Chapter 28

“So, does anyone care to explain why this session is being held at night?” Ser Jamie Lannister spoke first, turning to Ser Loras in his capacity as Hand.

“In deference to our Lord Commander of the City Watch, Ser Jamie. He ... has issues with sunlight. Or rather his companions here do,” Ser Loras explained patiently to the Kingslayer.

“I ... see. So, where’s Cersei? I haven’t seen her at all since I returned from Dorne. I dreaded seeing her again because I came home empty-handed, but ... now I would rather face a cross Cersei than no Cersei at all. Incidentally, expect to see Prince Trystane Martell and my niece, Myrcella, arrived very soon indeed. Trystane will take Prince Oberyn’s seat on the Small Council. That was the wish of Prince Doran Martell himself. Also, it appears that Ellaria Sand is now dead,” Ser Jamie elaborated.

“Cersei has ... disappeared. I haven’t seen her since she confronted Lord Waters here. With me and Grand Maester Pycelle. Pycelle is dead, too. I should tell you that Cersei here was intimate with Lord Waters, but that she felt humiliated by the buggery part,” Qyburn was a bit self-serving in his choice of words, no longer accusing me of rape.

“You buggered the Queen Regent, my sister?” Ser Jamie grew angry now.

“Queen Mother, and only once, Ser Jamie. It’s not as if she’s been faithful to you, Ser Jamie Never has, even though you’ve been quite devoted to her to the exclusion of all else. Ser Jamie, look at me. You will not concern yourself with Cersei’s absence. She has left us and she isn’t coming back. You will not concern yourself with Cersei’s intimacy with other men. Or women, for that matter. You will instead take Bernadette here to bed and often. And plenty of other women, too.

“Bernadette, look at me. You’re now Ser Jamie’s mistress, his lover, though he will have other women and you will continue to sleep with me, too. You will sleep with other men as I direct you and as Ser Jamie directs you as well. You will serve as Mistress of Whispers, too, and keep a seat on the Small Council. Ser Loras, look at me. You will advise the King to formally appoint her to the Small Council as Mistress of Whispers.

“Qyburn, look at me. You’re Grand Maester now. Don’t worry about your expulsion. We’ll work that out with the Citadel. We need someone to replace Pycelle, after all. This is a post better suited to your talents than Master of Whispers. You like potions, experiments, bold ideas. This is grist for your mill.

“All of you, look at me. Do not concern yourself with my ability to glamor each of you. I am not human or mortal. I am Nosferatu, the Undead. I am immortal. I have powers drawn from blood magic. You are here because I wish it so. You sit here, at this Small Council table, not ruled by the High Sparrow and his Sparrows and his septons and septas because I led a revolt against him.

“Speaking of which, it’s high time to mount his head on a spike for all to see. We need to make an example of fanatics like him. Lancel Lannister, however, should be sent to the Wall and given the chance to take the black. We don’t need to tax Lord Tarly here with too much and we don’t wish to make Ser Kevan here suffer the death of his son. And the septas and septons shall do their Walk of Atonement, of course. They have much to answer for, after all,” I chuckled while my companions stood behind us and smirked.

“Are those women ... naked?” Lady Olenna Tyrell noted that Jenny and Carrie still wore nothing.

“Yes, of course. Lady Olenna, look at me. Do not concern yourself with my naked women. They wish to be naked. Leave them be. Tell me, O Queen of Thorns, are you proud of your son and grandson, not to mention your granddaughter? You should be. They’ve accomplished very much now, though it’s a lot easier now that King Joffrey is dead. That little prick had to die, didn’t he? That’s why you cooked up that little scheme with Littlefinger and Ser Dontos to get rid of him,” I declared, making Lady Olenna cough a bit.

“Wait, are you saying that Lady Olenna here conspired to murder King Joffrey and replace him with King Tommen? That’s my nephew we’re speaking of here! Both of them are,” Ser Jamie snapped now.

“Oh, come off it! We both know that they’re not just your nephews. They’re your sons, too. King Joffrey was your son with Cersei. Same with King Tommen here. Nobody’s fooled here. It’s the worst kept secret in Westeros, between their blonde locks, Ned Stark’s beheading, and the letter that Lord Stannis sent around the Seven Kingdoms!

“Myrcella’s your daughter as well as your niece! Let’s not pretend among us like we do in public. I don’t give a fig if Tommen’s a usurper. So was Robert Baratheon, but he ruled well enough, debts aside, for seventeen long and happy years. Hell, the Targaryens usurped all Seven Kingdoms from their original monarchs, so there’s that, too!

“I don’t mind that Lady Olenna had King Joffrey whacked! Killed, that is. Tommen’s better than Joffrey, better than Stannis, and no worse than Myrcella would be if she was Queen. As Ser Jorah Mormont told Daenerys Targaryen some time back, when advising her, the common folk certainly don’t give a fat fuck who sits the Iron Throne, lawful heir or usurper, as long as they have peace and prosperity!

“Don’t give me that look, Lord Tarly! Killing Joffrey wasn’t an obscene act the way that murdering Robb Stark and his Volantene bride at Edmure Tully’s wedding was. As for the incest, well, hey, the Lannisters did better than the Targaryens at it, so far at least. Don’t repeat it, though,” I rather mockingly chided an embarrassed Ser Jamie.

“You find all of this amusing?” Lord Mace Tyrell asked me in some shock.

“Yes, because I think that we’re among friends here, or at least we should be. Friends should know about each other’s sins and foibles, I believe. Relax, Ser Kevan. I personally intervened to save your son’s hide, so be a little grateful, okay? Now, there is the matter of the debt to the Iron Bank. Lord Mace, as Master of Coin, I believe that is your purview, wouldn’t you agree?” I turned to the Lord of Highgarden, one of the richest men in Westeros.

“Indeed. I shall be very glad to go speak to the Iron Bank and see what can be achieved there. Who to take with me? Some Tyrell guards? Some Gold Cloaks? A Kingsguard?” Lord Mace Tyrell wondered.

“Ser Meryn Trant, I think,” I encouraged Lord Mace to take along the man that I knew that Arya Stark would kill.

“Anything else that we should decide?” Ser Loras, as Hand of the King, broke his silence.

“What to do about the rumored deaths of Littlefinger and Roose Bolton, as well as the rise of this ‘Gendry’ fellow in the Stormlands? Or Daenerys Targaryen, for that matter,” Lady Olenna Tyrell broached those issues, acting as if the glamor that I used on her and others was no big deal now.