Chapter 39: 38-Tickling the Dragon
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the Harry Potter and A Song of Ice and Fire universes. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of Joanne K. Rowling and George R.R. Martin, respectively. I make no claim to ownership.
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Acknowledgements: This chapter was edited by Void Uzumaki. I also want to thank my beta-reader Bub3loka, for helping me bounce ideas around.
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If you're feeling generous and want to support me, you can find me on P*T*E*N under the same name for up to read three chapters ahead of discord.
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Cersei Lannister
"Lady Regent, the Small Council has convened, and the Lord Hand is inquiring if you intend to join?" The young Tyland Lannister asked. Or was it Tylon? She snorted inwardly; his name was not important, just like all the Lannisters of Lannisport.
She looked critically at the young boy. Devan's page was a scrawny boy with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. Not a true lion.
"Go tell the Lord Hand that I shan't be attending today either," she said imperiously. The council meetings had become stale, where they either reported mind-numbing military movements or worried about the Targaryens and their dragons. They bored her to death with their whinging and worry. She now understood why Robert had not attended those meetings – they were an utter waste of time.
Cersei watched as the boy nodded and scrambled away quickly. She lifted her glass to her lips, took a sip of arbour gold, and sighed in pleasure. The Reach would have been useless if not for their sweet wines. The thought of the Reach and the Redwynes made her thoughts drift towards her Joffrey, and put a grimace on her face.
Baelish, that grasping little cunt had turned out far, far more insidious than she expected. After a moon of torture, Littlefinger had started confessing more and more things in exchange for a short, momentary reprieve, and, of course, Hugo reported everything back to her dutifully.
The jumped-up flesh peddler had had a hand in almost all of the conflict between House Lannister and House Stark. He had even stolen a considerable amount of gold from the crown, from her son, and wasted it to enrich himself. The gold could not even be recovered as most of it was stashed in King's Landing or used to buy property there. Littlefinger had used the rest to give out loans to some of the Vale Nobility, and whatever was left stayed in the Iron Bank. Nothing she could reclaim.
Her searing fury was soothed by going deep into the dungeons and hearing his screams of pain and anguish. The knowledge that he would never see the sun again and meet a very slow and agonising end brought a smile to her face. But Baelish mattered little now.
The Tyrells and Olenna would not get away with murdering her precious boy either. They thought themselves safe in Highgarden and might be right now. The problem is that Baelish was now officially missing and had abandoned his post, and she could not truly pin any blame on them without any proof whatsoever. And the letter from the messenger did not have anything that could be directly linked back to Highgarden or the Tyrells. So once again, she had to take things into her own hands.
But it would not do to send a simple catspaw against the Tyrells. No, simply killing one or two would be too merciful. Once the Targaryens were killed, there would be few obstacles to the rule of her precious little Tommen. The treacherous golden roses would be attained and removed root and stem, just like the Reynes and the Tarbecks. Her father had shown the Seven Kingdoms that House Lannister was not to be laughed at, not to be mocked! And now it was her turn to do the same. The Martells, too, would pay for maiming her daughter.
The only little problem was how to get her Myrcella out of the jaws of those barbaric Northmen. At least they had the decency to treat her properly, at least according to her cousin's words. Though, it had been a while since he had written back. Cersei would figure out a way to return her precious little girl to her loving embrace.
A knock on the door put a stop to her musings. With a nod from her, Ser Robert Strong opened the door, and a servant entered.
"Lady Regent, Ser Damion Lannister is here and requests a private audience with you," he said.
"Good, bring him in," Cersei responded with thinly veiled anticipation. Finally, some good news!
The servant left, and soon the old castellan entered in his stead. After a nod, Robert Strong went outside to guard the hallway and closed the door. She looked at the old knight carefully and could barely believe her eyes. His body was visibly thinner, his face gaunter, and the black circles adorning his sunken eyes indicated a lack of sleep.
"Have you completed your task, Ser?" She asked impatiently.
"I managed to hire a faceless man for Aegon," Damion replied tiredly.
"And what about Daenerys?"
"The gold was not enough. Hiring one for Aegon cost 7,777,777 dragons alone," he weakly explained. For the first time in years, Cersei was struck speechless.
