The Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast, the Queen Dowager's bedchamber. Ser Meryn of the Kingsguard stood watch outside the door. Inside, on the luxurious white featherbed, two pale, naked bodies tangled together beneath the covers.
They had the same golden hair and the emerald eyes that marked House Lannister: Queen Dowager Cersei Lannister and her cousin, Lancel Lannister, the late King Robert's squire.
Lancel had thick golden-brown hair and a soft layer of golden down on his upper lip. He was sixteen, young and strong. Many said he resembled Jaime Lannister in his youth.
Lancel was utterly enthralled by this forbidden affair. He had already lost himself in his secret relationship with Cersei. Recently, Cersei had raised him to knighthood, and afterward Lancel had become even more eager to please, and even more smug.
He was still young, and young men had never known what fear was. Besides, Lannisters were famous for their arrogance.
The air in the bedchamber was thick with heat and ambiguity. Even after it was over, Cersei pushed Lancel away. It was Lancel who shared her bed now, but just moments ago, Cersei had been thinking of another Lannister. Her Jaime, somewhere in Casterly Rock or the Golden Tooth, newly recovered from grave illness and still half dead.
Jaime would forever be missing the hand that had held his sword, and his face had been disfigured as well. At the thought, Cersei could not help feeling sorrow for him. She did not know how she was supposed to face Jaime. The man she loved had been that young, beautiful, handsome, carefree swordsman.
If Jaime appeared before her one-handed and noseless, stripped of his beauty and confidence, reeking of filth, then such a Jaime would no longer be lovable. Cersei had always believed that in the battle he lost to the Storm, Jaime's youthful spirit had been spent as well.
"Put your clothes on," Cersei ordered.
"Yes." Lancel nodded. It was a physical affair with no future, the Queen Dowager's exploitation of her squire, but Lancel delighted in it. Ser Lancel went out first and murmured a few words to Meryn, signaling that visitors could be admitted. Lancel saw no need for it, though. The sky was gloomy now. Who would come visiting?
"Sing me a song," Cersei commanded. She felt vaguely irritable, and began to dress. Barefoot, she leaned against a pile of cushions, her golden hair loose and lovely, wearing a brocade robe of green and gold.
"As you command, Queen Dowager." Lancel dressed himself, cleared his throat, and began to pluck the harp.
"I loved a maid as fair as summer, sunlight shining in her hair...
I loved a beauty bright as autumn sun, dusk upon her locks...
I loved a maiden white as winter snow, moonlight at her temples..."
It was a Myrish song, My Season of Love.
The singer's harp drifted through the door, mingling with his trembling voice.
Tyrion entered Maegor's Holdfast without hindrance. His power was high now, and everyone respected Lord Tywin's authority all the more.
Tyrion led his men straight toward the Queen Dowager's bedchamber and saw that hateful Ser Meryn again. Song and harp music were sounding from within. Though the singer's voice was unfamiliar through the thick door, the lyrics were familiar enough. Tyrion had heard his former wife Tysha sing them before. Tyrion knew the words, and knew how sweet and sorrowful they were.
"I need to see my sister," Tyrion told the Kingsguard.
Ser Meryn looked uncomfortable, but still muttered, "My lord," and opened the door for Tyrion. Tyrion had not brought his pets with him, neither the stinking sellswords nor the wildlings.
The moment Tyrion entered, all the music stopped. Lancel set down the harp.
"My dear sister, you look enchanting tonight," Tyrion said first to the Queen Dowager.
Then he turned to the singer, Lancel. "And you as well, cousin. I never imagined your voice could be so moving."
Tyrion caught the unusual scent in the air, and his young cousin had been far too close to the Queen Dowager lately. He could not help suspecting a special relationship between them. Tyrion believed Jaime was a knight who never sought other women, but he had no such faith in Cersei's virtue. If Cersei had slept with Lancel, Tyrion would find it perfectly natural.
Lancel, however, took offense at Tyrion's words. He was a knight, after all, and he thought Tyrion was mocking him. His birth and recent knighthood had swollen his pride, along with his inborn golden hair, green eyes, and strong, handsome appearance.
