Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 335 The Wedding Night – Cersei and Euron?

The night at the Red Fort grew ever deeper amid the revelry, with the boisterous feasting continuing all night without ceasing.

Cersei had long since left that suffocating noise and returned to the bridal chamber prepared for the King and Queen, located deep within Maegor Tower.

Unable to bear the smell of alcohol and sweat on her body, she ordered her maid to prepare a warm bath.

Beside the enormous marble bathtub, twenty candles made of precious whale oil were lit simultaneously. The steady and bright flames illuminated the room as if it were daytime, and also bathed her perfect body in a soft light.

In the bath, drops of rare perfume from Ries, rumored to arouse desire, and a pinch of priceless ambergris were added, the strange and alluring aromas silently permeating the steam.

Several personal maids carefully attended to her during her bath, wiping her with the softest silks, constantly and sincerely praising her beauty: her flowing golden hair was like molten gold, her skin as smooth as the finest silk, and her figure was enough to drive any man mad...

Cersei leaned lazily against the pool with her eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips. She accepted all the praise without question and believed it wholeheartedly.

Today is her wedding night, the first day she and Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, are truly husband and wife.

Having washed away her makeup and changed into the thinnest, most form-fitting silk nightgown, Cersei sat on the edge of the enormous wedding bed, draped with deep red curtains.

She dismissed all the maids and waited alone in the flickering candlelight, her heart filled with a mixture of pride, anticipation, and a sense of control, waiting for her king husband to come and complete this final and most important ceremony, so that they could embrace each other for the first time.

Time passed slowly in silence, with only the occasional soft popping of the candle wick and her own gradually slowing breathing.

When heavy, chaotic footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor, mixed with incoherent drunken ramblings and babbling, Cersei took a deep breath, stood up, straightened her already flawless nightgown, and then opened the door.

What came into her view was her groom, King Robert Baratheon, being practically dragged along by Eddard Stark and Euron Greyjoy, each holding one of his arms. His tall frame was now as limp as a lump of mud, his legs completely unresponsive, dragging him along the ground with uneven steps.

Behind them, Kingsguard Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister followed dutifully like two white shadows, their faces expressionless.

When Eddard saw Cersei, a helpless, wry smile appeared on his face. He explained in a low voice, "The amount of wine Her Majesty drank tonight is probably enough to fill half a room."

Euron, with his signature slightly mocking smile, added, "I seriously doubt he'll be able to fulfill his duties as a groom tonight. At the banquet, a whole roast chicken was served, and he stuffed it into his mouth without even spitting out the bones."

Just then, Robert seemed to hear something, and with his eyes glazed over, he raised his head and mumbled incoherently, "Listen—it's—Anna—she's singing—hehehehe—hehehe—"

"Shut up, Robert!" Ed and Euron shouted almost simultaneously, their faces instantly turning extremely ugly as they tried to stop this extremely inappropriate drunken talk.

The group had already staggered to the door of the room.

Cersei felt a surge of displeasure upon hearing the name. After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke, her voice calm yet chillingly cold, devoid of any warmth: "Leave it to me."

She reached out her hand, wanting to take Robert's hand and support him like a virtuous wife.

However, Robert, his eyes glazed with drunkenness, shoved her hand away, muttering, "I—I can do it—" He broke free from Ed and Euron's support, his body swaying violently a few times, before stumbling and barely managing to step over the threshold and burst into the fragrant, candlelit bridal chamber.

Ed's face was full of bitterness and apology, while Euron shrugged indifferently. They exchanged a glance, both seeing the same understanding and helplessness in each other's eyes. They said nothing more, silently retreating to either side of the corridor, leaving the newlyweds, of noble birth but whose relationship was already overshadowed on their wedding night, behind the tightly closed door.

As Eddard and Euron were about to return to their rooms, they saw that Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister had not left. Instead, they took two steps forward and stood on either side of the newlyweds' room door like two sentinels in white armor, their figures upright and motionless.

Euron raised an eyebrow, a teasing look on his face, and said to the two white knights, "I say—on this day, a moment of bliss is worth a thousand pieces of gold. You two aren't really going to spend the whole night eavesdropping outside this bridal chamber, are you?"

Barristan's weathered face remained expressionless. He simply turned his head slightly, glanced at Euron with his firm and clear eyes, and said in a voice as steady as a rock: "Protecting the King and Queen is our duty."