"A ridiculous price!" She finally managed to find her voice after half a minute. "And why didn't you simply go to another catspaw guild?!"
"The Targaryens would be too well protected! None could guarantee the success of the assassination like the faceless men. They'd make it look like an accident, and it wouldn't even be connected to us," Damion explained with heavy exhaustion in his voice. "Without Aegon, few would stay to support Daenerys!"
She knew there was merit to his words, but the price was too damn steep. So much of her gold gone for a single assassination?! Cersei realised that her foolish old cousin was still standing there, large beads of sweat forming on his gaunt face.
"I will deal with you later. Get out!" She commanded icily, and he stumbled out of the room. Cersei then scowled and took a large gulp of wine. It didn't feel as sweet anymore. She wanted to scream and rage; before she knew it, her half-empty golden cup was flying at the wall, and the pitcher of wine was rolling on the ground. It did not make her feel any better; now, she had nothing to drink wine from.
With a grimace, she rang the servant bell and ordered them to bring more wine and clean up the mess. Her anger cooled down as quickly as it came. As the serving girl was dealing with the results of her outrage, Cersei sank into contemplation.
Damion was not… wrong. Daenerys would be useless without Aegon. Eliminating the pretender would most likely crumble the Targaryen cause. Few would support a woman as their ruler unless she managed to tie them down with plenty of benefits like Rhaenyra did with the Blacks. And Daenerys was severely lacking in her ability to promise marriages. The only true problem would be if she had gotten with child. With her dragons and a dragonspawn on the way, Daenerys might even succeed in holding the Targaryen forces together, even with Aegon's death. Hopefully, that would not happen. After all, her mother had notorious problems in conceiving a living, healthy babe.
But the old Castellan had a point. The Targaryens would be well-guarded, and only the best catspaw could hope to succeed. But after the death of the pretender, any security around the last Targaryen would be far larger.
Cersei tiredly massaged her pulsing temple, picked her newly brought golden goblet, and took a generous gulp of Arbor Gold once more. Why did she have to be the only one doing all the work? Without her guiding hand, her sweet little Tommen would have probably long been killed by all those harpies and roses.
Mayhaps it was time to visit her little golden lion?
The Queen Regent got up from her tapered chair, leaving the wine behind with great reluctance and headed towards the King's Chambers. They used to be Tywin's and were supposed to be hers as the Lady of Casterly Rock, but she had easily gifted them to little Tommen.
Ser Robert Strong quietly followed her. She would have to thank Qyburn once more for finding this knight, as he was far better than the other white cloaks.
As she moved through the hallways, she saw a red cloak suspiciously rushing towards the council chambers.
"Stop!"
The man-at-arms immediately halted at her command and ran over to her. He had short, sandy hair and pleasant blue eyes.
"How may I be of service, Your Grace?" He asked while throwing a fearful glance at what was probably the giant kingsguard behind her.
"Where are you headed with such haste, Ser?"
"A supposed envoy from the North requested a meeting with the king's council, and I am on my way to inform the Lord Hand," he dutifully reported.
Cersei couldn't help but frown. Why would that Northern savage send an envoy to Casterly Rock?
"What was his name?" She curiously inquired.
"Harwin Reed."
It took her a few moments, but she remembered House Reed. A House in the Neck, sworn directly to House Stark. Their sigil was a black lizard-lion on grey-green. Few things were known about the crannoglords. This required her delicate touch!
"Have you told anyone else?" Cersei asked impassively.
"No, Your Grace. Only the guardsmen at the Lions' Mouth know."
"Bring this envoy to the spare guest chambers; I will meet with him myself. There is no need to bother the council for this," She ordered. "And tell the other guards to keep quiet about this."
The man bowed and hastily went back to the main gate, and she headed towards the guest wing.
This crannogman could be the key to getting her daughter back if she played her cards right. Or at least a better source of information than Lucien, who she suspected was not allowed to write often. Or maybe some of the ravens got lost in the cold north?
