#mathis rowan

“Has any of the poison been removed from your holds recently?” her father asked.

“Only what had been stolen by Lord Tyrion.”

“It isn't a particularly difficult poison to make,” Oberyn chimed in almost absentmindedly. “Harvest the flower's sap, drop it into a goblet, and you're finished.”

“I suppose you have quite the experience with it, Prince Oberyn,” Cersei said with a smile.

He responded with a grin of his own.

“Do we know why Harry Rivers was killed?” Tommen asked.

Her sweet little boy had begun attending council meetings recently, saying he would rule without a protector on his own one day and needed to learn. Pride always filled her heart when she saw him. He was slowly turning into the perfect king she had always known he would become.

“Not currently, Your Grace,” Varys said. “We have assumptions. One being that after the previously thwarted attempt on his life by his sisters, they have now come to finish the task.”

“Could it be connected to House Bracken's renewed oath to the crown?” Mathis Rowan asked. “Perhaps someone loyal to House Stark wanted to send a message.”

“Why choose a bastard for such a thing?” Mace asked. “These people are expendable, no one cares about their death.”

“He was here,” her father answered. “That sends more of a message than had it happened in a castle far away.”

Suddenly, a knock on the door, and it swung open not soon after to let in the red and golden clad Addam Marbrand, the Commander of King’s Landing’s City Watch.

“Your Grace, my lords, my lady.” He bowed rather shallowly, then straightened and tightened the grip around his golden helmet. “I apologise for not coming to you sooner, but I did not want to bother you with gossip. And verifying the tales I heard took longer than I thought.”

“Get on with it,” her father said.

Addam nodded, and took a breath. “The Golden Paladin is in King's Landing.”

Silence. No one dared move, no one dared even breathe, it seemed, everyone too stunned by this sudden revelation.

Her father raised a brow. “Last I heard she died at the Red Wedding.”

“I am not certain if it is actually her, my lord. But there is someone looking like and acting like and claiming to be the Golden Paladin in this city.”

Cersei rolled her eyes. She had been so happy to finally be rid of this pathetic pretender, House Frey ridding them of two annoyances in one night, something she had hoped that Benjiamin Vypren to be capable of. Hearing this nuisance had allegedly survived left her hoping those weasels at least succeeded in their main task. Especially after Lord Walder had died during the wedding.

But what did the Paladin now want in her city? Had she grown tired of the rainy and foggy forests of the Riverlands and now planned to terrorize them here? Or…

Her uncle Kevan spoke what she had been thinking. “Could the Paladin be behind the assassination?”

“It is certainly a possibility we need to investigate,” her father answered, tapping his fingers onto the table.

Most annoyingly, their talk quickly returned to dull topics afterwards - trade and harvests and the election of a new High Septon that called itself the High Sparrow and the Iron Bank and the lack of communications from several Riverlander Houses never failed to make her almost fall asleep. And yet, when the council meeting was finally declared finished, her father commanded her to remain.

He stared at her, green eyes as deep and terrifying as they had been her whole life. “You need to stop rejecting your daughter's betrothal.”

“I do not know what you are referring to.” She straightened in her chair, unwilling to let him control her. “I am merely concerned over the potential threats she is facing.”

“She is to become Lady of Storm's End and for that she-”

“She is my daughter! Not yours! You will not play your little games with her as well, I will not allow it.”

Cersei did not want to scream while her son was sat right beside her, but her father needed to understand.

“I know it is you who has planted these ideas in Cerelle's head,” her father continued. “Why else would she vehemently deny the importance of this marriage now, after having already agreed to it weeks ago? Especially now that she knows what is at stake.”

“Cerelle is opposed to marriage?” Tommen asked curiously.

Her father considered for a few moments. “That she is.”

“Perhaps I could talk to her.” He raised his chin in an effort to look strong. “I know she would listen to me, as I listen to her. I could tell her about Margaery and me, and how such a connection is beautiful.”

“A good idea indeed, Your Grace.”

“Do you have someone in mind to marry her to?”

Cersei could not believe it. Her sweet boy going against her reasonable concerns and wishes and listening to her father, of all people. She would need to talk to him and convince him - without anyone else present - that it would be best for Cerelle to stay here, with them. Unmarried, and forever hers.

A while later, she found herself walking through the gardens by Tommen’s side, one of the servants leading the way through the endless maze of bushes and trees and flowers and aggravating onlookers. That she had even needed to request help in finding her daughter had almost put her off the idea of talking to her. But she needed to. She could not let her children speak without her presence.

The servant boy stopped, turned, and raised his hand to the side. Then he bowed and hurried away.

The place he had pointed to was an opening between two old trees, Ser Balon and two other soldiers standing guard before them, red and brown leaves littering the path toward a small terrace, from which loud laughter sounded. Tommen dragged her along with him without a second thought.

All conversation broke off as they drew near, some smiling and some looking rather annoyed, yet every single person rose from their place on the couches and settees to curtsy and bow before their king.

The Princess’ Court, Cersei had it heard being called. Her sweet daughter had repaired this place to make it a respectable congregation point for herself, her ladies in waiting, and any other visitor wishing to curry favour with the princess.

Currently, Cerelle stood beside Helena Terrick, a lady from the Riverlands that had only recently arrived at the capital, yet had immediately wormed her way into her daughter’s good graces and grabbed herself the position of lady companion. Beside her, Lelia Lydden and Constance Serrett - two of her own choices for attendants for her daughter - as well as Sansa Stark and some Hightower boy had taken up their place on the terrace.

“Mother. Tommen.” Her daughter’s smile seemed forced, and it took everything inside Cersei not to immediately drag her away from these people clearly making her uncomfortable. “To what do I owe the honour?”

“There is something I want to discuss with you,” her son said. “But it is not urgent, so if I am interrupting something of importance-”

“No, it’s alright. If you would excuse me.”

Cerelle quickly fell into step beside her brother, Cersei walking behind them just for now so the two siblings could talk. Of course, she would raise her voice should anything untoward be spoken.

“How are you?” Tommen asked. “Have you recovered from what happened on your name day?”

“Mostly, I think. I have seen worse on my travels, but experiencing such a thing in a place that was supposed to be safe feels different.”

“I understand. I still sometimes think about Joffrey, even if I do not want to.”

“Aye. Such an image is difficult to banish from your mind.” Cerelle brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, half-hazardly trying to push it back into the intricate web of braids falling down her back. “But I assume that is not why you sought me out.”

“No.” He hesitated, then said, “Why do you not wish to get married?”

“I- I do wish for it. But this is all happening too quickly. I have barely returned and now everyone wants me to leave again?”

“But you would not have to leave. I’m the king, I could ask your husband to let you stay for a while longer.”

She let out a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. “I doubt grandfather will let you do this.”

“He will understand.” Tommen grabbed his sister’s hand to force her to look down toward him. “I just want you to be happy. And I am happy married to Margaery, so maybe this is what you need as well.”

Cerelle clearly struggled with her words, desperate to find anything that would free her from this conversation. Her daughter looked so much like her in this light, Cersei could not help but feel proud. Nothing of her father - any of them - remained in her.

“I… shall think of it.”

Cersei quickly put on her most convincing smile and stepped up to her children, snaking her hands around her daughter’s arm and pressing her close. “No more of this talk. Let us simply be glad we can all be here today, as a family, and speak of happier matters.”

Cerelle let out a badly concealed sigh of relief.

She did not even mind when her children began speaking of Dorne once more, and Essos and the problems at the Night’s Watch, for those things laid far, far out of their reach. As long as Cersei prevented any marriage negotiations, they could all remain here.

With her for eternity.