A Fierce Battle

Midnight had passed, and the entire Red Keep had fallen into an eerie stillness.

Only the floor housing the queen's bedchamber still glimmered with faint candlelight, flickering in and out.

The valiant queen was still riding her warhorse across the battlefield!

In the corridor outside the bedchamber, Tyrion Lannister hurried along, his anxiety impossible to hide.

His short, thick legs moved swiftly.

As soon as midnight struck, Shataya had rushed to find Tyrion and told him every detail of how Davion had been taken away by the Lannister Guards.

Tyrion knew his sister's temperament well: sinister, obsessive, and fiercely protective of her own. Davion had already angered Cersei by defeating Jaime. Now that she had summoned him to the Red Keep late at night, there was no guarantee he would escape harm.

He worried that Cersei would go too far, but he worried even more that Davion would fall victim to his vicious sister.

So Tyrion immediately set off for the Red Keep.

King Robert was still enjoying himself at the camp on the Blackwater Rush and was not in the Red Keep.

Within the Red Keep, Queen Cersei held the greatest authority.

House Lannister already wielded immense power, and now no one dared stand in its way!

Along the way, the Lannister guards on duty bowed when they saw Tyrion approaching. None dared step forward to stop him.

Even if this son of House Lannister was short and out of favor with his father, his surname alone was enough to inspire awe in these guards.

But when Tyrion reached the end of the corridor outside the queen's bedchamber, two guards extended their arms to bar his way.

Tyrion grew even more anxious, and a trace of impatience entered his voice.

"What are you doing? Don't you even recognize me?"

As he spoke, he rose onto his toes, trying to peer toward the wooden bedchamber door.

But the sight left him stunned.

There should have been guards stationed beside the wooden door, but no one was there.

The guards at the door are gone. Could these two be the ones who were supposed to stand there?

Tyrion's thoughts raced, and he already had a few suspicions.

Ever since coming to King's Landing, he had known that Cersei and Robert's marriage had long been a marriage in name only. They appeared affectionate, but in truth they were like fire and water.

Through various rumors, he had learned that Cersei, like Robert, never lacked lovers.

And her closest, most valued lover was her twin brother, Jaime.

But Tyrion had never told Jaime any of this.

He knew that broaching the subject would amount to telling Jaime outright that he had long known about his affair with Cersei.

Tyrion did not want to do that, so Jaime remained in the dark, naively believing that he was Cersei's only lover and the most important person in her heart.

Looking at the unusual arrangement of guards outside the bedchamber, Tyrion already had his answer, though he still found it absurd!

That fellow Davion actually dared lay his hands on the queen?

He sighed softly, shifted his eyes, and slowly took a step back. His gaze settled on the two guards, and his tone softened as he asked tentatively:

"Was an Earl Davion Hean invited here by the queen not long ago?"

Both guards were exceptionally well trained. Faced with Tyrion's questioning, their faces remained expressionless, like emotionless stone statues.

But Tyrion still caught the fleeting change in their eyes.

Tyrion had never expected them to answer. Catching that slight reaction was enough to confirm his suspicions.

He sighed softly.

"Very well. Earl Davion is a friend of mine. He suddenly disappeared from the brothel, and I've looked everywhere for him without any luck! If you happen to see him, pass along a message for me. Tell him Tyrion Lannister is looking for him."

With that, Tyrion took one last look at the wooden bedchamber door. A complicated expression flickered in his eyes before he turned and hurried away down the corridor.

Only after walking some distance did he mutter under his breath:

"You really have some nerve, boy, getting involved with even the queen!"

But on second thought, he could not help chuckling.

"Young men are impulsive, after all. They never think about the consequences!"

"How many men could resist a woman as beautiful as Cersei?"

"Even Jaime lost himself in her and couldn't pull free, didn't he?"

Inside the bedchamber, the candles still flickered. Incense mingled with the lingering air of intimacy.

The battle continued.

Cersei tried several times to seize back the initiative, attempting to assert her authority as queen and take control.

But each time, Davion suppressed her with overwhelming force, leaving her no room to resist.

Time crept on, from midnight into the small hours, then from the small hours into dawn, yet the balance between attack and defense did not change at all.

Whenever Cersei tried to display a queen's arrogance and force Davion to obey, he mercilessly raised his hand and landed a heavy slap on her!

Sometimes it struck her buttocks, sometimes her back, and occasionally even her fair cheek.

The sharp smacks rang out with particular clarity in the silent bedchamber.

At first, Cersei was filled with anger!

She was the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, high above everyone else. No one had ever treated her this way.

But as slap after slap fell, that anger gradually faded, replaced by a strange, indescribable sensation.

The more he treated her this way, the sharper her verbal mockery and attacks on Davion became!

Yet her movements unconsciously grew obedient.

The two scarcely stopped. Apart from occasional pauses to replenish themselves with a little food, they spent all their time entangled in this struggle.

Thanks to his formidable attributes, Davion remained full of vigor!

Cersei, meanwhile, was running on sheer willpower!

She absolutely refused to suffer a crushing defeat in her very first clash with Davion! She kept trying to salvage some dignity!

But things did not go as she wished. No matter how she struggled, she remained on the defensive.

It continued until noon the next day, when Cersei finally could endure no more. Nestled in Davion's arms, she fell into a deep sleep.

Even asleep, her arms clung tightly around Davion's waist like an octopus, refusing to let go.

Davion looked at the sleeping Cersei in his arms, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. Unable to get up, he could only let her cling to him.

Time passed again, and before long it was past eight in the evening.

Cersei slowly opened her eyes, her awareness gradually returning. The moment she opened them, she saw Davion's face, which was not particularly handsome.

Then the aches coursing through every part of her body instantly brought back the memories of last night.

Images of Davion's rough treatment flashed through her mind, one after another.

Cersei's expression instantly turned cold, and her resentment surged once more.

Without a word, she rolled over and straddled Davion, her eyes cold and tinged with viciousness.