She picked one of the most luxurious guest chambers, second only to the ones that were given to visiting royalty. The floor was lined with varnished mahogany boards from the Summer Isles. It was covered by a grand myrish rug, and tapestries of the Lannister triumphs over the Ironborn and the Reachmen covered a section of the walls that were not lined with black marble and gold. The bed itself was made entirely out of weirwood and had the finest qarthian silk for covers and bedding. The tables, drawers, and chairs were all made of golden wood from the Summer Isles and were tapered with crimson myrish velvet or covered with silk. There was even a small balcony lined with marble, looking towards the Sunset Sea below. The grandest thing that the poor crannogman had seen was probably the dreary and grey Winterfell, and he would surely be in awe at the sights here. While his mind was muddled by wonder, his mind would be pliant and tongue far looser.
Cersei sat on one of the chairs, and her kingsguard stood silently next to the door. She had the servants bring a cask of Arbor Gold, a generous meal that would probably be considered a feast in the North and the finest cutlery one would find in the world. It looked golden but was made of the finest qohorik steel, second only to the Valyrian steel.
Less than five minutes passed before the door finally opened, and Cersei was rendered speechless. Instead of the thin, short crannogman, a tall, rugged, looking northerner entered. He had a simple, woollen tunic and leather breeches with a tabard emblazoned with the black lizard-lion of House Reed. His lithe body was brimming with power, and his sharp, aristocratic face and soft, curly hair made him look incredibly comely. The scar over his left eye only enhanced that. There was something vaguely familiar within his face. But what struck her the most were the vivid green eyes. They were almost the same as hers!
The first thing that the Northerner did was throw a quick, appraising look around the room. If the presence of ser Robert Strong seemed to deter him, he did not show it in the slightest. Harwin's gaze stopped on the balcony's door for half a second before looking directly at her. He did not seem to pay the luxury around him any heed at all. Under his intense eyes, Cersei felt naked, as if he saw directly through her. The only one who could do the same had been her Lord Father.
After a short moment, a small smile bloomed on his face, and the intensity from before was nowhere to be found. A dark desire to have this man between her legs stirred deep within her. She had not lain with a man since that filthy Sparrow had arrested her.
"Lady Regent," he gave a very shallow bow. "My name is Harwin Reed, and King Jon Stark has sent me here as an envoy."
She nodded, and after her signal, the maid nearby brought a platter with the bread and salt before dismissing the servant altogether. Now it was only her, the envoy, and the kingsguard in the chambers. The only guards in the Guest Wing were at the very entrance, and all of the servants were dismissed. Nobody would disturb their meeting here. The northerner approached with measured yet graceful steps, broke a piece of the bread, dipped it in the salt, and devoured it without any hesitation.
"What is your purpose in coming here, Lord Harwin?" Cersei finally found her voice, schooled her face, and asked. She would play the perfect host; after all, her daughter was in the hands of these northern barbarians, and the Queen couldn't risk anything happening to her precious Myrcella over her actions. And if she played her cards right, this man would be in her bed tonight.
"Mayhaps this is something better discussed with Tommen's council as well?"
Her face remained impassive, but she scowled inwardly. Did this barbarian just attempt to bypass her?!
"Nay, I alone am enough as the Queen Regent," she patiently explained. "There's little point in going to the council if I find your proposal lacking."
"Shouldn't at least the King be present at these talks?"
"Tommen is barely two and ten, too young to be burdened by such heavy discussion," she countered quickly and removed the uppermost button of her gown.
For half a heartbeat, she thought the edge of his lips twitched in amusement, but it happened so fast that Cersei was unsure if she even saw it or was imagining things.
He nodded and took a seat across from her.
"Do you mind if I take a bite while we talk?" He gestured towards the small feast weighing on the golden table. "I have been on the road for quite some time and am feeling famished."
"Certainly. All of this was brought here for you," Cersei explained with a nod and poured wine into one of the golden goblets. She took a small sip only to grimace inwardly - it still left a bland taste in her mouth. She put down her chalice to the side and looked towards the envoy.
Under her disbelieving eyes, a large piece of roast beef was quickly cut up and devoured. Yet, he did so with impeccable manners, so she was grudgingly impressed.
"I shall speak frankly. King Jon Stark is interested in an alliance with House Lannister against House Targaryen."
"Why should we ally with you?" she asked curiously.
"It's our mutual interest that the Targaryens do not rule the Seven Kingdoms ever again," the man responded calmly as he changed his empty beef platter for a honeyed mallard.
