Cersei?

  It was a familiar dream she had found herself in, walking barefoot along the polished stone floors of Casterly Rock. It reminded her of those simpler times when she and Jaime explored every nook and cranny of it.

  Slowly, Cersei felt herself drawn deeper into its recesses, into that cavernous room choked with the roots of the weirwood there. She froze at the sight she saw there, a shadowy figure underneath the leaves red as blood.

  It stood as still as a pool of water in winter, the fear gnawing at her heart, and just as suddenly it turned around. Her heart had almost jumped from her chest at its uncanny movements when she saw the lines of its eyes and cheeks.

  …Solomon?

  He smiled at her handsomely as he neared, the sleek and starkly yellow robes adorning his lean frame the same as that night. "Cersei," he soon whispered, and that was all it took to light a fire in her.

  "I am dreaming," she whispered back, knowing it was true but hoping otherwise.

  "Yes," he answered simply. "But that doesn't mean this isn't real."

  Now that he brought her thoughts to it, she knew it was more vivid a dream than any she ever had. "Sorcery," she whispered again.

  He smiled at her still, touching his hand to her belly, heavy with their children. "You have kept the ring upon your finger and your oath in your heart."

  Cersei nodded fiercely. "As you had said."

  "Good." He leaned in to press a kiss to her lips and she took advantage to clutch at him tightly lest he slip through her fingers. "I know I have kept you waiting."

  "When will you return to King's Landing?" she found herself asking. "I… I could take the children and travel to Casterly Rock for a time if you think it will be safer there?"

  "There is no need for that. I will be in King's Landing again soon." He played with her golden curls as he watched her. "I have come to tell you that it is time."

  "Time?" she breathed out.

  "Do you remember what I said to you about Varys?" He waited for a nod from her. "I think the spider has been allowed to spin his web long enough."

  Cersei gave him a vicious smile. "I will see to it, Solomon."

  "I do not doubt that you will. It would be best to lure him into a trap if you can."

  She was picturing it now, asking to speak to him, a request he could not refuse, and then Jaime would sweep inside the room and take his plump head.

  Though she would only have to find a story to spin for that boor of a man, Eddard Stark.

  Cersei demanded another kiss from Solomon, but her fire could not be denied, her nails digging into the yellow fabric when he made to retreat.

  "Have you not missed me?" she asked, a coy smile on her lips as she stared up at him.

  It was not right that he had only enjoyed her twice, once in the godswood and another in his apartments at Storm's End. Her hand slipped into his robes like a thief in the night, and soon she felt it. Held it, even.

  It was not right that she had only felt so full twice.

  Solomon placed a softer kiss upon her brow. "I fear it will leave you more frustrated than satisfied when you wake," he said to her.

  Then she would concern herself with it then.

  Cersei pulled him down with her, spreading her legs for him, and soon he filled her utterly, his belly pressing gently against her own gravid one. He took her right in the Stone Garden her lady mother had read to her in, once upon a time.

  She did not want it to end, her lurid moans alone breaking the silence of the room, but eventually he spilled his seed and she felt herself returned to her bed alone, her hair disheveled with sweat. She sighed noisily, staring at her curtains.

  He had been right, and even as her fingers replaced him, she knew it would not satisfy her.

  Cersei sat with a huff instead and summoned her servants to draw her a bath.

  As she soaked in the scented water, she turned over her thoughts again. Solomon had revealed to her that Varys's little birds were more rats in truth, so she would have to be careful with what she said to Jaime.

  She had a thought to speak to him in the godswood where she could be certain they wouldn't be overheard, but she quickly ruled against it for fear of seeming suspicious. It was not often that she graced it, instead preferring her apartments or the Maidenvault.

  Cersei soon had the servants help her slip into one of her favorite gowns, a thing of red silk smooth as cream. She then spent the better part of the morn seeing to everything.

  Finally, she bid Lancel invite Varys to speak with her.

