Chapter 129: Bronze, Fire and Ice (I)
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Chapter 129: Bronze, Fire and Ice (I)
POV: The Legitimate Queen
Barrow Hall.
About half an hour after a small player retired with his tail between his legs...
The first formal greetings and bows were performed appropriately enough.
Robert noisily embraced Lord Jorah Mormont, who futilely tried to maintain a semblance of composure.
The King dragged one of the alleged Heroes of the Siege of Pyke into the hallway of the Hall, almost disregarding receiving permission from the Lady of Barrowton first... Perhaps the harassment of that swine of a husband of hers could benefit her from time to time...
"Come on, Lord Jorah! Come have a cup of wine with me! It is your King's order! Ahahah!!" the man seemed reluctant for a moment, but after casting a little mortified glance at his bride and receiving a look of assent, he did as the King requested.
Ser Barristan and Ser Mandon followed in the King's ranting wake, bringing a slight bow to the Widow of Barrowton.
Ser Boros and Ser Meryn remained to guard the Queen. Jaime and Ser Preston were still in the carriage, intent on defending the wet nurse who looked after Myrcella and Joffrey...
Joffrey was too young to drink mead, and Myrcella was still an infant to be fed with mother's milk. The ancient laws of Northern hospitality would have been passed down indirectly to the princes when the womb or seed that gave birth to them was protected.
Cersei would not allow her children to set a single foot inside Barrow Hall until she, and not Robert, benefited from bread, salt and Mead...
There were two Kingsguards left in the Hall, The Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and an old Northern harlot who changed husbands as if they were dirty linen...
A whore-owner of a dirty brothel called Barrowton, whom she would soon sell out to her future husband, losing the last bit of power she had left.
According to Varys, many individuals in Westeros and Essos were beginning to attach another moniker to her; after the last one as an old maid widow, they had given her... 'The Frosty Spice Queen.'
Cersei should have cut the tongue out of every dirty unpunished wild sheep in the North who had dared to bleat the word 'Queen' except to refer to the continent's only true Lioness. Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
'You are an old sheep dealing salt in a grave, my dear. And I the Lioness of King's Landing.' Thought the woman that was four years younger than the latter.
Cersei's prejudiced animosity toward Lady Barbrey Ryswell-Dustin-And-Soon-Mormont was not so much because of that moniker-even old Granny Tyrell was still referred to as 'The Queen of Thorns'-but so much because of the display of pageantry and influence the Whore of the North had over all of Westeros!
Not even at her royal wedding was there such an attendance! Outside the walls were hundreds of banners and pavilions, endless pageantry and merriment...
Cersei had to bring any possible threat to her rule into line for the sake of her children... So she would roar and show the sheep of the North who was the True Ruler Here.
But first, she would have let the Crone's guard down with 'due etiquette talk'...
*****
About five minutes later...
"A beautiful city, Lady Barbrey. Your people are so alive, full of joy and festivity... Truly a pleasant welcome." Pricked Cersei in the first place.
"You honour me and my city, Your Majesty. I am not worthy of such a compliment." So replied the Whore, performing what savages ten thousand years ago would perhaps once have called a 'bow.
"Of course, I must admit my slight disappointment at not having enjoyed your presence at the gates of the City, as any good loyal servant of the Kingdom would customarily show to the King, Queen and Royal family..." The first natural lash was thrown.
"Ah... My Queen, I... I did not think that this might have given offence to the 'King' "
'You have given offence to me!!!' roared the Queen inwardly but still maintaining the same smiling expression.
"My groom and I felt this was the correct way to welcome, Your Majesties. I had asked Maester Ellyn to dust off all the historical records of Barrowton, and he had assured me that all previous Kings and Queens, who had honoured the House of Dustin with a visit in the past, had been welcomed to the town in the same way.
A folk parade at the gates and a formal welcome at Barrow Hall...
King Aegon I, Jaehaerys I, Queen Alysanne, and Daeron II seemed to appreciate the ceremony. Before the Dustin name perished, I wished to give lustre to the name of the descendants of the First Tomb Kings by honouring tradition. Have I committed an unfortunate lapse in judgment, your majesty?" The old sheep dared to roar back, and for a moment, the Lioness did not know how to retort to the provocation--but only for a moment.