"Did Queen Dowager summon you?" Lancel demanded.
Tyrion admitted she had not. "I don't recall that she did. I am truly sorry to disturb your pleasant evening, Lancel. In fact, I have important matters to discuss with my sister."
Cersei looked at her brother suspiciously. "Don't tell me you came because of those Begging Brothers and their schemes. Spare me, Tyrion. Do not bother me..."
"They should be grateful they have a merciful Queen Dowager. Were it up to me, I would have their tongues pulled out," Lancel added, echoing Cersei perfectly. No wonder Cersei doted on him so. He had Jaime's youthful looks, but none of Jaime's pride in youth.
Tyrion looked at Cersei. It seemed the Queen Dowager had been enraged by the Begging Brothers' prophets openly spreading their filthy, brazen sermons in the streets, and had sent them one by one to the Black Cells.
"One of those creatures actually claimed the gods would punish us because Jaime murdered the rightful king. The rest were even fouler. They said the Longsword of Tears came for us because of the court's debauchery, and because you, little demon monkey, serve as Hand of the King," Cersei shouted furiously. "I truly could not bear it any longer, Tyrion. I gave you more than enough time to deal with those paupers, flea-ridden, starving, and spouting shocking filth one after another. But you and Ser Jacelyn did nothing, so I had no choice but to entrust the task to Vylarr, the Captain-of-guards."
"How obedient of him," Tyrion said. He was furious about this, but there was nothing to be done now. King's Landing was already such an obvious powder keg, and striking hard at these ragged prophets was not necessarily wise. Worse, she had not even consulted him.
But there were more important matters at hand, and this was not worth arguing over now. Besides, if the streets grew a little quieter, that was something at least. "That is not why I came... Dear sister, might we speak privately?"
"Very well." Cersei gave Lancel a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. "Go on, Lancel..."
Lancel shot his cousin a vicious glare, then slammed the door behind him as he left.
"You did not bring your pets?" Cersei asked.
"No. My pets are very civilized these days. Shagga bathes once every two weeks."
"You sound rather proud of that. What is it?"
Tyrion hopped onto the canopied bed, the one that had once belonged to Robert. "Robert used to lie in this bed? How astonishing. You kept it?"
"Why not? It gives me the sweetest dreams," Cersei said. "Now say what you came to say, then get out, Imp."
"The struggle at Storm's End has come to an end," Tyrion said.
"What?" Cersei asked. "What happened?"
"Lord Stannis sailed from Dragonstone and remained near Storm's End, negotiating and facing off against Renly."
"I know that already. Did we not say those two were fools?" Cersei replied. "You and I laughed happily enough at the time. Stannis did not attack us, but went to Storm's End instead for those endless, stinking negotiations with Renly. Those two brothers had to decide which of them stood above the other."
"The key is what happened now. Renly raised his forces and launched a surprise attack on Stannis, then failed. In the end, the Storm's fleet appeared from behind and swallowed both their armies."
"What?" Cersei's eyes widened. "Gods, how could that happen?"
"What of Renly and Stannis?" Cersei seized Tyrion. Her strength was remarkable, and her nails dug painfully into his flesh. Her eyes were wide.
"Renly lost and was sent to the Wall. Stannis surrendered. Stannis agreed to submit to his nephew, and now the enemy has a capable Hand of the King," Tyrion said, each word distinct.
Cersei grabbed Tyrion and shook him hard. "How is that possible? This is Stannis. How could he surrender so easily?"
"I find it hard to believe as well, but that is how it is. Before long, the fleet from Dragonstone will set sail," Tyrion said.
"That is impossible. Stannis always hated Robert over Storm's End. He believed Robert treated him unfairly. You have no idea how many times he complained of it, how gloomy and aggrieved his voice was."
"You are right, but it seems his desire has yielded to love. Deep down, he still loved Robert." Tyrion shook his head. "Robert humiliated him, but that belongs to the past."
"And yet you stand here joking with me? Why are you not mustering the army? And write to Harrenhal at once."