"How can the North even help?" She raised her eyebrow before continuing. "I'll admit, the Northerners are fierce fighters, yet winter is here, and your armies are almost spent. More men would do little against dragons in the open if you can even manage to gather your banners with all that snow."
"Aye, you have the right of it," the envoy confirmed with a nod. "More men would do little against dragons. But the king has a secret weapon to use against the Targaryens. He does not fear them or their dragons. The only question is whether he would use it before they deal with you or afterwards."
"What is that weapon?" She carefully removed another button from her gown, showing off more of her bust.
"A secret one; it's not my place to say." Cersei barely pushed her annoyance down at the reply. The man had finished the roast duck and pulled over some venison pie. Gods, were the northerners staying hungry at their homes? He had not glanced even once towards her ample chest.
"How do I know you're not bluffing?" She asked with a scoff, and twirled a strand of her golden hair with a finger.
"I cannot speak about it, but I have seen it myself. There is no doubt in my mind that the days of the Targaryens are numbered," the large crannogman said seriously.
She would have quickly dismissed his claims if it was not for the absolute certainty in his voice. The man believed every word he had spoken so far. It mattered little, though, because she knew Aegon's life already belonged to the Stranger.
"Suppose you're speaking the truth; you have no reason to ally with my son. Our Houses warred not too long ago. Wouldn't you want the Targaryens to deal with us first?" Cersei inquired curiously.
"Aye, but Jon Stark bears Tommen no ill will. He has not wronged anyone from the North, and everyone who has done so is already dead. My liege sees no reason why we should continue fighting."
"And what would this alliance entail?" Cersei supposed that it wouldn't hurt to hear Jon Snow's proposal.
"The Targaryen would be dealt with by us. In return, King Jon Stark wants House Baratheon of King's Landing and House Lannister of Casterly Rock to acknowledge the North as a sovereign kingdom and return the stolen half of House Stark's ancestral sword, Ice. We would also recognise Tommen Baratheon as the rightful king of the six kingdoms."
She cared nought for a silly little sword. But the rest was simply a ridiculous notion. She did not need the barbarians to acknowledge her son as the rightful ruler. And if Tommen acknowledged House Stark's independence, what would stop the other kingdoms from asking for the same? If Harrold Arryn declared himself king, House Lannister didn't have nearly enough men to take the Bloody Gate and conquer the Vale or storm the desert paths of the Red Mountains to attack Dorne. The North was nearly half of the territory of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Say I somehow agree to this foolish proposal; how would the alliance be sealed?" She voiced her curiosity. Not that she intended to agree at all, but she desired to hear his answer. "My son's hand is promised to another, your king is already married, and Myrcella must return to me!"
Her son was already betrothed, and she would rather die than marry her precious boy to the bastard's ruined sister. Cersei might have stopped hating Sansa Stark, but the girl was used goods after being married to her traitorous brother and the Bolton bastard. Did he mean to marry Myrcella to some barbarian?!
"The North does not want to involve itself with politicking in the South. As soon as both terms are met, Myrcella will be returned to Casterly Rock, and we'll stay out of each other's way," Harwin stated confidently and exchanged the now empty plate of venison for a one with steamed salmon. Gods, this man's appetite trumped Robert's!
It was a good suggestion if the envoy was speaking the truth, but Cersei could never afford to accept it. She longed to see Myrcella, to hug and spoil her, yet that would mean that Tommen's future rule would be fraught with danger and difficulty. But, despite the envoy's confidence, she doubted that the Northerners could deal with the Targaryens or their dragons. And Aegon's days were numbered; she had seen to it. Daenerys would follow soon enough. It seemed that Cersei had to recover her daughter in some other way.
The third button of her silken dress was removed. Any further, and her breasts would spill out. Did the fool not get the hint?! The infuriating Northerner either looked directly into his meal or into her eyes.
"Tommen will not need to ally with you to deal with the Targaryens either," Cersei said with a heavy heart, finally declining the offer of alliance.
"Is that a decision you can make purely by yourself? In the end, you might be the Lady of Casterly Rock, but you're just a regent. The King and his Hand should at least hear and discuss it as well," he countered with a scoff and finished the last of his salmon.
