Gawen swore that at first it had only been out of duty, cooperating with Queen Cersei, his mistress.
Yet now, he could not help but feel a subtle tremor deep within.
He had to admit he had underestimated the allure of Queen Cersei, whose beauty ranked among the finest in all the Seven Kingdoms.
Though the births of three children had left faint traces of time upon her, with her golden curls and emerald eyes, Cersei Lannister still possessed a slender figure and fair skin.
It took every ounce of Gawen's willpower to suppress the stirrings in his chest and continue his task.
Gawen's eyes wavered, drifting away from Cersei's piercing gaze.
Inside, his thoughts raced, while outwardly his throat bobbed as he swallowed."Your Grace," he said carefully, "do you have someone in mind to replace the Hand of the King?"
His reply caught Cersei off guard—pleasantly so, in fact.
He understands me!
Of course, her ideal candidate for Hand was her father, Tywin Lannister, though she knew Robert would never agree.
Smiling faintly, she withdrew her delicate hand."You always manage to delight me unexpectedly. But you should also know—as long as Robert lives, Jon Arryn's position is untouchable."
She noticed that, as she spoke, Gawen subtly edged a step away. Watching him feign composure while steadying his breath, Cersei's lips curved in amusement.
"I saw today that Lord Arryn's health is failing," Gawen continued. "Even for the sake of his well-being, Your Grace would have cause to nominate a new Lord Chancellor. By doing so, we could set a rival against him. Even if he could not be unseated as Hand, his reputation would suffer—and he would gain a formidable enemy."
He lowered his voice."The enemy of your enemy might become your friend. You could simply sit back and watch the play unfold. In that moment, the initiative would rest with you."
He paused, then added:"Your position would rise above them all. Whoever won your favor would gain the advantage."
Cersei's emerald eyes gleamed, as if she could already picture the old man groveling before her to keep his place.
Her breath deepened."And what would you propose?"
Gawen's tone steadied, calm once more."After the royal hunt, allow me—under your name—to visit Highgarden and meet with Lord Mace Tyrell."
"The puffed-up fish?"
A true heavyweight.
Though she spoke with disdain, Gawen caught the flicker of apprehension she hid so well.
"Puffed fish" was the mocking title others used for Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden.
The mighty Tyrells ruled the fertile Reach. Their sigil was a golden rose blooming over verdant fields. Their wealth rivaled only that of House Lannister, and their hosts were strong on land—and at sea, their fleets rivaled the royal navy.
"For a fish, King's Landing is nothing more than a gilded bowl," Gawen said smoothly. "And in the end, that bowl will be yours to command."
His clever turn of phrase pleased even self-assured Cersei.
She lifted her fine chin slightly."Go then. Use your talents well, Baron Crabb."
And with that, the queen once more leaned closer.
Gawen noticed her gaze dip—fleetingly—toward his waist.
Her lips curved in a sly smile."Serve me well. Please me. And your queen will not stint on her… rewards."
Rewards? The word made Gawen's mind wander.
Cersei's mood brightened further. With a soft laugh, her emerald eyes glimmered as she turned away."Come, little baron. It's nearly time for luncheon."
Maegor's Holdfast, the Great Hall
Queen Cersei sat at the head of the long table.
To her right sat Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen in turn. To her left, Jaime, Gawen, Lancel, and Tyrion.
At first glance, the arrangement seemed to follow rank and station. In truth, it reflected only Cersei's favor.
By their name alone, Tyrion and Lancel could have been seated above "some country baron" like Gawen.
But Cersei ruled as a despot in all but name.
Servants carried in dish after dish upon gilded platters.
First came a thick soup of mushrooms and buttered snails, followed by nutcakes of pine nuts and eggs, and oat bread baked with apples and oranges.
After the sweets came the heavier meats: ribs of wild boar, great mutton chops stewed with onions and raisins, and cakes of fish baked with celery. The final serving was buttered peas, laid before each guest.
Once the courses were set, the maidens poured wine—Tyrion's beloved summerwine.
Gawen mused that Cersei's intelligence network had a flaw. If she knew Tyrion's fondness for summerwine, she would surely have changed the vintage, or at least ensured her dwarf brother drank something else.
During the meal, across the table, Joffrey suddenly raised his cup toward Gawen.
Truth be told, Gawen wanted as little to do with this wretched boy as possible.
But this was Cersei's darling son.
No matter his thoughts, he raised his cup with perfect courtesy and toasted the "Emperor" Joffrey.
Seeing this, Lancel—seated nearby—was consumed with envy.
Joffrey's glances toward him were full of disdain. Among all his kin, Joffrey reserved his dislike solely for Lancel.
The boy prayed King Robert would return from the hunt soon, to rescue him from Joffrey's malice.
At table's end, Queen Cersei announced that Baron Crabb would oversee and lead the upcoming royal hunt.
Jaime added that, as was custom, the queen's officers had prepared the list of provisions, and that before departure, Gawen should see Lord Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin, to collect the gold dragons for expenses.
Baron Crabb was also named the queen's Chief Officer of Affairs.
With rank came greater pay.
Though the time was still short, Gawen felt ready to redouble his efforts.
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