"No... not at all. It was an honour for the royal family to uphold the tradition of the ancient and 'dying' House of Dustin by lending lustre to its name for one last time, my Lady...
So sad the fate of these noble and ancient lineages. First House Tarbeck, then-House Rayne, House Targaryen, and now Dustin... I will pray to the Seven that the new and promising House of Mormont may ever prosper for the next thousand years here in the Barrowlands." Cersei.
"Too kind, Your Grace. Although here in the North, the deities we worship are slightly older and different from the Seven, I would certainly never refuse a blessing from the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." It sounded more like an insult than a compliment, but more importantly, the old hen did not seem to react in the slightest to her implied threat
"Come to think of it, there is one point that has left me puzzled and somewhat displeased at the entrance of the remarkable Barrowton..." However, Cersei kept her tone and expression cordial.
"Really, Your Grace?... My duty and honour would be to help her majesty clear up any displeasure. Please..." Bleated the sheep stuffed with wool.
"Well, Ser... According to the laws still in force of King Jaehaeris I, threatening a poor Lady under her desco, without a charge of High Treason and without a man in defence of her honour, is an offence punishable by death even for a 'Brave' Royal Guard ready to harm an unarmed woman..." Ser Meryn was paralyzed on the spot, looking around. His 'fearless' confrere Ser Boros seemed to show more discernment than the latter by remaining as still as a man of pairs.
Cersei, for a moment, did not understand what Barbrey meant by 'without a man to defend her honour.' But then she understood... as absurd as it was, those twelve monstrosities of muscle, leather and steel that surrounded them were all women!!! Armed women instead of Men! The Law was her favour! And if Cersei remembered correctly, there was another barbaric custom of the First Men here in the North that gave her support...but it just didn't come to mind at the time.
What was certain was that she, Ser Boros, nor even Ser Meryn had yet enjoyed the bread, salt, and mead of Barrow Hall.
In the eyes of the laws of gods and men, none of them still benefited from the protection of guests. To unleash steel against a nobleman under his table, without a firmly valid reason, was an act that could have started a war!
The Widow of Barrowton stepped forward with a disturbing smile on her face.
"You have broken what we descendants of the First Men call the 'Law of Blood and Iron,' Ser Meryn.
It is customary here in the ancient traditional Barrowlands that the transgressor of that Law pays the 'Price of Blood' with eyes, nose, teeth and tongue, which will be removed with Bronze, Fire and Ice... And that in pursuit, after you have returned to the state with which the womb nourished you, you be buried alive, and well bound, together with earth, water, and Weirdwood Tree seeds; so that the Old Gods may welcome you back into the womb of the world by feeding on your sins and giving light to a new life more deserving to avail of the fruits of the earth. Fear not, Ser, of water to quench your thirst, there will be no shortage, and the white roots will dig into your skin, killing you before hunger or ... 'madness' consumes you."
Even Cersei's stomach turned at the thought of such an atrocity.
In Casterly Rock, such an act would be punished by locking the criminal up in the most cramped of cells in the rock for an entire season, but, in her heart, Cersei was undecided as to which option to choose...
"Of course, Ser you would be entitled to a fair trial should the Queen wish to defend you by testifying on your behalf.
Is it your wish to deny the crime, my Queen?" The trembling hot-headed fool turned his gaze toward her with frightened, pleading eyes.
If the man could have spoken, he would surely have cried out, "Help me, my Queen! I am your faithful servant!!! I did it for you!!! I only wanted to defend your honour!!!"
This Law Cersei knew well instead. It was the work of that dastardly Jaehaerys I, Daeron II, or III for as long as she could remember.
[A Kingsguard cannot avail himself of due process if there was no member of the royal family or the Lord Commander of the White Swords as his guarantor advocate.]
Cersei had memorized all the quibbles of the stupid rules of the Kingsguard when her twin brother Jaime joined it. Rules were designed primarily to make the best use of her swords in times of need and to better conceal their forbidden tryst...
But Cersei was no idiot...
Who knows what Ser Boros might have said or not said if his Lord Commander or Robert himself had put him under the knife.