  As she waited, she slowly took bites of the fireplum cakes she had the bakers prepare, washing it down with watered wine. As time went on and the slippery eunuch did not show, she began to grow worried. Varys was not so much a fool as to keep her waiting…

  It was when Jaime stalked inside to find no spider to slay that she knew something had gone wrong.

  "There might still be time," she said as her nails bit into her palm. "Find him, Jaime."

  Her twin's mood was tempestuous as he left with at least a dozen of their lord father's men-at-arms at his back. Cersei meanwhile had Lancel summoned to her side.

  "What did you tell him, you fool?" she hissed at the lanky boy.

  He had a fright in him now. "Only what you t-told me to, Your Grace. I swear."

  "Repeat to me every word."

  When he repeated her words to him perfectly, her anger only grew. How had he figured it out? One of her treacherous servants, perhaps?

  "Leave me," she spat at him, and he hurried to obey.

  The fireplum cakes tasted like dust in her mouth now as she waited for Jaime.

  Solomon would understand, she tried to assuage. She had set a trap for Varys, just as he suggested. And when he returned to her, she would have nothing to fear from spiders and red priestesses…

  She stirred as Jaime returned, a weary mien about him. "Not a whisper of him," he said as he took the seat she had placed for the master of whispers, his white cloak sprawled behind him. "Littlefinger at least had the good grace to spirit away on a ship."

  "He is still here," she whispered. "In the secret passages beneath us."

  Her twin shrugged his shoulders. "You will not find many men brave enough to confirm it. There is a reason his little birds are so named."

  Her thoughts caught on an idea at the mention of Varys's mutes. If they could turn them against their master now that he would have no more coin to pay them…

  "The small council grows smaller," she had said instead. Cersei wondered if she could convince that drunken beast that he should make Solomon their new master of whisperers. She could think of no man who would suit the position more.

  "I hear Stark has narrowed down his choices after Father refused."

  A stubborn fool. He could have bolstered their position but he would only accept being Hand of the King.

  "And where is Stark now?" she asked.

  "Wondering whether to thank us or curse us, I would think. His men would have told him by now."

  She would deal with that in time. No doubt he would go to Robert first before confronting her.

  "Tyrion seems to believe he will be even more of a problem now where we can't see him," Jaime continued.

  She scoffed. "Tell him he can brave the secret passageways himself if he is so eager to offer counsel. He is as small as any of Varys's little birds."

  Jaime's expression soured. "He's our brother, Cersei. Lest you have forgotten."

  Her twin had always been fonder of Tyrion than such a lowly creature deserved, but he had never tried to shame her in this way. It left her uncertain.

  "A bad jest," she soothed. It was not as if she wanted to explain to their lord father when something went awry.

  "As you say." He soon stood. "I must return to my duties lest Ser Barristan scold me."

  Cersei watched him depart unhappily. There was naught she could do for the pact she had made.

  Lost in her thoughts for a time, her attention was drawn to her belly when she felt a sudden craving for honeyed berries. She was no stranger to it, though not even Joff had been so mercurial.

  Having a servant fetch a bowl of some, she felt another craving as she chewed on the soft flesh and tasted the honey. A distraction from the turmoil of her thoughts.

  Though when she decided on a stroll, she had not expected to find another there with her obedient flower.

  Sansa Stark was almost her mother writ small, all long auburn tresses and deep blue eyes. Cersei did not expect she would find much happiness with a cripple.

  Their guards stepped aside for her, and soon both ladies curtsied to her. "Your Grace," Margaery said as softly as ever.

  "Your Grace," chirped the other, her nervousness an almost physical thing that she could touch.

  "Lady Margaery, Lady Sansa." Her eyes glanced at the roses a moment. Each time she had come there seemed to be more of them. "I hope I am not intruding."

  "Never, Your Grace. You honor us with your presence."

  Stark's daughter nodded mutely instead, no doubt worried about sounding a fool again.

  "Myrcella had asked me to tell you that the seedlings had sprouted hale and healthy." Cersei had never much cared for flowers, even less for playing in the dirt, but she did not begrudge her sweet Myrcella a hobby.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "That is sweet to hear, Your Grace. Truly, Myrcella has a skill that would shame many."

