“This is madness.”
Jaime Lannister and his twin were in the throne room, waiting for court to assemble. Jaime knew it was imperative to change her mind before they did. “Do you actually mean to fight the inevitable? Face facts, Cersei. We lost the gold of Highgarden when you blew Mace and Margaery Tyrell to ashes. Dorne has never been our friend. Winterfell has been captured by another bastard and this one’s not our ally. You are proclaimed Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, of which, at best, you rule three. And amidst this are rumors of a Targaryen wench sailing to Westeros with a three-headed dragon. Gossip, I grant you-”
“It’s not a three-headed dragon,” Cersei retorted, scarce batting an eyelid. “Her name is Daenerys and she has three dragons, hungry to conquer the Crownlands. And I don’t mean to fight – I mean to win.”
Jaime was incredulous. He used a different tact. “We are surrounded with enemies taking turns to fight for the Iron Throne. King’s Landing is on the verge of riot. Even if we surrender, we’ll be lucky enough to leave this debacle with our necks intact. This is worse than the War of the Five Kings, without the addition of a Dragon Queen, which I still find hard to believe…”
“Better believe it, Jaime. Qyburn has confirmed the tales.”
Jaime was still skeptical, but there were other things to talk about. He had dreaded approaching the subject, but if it would save his sweet sister from suicide, it was worth a try. “We never talked about Tommen,” he said. “I know his death has come as a huge shock, but surely you can separate emotion from…”
“You think this stems from our son’s death?” Cersei’s tone was bitter now, less a lion and more a snake. “Like it or not, war will be upon us. If you wish, you can run off to Casterly Rock, tail between your legs, desperate for peace. Or we can fight our enemies together and make a ballad the bards will sing of for a thousand years. I intend to finish Father’s work, whether you join me or not. I suggest you do, before you get your other hand sliced off by some hedge knight.”
The slight angered Jaime. “If I leave,” he ventured, “who would you even have at your side to survive? Our own kingdom hates us. We have no allies, Cersei!”
“We might,” Cersei said, as doors opened and members of the court came flooding in, taking their places. As Jaime took his place as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his eyes scoured the courtroom, looking for hints of Cersei’s cryptic statement. All the faces were familiar, spare one, a grizzly, barbarian of a man, eyes blacker than ravens. He smelled of salt.
“The crown recognizes its ally Euron Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands,” Qyburn trotted beside his queen. Jaime’s eyes widened.
“Hardly a lord of the Iron Islands if I’ve left it,” Euron grumbled unsmilingly, looking up at the Iron Throne. “Queen Cersei, arrangements have been made. The bulk of the naval forces have moved from Pyke to Dragonstone.”
“Good to hear,” Cersei said. “I trust you still recall it was your choice to abandon your lands?”
“I’m not like to forget it. Once the war is over, I’ll be sure to reclaim the islands from any pretender that may hold it… as long as our plans for marriage remain intact.”
“A Lannister always pays their debts,” Cersei said. Jaime could scarce believe his ears. She kept me in the dark on this. I have to say something. “And why should we trust you?” he heard himself say. “You’ve been exiled for years, after attacking Lannisport, no less. You left your own people. For what?”
Euron’s gaze stayed on Cersei’s. He grinned. “In my exile, I’ve travelled to places even Oldtown never knew existed. I am the captain of the greatest armada Westeros has ever seen. I refuse to squander all that for nothing more than rocks and bird shit.”
“Still, humor me. Why would you fight for us when the going gets tough?” Jaime persisted.
Euron’s eyes shifted to Jaime’s. “Can the going get any tougher for you?”
*
Comments