"I thought of everything you just did long ago," Tyrion said. "I swore to defend King's Landing."
Cersei nodded and looked at Tyrion. "What is Jaime doing? And Father? I told you long ago, if I had been born a boy, I would have been Lord Tywin's favorite heir."
"You are quite right." Tyrion nodded. "Dear sister, we must overcome the difficulties before us."
Cersei sat in a panic on the edge of the bed, her hair loose and disheveled. "No. I need to do something. I cannot sit here and watch you all make this worse. I should be the Regent Queen Dowager, not you."
"The situation is already worse," Tyrion said. While Cersei was not watching, he poured her a cup of red wine and added a small pinch of powder.
...
"Depravity!" a "prophet" shouted in the Square of the Shoemakers. His woolen tunic, however, was undyed and shedding fibers, and the cord tied around his waist was only hemp rope. Once, he had been nothing more than a brother of the Begging Brothers.
A large crowd of poor folk had gathered beneath the leather awnings, listening to the prophet's cries.
"Depravity!" the prophet shrieked, making all manner of strange cries as he pointed at the red comet. The Longsword of Tears hung in the sky like an omen. From a distance, it seemed to hang above the towers of the Red Keep, the two shades of red forming an uncanny contrast. The heavens had built him the perfect stage.
"We have grown bloated, rotten, corrupt, and hungry. This is Heaven's warning to us!" the prophet cried hysterically. "Brother and sister couple in the king's bed, and the spawn of adultery dances through the palace to the flute of a deformed little demon monkey! Noble ladies commit adultery with jesters and give birth to hideous monsters! Even the High Septon has forgotten the gods! He bathes in perfume, feasts on eels and larks, and grows fatter and fatter while watching his people starve! Pride comes before prayer, maggots rule the castles, and gold is everything. All of it must end! The rotten summer is ending! The whoring king has received Heaven's punishment! A boar ripped open his belly, a terrible stench rose straight into the clouds, and a thousand snakes came writhing out of his gut, hissing and biting!"
The crowd below roared with laughter, each person laughing louder than the last. This was King's Landing, and the people of King's Landing naturally knew every detail about these great figures.
The prophet pointed again at the red comet and the castle, his fingers thin and bloodless. "Look at the sky. That is Heaven's sign! Heaven's warning, the gods' cry! We must confess our sins and purify ourselves, or the gods will wipe us from the world. Cleanse yourselves of sin, bathe in the wine of justice, or you shall burn! Burn in fire!"
"Burn in fire!" A companion behind the prophet drew a horsewhip and lashed it across his body. Crack. Crack! The whip even drew blood, red blood running down his skin.
"This is how we cleanse ourselves of sin," the prophet explained.
The crowd below burst into laughter. Some were willing to shout "Burn in fire!" along with him, but most were not yet so consumed by religion.
"Bread! Give us bread!" the poor shouted, ignoring the prophet's performance.
"We want bread, not gods!" The cries of the poor had not gone on for long before flashes of dazzling red suddenly poured into the crowd. House Lannister's Red Guard had arrived. Mounted soldiers in lion-crested half-helms and blood-red cloaks scattered the crowd, then strode toward the prophet. Seeing that things had turned bad, the prophet's assistant dropped the horsewhip and fled.
"Heaven's punishment!"
"Heaven's punishment! You will burn in fire!" the "prophet" screamed, then took a thorough beating from the Lannister soldiers. They struck him with fists and kicked him with riding boots, knocking out several of his teeth. Blood poured from his mouth as the prophet whimpered and begged, and then the soldiers dragged him away.
How many does that make now? Captain Vylarr thought helplessly. Ever since the red comet had appeared, and letters full of threats from the Storm Gendry and Stannis had flown everywhere, and the situation had turned ever more unfavorable for House Lannister, prophets and religious peddlers had sprung up endlessly throughout King's Landing.
The Red Guard drove the beaten "prophet" and fools toward the dungeons. A storm of famine, fear, and superstition was spreading through all of King's Landing.
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