King's Landing, The Red Keep.
The Iron Throne, symbol of the supreme power of the Targaryen dynasty, sat quietly in the empty Throne Room.
Its hideous silhouette, forged from a thousand swords, cast twisted, colorful shadows under the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows.
The new Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister, stood at the foot of the throne.
He didn't look at the chair representing the highest authority in the Seven Kingdoms.
His gaze was fixed on the parchment just delivered by a maester.
The letter was from the North.
The content was short, even a bit scribbled.
The Vale, the Riverlands, and the North have formed a tripartite alliance.
Roose Bolton and his bastard Ramsay Snow are both dead at Winterfell.
House Bolton is extinguished.
Tywin's face showed no expression, his pale green eyes calm as a stagnant pool.
But his knuckles gripping the letter turned slightly white from the force.
Too fast!
Faster than he estimated!
From conquering the Eyrie and the Riverlands.
To summoning Roose Bolton to Winterfell.
To uprooting House Bolton entirely.
That young man used thunderous means, almost miraculous, to chew the hardest bone to pieces and swallow it whole.
Tywin's original plan was to watch.
Just like during Robert's Rebellion.
He would watch this war coldly.
Wait for Lynn, Lysa, the Freys, the Ironborn, and the Boltons—these ferocious beasts—to tear each other apart until exhausted.
Then, he, Tywin Lannister, would march north as an arbiter, a savior, under the Lion banner.
Whoever won would be forced to accept his "kindness" and pay a heavy price for it.
He had even prepared several plans.
If Lynn won, he would trade grain and gold for Lynn's allegiance to House Lannister.
Binding this rising star firmly to his war chariot.
If Roose Bolton won, it would be even simpler.
He would unhesitatingly support Robb Stark, wipe the Dreadfort off the map in the name of "avenging Lynn," and then logically intervene in the North.
Given time, he would devour the North piece by piece.
For him, this was a perfect plan.
A plan where, no matter how the situation developed, ultimate victory belonged to House Lannister.
But now, this perfect plan had developed a fatal flaw because of Lynn.
Lynn not only won.
He won too fast, too thoroughly, too easily.
He gave Tywin no chance to intervene.
Tywin wanted to wait until Lynn couldn't hold on before offering aid.
At that time, desperate for supplies, Lynn would agree to whatever outrageous price Tywin named.
Even if Tywin served him a bowl of fresh cow dung, Lynn would have to swallow it while holding his nose.
But Lynn was like a brilliant chess player.
He flipped the fucking board!
Dragons... giants... mysterious black-robed men...
Tywin rubbed his brow, then slowly crumpled the letter and tossed it into the brazier beside him.
The parchment curled rapidly in the flames.
He miscalculated.
He underestimated Lynn's power and his ambition.
This young man wasn't someone who could be bought with money and power, as Tywin had imagined.
He was a true dragon.
A dragon that had broken all shackles and was about to take all of Westeros under its wing!
And he, Tywin Lannister, had missed the best opportunity to shackle the dragon before it fully spread its wings.
It seemed he needed a long-term plan.
"Father."
A woman's voice interrupted Tywin's thoughts.
Cersei, wearing a magnificent crimson gown, walked in quickly, unable to suppress the joy on her face.
She held a goblet of dark red wine.
"Have you heard? Good news from the North!"
She walked to Tywin, handing him the goblet, her face overflowing with victor's pride.
"Bolton is dead! Ned has promised to give the Dreadfort to Lynn!"
"And now, not only does the North support Lynn, but even the Riverlands and the Vale do. His rise is unstoppable."
"We must ally with him."
"I told you long ago we should support him!"
"Now it seems our investment has reaped the richest returns!"
"Lynn will be grateful to House Lannister for our 'generosity'!"
"Lynn owes us a huge favor!"
Cersei's voice was full of excitement.
She could already see Lynn giving House Lannister countless benefits to repay their "timely help"!
Tywin didn't take the goblet Cersei offered.
He simply turned his head, looking at his daughter quietly with those pale green eyes.
"I made no investment."
Tywin's voice was calm, but like a bucket of ice water, it instantly doused all of Cersei's enthusiasm.
The smile on Cersei's face froze.
"You... what did you say?"
"I said,"
Tywin's tone held not a ripple of emotion.
"During Lynn's war with the Vale and the Riverlands, aside from the previous aid to the Gift, House Lannister sent not a grain of wheat, not a single Gold Dragon to the battlefield."
BOOM—!
Cersei's world collapsed instantly.
The goblet slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor.
Dark red wine spread across the stone like a pool of glaring blood.
"How... how could that be?"
Cersei's voice was full of disbelief.
"You... you promised me you would support him! We agreed on this! Why didn't you follow the plan?"
"Cersei, I promised to help him when he needed it most."
Tywin's gaze moved from the wine stain to his daughter's shocked, pale face.
"And it seems he didn't need it."
"No..."
"You could have aided him before the war started! There was no need to wait until both sides were exhausted..."
"He is Myrcella's husband! He is different from the others! You are pushing him away with your own hands..."
Cersei began to tremble violently.
Not from anger, but from a bone-deep chill seeping from her marrow.
She remembered her agreement with Lynn.
She remembered how that man possessed her in a way that bordered on humiliation, using her daughter Myrcella's future as leverage to force a promise from her.
She promised to make House Lannister his solid shield. In return, Lynn would support Joffrey as King and, to an extent, support the Lannisters.
And now, Lynn had fulfilled his obligations.
But she broke her word.
No, her father made her break her word!
"How... how could you do this?"
Cersei's voice turned shrill.
Her beautiful green eyes revealed dissatisfaction with her father.
(Do you know what this means for me?!)
(Do you know what he will think of me? How he will treat me?!)
(He will think I deceived him! He will think I used him!)
