~~~ King's landing, Red keep ~~~
Cersei Lannister POV
The city stretched out below us, red-roofed and sprawling in the afternoon light.
I stood at the gallery window with my arms folded, looking down at King's Landing the way a lion looks at a field of sheep — not with longing, but with ownership.
Jaime stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, one hand resting on the stone railing.
"How in the world did you convince Robert to agree to this?" he asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Give that man a tournament, enough wine, and something to be angry about, and he would sell half the realm for pennies," I said, and lifted my cup of Dornish red, taking a slow sip.
"I merely had to mention the Targaryens in the right tone of voice. The stag was charging before I finished the sentence. He will do whatever his queen commands him to do."
Jaime's smirk widened. "His queen?"
"Joffrey is growing older," I said, a note of concern in my voice. "He will not be a boy forever. Soon he will be king. Our son, Jaime. King of the Seven Kingdoms."
"He's still fifteen, Cersei. And Robert is still strong. It will be a long time before he—"
"Kings rarely die of old age, my love," I said, cutting him off midway.
The words landed quietly. Jaime went still beside me, his smirk drooping, and he looked at me with a serious face.
"Please tell me you are not planning to murder him," he pleaded.
"Of course not." I smiled over the rim of my cup.
A lie, and we both knew it.
But some things are better left unspoken between even the closest of people.
Joffrey would come of age. Robert would not live for long. Once Joffrey was mature enough, I would have that beast killed.
And then, Lannister blood — our blood — would sit the Iron Throne.
And all the Seven Kingdoms at my fingertips.
"So, Harrenhal," Jaime said, turning back to enjoy the view of Blackwater Bay, small ships coming in and leaving to dock at the city's ports.
"Everyone in the Red Keep has been asking the same question since the announcement. Why there?"
"Is it not the place where the Targaryens took their first step toward their fall, and our rise began?" I replied, tilting my head slightly. "Poetic, I thought."
"You and your poetry." Jaime chuckled.
"Besides," I continued, "I spoke with Grand Maester Pycelle. Harrenhal is the only castle in all the Seven Kingdoms large enough to host the entire realm at once — every lord, every heir, every banner."
I set my cup down. "And it has a certain... symbolism. Aegon burned it to nothing on the back of his beast. It has been a ruin ever since. When Joffrey sits the Iron Throne, I intend to take it directly under the crown."
Jaime raised an eyebrow. "It belongs to House Whent. The widow of the late lord still rules the castle, or what remains of it."
"A widow," I said flatly, "who lost her husband and every one of her children, and was left alone in the largest castle in Westeros with no one to inherit it and no coin to restore it to its glory days." I paused. "Such a shame."
"The largest castle should belong to the crown," I added.
"The largest ruin, you mean," Jaime corrected. "Besides, Harrenhal is no longer the largest castle. That's what Tyrion tells me."
He pushed off the railing and moved to pour himself a cup from the table. "Apparently in eight years, the Arryn boy has built something in the Vale that rivals it. Bigger than Harrenhal in its prime, they say — half of it carved into the mountain itself, the other half expanding outward. Three times the size of the Red Keep. Even the stables, Tyrion claims, are larger than Riverrun."
I turned from the window. "Tyrion told you all that?"
"He couldn't stop talking about it. I heard about it all day." Jaime swirled his wine. "He says it should have cost the Arryns roughly five million gold dragons. Maybe more, to build over a span of seven years."
"That little shit," I said quietly, walking slowly away from the window toward the chair in the room, "always trying to challenge us."
"He built a castle for himself, Cersei. He wasn't thinking about Joffrey," Jaime corrected.
"Men like him are always thinking about Joffrey." I sat down, smoothing my skirts.
"Building a castle so big, what does he think of himself?" I added.
Jaime watched me for a moment. "So what is Harrenhal for, truly? Not symbolism. Not sentiment. What are you actually planning?"
I smiled the real one, the one I only showed him.
"I have been looking at the map of the Seven Kingdoms," I said. "Harrenhal sits at the heart of the realm. Close enough to King's Landing to reinforce it within days. Close enough to Riverrun to threaten that worthless house of fish. You can move an army south toward the Reach or toward the Vale from those walls without losing a week on the march."
I traced a shape in the air with one finger. "It is the most strategically valuable seat in Westeros, and it has been rotting away in the hands of a broken house for thirty years."