  Of course she did, she thought with a sniff. Her daughter could do no less.

  Cersei turned to Stark's daughter again. "If I and the Lady Margaery could speak alone."

  "Yes, Your Grace," she squeaked out as she and her northern protector made themselves scarce.

  Her obedient flower allowed her a kiss, though her soft brown eyes were worried.

  "Had you not said it was too dangerous to do so where anyone can see?" she heard. "Lord Varys…"

  "Has fled," Cersei finished. "Just as our Lord Whoremonger had."

  Tyrion had mentioned to her that it might have been the very same whoremonger that had seen to it that those rumors spread as far and wide as they did, but then he had went and made an enemy of Stark as well before she could deal with him.

  "I see, Your Grace." The girl stared up at her so guilelessly that she could not stop herself from stealing another kiss, the taste of her sweet and tangy at the same time.

  Her nails pulled at her green silks as she retreated to stare down at her. "And do you like our games, Lady Margaery?"

  Her obedient flower nodded and smiled at her like a doe might. "Yes, Your Grace."

  Cersei returned a hungry smile. "You will come to my apartments tonight, my lady." She wound some of the girl's brown curls around a finger as she continued. "You will find myself more attentive than Lord Renly, I hope."

  And after they were finished, she would ask a few innocent questions of her…

  Davos?

  Wiping the sweat off his brow with a cloth already unpleasantly damp, Davos gave a weary sigh. Dragonstone was often hot and stifling in summer, but today it seemed almost unbearable.

  While winter here was just as treacherous, he still could not help some wonder at how long this summer had lasted. Had it been nine years now? Already it dwarfed any other summer of his life.

  Marya believed an equally terrible winter would follow, and so had taken to pickling more and more foods, he knew.

  He had not said a word against it. Even if the worst did not happen, he could still make them some coin selling the many jars and pots at White Harbor.

  As he entered the hall through the dragon's mouth that were the doors, he first saw Lady Shireen seated with the fool, Patchface. Her eyes brightened when she saw him. "Ser Davos!"

  "My lady," he softly said as he approached. "I hope the day finds you well."

  She smiled up at him slightly, the patch of stony skin on her left cheek crinkling. "Patchface was just telling me some of the new rhymes he made up."

  "Under the sea they wait to taste new delights, oh, oh, oh…"

  The fool stared up at Davos after as if looking for approval, though his eyes looked left and right instead.

  "Very good," he awkwardly appraised.

  He touched a gentle hand to her hair as he turned to take her father in, the red woman already at his side. Since his lord had retreated to Dragonstone, he had prevailed himself of her whispers more, not less.

  It had him remembering Saan's words again, though he did not have the courage to speak them.

  "Ser Davos," Stannis rumbled. "You have news for me from King's Landing? One can hope it is as good as the last."

  His lord's moods had certainly improved since they learned that Lord Petyr Baelish no longer sat on the small council, or indeed anywhere in King's Landing. Davos expected the same would be true for Lord Varys.

  "Lord Varys seems to have vanished, my lord. No one is certain as to where."

  "Truly?" Stannis could not keep the surprise from his normally dour features. "Perhaps I have done Stark an injustice…"

  "I would not put this all at the wolf lord's feet, my lord." Lady Melisandre had a mercurial smile on her lips, he noticed.

  "Would these be dark forces that you mean?" Davos asked pleasantly. For once she would find it harder to play on Stannis's fears. "Curious that they would drive our lord's enemies from their seats of power."

  "The machinations of the Enemy are something we can only ponder on."

  "Shall I blame him when I stub my toe, my lady? Surely there must be some foul purpose behind it."

  "You make light of things you do not understand, ser. I beseech you not to."

  "Enough," Stannis rumbled again. "I would not have this news spoiled by your bickering." He continued as they quieted, "Our hand is freer now than it was, that is what concerns me. I should also say—"

  They were all interrupted as Maester Cressen slowly hobbled into the hall, a letter in his hands in his weathered hands. "From King's Landing, my lord. It bears His Grace's seal."