The thought that the expectant bride inside, dressed in a bathrobe, was this man's older sister, while he, as the younger brother, was to stand guard outside, listening to any possible sounds, made Ed's face turn ashen. He pressed his lips together tightly, as if suppressing some kind of surging discomfort and anger.

Euron's gaze swept back and forth between Eddard's ashen face and Jaime's emotionless back, and finally, he couldn't help but let a playful smile twitch across his lips. After all, the bride in that awkward situation inside the room was none other than the White Knight's own sister outside.

This situation is truly—interesting—

Ed, unwilling to linger a moment longer, abruptly turned and walked towards his room, a chill emanating from him. Euron chuckled softly, shook his head, and strolled away leisurely. In the empty corridor, only those two snow-white, lonely figures remained.

The carved wooden door of the new house closed behind us, shutting out the last trace of noise from the outside world.

Cersei was about to reach out to support the swaying groom when her fingertips touched his burning wrist. A strong stench, a mixture of cheap wine and fermenting stomach acid, hit her, causing her to frown and instinctively take a half-step back.

Robert was completely unaware that his heavy body had lost its balance and, like a felled giant tree, he was falling straight forward, his forehead narrowly missing the hard door frame with a dull thud.

Cersei fought back the urge to vomit and reached out again to support him.

But the next moment, Robert's strong hand suddenly gripped her wrist, slamming her against the cold stone wall with a loud thud. His hot, alcohol-smelling breath sprayed against her ear and neck, incredibly scorching, and his indistinct utterances pierced her heart like a poisoned ice pick.

"Lyanna—" Robert's cloudy eyes reflected her golden hair, but through her he saw another shadow. Though drunk, his voice was full of love: "Your hairband—is loose—I'll help you—"

"Your Majesty," Cersei forced a smile, attempting to project the proper demeanor befitting a queen, but her emerald eyes were already filled with frost, "I am Cersei. Your queen."

"Se-Xi?"

Robert's pupils contracted sharply, as if a bucket of seawater mixed with ice had been poured over his head. The frenzied intoxication vanished instantly, leaving only the naked, unbearable reality. He abruptly released his grip on her as if burned, staggering backward, his heavy body unexpectedly crashing into the exquisite bronze candelabra by the door.

"Clang—!"

The candlestick fell to the ground with a jarring noise, and the unextinguished candle rolled down, leaving charred marks on the carpet.

Robert's stomach finally gave way to the intense stimulation and overwhelming intoxication.

"Ugh—Ouch~"

He suddenly bent over and, facing the expensive carpet, poured out all the luxurious wine and meat he had consumed that evening.

A pungent, indescribable stench exploded instantly, quickly permeating and seeping into every corner of the room, shattering the enchanting atmosphere created by the carefully lit ambergris and Ries perfume, and completely defiling this wedding night that should have been filled with vows and tenderness.

The door was suddenly pulled open, and a strong, nauseating stench rushed out.

Cersei stood in the shadows of the porch, her hand tightly covering her mouth and nose. Her long golden hair, illuminated by the candlelight behind her, seemed to burn with a cold flame.

Barristan, who had been on guard outside the door, had been focused ever since he heard the loud crash of the candlesticks falling to the ground inside. Now that the door was wide open, his sharp self-light instantly pierced through the dim light, and he immediately saw His Majesty the King lying unconscious beside the vomit.

Without the slightest hesitation, the old yet still agile White Knight and James beside him moved almost simultaneously, like two white lightning bolts rushing into the mess. Ignoring the unpleasant filth underfoot and in the air, they steadily and powerfully lifted the limp Robert from the ground, one on each side.

Cersei's voice came from the porch, cold and devoid of any emotion, as if stating something unrelated to herself: "Someone come here."

The maids who had been waiting in the distance trotted over nervously.

"Bring in a bucket of hot water to clean His Majesty."

Her command was concise and clear. She then stepped aside to clear the way, no longer looking at the room defiled by her nominal husband, or the man who, on her wedding night, had called out another woman's name in front of her and vomited profusely.

The chaos lasted for a long time, the sour, putrid smell in the air stubbornly lingering, until Robert had nothing left to vomit, and until the maids changed several buckets of water, before they could barely clean the nauseating filth and smell of alcohol off him.

