"We could take the children and leave King's Landing before Robert returns," Jaime urged, his voice low and urgent. "Before he hears the rumors and orders a pursuit. We could flee to the Free Cities. Robert's reach doesn't extend there. We would be safe."
"Safe?" Cersei's voice was a furious cry as she pulled away from him. "We would never be safe! Robert would send assassins after us until the end of our days. There would be no escape. I will not live my life looking over my shoulder, and I will never let anyone hurt my children. Never!"
Jaime gently took her hand, bowing his head to kiss her blonde hair. "I know. And I will protect you," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm on her raw nerves. "Believe me, I will do whatever it takes to keep you and the children safe."
Soothed by his promise, Cersei's anger gave way to quiet sobs, and she sagged against him, burrowing into his arms.
But as her composure slowly returned, her mind began to turn. She would not be reduced to a fugitive, fleeing from one city to the next. She was a queen. She had to find a way to silence the rumors, to neutralize the threat, to ensure no one could ever harm her or her children. There had to be another way.
She sent Jaime to quietly gather their family's household guards within the Red Keep. If the worst came to pass, at least he could lead them and protect her and the children while they fought their way out of the city. But in her mind, that was a desperate, last resort.
As Cersei wrestled with her thoughts, a handmaiden entered. "Your Grace," the girl said timidly, "the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard, requests an audience."
Cersei's heart hammered in her chest. She splashed her face with cold water, covered the redness of her eyes with powder, and donned a regal white gown. When she met Ned Stark in the garden, she had once again become the proud queen.
She dismissed the servants, leaving them alone amongst the roses. Cersei knew why he was here. He had heard the whispers and had come to question her. Deciding to strike first, she lifted her chin, her voice dripping with cold authority.
"Lord Stark. Vicious rumors, spun by villains, are poisoning our city. This is a stain upon the royal family. Why are you here, questioning me, instead of sending your men to arrest those who conspire against the crown?"
Ned Stark's face was a mask of stone. He simply stared at her, his brown eyes cold and unblinking. He said nothing.
Under his relentless, icy gaze, Cersei felt a prickle of fear. She took an involuntary step back, her own bravado faltering. "What are you looking at?" she snapped, her voice sharper now, laced with panic. "How dare you stare at your queen with such insolence! It's treason!"
She had the urge to scream for the guards, to have him arrested on the spot, but she hesitated. She was afraid of what he knew, of how he might expose her and Jaime. Her face flushed red, a potent mix of fury and fear she dared not unleash.
Finally, Ned broke the silence, his voice low and grave. "Put away your bravado, Cersei. It won't help you now. I have proof. The rumors spreading through King's Landing... they're true. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are not Robert's children. They are yours and the Kingslayer's."
Each word was a shard of ice stabbing into her heart. The color drained from her face, leaving it pale and bloodless. Her lips trembled as she tried to form a denial, her eyes a mix of rage and terror. "No... that's not true! They are Robert's children!"
Looking at her terrified expression, Ned felt any lingering doubt vanish. He also felt a profound sadness for his friend, the king who had been so thoroughly betrayed.
"I've read the histories," Ned continued, his tone devoid of pity. "The great book of noble lineages. In all the centuries of our houses, every time a Baratheon wed a Lannister, the children had black hair. Every single one. It is a fact that Joffrey and his siblings do not share Robert's blood. You betrayed your husband."
His disgust was plain. "You and I both know Robert's temper. When he returns and learns the truth, he will kill you. And he will kill your children."
"No!" Cersei shrieked, a raw, frantic sound. She was no longer a queen, but a mother beast protecting her cubs. "You can't hurt my children! No one will touch them!"
"I have always believed that the children, at least, are innocent," Ned said, frowning at her wild expression. "That is why I am here. Leave the Red Keep. Take your children and go. Disappear from Westeros, and pray Robert never finds you. If you stay, I cannot guarantee their safety."
He let the warning hang in the air. "This is the only chance I will give you. Get them out of King's Landing before Robert returns."
Without another word, Ned Stark turned and walked away, not sparing her a final glance. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, only that his honor would not allow him to stand by and watch Robert murder three children, no matter the sins of their mother. Cersei deserved justice, but the children did not deserve to die for her crimes.
Cersei stared blankly at Ned's retreating back. She clenched her fists so tightly that her long nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. The sharp pain shocked her out of her panic, her fear crystallizing into something cold and hard. A monstrous thought began to brew in her mind.
You forced me, she thought, her eyes glittering with a new, terrifying resolve. You all forced me.
She gritted her teeth, glancing toward the Tower of the Hand before turning and sweeping back into her chambers.
"Your Grace, your hand! It's bleeding!" her maid cried out in alarm.
Cersei barely seemed to notice. She turned and stared at the girl, her eyes vicious. "Get me Grand Maester Pycelle," she commanded. "Now!"
The frightened maid scurried away to the maester's chambers.
Three days passed. Cersei made no move to leave. Ned was baffled. Was the woman truly mad enough to sit and wait for death, dragging her children down with her?
Before he could confront her again, news arrived that shattered everything. His Majesty, King Robert, had been on a hunt. He had been drinking, his horse had stumbled, and he had been mortally wounded by a boar. The Kingsguard were bringing him back to the Red Keep by carriage. He was in a coma.
Ned's heart pounded in his chest as he raced to the king's bedroom.
When he burst into the room, Grand Maester Pycelle and his assistants were already working on the king. Ned walked anxiously to the bedside. He looked down at his oldest friend, his eyes closed tight, his head wrapped in a white cloth that was already soaked through with bright red blood.
------------------------
For Advance chapters visit : patreon.com/Mythic_Muse