C4

The great hall was crowded with people, but most of the seats were empty save for a few noblemen with escort guards, a score or so of servants in service garb, and a couple dozen women clad in gowns of blue velvet and green brocade and scarlet satin. They stood together in groups in corners and behind pillars and in doorways, whispering and giggling amongst themselves while the knights drank wine and ate off china plates laid out upon trestle tables and chairs brought in specially for them. One of these women wore a crown of flowers woven in bright colors around her head; it looked odd perched atop her plump pink face with its small pug nose and wide mouth filled with teeth, and she kept twining it nervously with her fingers lest it fall off onto the floor. She was surrounded by young maidens clad in robes of purple and lilac, each carrying a basket full of fruit that smelled faintly of oranges and grapes. The others clustered closer, waiting eagerly for the queen to come down from the high table to join them.

"Will you give us some words?" called one of the men, trying to catch the queen's eye. "A toast to the king, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Cersei answered coldly. She lifted one hand slowly, beckoning the crowd forward, then dropped it with a shrug, dismissing the lot of them in disgust. She strode away across the carpet, followed closely by her daughters Margaery and Myrcella. "Mother," Margaery whispered urgently, "what shall I say to them?"

Cersei shrugged. "Tell them the truth." Then she gave her eldest daughter a meaningful glance. "Go sit with them, dear."

Myrcella glanced back at her twin, but the other girls were already moving past them. As Myrcella stepped through the doorway to follow, the younger girl turned back. Her sister's face was pale, but determined. "Is that wise, Mother? Will it not make matters worse?"

"Margaery should learn better manners. And she has been spoiled beyond measure." The younger girl scowled. "She is not a princess like yourself, though, so you must be careful. Do not let the other girls pick on her... especially the redhead. Make sure that none of the serving wenches try to flirt with your husband either, else he will think me a bad mother."

"Oh, I can see how it would seem ill-advised," said Margaery dryly, rolling her eyes as she caught up with the rest of the group. "And why are you so worried about my marriage anyway, Mother?"

The queen frowned darkly as she led the way up to the high table and slid onto the bench beside her eldest son. "I am not worried about any marriage," she lied as sweetly as she knew how. "But you have promised me that you would wed Tommen, have you not?"

Tommen raised his head as his mother and sisters approached, blinking sleepy eyes. He was wearing his white doublet again, and a heavy fur cloak lined in lamb's wool draped his shoulders. His golden curls gleamed beneath the lights that hung above, and a silken cord bound them tight against his forehead. He smiled shyly at first sight of Margaery, but when he saw her sister he covered his mouth with both hands as if afraid to laugh aloud. "Hello," he managed finally, then blushed furiously.

"Are you well, my son?" Cersei asked anxiously as he lowered his hands.

"Yes," said Tommen, glancing shyly at Margaery. "Thank you, Mother. For coming."

"Why did we not know that you were here?" Cersei demanded. "We should have heard of your arrival sooner. How did you get here safely? What dangers did you face?"

"There were storms on the sea. But Father sent two ships to bring us here."

"How many days did it take?"

"Three. There were three of them, all named Swans. A big ship for Lady Sansa, my lady mother, and another for you and Prince Joffrey, and a little one for the captain."

"He came himself?"

Tommen nodded solemnly. "When you were crowned he sailed to the Iron Islands and brought home their kings. They swore fealty all around him. When they had sworn, he said that they were free men once more, and that if any of them should choose to defy him in future it would cost them half their wealth and lands and slaves besides. He made a feast for them on his own land at Sunspear, with roast sheep and goat, and fish and wine and mead, and cakes and pies and honeycakes..."

"Honeycake," murmured Cersei as her thoughts raced ahead. She could see Lord Tywin sitting on the dais above with his son Jaime. Their heads would be spinning; the old lion would never taste such a thing as honeycake, not if it was the last cake in the world. Tywin Lannister was not a man given to sweets, even when he lived among humans. Sweetmeats and honeycakes would be as foreign as a moon to him. Yet what a splendid opportunity that presented to his enemies! Tyrell honeycakes, Highgarden pies, Riverrun jams... all laced with poison. Poison...

Her frown deepened, but before she could ask questions the doors burst open again and more guests arrived, this time bearing gifts from across the narrow sea: lords of Dorne, knights from Storm's End, even some of the lesser houses of the Reach, who had never tasted sweetmeat or mead or honeycake. Some of these men carried chests stuffed full with silver, others bore trays of costly fruits, still others bore swords or shields painted black or yellow or crimson. The knight who entered with the shield of House Marq Piper was clad in mail of pale gold studded with pearls, and he wore a circlet of pale green glass set with rubies; he offered the ruby up to Cersei with one hand while holding up a cup of pale gold with the other, but she paid him no heed.

Lord Harrold Hardyng entered next, the lord commander of the Kingsguard, and behind him trailed a column of armored men clad in white. "My queen!" cried the lord commander, bowing low over one knee. "I come at once the commands of His Grace the King in the East."

"Your grace?" Cersei blinked. "Has Robert gone to war?"

Hardyng straightened. "His majesty bids me say that he desires to confer his presence on you personally, my lady."

"With pleasure," said Cersei. "My lord, send your men to the stables and fetch our horses, so that we may ride forth to greet the king at once."

"At once, my queen," said Hardin.

As Cersei rose and descended from the dais, Ser Barristan Selmy followed after her, leaving his place to stand behind her chair. Behind them, in the shadow of the stairwell, the White Sword stood silent and unblinking as ever, unsmiling. Cersei had known that the moment she saw him. No man in the realm was more skilled at guarding secrets than Baelor Blacktyde, but she wondered suddenly whether he knew his true role, or if he believed himself merely a loyal servant standing guard outside her private audience chamber. The thought amused her. If he only knew the truth, she reflected, he would be far less eager for her company. Or for Robert's.