Northern Conqueror

Chapter 20: Crownlands

Chapter 20: Crownlands

"Lies," Cersei spat, pacing through her solar while Jaime stared at the letter.

Setting it on her desk he let out a laugh. "I met the boy. Back when we went to bring the Starks here, I saw him, teased him." Jaime scoffed, shaking his head. "I thought he was just some dull northerner too stupid to realize what he was giving up by going to the Wall."

Cersei turned as Jaime started to laugh, leaning forward so his hand pressed against her desk. "What exactly is so amusing?"

Making himself stop, Jaime took a breath and sighed, looking to her. "Honest fuckin' Ned Stark. He could have raised the boy and taken the throne, been the boy's regent for years, but he let the boy be sneered at by Catelyn Tully and then sent him to live with rapists and thieves all so his fat fool of a friend could keep the throne he won for someone who never cared for him. To think that sanctimonious shit ever looked down on me."

"You can't actually believe this." She walked back to the table. "Don't tell me you believe that nonsense about White Walker and an army of the dead. I bet it's all Sansa. The whore's opened her legs and now she's using her idiot brother to get what she always wanted."

Jaime stood, arching his brow. "What she always wanted?"

"To be queen," Cersei said firmly.

Jaime thought a moment before shaking his head. "Whatever he is, he was still raised by Ned Stark. He's either too honest or too stupid to pull off a lie like this and convince the North to follow him. Hell, I'm surprised they didn't just slit his throat for what the Targaryens did to the Starks, even if his mother did run off to marry Rhaegar."

Cersei's hand balled into a fist as she remembered the silver prince she'd dreamed of marrying. "Fucking Lyanna Stark," she spat the name of the woman who seemed to claim the heart of every man she'd ever wanted. All but Jaime. Turning to him, she declared, "I want you to kill him."

Jaime furrowed his brow. "What?"

"He's a bastard making a false claim," she said with a huff. "Take our men and slit his throat... but bring Sansa back. I'll make that murderous whore suffer for what she did to our son."

"Cersei, is it really worth it?" Jaime's question shocked her. "Winter's here. Let them freeze up north and when summer comes should they try marching south they'll find our army there to stop them."

Her eyes were locked on Jaime, barely containing her anger at his denial of her order. "Fine," she declared, walking to pour herself wine. "They say they can produce proof of his identity and their undead menace and ask us to send trusted men to see. You can go."

Jaime tilted his head. "Me?"

Cersei turned to him, one arm crossed over her stomach while holding her goblet. "You're the only man whose word I trust. If you go north and tell me they actually have some proof then I'll consider waiting for summer."

Jaime knew she was trying to punish him, have him put his life at risk heading into the wolf's den where they may well kill him, likely hoping to force him to kill Jon to survive. He could have put up a fight and tried to talk her down, but instead gave a relenting nod. "I'll set out in the morning."

*~*~*

The constant clangs and dings of the street of steel had been soothing after months of rowing. People barely seemed to remember Robert Baratheon himself, so who would look for his bastard among the ash covered faces along Flea Bottom's smithies.

Most of Gendry's days were spent at the forge, the walls of his shop lined with some of the better steel in Flea Bottom. On the nights his arm grew heavy and his fingers numb from the reverberating hammer, he made his way to local taverns and kept to himself. It was there, tucked away in a corner or sat at a bar, ignored by guards too stupid to realize who he was even if they weren't drunk, that Gendry kept an ear open for the world beyond.