Lancel's spirits lifted again, his face bright with the innocent smile of youth."Don't worry, I'll remember your good counsel. Tyrion once told me something similar—he said that growing up is, in the end, a kind of happiness!"
Gawen patted Lancel's shoulder once more before sitting back in his chair."I'll assign you among the guards riding behind the queen's carriage. I imagine that is precisely where you most wish to serve."
Lancel blinked in surprise."I can really serve as a guard? But then… your earlier warning?"
Gawen spread his hands."Just now, I spoke as your friend, offering counsel. I trust you've taken it to heart. Now I also act as your friend, helping you—granting you this small wish."
Lancel's eyes lit up."Baron Gawen, you are too good to me. This time I truly owe you a favor. I promise—I won't overstep!"
Hearing Lancel's vow, spoken as though it were an oath, Gawen could only smile faintly.
The morning sun cast golden rays over King's Landing.
It was the day the royal hunting party would depart for the Kingswood. Queen Cersei would leave the Red Keep in her carriage, pass through the inner city, and exit the Lion Gate.
Outside the Lion Gate, she would first greet the noble ladies and maidens of King's Landing and the northern Crownlands who were to join the hunt. Only after the formal greetings were done would the hunting party set out southward toward the Kingswood.
Those from the southern Crownlands would join along the road, depending on their lands' proximity. As for the ladies from the most distant corners, they would not ride with the queen's procession at all, but instead travel straight to the hunting grounds.
Clad in silvered armor and a blue cloak, Gawen stood with the officers of the Lannister red cloaks and the City Watch gold cloaks beside the ornate royal carriage, awaiting the queen's arrival.
This time, the hunting party's escort numbered 764 men under Gawen's command:
63 Crabb blue cloaks,
201 Lannister red cloaks (including an inserted Lancel),
and 500 gold cloaks of the City Watch.
The noble ladies themselves would also bring their own household guards.
At the cry of "The Queen approaches!", Cersei Lannister appeared, holding young Princess Myrcella by the hand, a jeweled crown gleaming upon her head.
The gems on the crown sparkled brilliantly in the morning light.
The Kingswood Hunt was a ladies' affair; no highborn men besides guards and attendants would join. Thus, Cersei had left both Joffrey and Tommen behind in the Red Keep.
As Cersei advanced, Gawen and the men bowed with a hand over the heart.
With his head lowered, Gawen glimpsed the hem of her splendid gown and—keen as ever—felt her gaze linger briefly upon him.
"You've done well, Baron Gawen," the queen said.
When he lifted his eyes at her praise, he caught only the regal sweep of her back as she passed.
Gawen wondered at the cause of this sudden commendation—until Princess Myrcella turned to glance back at him.
Her clear, bright eyes glimmered with a smile, and she gave the faintest nod.
Understanding her look, Gawen returned the gesture with the barest nod of his own before averting his gaze.
So the queen's praise had been for Myrcella's sake.
How like Cersei, Gawen thought—quick to draw her sword when slighted, yet ready to offer reward when her daughter was pleased.
Straightening his back, Gawen's eyes then fell upon Jaime Lannister following close behind the queen.
Today, Jaime wore no armor—unusual for him. Instead, he strode in a wine-red slashed surcoat embroidered with the roaring lion, black leather boots polished to a shine, and his golden hair flowing in the wind.
Without his usual steel, Jaime seemed less martial, but all the more strikingly handsome.
As he passed, Jaime shot Gawen a sidelong glance, heavy with warning.
Gawen ignored it, inwardly scoffing. Dressed like a peacock—does he think this is a tourney or a lovers' promenade?
Promenade? The thought sparked in his mind.
Yes. His decision yesterday to assign the night watches around the queen's quarters entirely to the red cloaks had been a wise one indeed.
Once Cersei and Myrcella had entered the carriage, Gawen motioned for the men to return to their assigned posts.
Lancel, clad in shining golden armor and grinning broadly, brought forward Gawen's horse, Matil the retainer standing by with a helpless expression.
Mounting up, Gawen accepted the reins and whip from Lancel, then waved him off with a touch of disdain."Once we're outside the city, you needn't trail directly beside the queen's carriage. Stay further back and keep watch. If you notice anything amiss, come to me at once."
Receiving this clear directive, Lancel nodded eagerly and trotted away, beaming with happiness.
When all was ready, Gawen first ordered a detachment of gold cloaks to ride ahead and clear the road.
Only then did he tug his reins, guiding his horse beside the queen's carriage."Your Grace, all is prepared," he said.
Cersei's cold voice answered from within."Then let us depart."
With the gold cloaks leading, the column advanced smoothly.
By midday, the procession entered the Queen's District, cheers rising like waves as the queen's carriage rolled past.
Inside, Princess Myrcella pressed her face to the window, eyes shining."Mother, they love you so much!"
Cersei lifted her chin slightly, lips curling."And so will they love you one day."
But Myrcella shook her head."Mother, look outside! You're amazing—Father could never win such love. I never could either."
Though the shouts pleased Cersei's pride, she gave not the crowd a single glance.
What use is the love of such lowborn rabble?
She had not forgotten how the Queen's District once slandered her. Had she not decisively entrusted Baron Gawen to silence their tongues, who knew what might have come of it?
Now things were merely as they ought to be. She was a lioness of House Lannister—born to be adored by sheep.
Cersei lowered her gaze back to Myrcella.
Her slender hand stroked the girl's golden curls."Myrcella, your beauty will be your greatest weapon."
The princess looked up at her mother with puzzled, innocent eyes.
Cersei bent and kissed her daughter's brow."Do not fret. One day, I will teach you."
.
.
.
🔥 The Throne's Last Flame — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
📯 Lords and Ladies of the Realm, heed the call! 📯
The saga burns ever brighter—30 chapters ahead now await, available only to those who swear their loyalty on Patreon. 🐉❄️🔥
Walk among dragons, defy the cold, and stake your claim in a world where crowns are won with fire and fury.
🔗 Claim your place: www.patreon.com/DrManhattanEN
👤 Known on Patreon as: DrManhattanEN
Your loyalty feeds the flame. And fire remembers.