Cersei Lannister sat in an ornate mahogany chair with all the splendour and grace one would expect from the Queen Dowager, both hands placed elegantly on the armrests.
Her curly golden hair flowed freely, adorned with emerald jewels that glinted in the dim light of the Small Council chambers, reflecting the colour of her own eyes. She wore a red, low cut dress lined with golden lace, the colours of her own house, House Lannister, leaving her shoulders naked.
Her eyes slowly passed by each member of the Small Council, tasked with managing the matters of the realm and advising the current King.
She briefly considered their ordinary faces and unremarkable forms before taking a small sip of Arbor Gold from a golden cup, tasting the fruity and rich flavour of the white wine with a barely noticeable grin on the corners of her lips.
This was the way it was to be, her hateful husband was dead, she'd seen to it personally and her young, if somewhat foolish, son was on the throne.
It made putting up with Robert's disgusting escapades and activities worth it.
Through her actions, a true member of House Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and so it would be for a long time to come... even her father couldn't look down on her for being a woman now, nor doubt her guile or tact.
They all underestimated a woman, always, never thinking of them beyond mere tools to garner favour or sire heirs.
She briefly amused herself over what they would think now that she was in power before turning to a plump, bald, clean-shaven man wearing a sleeveless brown coat over a silk tunic, most knew him as the Spider, "What news of the realm, Lord Varys?"
Varys, was the Master of Whisperers, a spymaster put bluntly, charged with gathering intelligence most wouldn't be privy to from all over the realm... Varys himself was a particularly competent individual, having served King Aerys, then Robert, and now her son.
He rubbed his thick hands together, a thin smile on his lips, "The common folk seem to... believe that Lord Stark was a traitor, my Queen... Most of them, at least... but there is discontent."
"He was one, what do you mean seem to?" Janos Slynt piped up, slamming a clenched fist into the table... He was rotund, short, dressed in clothes far too expensive for his ilk... Cersei refrained from expressing her displeasure at his barbaric behaviour... but, he was necessary, having played a vital role in seeing her son take the throne, "He tried to buy my loyalty, to turn me against His Grace, King Joffrey Baratheon. What is that if not a traitor?!"
"Be that as it may." Varys placated with stifled expression, sounding almost humorous, "Lord Eddard played a vital role in ending the reign of the Mad King Aerys with the late King Robert Baratheon. Dare I say, it would have been... impossible, without the North. People do not forget so easily."
Cersei closed her eyes, that had never been part of the plan, he was to be shamed as a traitor and banished, not killed, her son had done something she'd explicitly advised him not to, "Do you mean to say my son was wrong?"
"No, of course not." Varys waved his chubby hands in surrender, "It is that... killing him was a touch... unwise."
Nodding, Cersei agreed with his words, before speaking sharply, "What is done is done, what goes in the realm beyond the common folk?"
All of them in the room knew what she meant, and she knew it.
"Ah..." Varys started with a lowered gaze, "Robb Stark has called all his banners... The North prepares for war in earnest... Moat Cailin has already been fully fortified in preparation."
Moat Cailin was a chokepoint, it was the only real way an army could enter the vast North without drowning in the dangerous swamps that made up much of the region called The Neck.
"What of the Westerlands, of my father?"
"Lord Tywin's host is almost complete, he advances steadily towards the Riverlands through the Golden Tooth... I surmise he means to cut his forces to press the North before they march and reinforce King's Landing at the same time." Varys reported in brief but clear words, lifting his chin to meet her gaze.
Cersei nodded again, "Have the Stormlands declared fealty to their new King?"
"I am afraid not..." Varys shook his head in denial, "Lord Stannis Baratheon has taken the letter regarding the King's... birth... to be true. A great deal of the Stormlanders have sworn fealty and prepare to attack by sea as we speak."
Cersei clenched her fists, an act that was fortunately hidden by the table between them.
"At the same time, Lord Renly Baratheon has also declared a claim to the throne." Varys continued, doing his duty and explaining all that was wrong... Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be going right, "He is joined by the Tyrells of Highgarden. They will soon be bound by marriage through the young Margaery Tyrell."
That was... extremely bad.
The Tyrells of Highgarden, the Lords Paramount of the Reach, supplied most of the food for the realm... At the same time, they could field perhaps some fifty thousand men or more due to the bountiful and densely populated nature of their land.
And it was quite odd as well.
Was it not the Tyrells who had laid siege to the Baratheons of Storm's End during their war against the Mad King Aerys for one long year? Starving them? Forcing them to commit acts no man should?