When the thoroughly drunk king was finally cleaned up and, like a heavy trophy, was placed on the large wedding bed by Barristan and Jaime, the two Kingsguard guards' foreheads were covered in fine beads of sweat, and their snow-white armor was inevitably stained with a few specks of dirt. They both let out a long sigh of relief, not from exhaustion, but from the temporary relaxation of an indescribable tension.

Cersei remained aloof, her gaze sweeping over the unsightly stains on their armor. Her voice was calm and emotionless: "It's all over here. You don't need to stay here any longer. Go back to your rooms and wash yourselves."

Barristan and Jaime exchanged a glance, their eyes quickly sweeping over the king, who was now snoring loudly and unconscious on the bed, and the bridal chamber, which, though hastily cleaned, still bore traces of its disarray. After confirming that the king was temporarily safe, they bowed slightly and accepted the queen's instructions.

Exhausted and embarrassed by the unpleasant smell, the two quietly withdrew from their wedding night, which was destined to be filled with unpleasant memories.

Cersei stood alone by the bed, gazing at the deep night outside the window, and finally let out a barely audible sigh.

She sat back down on the edge of the wedding bed covered with deep red brocade, her gaze falling on her husband—Robert Baratheon—the man who, in the eyes of the law and the world, had become her husband.

She reached out, a hint of hesitation in her fingertips, and gently untied the ribbons of his pajamas. His muscular, bronze chest was exposed, covered in thick black chest hair, exuding a strong, unrefined masculinity. Cersei frowned slightly; this was completely different from the elegant, refined beauty she had imagined in Prince Rhaegar.

To be fair, Robert at this time, though lacking the handsomeness sung about by Rhaegar, possessed a fierce and aggressive masculinity, like a lion or a beast.

Perhaps the slight touch startled him, for Robert stirred in his drunken stupor. A large, burning hand suddenly gripped Cersei's wrist with such force that it hurt her. The next moment, the world spun, and she was pinned to the bed by his heavy body. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and the strands of her hair, his hot breath washing over her sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine.

This brief, seemingly intimate contact was like a fleeting bubble.

"Lyanna—" he murmured softly and tenderly, like a red-hot dagger piercing Cersei's ear unexpectedly, "You don't know—how much I miss you—I love you—I'd give my life for you—I'd give everything for you—"

Cersei's face drained of all color instantly, as if all warmth had been drained from it. She began to struggle violently, trying to push away the mountain of flesh on top of her called "husband," but Robert's weight and strength were far beyond her ability to resist, and all her attempts to push him away were like an ant trying to shake a tree.

A fire of extreme humiliation and rage ignited within her. Her voice trembled, yet she coldly pressed on, as if needing to confirm this cruel truth with her own ears: "And what about Cersei?" she asked, enunciating each word clearly, "Your bride, and what am I?"

In his drunken stupor, Robert let out a mocking laugh, a laugh filled with undisguised contempt and cruelty: "She—?" he murmured, each word like a poisoned icicle, "She's just a substitute for you—"

"Just a tool to bear my children—" He seemed to be urgently professing his loyalty to the person in his dream, "Leanna, please believe me—I love you, I only love you—forever—"

"Alternatives" — "Tools" —

These words were like a final judgment, instantly shattering all of Cersei's reason and patience. "Ah—!" She unleashed an astonishing power from nowhere, perhaps it was extreme anger that granted her body a brief moment of divine strength. She suddenly bent her knees and used all her strength to violently throw Robert's heavy, mountain-like body off her and shove him aside!

Robert rolled onto the inside of the bed, oblivious to everything that was happening, still immersed in his surreal dream, repeatedly murmuring that cursed name: "Lyanna—Lyanna—my Lyanna—without you, this king is nothing but a burden to me—"

Cersei sat up abruptly in bed. Her face was no longer pale, but had turned into a terrifying ashen blue. Her emerald eyes were churning with a storm and a chilling, almost destructive intensity.

She didn't look at the drunken man again, got out of bed, and walked towards the door with unsteady but unusually firm steps. She pushed it open and stepped into the cold night and endless humiliation without looking back.

Night had fallen, and most of the lights in the windows of the Red Keep had been turned off. Euron was still not sleepy, his tall figure standing in front of the window, letting the cool night wind caress his face.

