Frightened Lancel

Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast.

After listening to Lancel's trembling account, Cersei, standing before the window, cast a glance at him with her beautiful eyes, a flash of contempt in her gaze: "Poor Lancel, have you been frightened out of your wits?"

Lancel's voice still carried a trace of a tremor: "Forgive me, Cousin Cersei. I sought out Lord Gryn on my own initiative; after all, it was I who first proposed the execution of those rumor-mongers at the council of stewards..."

"But... but, it is not as if I have never seen a beheading before, just never so many at once!"

"Hundreds of people! With a single wave of Lord Gryn's hand, heads were truly rolling, and the ground was soaked red!"

"I... I do not even know how I made it back to the Red Keep."

Cersei listened in silence, the flush on her cheeks deepening, her chest and abdomen rising and falling in involuntary waves.

Suppressing the warmth, Cersei said in a low voice: "I truly did not misjudge him."

Lord Gryn's decisive execution provided Cersei with a peculiar pleasure, one that seemed to transcend any physical gratification she had ever known.

Cersei's body, hidden beneath her long gown, shifted: "Where is Robert now?"

"I heard he has gone hunting again."

"Where is Jaime?"

"At this hour, Jaime should be instructing Prince Joffrey in swordsmanship."

[Joffrey, full name Joffrey Baratheon, Cersei's eldest son]

"You may go. Replace Jaime and keep Joffrey company, and tell Jaime to come find me at once."

"Ye-yes, my lady."

As he spoke, Lancel seemed to sense something unusual about Cersei, looking at her with concern, his words catching in his throat.

Seeing that Lancel remained standing there, Cersei first took a deep breath to steady herself, then snapped: "Well? Go!"

Lancel flinched at the sound of Cersei's voice and hurried away, bowing in haste.

After Lancel departed, Cersei moved with a slight, unnatural stiffness to her gait and sat down in a chair.

Cersei untied the ribbon binding her hair, and her golden locks cascaded down over her shoulders and collarbone.

Her fingertips toyed with the ends of her hair as she lowered her eyelids, her long lashes veiling the flickering light in her eyes.

Cersei curled her lips, savoring the strange, fleeting pleasure she had never experienced before.

Red Keep, gardens.

Lancel Lannister felt that today was the unluckiest day of his life.

He had gone to watch Lord Gryn execute the criminals with great enthusiasm, only to end up with his legs turned to jelly, barely managing to return to the Red Keep.

Enduring his discomfort, he had dutifully reported to Queen Cersei first thing, only to be dismissed by her for no reason.

Now... Lancel stood with a large apple balanced on his head, facing Joffrey, who was aiming a crossbow at him.

When Jaime taught him swordsmanship, Joffrey Baratheon was humble and studious, truly living up to his status as a prince.

With Jaime called away, Lancel had felt relieved to take his place and continue Joffrey's training.

Joffrey Baratheon was the heir to the Iron Throne, and Lancel felt it was necessary to build a personal rapport with him early on; it would be beneficial for his future career.

Lancel did not want to appear cowardly in front of others, especially the heir to the Iron Throne, but his legs refused to obey him, trembling uncontrollably.

Thirteen-year-old Joffrey Baratheon, with his bright golden hair and fair skin, was exceptionally handsome.

Holding the crossbow steady, Joffrey curled his lips: "Lancel, if you keep fidgeting, I cannot guarantee I will hit the mark."

Lancel shook even more violently.

Joffrey suddenly grew angry: "Dog, my dog, find a way to make this coward stop moving!"

The giant standing guard with his sword, who had been motionless, moved at Joffrey's command and strode toward Lancel.

This man had sharp cheekbones, thick brows, and grey eyes; the entire right side of his face was covered in a large, twisted burn scar. He was immensely burly, clad in smoke-grey armor with an olive-green cloak draped over his shoulders.

His name was Sandor Clegane, and he was the bodyguard assigned to Prince Joffrey by House Lannister.

Lancel watched in terror as Sandor Clegane stepped closer and closer.

"What are you doing!"

Hearing the voice, Lancel's legs gave out, and he finally collapsed to the ground, nearly wetting himself in the process.

Tyrion, his face full of fury, strode over.

Joffrey lowered his crossbow, a look of disgust appearing on his face: "What are you doing here?"

At that moment, Joffrey's expression was identical to Cersei's.

Tyrion approached Joffrey: "My prince nephew, shouldn't you greet your uncle first?"

Joffrey roared, "You interrupted my game! Why should I even bother greeting you!"

Tyrion softened his tone, "Joffrey, Lancel is also a Lannister, your kin and your support. You shouldn't treat him this way."

Joffrey curled his lip.

Tyrion stared, his eyes fixed on Joffrey's disdainful face as he continued, "What you have in your hand isn't a toy; it's a lethal weapon. You could have accidentally killed Lancel. Have you thought about the consequences? This isn't something you can just brush off with an apology."

Joffrey didn't want to listen any further, "Enough! I didn't kill Lancel, didn't I? He's perfectly fine right now. I don't want to hear your lectures. I am the heir to the Iron Throne; I can do whatever I want. Get out!"

Slap. Tyrion jumped up and struck Joffrey across the face.

Joffrey clutched his cheek, "You dare hit me? I'm going to tell Mother!"

Slap. Again, Tyrion struck Joffrey across the face.

Joffrey cried out in pain, tears streaming down his face.

"Fine, go ahead! Go tell my dear, kind sister what her precious son just did!"

Tyrion's eyes widened, and he enunciated each word heavily, "Now, I demand that you apologize to Lancel immediately and promise never to treat human life as a game again."

Joffrey shouted, "Dog! Get over here and beat him for me!"

Sandor Clegane strode over with his long legs and stood silently behind Joffrey, but he made no other move.

"You! You, you!"

Joffrey first kicked the tall Sandor Clegane, then pointed a finger at Tyrion, "You, just you wait! I won't let you get away with this!"

Tyrion made a move to raise his hand, and Joffrey shrieked as he scrambled backward.

Tyrion sighed helplessly as he watched Joffrey flee in a pathetic, tear-streaked mess.

Tyrion reached out to help Lancel to his feet.

"Th-thank you, Cousin Tyrion. I was truly terrified. Today has been absolutely dreadful."

Tyrion grinned, "You did well. At least you didn't wet yourself; I would have done so long ago."

Lancel's expression was bitter, "I still have to thank you for intervening... but Joffrey is the prince, after all. Will there be trouble for hitting him?"

Tyrion shrugged, "It doesn't matter. Cersei never liked me anyway. Whether I hit Joffrey or not, Cersei's deep affection for me wouldn't change. I only regret that Joffrey is so impossible to teach."

Lancel remained worried, "I mean, Joffrey is the heir to the Iron Throne. Won't he make things difficult for you in the future?"

"Aha, King Robert will only thank me for helping him discipline his child. As for the future... once our dear nephew inherits the Iron Throne, I'll just hide away in Casterly Rock and never come out. There won't be anything he can do about it."

That was true enough. Lancel nodded in agreement, finally setting his anxious heart at ease.