“It is a pleasure to see you again, dear brother,” she begins, shifting over in her seat very slightly until her elbow barely brushes Stannis’s. “The court has missed you.”
“I’m afraid I cannot say the same, Your Grace,” he replies stiffly, eyes narrowing in Robert’s direction. The King focuses his attention on the shapely rear end of a comely servant girl, and Cersei watches Stannis wince as his brother’s hand extends to pinch the soft flesh.
When the Master of Ships glances back at her, Cersei takes care to lower her lashes and blush prettily, exhibiting all of the shame that her husband lacks.
“Pay him no mind,” she says softly, inching just a tiny bit closer. “You know how he can be.”
“I do.” When she reaches past him for a carafe of wine, her golden hair brushing over his shoulder, she feels Stannis flinch. A glance across the table at Jaime, twitching with pent-up laughter, and she settles back down into her seat.
“It’s why he needs sensible men around him, men with good heads on their shoulders...” She goes to refill Stannis’s wine glass, only to find that it has not been touched since the feast began.
Her foot creeps toward him under the table, continuing until her ankle brushes against his. Stannis redirects his attention from Robert, whipping his bald head around to give her an incredulous stare. But Cersei just keeps smiling.
“Men like you are a valued commodity here, my lord...whether or not my husband agrees.” She lifts her glass and raises her eyebrows- she can hear him grinding his teeth as he watches her-
Stannis raises his glass just for a moment, clinking it against hers, before placing it back down on the table without taking so much as a sip.
Finally, he drops his head slightly and hisses- “Lord Tywin has already sent me a raven about the situation in Lannisport. I will take his concerns under advisement and act accordingly.”
That startles Cersei enough to straighten her posture and prompt the following- “Whoever said anything about Lannisport, brother?”
All she receives in reply is a harsh sweep of dark eyes over her face, that ascetic, contemptuous glare that can make even the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms feel like the lowest harlot in the whorehouse- she feels her cheeks burning, and her jaw clenches until her own teeth begin to grind together-
Stannis rises, offering her a jerky bow before moving down the table to speak with an unenthusiastic Renly. A rough cough-like sound catches Cersei’s attention; she looks up and fixes her eyes on a gleam of white and gold in the corner. Jaime has his forehead pressed against the wall, his shoulders shaking as he laughs and laughs.
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her goblet, and she considers how satisfying it would be to launch this one at Jaime’s head, then to grab Stannis’s untouched glass and fling it at the sullen, solemn, damnable Master of Ships.
But instead, she slumps down into her seat and drinks one glass of wine, then another, then another, trying and failing to rinse her mouth of the bitter taste of defeat.
FILL: Cersei/Stannis, seduction fail; "Persuasion"; PG (Part Two)
“I’m afraid I cannot say the same, Your Grace,” he replies stiffly, eyes narrowing in Robert’s direction. The King focuses his attention on the shapely rear end of a comely servant girl, and Cersei watches Stannis wince as his brother’s hand extends to pinch the soft flesh.
When the Master of Ships glances back at her, Cersei takes care to lower her lashes and blush prettily, exhibiting all of the shame that her husband lacks.
“Pay him no mind,” she says softly, inching just a tiny bit closer. “You know how he can be.”
“I do.” When she reaches past him for a carafe of wine, her golden hair brushing over his shoulder, she feels Stannis flinch. A glance across the table at Jaime, twitching with pent-up laughter, and she settles back down into her seat.
“It’s why he needs sensible men around him, men with good heads on their shoulders...” She goes to refill Stannis’s wine glass, only to find that it has not been touched since the feast began.
Her foot creeps toward him under the table, continuing until her ankle brushes against his. Stannis redirects his attention from Robert, whipping his bald head around to give her an incredulous stare. But Cersei just keeps smiling.
“Men like you are a valued commodity here, my lord...whether or not my husband agrees.” She lifts her glass and raises her eyebrows- she can hear him grinding his teeth as he watches her-
Stannis raises his glass just for a moment, clinking it against hers, before placing it back down on the table without taking so much as a sip.
Finally, he drops his head slightly and hisses- “Lord Tywin has already sent me a raven about the situation in Lannisport. I will take his concerns under advisement and act accordingly.”
That startles Cersei enough to straighten her posture and prompt the following- “Whoever said anything about Lannisport, brother?”
All she receives in reply is a harsh sweep of dark eyes over her face, that ascetic, contemptuous glare that can make even the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms feel like the lowest harlot in the whorehouse- she feels her cheeks burning, and her jaw clenches until her own teeth begin to grind together-
Stannis rises, offering her a jerky bow before moving down the table to speak with an unenthusiastic Renly. A rough cough-like sound catches Cersei’s attention; she looks up and fixes her eyes on a gleam of white and gold in the corner. Jaime has his forehead pressed against the wall, his shoulders shaking as he laughs and laughs.
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her goblet, and she considers how satisfying it would be to launch this one at Jaime’s head, then to grab Stannis’s untouched glass and fling it at the sullen, solemn, damnable Master of Ships.
But instead, she slumps down into her seat and drinks one glass of wine, then another, then another, trying and failing to rinse her mouth of the bitter taste of defeat.