Euron's thoughts were like the dark sea outside the window, calm on the surface but churning beneath. He silently examined the recent heist. Every detail, from the onset of the storm to "Thousand Eyes'" precise strike, and the tornado's devastating aftermath, replayed in his mind like intricate patterns. Finally, he was certain that the operation had been clean and efficient, like a sand painting wiped clean, leaving no loopholes for investigation.

My thoughts then turned to the future.

The massive banking plan was like a giant in its early stages; the skeleton was already in place, but it desperately needed flesh and blood to fill it. When his thoughts touched upon the crucial selection of the fourteen branch managers, he felt a sense of unease, as if facing a tangled mess with no end in sight, causing him to subconsciously rub his temples.

Frustration weighed on his mind. He pushed open the door and strolled toward the terrace of the Red Castle facing Blackwater Bay, hoping the cool sea breeze would cleanse his thoughts.

However, at the end of the terrace, beside the stone railing edged with silver by the moonlight, Euron saw an unexpected figure.

A blood-red nightgown billowed in the salty sea breeze, outlining her slender yet taut figure. Her long, flowing golden hair, like molten gold, was wildly tossed about by the wind.

It was the newlywed queen, Cersei Lannister.

She stood alone in the deep night and amidst the endless sound of the sea, her back to the clamor and desolation of the castle, like a red statue abandoned on a cliff edge, sculpted from anger and pride.

Euron approached slowly, a hint of surprise in his voice, and asked, "Eh? Your Majesty, what brings you here alone? At this hour, shouldn't you be—"

Cersei didn't turn around, but the sea breeze carried her nasal, slightly hoarse voice, and the moonlight faintly illuminated the undried tear tracks on her cheeks: "Are you talking about that wild boar you carried back like cargo?"

Euron chuckled awkwardly, trying to ease the tension: "Hehe—Your Majesty, are you feeling better now?"

"Good? He's perfectly fine!" Cersei whirled around, her emerald eyes burning with humiliation and rage. Her voice was barely audible, as if squeezed from between her teeth. "Thanks to you good brothers," she said, "he threw up a mountain in our bridal chamber! Now he's snoring like a log!"

Euron maintained his composure and gently advised, "Today is a day of double celebration. His Majesty has been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms and has also married a Queen as beautiful and of noble birth as you. He is overjoyed and it is no wonder that he has drunk a few more cups than usual—"

“Joy?” Cersei interrupted him with a cold laugh, her voice sharp. “I heard him drunkenly calling out Lyanna’s name! He said that the only person he ever loved was that dead woman! And I, Cersei Lannister, was nothing more than a tool for him to continue his lineage!” Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

"His Majesty values ​​loyalty and righteousness, which, from a certain perspective, is not a bad thing," Euron said cautiously, choosing his words carefully.

6

As time goes by, feelings will naturally develop.

"Enough!" Cersei snapped, waving her arm. "Don't mention Robert again! At least not tonight, I don't want to hear that name again!"

Faced with her near-explosive emotions, Euron remained calm, a mysterious smile appearing on his face: "Since the Queen is not sleepy for the time being, and the night is long—I do know an interesting place that might change your mood. I wonder if you—"

"Do you dare come with me to take a look?"

Cersei raised her chin, her still-reddened eyes filled with arrogance as she stared directly at him: "There is no place in this world that I, Cersei, dare not go!"

Euron nodded without speaking, silently leading the way as he guided Cersei through the Red Keep's intricate and little-known passageways.

The surroundings grew darker and darker, and the only sounds were the light footsteps of the two people and the rustling of their clothes.

At a near-completely dark corner, a distraught Cersei was caught off guard and suddenly bumped into Euron's hard back as he abruptly stopped.

"Ah!" she gasped and staggered backward.

Euron reacted quickly, turning around and reaching out to firmly support her arm, preventing her from falling.

"Where are you taking me?" Cersei steadied herself, suppressing the pounding in her heart, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tension in the narrow passage.

The dim firelight illuminated Euron's composed smile. He blinked, a hint of mystery in his voice: "You'll find out when you get there."

Cersei hesitated whether to follow, but seeing Euron getting further and further away and not knowing how to turn back, she stamped her foot and quickly followed.

They continued onward, endlessly circling through the labyrinthine corridors, descending and descending the seemingly endless stone steps.

The air grew increasingly cold and damp, carrying the earthy and musty smell unique to the earth, as if it were gradually moving away from the human world and stepping into some realm forgotten by time.