The impudent northern barbarian dared! She was the Queen Regent and ruled in her son's name! This swamp dweller wanted to fill her little boy's ears with his foolish proposal and undermine her authority. Even Daven could potentially agree since the council had been pulling their hairs out in attempts to deal with the Targaryens because she had told no one about the faceless man. No, she would not have it! To think that she wanted to lay with him!
"We are at the heart of the Westerlands, the seat of power of House Lannister, and until Tommen is of age, as the Lady Lannister, whatever I say here goes!" she said imperiously and gave a sign to her kingsguard. Within three heartbeats, the hulking figure of Ser Robert Strong was just behind her shoulder.
"You would not even let them hear my proposal?" the envoy asked incredulously, completely undeterred by the looming presence of the enormous kingsguard. "Mayhaps they can offer a different perspective."
Cersei growled in irritation. She couldn't do anything to this annoying crannogman lest something happened to her golden girl. Not to mention that he was under guest right. What annoyed her the most was that he had not looked even once with desire at her perfect figure. She wanted to see if he was truly made out of stone. Now, Cersei would give him a scare and a warning.
"Ser Strong, escort our guest out. He has overstayed his welcome in my halls," she said, smirking cruelly.
A heavy frown appeared on Harwin Reed's face. The kingsguard went around the table with almost inhuman speed, and a pair of enamelled white steel gloves reached to grab the envoy.
"You would break the sacred laws of hospitality?!" Harwin exclaimed as soon as the kingsguard had grabbed his tunic and tabard.
"I'm not breaking anything. Ser Robert Strong here is just going to escort you out and teach you some manners on the way out," she said imperiously.
The armoured giant then attempted to lift the northerner, yet only tore his clothing. Under her disbelieving eyes, the crannogman remained unmoving like a statue in his chair. The kingsguard then attempted to grab the envoy once again.
Harwin Reed twisted and caught the knight's steel bracers in his smaller hands. Under Cersei's flabbergasted gaze, Ser Robert Strong tried to push and pull his arms from the envoy's grip yet remained unsuccessful. Her kingsguard was a monster that could easily cut a grown man in two, yet this Harwin Reed sat there, unmoved like a mountain, clamping down on the armoured hands.
"Look what you've done. My sister put a lot of effort into making this surcoat," the man said with a fierce scowl, his voice a near growl. "She warned me not to trust you, southerners. You want to offer someone an olive branch, yet they choose violence instead." For a short moment, Cersei wondered what an olive branch had to do with anything. "I shouldn't have bothered coming here at all. It turns out sweet Sansa was right. You and your zombie knight have forced my hand."
Sansa? How was that vapid little bird involved in anything?
Harwin Reed's hair became a different shade of dark, and his eyes changed from piercing green into glowing purple. The seemingly amicable man was gone, and in his place, a savage that screamed danger to all of her senses appeared. For some reason taking a deep breath became difficult, and Cersei gasped heavily. What sorcery was this?!
She opened her mouth to shout for the guards, but her scream died in her throat as the northerner twisted his grip, and with a sickening crunch, the knight's arms and gauntlets were squashed and bent at unnatural angles. Then, ser Robert Strong was effortlessly tossed across the room straight into the gilded wall with a loud bang. She couldn't help but notice that the gold plating of the wall was heavily dented by the impact.
Before Cersei could blink, the northerner had crossed the length of the chamber inhumanly fast and removed the kingsguard's white greathelm. Underneath it was dark purple skin hanging on a dead face with milky white eyes. A terrified shriek tore out of her throat at the abominable sight. That monster had been following her everywhere?! The monstrous kingsguard attempted to move, but a black boot pinned him to the mahogany floor effortlessly. How?! How did she end up in a room with two monsters?!
"I didn't think I'd find a necromancer here in the south," the smaller man said nonchalantly, and suddenly, a bronze sword with black veins appeared in his hand. With an effortless swing, the former kingsguard was split in two from head to toe together with his heavy enamelled plate, which did nothing to stop the sword. A heavy stench of rot assaulted Cersei, tearing up her eyes and making her heave over and puke.
