admit you?
(Although Lord Tywin had sworn up and down that he did not order the murder of Princess Elia and her children, that it was all an unfortunate mistake- his overzealous men were to blame- Ned had wanted the crown to seize Casterly Rock’s holdings and to send the Warden of the West to the Wall. And he would have done, if she hadn’t asked mercy for her father. The words itched at her mouth nearly every time she spoke with Lord Tywin, but to tell him, to make him understand that he owed his livelihood to his daughter- petty and childish. Not the behavior of a Golden Queen of legend.)
And now he wishes to kill another innocent child. Her husband’s nephew, the Targaryen bastard- she hadn’t known what to do, when Ned placed the child in her arms and insisted that they take him in, asked her to try to love him as her own. She’d been furious at first- must I be constantly reminded that Rhaegar Targaryen chose not one woman over me, but two? But when she looked into the baby’s little pink face, with the long-lashed grey eyes...when she stroked her finger over the pitch-dark hair- just like Ned’s...
She hasn’t been paying attention for several moments now, and she jerks back to reality at the cool, crisp sound of her father’s voice. He’s done it, he’s asked Ned about Jon...