After a long while, Euron finally stopped in front of what appeared to be an ordinary stone wall. He reached out and took a dry torch that he had prepared beforehand from the metal bracket on the wall. Then, a gentle and steady flame appeared out of his empty left palm, and he easily lit the torch.

The leaping flames instantly dispelled the thick darkness, illuminating a much larger, seemingly naturally formed cave entrance ahead.

Euron stepped aside and held the torch forward: "We've arrived, look."

Cersei looked in the direction of the firelight, and the next moment, her emerald eyes widened suddenly, her pupils contracting in extreme shock.

She saw a sight that made her soul tremble: an enormous, unimaginable dragon head skeleton stood silently in the center of the cave!

Even after countless years, the grotesque skull structure still exudes a chilling aura. The hollow eye sockets are as deep as wells, as if still holding the lingering anger of antiquity, and the jagged, sharp teeth, like broken spears, tell of the horror of its past life.

"Uh! Gods help me..." Cersei gasped, staggered backward, and slipped on the wet ground.

If Euron hadn't reacted quickly and grabbed her arm again, she probably would have collapsed to the ground.

Her voice trembled slightly with extreme horror as she pointed at the enormous skeleton: "This—this is—?!"

"Belarion," Euron answered, "is known as 'The Black Death.'"

Cersei stood frozen in place. She wasn't unfamiliar with dragon bones; they were on the coats of arms of some families in King's Landing, or scattered dragon bones made into decorations. But such a massive, such complete, such a terrifying dragon head skeleton was something she had never seen before in her life.

Those hollow eye sockets seemed like two entrances to the realm of death, staring coldly at the uninvited guest.

She saw Euron casually reach out and lightly tap the pale skull with his knuckles, a gesture as frivolous as caressing a lover's cheek. The expected curse or retaliation did not occur; the dragon bone remained silent, only the dust of history drifting from his fingertips.

Euron's action gave her a sliver of courage. Cersei forced herself to remain calm and took a step forward, reaching out her hand. Her fingertips finally touched the rough, cold surface of the bone. A deathly stillness that had transcended centuries spread from her fingertips. There were no miracles, no illusions, only the hardness and coldness of stone.

"Come on," Euron said with a smile, "there are more surprises ahead."

He walked deeper into the woods, torch in hand, the flickering light casting larger shadows on the walls. Cersei followed, and then, once again, she held her breath.

In the center of the cavernous hall lay a colossal dragon skeleton, complete to an astonishing degree. Its ribs spread out like giant, pale wings, while its massive skull was impaled against the rock wall in an impact posture, its empty eye sockets stubbornly staring into the eternal void, as if still uttering a silent roar before death.

Scattered around were fragments of bone: massive vertebrae resembled millstones, long tibias were like spears stuck upside down in the ground, and curved claws were like poisoned daggers. Some bones were still adorned with fragments of dark brown dragon scales, which strangely gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen in the dim firelight.

In an inconspicuous corner, several smaller, intertwined skeletons lay piled up, belonging to young or sub-dragons. Their contorted postures did not resemble natural deaths, but rather the remains of creatures torn apart by some irresistible violence and carelessly discarded here.

Even more chilling, Cersei glimpsed something else in the shadow of the giant dragon's skull—several human skeletons. Their postures were contorted, some with outstretched arms, others with curled-up bodies, as if trying to steal something, only to be instantly taken by deadly dragonfire or ancient mechanisms, becoming eternal burial goods in this dragonbone graveyard.

Cersei approached once more the most intact and alert skull. Its lower jaw was large enough to bite a strong bull in half, its dagger-like teeth tightly packed together, and between those teeth, half a piece of charred scale was firmly wedged—the last mark of some unfortunate adversary. As if possessed, she reached out and touched the enormous eye sockets.

The icy touch instantly shot up her spine from her fingertips, as if an invisible, ancient eye was staring intently at her, the intruder, through the barriers of time and space.

"This is the Stormborn," Euron's voice rang out at the opportune moment, like a narration for this silent film, "Aegon the Conqueror's steed, the founder of the Targaryen dynasty. Legend has it that it once burned through the insurmountable walls of the Eyrie with a single burst of dragonfire, melting the pride of House Arryn and the First Men's throne into molten, blood-red iron."

His words echoed in the frigid air, infusing the pile of dead bones with the souls of past fires and blood.

"ah--!"