"Might we bolster our numbers with sellswords? If only temporarily?" Cersei offered cautiously, her expression unfaltering.
"A splendid idea, my Queen." Petyr Baelish acknowledged with a dry smile, putting both hands on the table, "I will see to it myself..."
He was the Master of Coin, charged with funding the endeavours of the realm, however possible.
Cersei nodded, accepting his idea, before once again turning to look at Varys, "What else, Lord Varys?"
"I fear that the Riverlands might join the Stark's war effort." The Master of Whisperers said grimly, putting his hands together, "As we well know, Hoster Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands is the grandsire of Robb Stark... The Rivermen take their oaths quite seriously. It is what holds them together."
Before Cersei could offer her thoughts, Varys started speaking again, "We may encounter the same problem with the Vale... The Lady Lysa Arryn is also bound to them by blood, being the Lady Catelyn Stark's blood sister."
"Ah, if I may." Petyr held his hand up to his chest, looking to her for permission, permission she granted, "I and Lady Lysa know each other quite well. I believe that if I could be allowed to meet her, I may be able to talk Lady Lysa towards a more... understanding stance on the matter."
That was interesting, if she recalled correctly, Petyr Baelish was from the Vale originally... Perhaps there was something more there.
"What do you think, Lord Varys?"
The bald eunuch nodded, "It is worth a try, at the very least."
"See to it then."
"Of course, my Queen." Petyr bowed his head with a hand over his chest.
"What do you think, Lord Barristan?" Cersei turned to the one man there that had been completely silent throughout the meeting, sitting and listening in silence... He was the Lord Commander of Kingsguard, an aged man with much wisdom.
She'd originally intended to have him replaced with her brother, Jamie Lannister but the former had been called to his father's side in light of recent events... and their rather dreadful implications.
"I am a knight, my queen. I fear it is not my place to speak in such matters when the King is absent."
Ah... Her little Joffrey would be quite mad when he found he'd been left out from this little meeting, wouldn't he? But she meant well, her son needed not trouble himself with these matters when she was here.
"Dorne waits and watches in silence... An envoy from the Queen would perhaps shed some light on their thoughts..."
Dorne, their rulers the Martells specifically, carried extreme dislike for the House Lannister. It was no secret to any who bothered to learn... but at the same time, boasted the military and tactical might to tip the scales of the looming war.
"On to more... personal matters... The accounts regarding what has happened to the gate are rather... concerning." Varys moved on with lowered eyes, bringing all their attention to the incident that had seen an impregnable gate destroyed fully somehow.
"What of it? It was simply an act of the Gods."
"Be that as it may..." Vary explained, "I have taken the liberty of investigating it further... The accounts are wild... far-fetched and... largely inaccurate but seem to share a single detail... That it was a man wielding lightning."
Cersei let out a small laugh at that, amused with the thought... while Janos Slynt and Petyr Baelish outright laughed, "You would say a man did that?"
"No, my Queen... but if there is even a bit of truth to that... If there is a weapon, or some form of magic... capable of doing such a thing... then our defenses, nay, any and all defenses, are simply useless." He spoke his mind, making sure to pick his words carefully, "It is a dreadful thing to consider that such a thing lies in the hands of House Stark."
Cersei pondered over his words with narrowed eyes.
They'd found Ser Meryn Trant with his skull bashed in, with near half a dozen men torn apart like they'd met a beast... and that the Stark sisters were missing. A servant reported that they'd left mere moments before the so-called incident had woken the entire city up.
It was preposterous to even consider what he was saying.
"You mean to tell us that the Starks employ a man... or a weapon, that can tear through iron and stone like we can paper?"
Varys nodded grimly... and Cersei laughed at him for it, "Perhaps you need some rest, Lord Varys."
It was foolish to even think such a thing.
In her hubris she forgot one critical thing.
"Then if there's no more to consider, this council is finished."
-
Once Cersei had left, Petyr Baelish turned to Varys with a thin smile on his lips, "Do you believe it to be worth consideration?"
Varys nodded, "Our Queen believes she is intelligent like no other... and she may as well be..."
Perhaps a bit... too... intelligent for her own sake.
She forgot that it had been nary a century since the dragons died out, they still had the skulls and bones to prove their existence... and the dragons needed no guile or tact to conquer the realm.
They had simply burnt down all resistance.
Men bent to them, or broke to their mighty fury.
Power like that would trump all manner of deceit and manipulation... Varys believed that from the bottom of his heart.
But it seemed others didn't.
So, with a sigh, the Master of Whisperers got to work again, for the better of the realm and its people.
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