It was her words and Ser Meryn's, against that of thirteen and a half witnesses and thousands of noble ears and genuinely willing to lick the Wealthy Salt Whore's ass to hear them!
"I'm sorry, Ser Meryn, but your unforgivable act was perpetrated right in front of me... As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the witness of the New and Old Gods, and Mother Protector of all her subjects, I cannot intercede on your behalf...
'Fairness' and 'Justice' are, and always will be, two of the supporting pillars of the Crown." It was an explicit death sentence unless a divine thunderbolt had struck Robert and gifted him with the prescience to instantly seal a Royal counter-edict.
Yes... Ser Meryn was definitely screwed, and his look of despair testified that he was aware of it too.
"But there is still time to offer an apology, Ser-the Iron has been unsheathed, but the Blood has not been shed. So you would still have a chance to escape the 'Price of Blood' and have your life saved. So choose wisely, Knight." The Widow's icy, calm tone gave the Lioness of Casterly Rock goosebumps.
"Ser Meryn!!! Apologize immediately to Lady Barbrey Dustin! And admit your guilt!!!" So roared the Lioness in an attempt to stem the damage.
"I invoke the forgiveness of my lady!!! Mercy, my lady! Mercy! I admit my faults! I humbly beg your pardon! I am your humble and penitent servant!!! I invoke the mercy of the Lady of Barrowton!!!" The word 'Merciful' was not enough to describe that scene. Meryn crawled, crawling like a worm at the feet of the Lady of Barrowton, invoking every synonym of the word 'mercy'.
A faint lick of shifty fart came from a chilled and motionless Ser Boros at her side and a more acrid and pungent whit of urine from Ser Meryn.
"Oh, come on. Rise, Ser Meryn... Your sincere apologies have been accepted. The Blood Price will not be claimed. You have my forgiveness and my word as Noblewoman of the North." Lady Barbrey glanced at one of her shield-women, who promptly welcomed the silent message and walked briskly down the dark corridor of the manor.
"Thank you, my lady! Thank you!" Sobbed Meryn as he crawled contritely back behind his regal shield.
"My queen..." The Lioness' hair stood up at the call of the Witch's icy voice. But Cersei faced the enemy head-on like a true Queen of the Jungle!
"Yes, Lady Barbrey?" demanded the Lioness straight, proud, and ready to pull out jaws and claws in the next fight.
The Northern Whore might have pulled out tricks formed by some barbaric rule forgotten by the Gods, but such intimidating ploys could not scratch Lion's hide!
"If it is Your Grace's will to avail itself of two prouder and ... mmm ... 'tenacious' knights during the Royal Family's stay in the Barrowlands, then surely Barrow Hall will not deny such a request. Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch will benefit from our hospitality."
"It is your grace's will. Thank you, my lady." The Queen replied politely, roaring inwardly, 'Victory!'
********
End Part I
-----------------------------------
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Chapter 129: Bronze, Fire and Ice (I)
POV: The Legitimate Queen
Barrow Hall.
About half an hour after a small player retired with his tail between his legs...
The first formal greetings and bows were performed appropriately enough.
Robert noisily embraced Lord Jorah Mormont, who futilely tried to maintain a semblance of composure.
The King dragged one of the alleged Heroes of the Siege of Pyke into the hallway of the Hall, almost disregarding receiving permission from the Lady of Barrowton first... Perhaps the harassment of that swine of a husband of hers could benefit her from time to time...
"Come on, Lord Jorah! Come have a cup of wine with me! It is your King's order! Ahahah!!" the man seemed reluctant for a moment, but after casting a little mortified glance at his bride and receiving a look of assent, he did as the King requested.
Ser Barristan and Ser Mandon followed in the King's ranting wake, bringing a slight bow to the Widow of Barrowton.
Ser Boros and Ser Meryn remained to guard the Queen. Jaime and Ser Preston were still in the carriage, intent on defending the wet nurse who looked after Myrcella and Joffrey...
Joffrey was too young to drink mead, and Myrcella was still an infant to be fed with mother's milk. The ancient laws of Northern hospitality would have been passed down indirectly to the princes when the womb or seed that gave birth to them was protected.
