AFfC 7: Cersei II

Cersei’s back already!

She rides with Tommen to Tywin’s funeral at the Great Sept of Baelor.

Tommen: Ugh. Why do I have to go to Grandma’s funeral? So lame.

Cersei: SHUT UP! You have to go because he’s your grandfather. He was a well-loved man!

Tommen: Really? Because this place seems pretty empty. Doesn’t look like a lot of folks are showing up.

Cersei: It’s… uhmm… the rain. Yes. The rain is keeping people away. Not absolute hatred for the Lannisters amongst the smallfolk. No, it’s not that at all.

They arrive and see the High Septon there. He’s the new High Septon that Tyrion appointed. She hates them just because of that. Because she’s a bitch. But also she smiles when she thinks about her declaration that she’ll give a Lordship to anyone who brings her the imp’s head.

Inside, Twyin’s body is laying in state. Jaime stands there at vigil, wearing his white robes.

Cersei: Ugh. Why are you wearing white? You should be proudly wearing the Lannister colors!

Jaime: Uh, I’m wearing white because I’m a fucking Kingsguard.  Oh, and remember the last time we were both in this Sept together? At this exact same spot? We pretty much had sex right here, on top of our dead son’s body.

Cersei: SHHH!!!! Icks-nay on the ex-say!

Tommen: *sniff*sniff* EWW! Grandpa smells like rotting feces.

Cersei: SHHHH!!!!!! Jesus, you’re terrible at being a respectful, dignified king.

Tommen: Well, I am like 8 or something.

Cersei can’t deny it though. He does smell horrible. Whoever embalmed this guy did a terrible job.

Cersei: Was it Pycelle? Man, that guy is as useless as nipples on a breastplate.

Jaime: GRRM uses that line all the time. I’m pretty sure he’s just making fun of that Batman movie.

As Cersei heads out with Tommen, she thinks she overhears someone making a joke about Tywin smelling live a privy.

Cersei: Grrr! I have no idea who said that, but I’m sure its all part of a massive conspiracy by the Tyrells. I’ve got to get a spy to spy on them! Lady Margaery especially!

After the service, Cersei runs into a bunch of people who pat her on the back and wish her well. What with her father being dead and all.

Falyse Stokeworth: Oh Cersei! Poor you! We will all miss Lord Tywin dearly. As a sign of respect for him, I think my sister Lollys would like to name her child “Tywin.”

Cersei: Oh. Really? Lollys the fat, ugly girl who got gang raped by peasants and got pregnant from it? You want to name that kid Tywin? As a show of RESPECT?

Falyse: Uhmm… ermm… ahh… okay, so maybe that’s NOT a good idea?

Cersei: YOU THINK?!

Kevan: Now, now, my niece. Don’t take your anger out on others. We know you’re sad about your father.

Cersei: I can do what I wa—HOLY SHIT! What is wrong with Lancel? That dude looks sickly as fuck.

Kevan: Ah yes, he’s not been recovering so well from his battle injuries. He’s also not too happy about going off to Marry a Frey girl.

Lancel: Yes, Cersei. Maybe you could speak up for me and I can stay here. You know. With you. *winks*

Cersei: HAHAHA, oh… that’s so sweet? You think just because I banged you out a couple of times that it’s some sort of love? Hahaha… no. I’m done with your ass.

Lancel: Harrumph.

Cersei thinks about how involving Lancel in her conspiracy to get Robert drunk and murdered by a wild boar was a mistake. She’s done with him now and is glad he’s going away to marry some Frey. You see, Cersei is very short-sided and doesn’t fully appreciate that shunning Lancel might make him… you know… talk about everything he knows.

Then the Tyrell posse shows up.

Margaery: OH, SISTER! How sad I feel for you!

Margaery comes up and hugs Cersei.

Cersei: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

Cersei pushes her off in disgust, because she has no poker face.  Next comes up Lady Merryweather, aka Taena of Myr. She’s the sexy, dark-skinned Myrish wife of Lord Orton Merryweather and one of Maergery’s friends.

Taena: Cersei, you know I’m from the Free Cities, right? I have friends there. If there is any chance that the Imp has escaped there, I can help you out.

She winks at Cersei.

Cersei: Hrm. Aren’t you one of the ones that totally lied for us at Tyrion’s trial… making up some shit about you seeing him drop something into Joffrey’s wine? Yeah. I like you.

Mace Tyrell: Well Cersei. Now that your Lord Father is dead, I guess we should talk about the now vacant position of Hand of the King. You know who would be great at that? Me! Yeah… two Tyrells on the Small Council! It’s gonna be so awesome.

Cersei: Excuse me now? Say what? Two Tyrells on the King’s Small Council?

Mace: Yeah, duh. Garth Tyrell is coming to the city to take up the position of Master of Coin. Didn’t you hear? Tywin made the arrangements while Tyrion was in prison.

Cersei: He didn’t tell me about those plans.

Mace: So?

Cersei: So, I am the regent now. I rule until my son comes of age. And I have already promised that position to someone else.

Mace: What?! Who?!

But Cersei was lying. She didn’t promise that position to anyone. She just doesn’t want a fucking Tyrell to have it.

Cersei: Uhm… err… okay Cersei… pick a good one here… erm… uhh… Lord… uhm… Gyles Rosby?! AH! DAMNIT! Why the hell did I say Gyles Rosby?! That guy’s the worst! He’s the coughing guy who seems like he’s on the verge of dying every time he talks.

Mace: I AM FURIOUS!!!! ROSBY! I HAD A DEAL WITH THE LANNISTERS! AND NOW YOU BERTRAY IT WITH—

--Lady Olenna walks in, wearing a pair of cool shades and smoking an unfiltered cigarette.

