Naveena LANNISTER :||: Queen Series #2

3) But Throw Her In And I Might Just Accept

Naveena
We entered the courtyard together. Tywin stood as we neared, pulling out my chair at the royal table situated between him and Cersei. As my husband was the Hand of the King, Joffrey sat on his other side at the long table located underneath a shaded dais covered in ivy. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand, the only place I let him touch me for the sake of the public eye.

Mace Tyrell, Margaery's father, a short, stout man, stood in front of the king. Behind him, round tables filled the rest of the courtyard which guests sat around, smiling, eating and laughing. "From House Tyrell and people of the Reach, your Grace, it is my honour to present you with this wedding gift." He placed a large gold goblet in front of the young king, a ring around the top encrusted with emeralds, sapphires and rubies. "May you and my daughter, Margaery, drink deep and live long."

The poor man was enough to bore even Maester Pycelle should he have the pleasure of being in his company and my gaze wandered down the other end of the table, where Tyrion sat beside Tyrell's seat, Sansa on his other side.

"It's a handsome goblet, my lord," Joffrey smiled, acting strangely nice. "Or, should I call you father?"

"I would be honoured, your grace," Mace spluttered and bowed, retreating to his seat with a sense of arrogance.

Cersei leaned across me, gaining the attention of her father. "She's the whore I told you about, dark hair." Our eyes shifted to the handmaiden placing a dish in front of Sansa. That must be Shae, Tyrion's lover.

Tywin pressed his lips together in displeasure. "Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding."

My eyes flickered to him, and he noticed the jealousy I forced onto my face. He placed a comforting hand over mine. "Don't worry, my dear, I just wish to talk to her."

Cersei smirked at me, but didn't say anything, taking a sip of her wine. The next gift giver was Tyrion, his enthusiastic young squire setting down a large book in front of the king. "The Lives of Four Kings, Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy and Daeron the Good, a book every king should read."

Joffrey shifted uncomfortably, clearly displeased with his gift, but he nodded and addressed Tyrion nicely. "Now that the war is won, we shall all find time for wisdom. Thank you, uncle."

A knight approached the table next, a sword laid out in his hands, and the head Lannister stood. "One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, your Grace, freshly forged in your honour."

"I hope you like it, my dear." I plastered on a smile, and Joffrey actually grinned with joy.

He jumped up out of his seat, rushing around the table to unsheathe the sword and began swinging it around in the air. Tommen gaped at his brother from the other side of his mother, nothing but awe in his eyes. Not jealously, no, Tommen was a kind boy, who'd make the perfect ruler.

"Careful, your Grace," Tywin warned. "Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel."

"So they say."

Bringing the sword up above his head, he brought it down and cut the book his uncle had just gifted him in two, cutting it up three more times just to be sure. "Such a great sword should have a name!" He announced turning to his guests. "What should I call her?"

"Stormbreaker!"

"Widow's Wail!"

"Wolfsbane!

"Widow's Wail, I like that," The very sick little boy nodded with a sadistic grin. "Every time I use it, it will be like cutting off Ned Stark's head all over again."