Cersei would not allow her children to set a single foot inside Barrow Hall until she, and not Robert, benefited from bread, salt and Mead...
There were two Kingsguards left in the Hall, The Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and an old Northern harlot who changed husbands as if they were dirty linen...
A whore-owner of a dirty brothel called Barrowton, whom she would soon sell out to her future husband, losing the last bit of power she had left.
According to Varys, many individuals in Westeros and Essos were beginning to attach another moniker to her; after the last one as an old maid widow, they had given her... 'The Frosty Spice Queen.'
Cersei should have cut the tongue out of every dirty unpunished wild sheep in the North who had dared to bleat the word 'Queen' except to refer to the continent's only true Lioness. Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
'You are an old sheep dealing salt in a grave, my dear. And I the Lioness of King's Landing.' Thought the woman that was four years younger than the latter.
Cersei's prejudiced animosity toward Lady Barbrey Ryswell-Dustin-And-Soon-Mormont was not so much because of that moniker-even old Granny Tyrell was still referred to as 'The Queen of Thorns'-but so much because of the display of pageantry and influence the Whore of the North had over all of Westeros!
Not even at her royal wedding was there such an attendance! Outside the walls were hundreds of banners and pavilions, endless pageantry and merriment...
Cersei had to bring any possible threat to her rule into line for the sake of her children... So she would roar and show the sheep of the North who was the True Ruler Here.
But first, she would have let the Crone's guard down with 'due etiquette talk'...
*****
About five minutes later...
"A beautiful city, Lady Barbrey. Your people are so alive, full of joy and festivity... Truly a pleasant welcome." Pricked Cersei in the first place.
"You honour me and my city, Your Majesty. I am not worthy of such a compliment." So replied the Whore, performing what savages ten thousand years ago would perhaps once have called a 'bow.
"Of course, I must admit my slight disappointment at not having enjoyed your presence at the gates of the City, as any good loyal servant of the Kingdom would customarily show to the King, Queen and Royal family..." The first natural lash was thrown.
"Ah... My Queen, I... I did not think that this might have given offence to the 'King' "
'You have given offence to me!!!' roared the Queen inwardly but still maintaining the same smiling expression.
"My groom and I felt this was the correct way to welcome, Your Majesties. I had asked Maester Ellyn to dust off all the historical records of Barrowton, and he had assured me that all previous Kings and Queens, who had honoured the House of Dustin with a visit in the past, had been welcomed to the town in the same way.
A folk parade at the gates and a formal welcome at Barrow Hall...
King Aegon I, Jaehaerys I, Queen Alysanne, and Daeron II seemed to appreciate the ceremony. Before the Dustin name perished, I wished to give lustre to the name of the descendants of the First Tomb Kings by honouring tradition. Have I committed an unfortunate lapse in judgment, your majesty?" The old sheep dared to roar back, and for a moment, the Lioness did not know how to retort to the provocation--but only for a moment.
"No... not at all. It was an honour for the royal family to uphold the tradition of the ancient and 'dying' House of Dustin by lending lustre to its name for one last time, my Lady...
So sad the fate of these noble and ancient lineages. First House Tarbeck, then-House Rayne, House Targaryen, and now Dustin... I will pray to the Seven that the new and promising House of Mormont may ever prosper for the next thousand years here in the Barrowlands." Cersei.
"Too kind, Your Grace. Although here in the North, the deities we worship are slightly older and different from the Seven, I would certainly never refuse a blessing from the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." It sounded more like an insult than a compliment, but more importantly, the old hen did not seem to react in the slightest to her implied threat
"Come to think of it, there is one point that has left me puzzled and somewhat displeased at the entrance of the remarkable Barrowton..." However, Cersei kept her tone and expression cordial.
"Really, Your Grace?... My duty and honour would be to help her majesty clear up any displeasure. Please..." Bleated the sheep stuffed with wool.
"Well, Ser... According to the laws still in force of King Jaehaeris I, threatening a poor Lady under her desco, without a charge of High Treason and without a man in defence of her honour, is an offence punishable by death even for a 'Brave' Royal Guard ready to harm an unarmed woman..." Ser Meryn was paralyzed on the spot, looking around. His 'fearless' confrere Ser Boros seemed to show more discernment than the latter by remaining as still as a man of pairs.
