Lucas emerged from Cersei's chambers just past midnight. She had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep after their tiresome activity and so Lucas decided to return to his own rooms.
The two guards, Lannister guards, were still stationed outside the door, though their shoulders had slumped slightly. He wondered if they had any idea what had transpired inside, not that he cared.
As he walked through the dim corridors of the Red Keep, his thoughts lingered on the blissful and thoroughly satisfied expression that had been on Cersei's face.
While Lucas certainly possessed considerable skill in such matters, there had been another reason for her overwhelming pleasure.
He had been passively using his healing powers in small, subtle doses every time he touched her, which helped in relaxing her muscles and soothing her nerves. It was not anything drastic, but the sensations it triggered coursed through her body like waves, making her quiver and crave more with every touch.
Combined with his near limitless stamina, the night had become something unforgettable for Cersei.
Still, Lucas had to admit one thing. Cersei was incredibly headstrong.
At the peak of her ecstasy, he had tried, though he had little expectation, to use his taming power on her. It had not worked, of course. He had known it would not.
He had no progress bar or percentage system to measure how close he was to taming someone, but his instincts from his powers, gave him a reliable sense.
And those instincts told him he had made almost no progress with Cersei, despite everything. Before what had happened in the room and after all the pleasure he had given her, there had been very little progress.
He had hoped that she would become more loyal more emotionally entangled after their night together. But no. She remained as resolute and self assured as ever.
Perhaps it was simply in her nature. To see herself as queen, the one to be obeyed and worshipped and not the one to follow or serve.
With these thoughts spinning in his mind, Lucas returned to his own chambers, where his personal guards were standing vigilant outside his section of the Red Keep. He collapsed onto his bed and was asleep within moments.
The next day passed uneventfully within the Red Keep. Nothing major or noteworthy occurred.
That evening, the small council convened in the council chamber to discuss the fate of Lucas's proposals and demands.
Present were Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, Cersei Lannister, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Varys, and Petyr Baelish.
"So," Robert said, voice low and pointed, "do any of you have a logical reason to deny Lucas his request and conditions?"
There was silence at first. The members of the council exchanged wary, thoughtful glances.
Cersei shivered involuntarily at the mere mention of Lucas's name. A full day had passed, and yet she had not shaken the intoxication of last night. The sensation still lingered in her bones. Perhaps, another meeting was required.
Finally, it was Jon Arryn who spoke.
"Your Grace," he said carefully, "I believe Ser Lucas is trying to bite off more than he can chew. What he proposes is not just improbable, it borders on the impossible. We cannot grant him such freedom simply because he claims he can deliver. Everything he has uttered sounds something straight out of sheer imagination and fantasy."
"We have already been through this, Jon," Robert snapped. "It is his gold, not the Crown's. He would be the one doing the planning. It is him taking the risk. If it all falls apart, it is on him, not us. The Crown would not pay a single copper."
Jon pressed his lips into a thin line but said nothing further. He could not argue with the logic. Robert was right. What troubled him was the not possibility of Lucas failing. What worried him was what would happen if Lucas succeeded.
The influence he would wield then, would be immense. The small folk would worship him. His authority would remain unchallenged perhaps next to Robert only.
Westerlands would gain more power and influence. All that he had built for Vale would suffer losses.
"Your Grace," Renly spoke, drawing the attention of the council toward him.
"I believe we can agree to all the conditions Ser Lucas has placed," he said. Robert nodded, gesturing for his younger brother to continue.
"But," Renly added, "Ser Lucas must also give something in return for the privileges he seeks."
"Speak clearly, Renly," Robert grunted as he took a long gulp of wine.
"Ser Lucas must share the technology behind his metals with the Crown," Renly said smugly, as though he had just proposed a masterstroke.
Before Robert could respond, Cersei scoffed loudly, her disdain palpable.
"And you think he will agree to that?" she sneered. "Was not it his second or third condition that he would never reveal the secrets behind his metals?"
Renly narrowed his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.
"What is there to agree or disagree?" he said, his voice rising slightly.
"If the Crown commands it, he must obey. He would not be doing any of this out of charity. He wants to collect taxes, run the City Watch, and hold power in King's Landing. The least he can do is offer something of equivalent value in return."
Cersei smirked and snickered.
"Then why do not you take up those privileges, Ser Renly, and fulfil all that he has promised? Of course, the privileges will be free for you."
Her voice dripped with mockery, but she said nothing more.
All eyes turned to Robert.
Even Jon Arryn appeared slightly intrigued, a glint of excitement in his usually calm gaze. He knew very well, Lucas, and more importantly, Tywin Lannister, would never agree to share their metallurgical secrets. Even it meant going against the crown.
But if the Crown demanded it, he could make a big issue out of it and perhaps sabotage the entire project.
And maybe Lucas could be ousted from King's Landing even before he builds himself here, that was exactly what some in the room wanted.
"It seems like no one has any logical objection to Lucas' conditions?" Robert boomed and few faces dimmed on table.
Renly clenched his fist at his proposal being so disdainfully ignored. Robert did not even comment on it.
No one spoke this time.
"Good," Robert smiled. "The decision is made."
And thus, a very significant decision which was to affect the fate of entire Westeros was made with few sentences exchanged.
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