(What value does a treacherous woman have in his eyes?!)
(Your pathetic daughter will be fucked to death in bed!)
(Gods, what have you done...)
Cersei dared not say these words to Tywin; she could only scream hysterically in her heart.
She knew Lynn too well.
That man seemed gentle, but his bones were colder and more ruthless than the dragons he tamed.
He hated betrayal most of all.
And now, she had become the betrayer.
The fragile alliance she bought with her body and Myrcella's future was torn to shreds by her father's own hands!
Tywin watched his daughter, clearly losing composure, and frowned slightly.
"Cersei, mind your behavior."
His voice still carried unquestionable authority.
"You are the Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, not a fishwife screaming in the street."
"Everything I do is for the interest of House Lannister."
"As for that Lynn..."
"If he holds a grudge because of this, it only proves he is short-sighted."
Tywin's tone was full of the arrogance of a ruler.
He still believed that Lynn would eventually need the financial power and support of House Lannister.
Cersei looked at her father.
At his forever calm, forever "correct" face.
She suddenly felt immense despair.
Yes, Tywin didn't take Sansa Stark seriously, thinking she was just a short-sighted, useless woman.
But he didn't know that Sansa, that little bitch, made money terrifyingly fast.
During the wars in the North, Vale, and Riverlands, she had continuously funneled over 200,000 Gold Dragons to Lynn!
This wasn't just a number.
The purchasing power of 200,000 Gold Dragons was terrifying.
It covered most of the food and wages needed for Lynn's army!
Meaning, Lynn didn't lack money or supplies right now. He looked down on Tywin's pitiful gold!
He needed allies, partners who would stand with him!
Her father, the top strategist in Westeros, calculated everything but failed to calculate one thing.
Lynn wasn't a madman who could be judged by common sense!
Nor did he calculate.
That his daughter, the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, the Queen Regent, had mortgaged her body and soul to that demon to protect her position and her children's lives!
And now, the devil's contract was torn.
She faced the devil's cruelest punishment!
Lynn's black eyes floated uncontrollably into Cersei's mind.
Those eyes always held a gentle smile.
But beneath that smile hid a coldness and possessiveness that made her shudder.
How would he punish her?
Would he wipe her from this world completely?
Or find a way to dethrone Joffrey?
Or...
Would he control her, turn her into his exclusive plaything, tormenting her day and night while she could only endure obediently?
No...
Cersei shook even harder.
She wasn't afraid of death.
She was afraid Lynn would withdraw his protection of Myrcella.
That he would abandon her doll-like, lovely daughter!
Myrcella was so innocent; she couldn't bear this!
Thinking that her daughter might end up like her, married to a man who didn't love her...
The thought made Cersei's heart feel squeezed by an invisible hand, almost stopping.
"Father..."
Cersei's voice took on a humble plea.
"Is it... is it too late to fix this?"
"We can send ships immediately, send grain and gold!"
"Double! Ten times!"
"Help him build the Gift, build roads in the North..."
"As long as it appeases him..."
"Enough!"
Tywin cut her off, disappointment showing in his eyes.
"The Lion of Lannister never begs anyone!"
"Leave now, Cersei."
"You need to be alone for a while."
His tone carried a hint of impatience.
He didn't want to see his foolish, hysterical daughter anymore.
Cersei opened her mouth, wanting to say more.
But meeting her father's indifferent eyes, the words stuck in her throat.
Cersei knew saying more would only humiliate herself further.
Father never cared about his daughter's opinions, only about his precious son Jaime!
Yes, I am just a woman...
What right do I have to question a man's decision?
"Heh... hehe..."
Cersei turned slowly.
Like a soulless corpse, she walked out of the Throne Room in a daze.
Every step was incredibly heavy.
When she reached the door, she paused.
She didn't look back, just left a sentence light as air, yet full of despair.
"Father."
"You will regret this."
With that, Cersei disappeared into the shadows outside.
Tywin watched his daughter leave, a flicker of imperceptible annoyance in his pale green eyes.
Regret?
Tywin Lannister had never regretted anything in his life.
He turned his gaze back to the window.
The sky over King's Landing was still sunny.
But Tywin felt a massive shadow slowly looming over the city from the distant North.
...
Cersei returned to her chambers in a daze.
She dismissed all her handmaidens, locking herself in alone.
She walked to the vanity, looking at her beautiful face now written with panic.
What should she do?
What could she do?
Explain to Lynn?
Say it was all her father's doing?
No, Lynn wouldn't believe it.
He looked at results, not processes.
Lannister failed to provide timely aid; that was a fact.
In that man's eyes, she and her father were both Lannisters, both treacherous scum!
She had no choice.
The only chips she had left to negotiate with Lynn were two things.
Herself.
And... Myrcella.
How pathetic...
This was the sorrow of being a woman...
Cersei's fingertip gently traced her full lips in the mirror.
She remembered Lynn's rough, aggressive kiss.
Remembered his hands roaming freely over her body.
Remembered his low panting, and the whisper that still made her blush.
"Remember, Cersei."
"I can get tired of you and not touch you."
"But even so, from now on, your body exists for my use alone..."
A heat mixed with shame and fear rushed through her body.
Maybe...
Maybe she still had a chance.
Lynn was lustful.
Yes...
There must be a chance!
Cersei rushed to her wardrobe, throwing expensive gowns onto the floor one by one.
She needed a weapon, a weapon to reignite Lynn's desire.
Finally, her eyes landed on a black silk nightgown she had almost forgotten.
Thin, clinging, almost translucent.
Wearing it was like exposing everything to a man's gaze.
With trembling hands, Cersei put on the gown.
In the mirror, her skin was visible beneath the black gauze.
Her mature, voluptuous body radiated a fallen, fatal temptation.