Jaime stared at me for a moment.
Then he laughed — a short, genuine sound. "Commander Cersei. I did not know."
"Be serious, Jaime." But I smiled. "When Joffrey is king, there will be threats. There are always threats. I need him to have something more than the Red Keep at his back."
"No one will touch Joffrey." Jaime's voice shifted, that quiet certainty underneath it. He crossed the room and stood before me, and I did not move away. "Or Tommen. Or Myrcella. Not while I draw breath." His hand came up and cupped my face, tilting it toward his, and his thumb moved once along my cheek.
I let him pull me in.
The kiss was slow at first — careful, the way it always began, as if one of us might still think better of it. His mouth was warm and tasted of wine.
I felt his other hand find my waist and draw me closer, and I let him, my fingers curling into the front of his tunic.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing slightly faster than before, a thin line of our saliva stretching as we separated.
"That," I said quietly, "was a distraction."
"Was it?" He hadn't moved back.
"There is still the matter of strategy," I said, and stepped away — not far, but enough. "Harrenhal first. Once Joffrey is crowned, I want that castle taken from the Whent widow and placed under direct control of the Crown."
"For Tommen?" he asked.
"I have something better in mind for Tommen." I turned back toward the window, letting the city fill my view again. "The Skyfall and the Eyrie, I am thinking, for our youngest. Tommen should have his own seat. Something that means something."
Jaime was quiet for a moment. "The Eyrie and Skyfall belong to House Arryn."
"For now."
"Cersei." His voice had an edge now. "The Vale is practically a fortress unto itself. Three passes — the Bloody Gate, the Mountains of the Moon, the Cliffside Pass — all of them guarded, all of them near impossible to force. How exactly do you plan to take it from Jon Arryn?"
"Not from Jon Arryn," I said. "When Jon Arryn dies, his son inherits. And I intend to make certain that inheritance is contested."
"How? The boy is legitimate. Everyone knows it."
I turned back to him. "He looks like a Targaryen. You have said it yourself — silver hair, purple eyes. What if it became known that Jon Arryn's heir was not his heir at all? A Targaryen bastard, planted in the nest."
Jaime stared at me for a long moment.
"The Vale lords would never believe it."
"They would believe what they are given reason to believe." I held his gaze. "And if the boy himself becomes inconvenient — there are ways to resolve that too. Once he is gone, Tommen becomes Lord Paramount of the Vale with the backing of the Crown, and every lord in those mountains falls into line."
Jaime was quiet. Not convinced. Not refusing. Just quiet — the way he always went quiet when he saw where I was leading and had not yet decided whether to follow.
"Leave it to me," I said, and turned back to the window. "I will see it done."
Below, King's Landing went on as it always did — noisy, indifferent, utterly unaware of the hands that shaped it.
"Besides our children, Cersei — Jon Arryn and Stannis have been asking after Robert's bastards," Jaime finally said the thing he had come to say.
"I know. Don't worry. Once the lords have sworn fealty to our son, we will move to the next part of the plan," I said.
"And what is that?" he asked.
"Taking power, my love. Joffrey will sit on the small council. You and I will accompany him there. I will talk Robert out of objecting — somehow." I took my brother's hand and drew closer to him.
"And if those two do something foolish, we will have them killed. Who questions my son's right to inherit the throne? Who gives them that right?" I said, anger creeping into my voice.
Jaime let go of my hand and cupped my face. "Don't worry. I will protect you and our children as long as I live. No one will hurt them."
"Though sometimes I wonder if we did the right thing," he said, doubt in his voice. "Gods and maesters alike condemn incest."
"It is not incest, my love," I said, pulling him close and holding him. "It is called keeping the bloodline pure."
I felt his hand slide down and cup my backside, squeezing gently. "Keeping the bloodline pure. Is that what this is?"
"Now come, brother. I am ovulating. We should work on our next child," I said, my hands already reaching for the ties of his clothes as his found mine.
POV Ends
Below the gallery, in a small alcove, a single sparrow sat listening to the entire conversation between the two incestuous fools.
Oh, holy Emperor. She is delusional beyond measure, the sparrow thought.
I must return to base and inform the boss of this golden bitch's plots, he thought, watching the sky, waiting for the next bird to arrive and take his shift.
Tomorrow, I will go with the rest of the Sky Legion to gather tribute from those peasant rabbits, in the name of the Emperor, he thought.