You Know Nothing || Cersei Lannister (GxG)

LXVI.

A/N: don't worry, I'm still alive. I sincerely apologize for the wait, I quite frankly forgot this story existed. Not to mention my other book I've been writing, and the show I've performed in... enough with the excuses. I intend on finishing this fic, and I hope you don't hate me and my inconsistent ass. Also, quick question, if I made an American Horror Story fanfiction, would you read it?

"Thank you." I said to the barmaid as she hands me a mug of ale. It tasted like utter shit but I thanked her anyway. Splinters began digging into my arse from the poorly-made bench in the peasants' square before I remembered that I'm on a mission.

"Is that all?" She asked curtly, eyeing me as if she recognized me from somewhere. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Gregor is still in sight before grabbing her wrist firmly and pulling her down to my height.

"You're from Dorne, are you not?" I asked softly.

"What does that mean to you?" She replied, attempting to pull away. She must have practiced, and practiced often to get the accent off her lips.

"Listen to me and no one gets hurt." I said lowly. "I ask only for information."

"What do I get in return for information?" She asked, settling onto the bench beside me.

"Tell me everything you know about Ellaria Sand." I slipped a gold dragon into her dry palm. "There's more where that came from. Much more."

"Hey. Right, so there she is, high and mighty Queen Cersei-" My ears perk up like a direwolf's as I hear my love's name. "Tits and arse jiggling in the breeze." The peasant continues, to which the audience in the square laughs. The barmaid from Dorne starts to talk, but I can't help pushing her aside. What business did Cersei have in the mouth of this ignorant, dirty... bum?

"All of a sudden, she looks my way. Gives me a little smile like, 'Well?' So, all right, you know, I've never been shy and I'm blessed down south, so I pull it right out. She's never seen anything like it."

"My lady?" The barmaid asks.

"Shh." I reply, my ears beginning to burn. I take a swig of my shitty ale.

"She sees it, and I swear to the gods, she licks her lips. Well, you all know me. You know I wouldn't lie about this." I don't even hear the rest of what the man says, as the rage in my stomach bubbles up and pours into my throat.

Moments later, after he finishes his spiel, and his beer, he excuses himself to the alley behind the square. Controlled by impulse, I quickly get up and follow him. Gregor follows me.

I don't bother sneaking up on the man, as it is I with the Mountain and the rock in my hand, and it is he with the movements sluggish from beer.

As he finishes relieving himself, I can't help but notice how small his cock is. If that was 'blessed,' then I didn't want to see 'cursed.' Raising the stone, I clenched my fist around it hard enough to draw blood and took a step forward.

"Never again will you speak ill of the Queen," I muttered under my breath before dropping the rock and slamming his head against the stone wall.

~

"Where have you been, Lady Stark?" Tommen asked nervously, chewing on the nail of his thumb. "I've been looking for you for an hour and three quarters!"

"I was on a classified mission." I replied promptly. "And what is with the formality? I don't like being called 'Lady Stark.' Lady Stark was my mother."

"Classified mission- nevermind, I'm just glad to see you back, mum." He breathed a soft sigh of relief, opening his arms to me.

"I must ask why you were looking for me, Tommen." I ruffled his hair concernedly.

"I made a mistake." He admitted, crossing to my left and perching on the edge of my bed. Before I could say anything, he continued, "It was me who gave the Sparrows power, so it was ultimately me who imprisoned and humiliated mother. Not to mention my wife, and her brother."

"Oh, Tommen." I sat beside him. "You can't blame yourself for their radical hypocrisy. You didn't know. Besides, it wasn't as if Robert taught you how to be a good King, or Joffrey."

"Yes, but Mother taught me to be strong, and I wasn't. Gods." He looked up at the ceiling. "I haven't even been to see her. Not once."

"What are you doing here, then?" I asked, crossing to the dresser to pour myself a glass of wine.

"I'm afraid." He said simply, eyeing the glass. "I'm afraid of what she'll say, of what she'll do. She's probably so disappointed in me."

"Probably, but she'll get over it. She's still your mother. You're still her son."

"I should have brought the whole thing down on their heads." He shook his. I noticed that his blonde hair curled naturally. "I should have sent them running with their dirty rags between their legs."

"Then why don't you?" I replied.

"There's too many of them." He stood, beautiful, round face downcast. "I've given them too much power. Hell, they told me my mother couldn't attend her own daughter's funeral and I let it happen in fear of what rebellion might arise."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked again. "What could I possibly do to help you?"

"I don't know." He replied. "I wish I knew, so I could tell you, so you could say you had a hand in helping 'take them out,' but the truth is... I'm completely and utterly at a loss. For words, for ideas, for safety... things have never been worse in this kingdom."

"At least you haven't ordered everyone to burn, yet." I said lightheartedly.

"And hopefully never will, mum." He managed a smile that made my heart ache. "I wanted to be a good king. Perhaps I wanted to be 'The Noble King' or 'The Holy King' or 'The Righteous King.' Whichever feat I accomplished first."

"Why couldn't you have settled for 'The Good King?'" I asked, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

"What does 'good' say about you, anyway? 'Good' and 'bad' are merely perspectives, are they not?" He took a sip from my wine glass, and wrinkled his nose. "I still don't see how Mother drank this for so many years."

"And continues to today." I chuckled. "Well, you see, Tommen... sometimes, if you drink enough, you can forget your problems."

"I thought that was just called being a minstrel." He said, and I began to laugh.

"I love you so much, you know that, right?" I stood to meet him, placing a gentle kiss between his eyebrows. "Never change, sweet Tommen."

"If you love me, help me." His expression turned somber once more.

"Help you what, my son?" I pushed a blonde curl away from his eye.

"The Sparrows? Mother? Being a good king? Don't you remember why I was looking for you?" He asked, holding onto my forearms as if he were holding himself up. Perhaps he was.

"Tommen, like you said, 'good' is about perspectives. To be a 'good' king, you have to do what you think is right."

"What do you think is right?" He asked.

"Go speak to your mother." I replied, without a second thought. "The Sparrow issue can be addressed later. As of right now, you need to let Cersei know that you are on her side, that you're sorry for all the wrongs you have committed against her without knowing. Ask her for help as well."

"Thank you, mum." He said, his voice muffled by my shoulder as he embraced me dutifully. "I shall visit Mother now, and sincerely explain my indiscretions."

"I have no doubt she will forgive you with open arms, love." I told him quite honestly. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that she missed her boy.

As he left, however, the barmaid from before slipped in after him, wearing a handmaid's costume. She bowed politely to me.

"My lady. You wanted information on Ellaria Sand?"