Queen of Thorns: --Shut your fat ass up, son. It’s not Cersei’s fault that her father didn’t share his plans with her because their family is a shitshow of uncoordinated fuckwits. Well, she’s right and she’s the regent now! So she can do what she wants.

Cersei: Yes! Thank you for agreeing with me. I mean… wait… what?

Queen of Thorns: Garth is a worthless fuckwit, I’m sure not having him here will be fine. He smells worse than Tywin’s nasty ass shit corpse. Although fucking Rosby in his place? Yikes. Any time I see him, I half expect him to puke a bloody lung up.

Cersei: Ah, here comes Mrs. Passive Aggressive who nominally agreed with me while simultaneously insulting everything I do. How about you fuck yourself off back to Highgarden.

Queen of Thorns: That is EXACTLY what I plan to do, but only after I see my granddaughter married to Tommen.  Now come on son, let’s leave this cunt to her pretend mourning.

She grabs Mace by the ear and pulls him away.

Mace: Ow! Ow! Ow!

Cersei: Shit. That bitch is clever. But not as clever as me!

Ha. Whatever.

Cersei: SHUT UP, NARRATOR!  Well… now it looks like I need to go find Lord Gyles and ask him to be the Master of Coin so I don’t get caught up in my lie.

Later…

Lord Gyles: Oh yeah, sure I’d love to be master of co--*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: Perfect. But as part of the deal you need to make one promise. If anyone asks you when I offered you this and you accepted… say it was yesterday. Deal?

Lord Gyles: *COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*COUGH*

Cersei: I’ll take that as a yes?

Lord Gyles: *COUGH*who*COUGH*will*COUGH*be*COUGH*Hand*COUGH*?

Cersei: Who will be the Hand of the King? Why, Uncle Kevan, of course!

Later again, and back in the castle, Qyburn comes to visit Cersei.

Qyburn: Well, it’s official Varys is officially missing as well. Can’t find him anywhere. Nobody has seen him since the night Tyrion vanished. Also missing is a jailer named Rugen.  And you know what we found in Rugen’s bedroom? He had a brick in the floor under his bed that was loose. Under it? This!

Qyburn shows a gold coin to Cersei. But it’s not a modern gold dragon. It’s an old one, from the days before the conquest when everyone printed their own coins. And where is this coin from?

Cersei: AGH!! FUCKING HIGHGARDEN!!!!!! THOSE TYRELLS!!!!!! Qyburn, speak to no one of this.

Qyburn: As my queen commands.

Cersei: Now tell me what’s up with The Mountain. Is that dude still dying?

Qyburn: Well, that’s a surprisingly more complicated question than you’d think it would be. I have identified his ailment, for sure. The Red Viper’s spear tip was poisoned with the venom of a Manticore. Quite deadly, but thickened some how to be especially slow-acting. He is in great agony and will die.

Cersei: We should just put him out of his misery.

Qyburn: Yes. Well. We COULD do that. Couldn’t we? But, you know. Maybe we could study him as he slowly dies. Then we will learn more about this poison for future reference.

Cersei: You’re one really sick fuck, Qyburn. I really, really like you is what I’m trying to say. Hey, how did you lose your maester’s chain anyway?

Qyburn: Ah, well. It’s really a short story. You know how people study dead bodies to learn more about the nature of life and how life works? Well, I was really more interested in death and how death works. Therefore, logically if we learn about life from studying the dead… we can also learn about death from studying the alive. And by that I mean by cutting them up and torturing them slowly and doing horrible, horrible experiments on them.

Cersei: That sounds horrible!

Qyburn: Well, I mainly just do it to poor people.

Cersei: Ah, okay. Sounds legit and perfectly justifiable. You can do what you want with the Mountain. But… you know… when you’re done, give me his head. We need to send the head to Dorne so they don’t start a giant war on us.

Qyburn: Oh, he doesn’t necessarily need a head for what I’ve got planned. Sounds good to me.

That evening, she has dinner with her uncle.
Cersei: Oh right, I haven’t told you this yet, but whatever… you’re going to be the new Hand of the King.

Kevan: The fuck I will.

Cersei: Excuse me?

Kevan: Making Mace Tyrell the hand would be stupid because Mace is a total fuckwit. But you know what would be stupider? NOT making him the hand, and instead making the Tyrells our enemy.

Cersei: Fuck that. He’s the worst. The kingdom needs you!

Kevan: Do they? Well okay then. Let’s make a deal. I’ll become the Hand of the King… but only if I get to be regent too.

Cersei: Uhh… no. I am regent.

Kevan: No. If I am the Hand, then I will rule. You can pack your bags for fucking Casterly Rock and never come back here.

Cersei: HELL NO! Tommen is my son! I will not leave him behind.

Kevan: Yeah, and what a great mother you are. I mean look how awesome Joffrey turned out.

Cersei throws wine in his face. Which is unusual for Cersei, because it means that she wasted wine. Any minute, I’m sure she’ll be over to lap it up.

Kevan: You make enemies very easily, Cersei. It would not be wise to make enemies with me as well.  If you will not make me regent, then at least make me castellan of Casterly Rock. Give the Hand to either Mathis Rowan or Randyll Tarly.  Mace will not be happy that it is not him, but both Rowan and Tarly are bannermen to the Tyrells. Mace will be unable to object to that, and yet both are malleable enough so that they will obey their regent rather than Mace.

Cersei: No! You can’t leave and go to Casterly Rock! You’re abandoning your King in his time of need!

Kevan: What does Tommen need me for? He has his mother still here with him. And his father too.

Cersei: What do you mean? Robert is de—oh yeah, right. You know about the Jaime thing. Right.