  Stannis took the letter from the maester's hands, breaking the seal. As he read, Davos saw Maester Cressen give a disapproving glance at how close the red woman sat.

  His lord sighed after a time. "Thank you, Master Cressen."

  "It is no bother, my lord." The maester looked at Stannis fondly, and sent Davos a smile as he passed again.

  "Have you seen any whisper of that whoremonger in your flames, Lady Melisandre?" he soon heard Stannis ask. "My brother is not a patient man."

  "I have seen some things, my lord. There are gulls where he is, and waves lapping at old rock. And recently I have seen a tower and a great flame, and in its shadow six men traded secrets and coin."

  Stannis's black brows furrowed tightly. "This could be Oldtown or Gulltown."

  "Or Braavos," Davos argued. "It could be any city with a port."

  "Ser Davos is right," his lord said with a sigh. "Perhaps I should write to the Sealord of Braavos. He might at least be sympathetic, for they have seen a dozen of his ilk and know them best."

  The red woman touched a hand to Stannis's arm. "The flames do not always show me what I wish to see, but they have shown me other things. I have seen your youngest brother, horns sprouting from his skull, all while his young wife paces a yellow garden."

  Despite his misgivings, he could not help wondering what it meant. It seemed to say that Lady Margaery would give him horns, but then why the mention of a yellow garden?

  The red woman had not finished either…

  "I have also seen a yellow hand grasping two pearls and holding a sword that pierced through the heart of a bear."

  "It seems you see much things that are yellow in your flames," his lord commented.

  "I believe them to be signs of this Solomon. His doings in the flames had seemed black and hidden at first, but not anymore. Indeed, when I look upon King's Landing, it seems more yellow of late."

  Davos wondered if perhaps she wasn't mistaking the sewage running down the cobblestones of Flea Bottom for a sorcerer, but did not speak it.

  "Yellow scale and yellow of tail the merwives are. Come to feast, my lady, feast, feast, feast…"

  The red woman sent a sour look at the fool that had him stifling a laugh.

  "Has there been any mention of him since Dorne?"

  Davos shook his head. "No, my lord. Only that Salladhor Saan was certain that the Black Wind had passed through the Stepstones."

  His lord seemed pensive a moment. "The pirate already knows to waylay them if they attempt to pass the Stepstones again if he can. There—"

  Again they were interrupted, this time by a Velaryon man, a seahorse on a sea green tabard over chainmail. Ser Aelon, if he wasn't mistaken.

  "I bring grave news from Pentos, my lord. The city has been sacked."

  They all must have seemed incredulous. "Sacked? By whose hand?"

  "The details are uncertain, but all say that it was Khal Drogo. The Pentoshi seemed to have done something to upset him, and the khal decided to punish them for it."

  While Pentos was not part of the Seven Kingdoms, it was the Free City closest to Dragonstone, and the one they traded with the most.

  "The khal had not escaped unscathed himself. His khalasar broke when the khal had either been wounded or had perished in the fighting once they had entered the city."

  Davos saw the red woman seeming thoughtful for all she did not speak.

  "How much of the city is left?" his lord asked.

  "A little over half perhaps. The fires had spread too far before they could be put out."

  Stannis nodded stonily after a moment. "Another thing to write to Braavos about, it seems. You may go, Ser Aelon."

  The knight thumped a fist to his heart before departing, leaving a quiet in the room.

  "The flames all burn yellow and red and black under the sea. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh…"

  All except for the fool Davos should have said. His lord did not pay him any mind as he stood. "We will return to King's Landing. With the whoremonger and the eunuch gone, perhaps something can be done about Robert's treacherous queen."

  "And me, my lord?" the red woman asked, her crimson eyes coy as she looked up at Stannis. "Will you have me stay here still?"

  The gods could only be so kind, but then he saw a tightness in his lord's jaw.

  "You will come with me to King's Landing, Lady Melisandre. Let us hope your god will deign to show you more with you there."

  Davos did not like it, but he knew there was no argument he could make that would convince his lord, and so he kept quiet.

  He had become rather good at it…