A short, sharp scream abruptly shattered the silence of the crypt. Cersei jerked her hand back, staggering backward as if bitten by a venomous snake.

The sudden commotion startled even the usually composed Euron. He whirled around, the torchlight flickering and casting their shadows out of shape on the wall. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice tinged with barely perceptible tension.

Cersei raised her hand, and in the flickering firelight, a bead of fresh blood was rapidly forming at the tip of her slender, white index finger, where a wound had been pricked. Pain contorted her beautiful face slightly. "I don't know—I don't know what pricked me," she murmured, her voice still trembling with lingering fear.

Euron frowned slightly, then immediately stepped forward and gently took her cold hand in his without a word. His movements were surprisingly steady as he pinched her fingertip with his rough thumb and forefinger, where a bone spur was embedded. He pulled out the spur and carefully squeezed away the drop of blood, as if to expel any possible toxins. Then, he deftly tore a clean strip of silk from inside his fine robe and skillfully wrapped it around her injured fingertip, tying a neat knot.

"Thank you," Cersei whispered, her tone complex, her fingertips feeling the rough texture of the fabric and a slight pressure.

Euron laughed and said, "It's nothing, my dear Queen. If something were to happen to you while you're here, I wouldn't be able to explain it to our King Robert."

Cersei's face turned icy cold. She abruptly pulled her hand away from his, her voice sharp as a poisoned knife: "I told you, don't mention Robert in front of me!"

Euron, having been rebuffed, wasn't annoyed. He casually touched the statue, then said in a suggestive tone, "It's getting late, Shidan. We should go back. His Majesty the King might have sobered up and is looking for you everywhere."

This sentence was a fuse, instantly igniting the suppressed anger and resentment within Cersei.

Her expression shifted rapidly, finally settling into a twisted look filled with intense hatred: "Let him go sleep with that dead Lyanna!"

Youlun was speechless for a moment: "————"

Just then, Cersei suddenly made a startling move. She whirled around, her hands awkwardly but resolutely hooking around Euron's neck, pressing her body close, looking up at him, her voice filled with a desperate madness: "Give me."

"Stop it." Euron's voice remained calm as he tried to push her away.

"Or I'll tell the officials," Cersei's eyes flashed with a dangerous and obsessive light as she coldly said, "You, Euron Greyjoy, attempted to seduce the Queen!"

Euron gave a helpless, bitter smile; he saw through her intentions: "You want to take revenge on Robert."

"Yes!" Cersei almost growled, her voice trembling with emotion. "Since he has someone else in his heart, I can give my most precious thing to someone else too!"

Before she could finish speaking, she somehow found the strength to turn around and push Euron against the cold stone railing. Things had completely gone against Euron's expectations, and it had happened in a way he had never imagined.

The flickering torchlight cast two overlapping figures onto the stone wall.

Her golden hair cascaded down her back, and her emerald eyes gleamed with a complex and unfathomable light in the dim light. Cersei dominated everything with an almost self-sacrificing attitude. Euron could clearly feel her body trembling, not from passion, but mixed with anger, resentment, and a destructive pleasure, but mostly from revenge.

Euron silently endured it, his eyes fixed on her body and expression without any restraint.

After an unknown amount of time, Cersei seemed to have exhausted her strength and finally collapsed limply onto his chest. Her long golden hair covered his body like luxurious silk, and her breathing was rapid and hot.

Euron laughed, "That's not enough? Well then—now it's my turn."

Much later.

Cersei, whose movements were clearly somewhat inconvenient, straightened her disheveled robes by herself, and without giving Euron another glance, like a priestess who had just completed a bloody ritual, resolutely left the terrace and disappeared into the deep shadows of the castle.

She returned to the bridal chamber, still permeated with a faint, musty smell and the stench of alcohol. Robert was still lying on the bed, his voice booming, "Yes—"

Completely unaware of what had just happened.

Cersei walked to the bedside, looked down at the sleeping king, and a cold, mocking smile curled at the corner of her lips. She stretched out a slender finger and gently traced the wound on her fingertip with her nail, precisely dripping a bead of fresh blood onto the snow-white satin of the bedsheet.

Having done all this, she didn't even change out of her nightgown before lying down fully clothed next to her snoring husband and closing her eyes.

The bloodstain that fell onto the sheets was like a silent mockery, branded onto this broken, newly opened night.

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