chapter 36 lioness plans

Cersei's POV

My little cub will be sent away with that monster. The thought alone makes me feel sick. Heavens know what he'll do to her after I tried to kill him. Worst of all, he didn't even get punished for breaking into my chambers and shattering Littlefinger's hands like they were made of brittle clay. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no flicker of doubt—just raw, brutal efficiency. He did as he pleased, as if he were the king, not my drunken, bloated husband.

And Robert… that fool. That useless, whoring oaf. He could have at least given Caesar some form of punishment, but instead, he offers my daughter like a lamb to a wolf. A princess of the Seven Kingdoms—my daughter—being used as a leash, as if that beast could ever be controlled. As if the very crown or my father's gold could bind him, let alone a girl barely of age. Robert is blind if he thinks my daughter can change him. Caesar has hundreds of bastards already, women of noble and common birth alike throwing themselves at his feet in fear or admiration. What's one more?

My hands tremble as I grip my golden hair, fury and helplessness twisting inside me like a blade in my gut.

A hand touches my shoulder. I look up, and there is Jaime, his face full of concern.

"Sister, you must calm yourself," he says gently, his voice full of love.

"Calm myself?" My voice is sharp as I whip my head toward him. "He's taking my cub from me! How can I be calm?"

Jaime exhales through his nose, his thumb stroking my shoulder. "Yes, but don't forget—she is a lion, and when she grows, she will be as fierce as you."

I almost laugh. "Do you not see, Jaime? My claws have been ripped out. What is a lion when faced with a demon? A demon that wants for nothing, fears nothing, and needs nothing?"

But then… I pause. He does care for one thing in this realm. Tyrion.

The twisted little imp who birthed that abomination. If I can control Tyrion, then I can control him. And if I control him… then I will be the most powerful person in Westeros.

I look back at Jaime, schooling my features into something soft. I can't let him suspect. He cares for Tyrion, as much as I loathe it. No, this plan must be mine alone.

I am still Cersei Lannister. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Men would kill and die for the chance to bed a queen.

I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. As he pulls me into his arms, my mind is already spinning, plotting, weaving the leash that will one day bind the beast.

Caesar Lannister… you will be my pawn, no matter what it takes. I will show you that you are nothing more than a dog, and I will be your master something even my father couldnt achieve i shall.

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In Another Room – Tyrion & Caesar

Tyrion sat across from me, nursing his wine, the candlelight casting shadows on his face. He looked older these days, more tired. Perhaps the weight of King's Landing was pressing down on him.

"So," he sighed, rubbing his temple, "what exactly happened last night?"

I leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers against the armrest. "Littlefinger sent an assassin. One of the Faceless Men. Almost worked too."

Tyrion's eyes widened, his wine cup pausing at his lips. "A Faceless Man? And you live to tell the tale? That… is concerning."

I smirked. "I underestimated him. Won't happen again."

Tyrion set down his cup, his expression growing serious. "Caesar, you can't afford to be reckless. You are many things—powerful, feared, but not invincible. If someone truly wants you dead, one mistake is all it takes."

I waved a hand dismissively. "I've learned my lesson, Father. No more ego trips. No more assuming I am untouchable. I will make sure nothing like this happens again."

Tyrion studied me, then exhaled. "Good. I can't lose you, son. You're all I've truly got."

I chuckled, leaning forward. "You forget, Father, you have hundreds of little versions of me running around. Perhaps it's time you showed your love toward them as well."

For a moment, Tyrion said nothing. Then, realization dawned in his eyes like a sunrise over Blackwater Bay.

"Gods…" he muttered. "You're right. I have an entire generation of Lannisters that I can claim, that I can raise."

I grinned. "And they are all waiting, Father."

He smiled, shaking his head in wonder. "When do we leave?"

"In a couple of weeks. There's something I need to find first."

"And what is that?"

I leaned forward, my voice lowering. "The Alchemist's Guild."

Tyrion's brows furrowed. "They still exist?"

"Barely," I admitted. "But I believe they still have knowledge worth taking. I hope to find books on theory, on rituals, something that will accelerate my plans."

Tyrion studied me for a long moment. "You know, I'd like to read those books as well."

I smiled. "Of course, Father. How could I keep such knowledge from the man who gave me my love for books and wisdom?"

Tyrion chuckled. "Flattery, is it? I must be getting old if I'm falling for it."

I stood, stretching. "For now, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Yes," Tyrion agreed, pushing himself up. "Let's."

As we walked toward the kitchens, my twenty best men following like shadows, we passed Littlefinger in the corridor. The moment he saw me, his face went pale, and he immediately looked away, his hands trembling at his sides.

I stopped, smirking. He was trying to appear indifferent, but I could smell his fear. Oh, how I enjoyed being the reason men feared for their lives.

I leaned down, my voice a whisper meant only for him. "Did you enjoy watching your assassin fail, Baelish?"

Littlefinger swallowed but did not respond. He dared not.

I let out a low chuckle. "I wonder… how long will you last, once I decide to play with you? Three days? A week? We'll find out soon enough."

I walked on, grinning as I thought of the beehives I had prepared, the sweet milk I would pour over his skin, letting the insects feast upon him as he begged for death.

Perhaps I should learn to build a small boat as well. I want to make this last.

As we reached the kitchens, I inhaled deeply, my hunger growing—not just for food, but for the pleasure of breaking those who dared cross me.

Caesar Lannister does not forgive.

Caesar Lannister does not forget.