A pair of hands roughly pulled her up when she was done, and a piece of golden silk was shoved into her arms. She fought the acrid taste in her mouth and wiped herself before slowly raising her face, and her green eyes met purple.
"It seems that you were not aware of the nature of your knight. If I were you, I'd dispose of whoever made this wight," the man pointed towards the split corpse with a shrug. "The North does not need the South's acknowledgement to be a sovereign nation, but it would have been a good step towards peace. You could have returned Widow's Wail voluntarily, but I can take it by force too. A pity I cannot afford to wait for the Targaryens to deal with you first."
Cersei opened her mouth to scream and call for the red cloaks once again but realised that the man in front of her could gut her like a fish half a hundred times before any of the guardsmen arrived, if any, arrived at all. The closest red cloaks were three hallways away, and she had not called for any because the heavily armoured Ser Robert Stong was supposed to be more than enough protection against an unarmed and unarmoured envoy. They would have already arrived at her terrified shriek if they could hear her. Cersei felt her hands tremble at the realization. She was utterly at the mercy of this man.
"Who are you?" She croaked out instead and tried to school her face to not show any of the fear she felt on the inside, but her hands betrayed her and kept shaking. "W-what do you want from me?!"
Was this brute going to force himself on her? To her horror, the thought terrified and excited her equally.
"I already told you what I wanted, but you seemed quite adamant in refusing me. But fret not, Cersei Lannister, for unlike you, I actually respect the sacred laws of hospitality and shall not harm you in your own home after eating food under your roof," the northerner said with a sigh. She wondered if he was even truly from the North with these Valyrian purple eyes of his. "My name is Jon Stark, and I'm done wasting my time trying to bargain with foolish, selfish imbeciles like you. It's a wonder how you managed to give birth to such a sweet girl like Myrcella. At least my wife can keep her favourite lady-in-waiting now."
She stood there, flabbergasted. Eddard Stark's baseborn son?! She could see a faint resemblance in the face now, though the purple eyes were a surprise. According to her vague memory, the boy had dark grey eyes before. His face reminded Cersei of someone else as well, but her muddled mind refused to cooperate. Gods, the sheer daring of this cur to come into Casterly Rock and try to negotiate with her. Though the vile magic that allowed him to change the colour of his hair and eyes surely gave him confidence. But it mattered not; sorcery did little to save the First Men and the Children from Andal steel.
"You're delusional, bastard," she spat out. "You might have me, but you'll never walk out of Casterly Rock alive. There are hundreds of guards between here and the nearest exit."
"A bluff," he scoffed. "As the ruling Lady of the House, all those men are sworn to defend you and would surrender before any harm comes to you," he bluntly countered with a snort. He was right, and she couldn't help but shiver. "It doesn't matter anyway because I don't need you to leave. I am done hiding. It seems that people only understand violence, and a show of force is sorely needed. Follow me."
He grabbed the cask of Arbor Gold and confidently headed towards the balcony. Cersei hated that she found herself following him with little hesitation. She realised that if another Stark died in Lannister's arms, she might never get to see her little Myrcella again. But that was the smallest of her worries. Was the man planning to jump into the Sunset Sea below to leave? It was not impossible; she and Jaime had done it in their childhood.
"What are you doing with my wine?!" The words spilt out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
"Taking a gift to signify the end of the Guest's Right. It's only proper," he said with an irritating smile.
She heard a heavy sound reminiscent of flapping wings before a deafening, bloodcurdling roar made her step back. Suddenly, the Northern King made an inhumanly large leap over the railing, cask in hand. Cersei carefully stepped forth and peered over the balcony's railing, only to freeze. An enormous dark-blue dragon was flying away, and on its back rode a familiar figure. Under her disbelieving gaze, the northern barbarian lifted the stolen cask in the air and drank from it directly.
Her legs gave out, and she fell on the marble flooring and began to laugh hysterically.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Gladiusx
Gladiusx The Tyrells are going to pay for their part in Joffrey's death, but Cersei wants something more than a simple murder.
Damion return is not what Cersei expected.
Cersei receives an envoy and we see where Jon is and what he is up to. Needless to say, nothing goes the way she was expecting.
Jon had a realisation that trying to negotiate simply might work, no matter how reasonable he was trying to be.
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