Cersei, for a moment, did not understand what Barbrey meant by 'without a man to defend her honour.' But then she understood... as absurd as it was, those twelve monstrosities of muscle, leather and steel that surrounded them were all women!!! Armed women instead of Men! The Law was her favour! And if Cersei remembered correctly, there was another barbaric custom of the First Men here in the North that gave her support...but it just didn't come to mind at the time.
What was certain was that she, Ser Boros, nor even Ser Meryn had yet enjoyed the bread, salt, and mead of Barrow Hall.
In the eyes of the laws of gods and men, none of them still benefited from the protection of guests. To unleash steel against a nobleman under his table, without a firmly valid reason, was an act that could have started a war!
The Widow of Barrowton stepped forward with a disturbing smile on her face.
"You have broken what we descendants of the First Men call the 'Law of Blood and Iron,' Ser Meryn.
It is customary here in the ancient traditional Barrowlands that the transgressor of that Law pays the 'Price of Blood' with eyes, nose, teeth and tongue, which will be removed with Bronze, Fire and Ice... And that in pursuit, after you have returned to the state with which the womb nourished you, you be buried alive, and well bound, together with earth, water, and Weirdwood Tree seeds; so that the Old Gods may welcome you back into the womb of the world by feeding on your sins and giving light to a new life more deserving to avail of the fruits of the earth. Fear not, Ser, of water to quench your thirst, there will be no shortage, and the white roots will dig into your skin, killing you before hunger or ... 'madness' consumes you."
Even Cersei's stomach turned at the thought of such an atrocity.
In Casterly Rock, such an act would be punished by locking the criminal up in the most cramped of cells in the rock for an entire season, but, in her heart, Cersei was undecided as to which option to choose...
"Of course, Ser you would be entitled to a fair trial should the Queen wish to defend you by testifying on your behalf.
Is it your wish to deny the crime, my Queen?" The trembling hot-headed fool turned his gaze toward her with frightened, pleading eyes.
If the man could have spoken, he would surely have cried out, "Help me, my Queen! I am your faithful servant!!! I did it for you!!! I only wanted to defend your honour!!!"
This Law Cersei knew well instead. It was the work of that dastardly Jaehaerys I, Daeron II, or III for as long as she could remember.
[A Kingsguard cannot avail himself of due process if there was no member of the royal family or the Lord Commander of the White Swords as his guarantor advocate.]
Cersei had memorized all the quibbles of the stupid rules of the Kingsguard when her twin brother Jaime joined it. Rules were designed primarily to make the best use of her swords in times of need and to better conceal their forbidden tryst...
But Cersei was no idiot...
Who knows what Ser Boros might have said or not said if his Lord Commander or Robert himself had put him under the knife.
It was her words and Ser Meryn's, against that of thirteen and a half witnesses and thousands of noble ears and genuinely willing to lick the Wealthy Salt Whore's ass to hear them!
"I'm sorry, Ser Meryn, but your unforgivable act was perpetrated right in front of me... As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the witness of the New and Old Gods, and Mother Protector of all her subjects, I cannot intercede on your behalf...
'Fairness' and 'Justice' are, and always will be, two of the supporting pillars of the Crown." It was an explicit death sentence unless a divine thunderbolt had struck Robert and gifted him with the prescience to instantly seal a Royal counter-edict.
Yes... Ser Meryn was definitely screwed, and his look of despair testified that he was aware of it too.
"But there is still time to offer an apology, Ser-the Iron has been unsheathed, but the Blood has not been shed. So you would still have a chance to escape the 'Price of Blood' and have your life saved. So choose wisely, Knight." The Widow's icy, calm tone gave the Lioness of Casterly Rock goosebumps.
"Ser Meryn!!! Apologize immediately to Lady Barbrey Dustin! And admit your guilt!!!" So roared the Lioness in an attempt to stem the damage.
"I invoke the forgiveness of my lady!!! Mercy, my lady! Mercy! I admit my faults! I humbly beg your pardon! I am your humble and penitent servant!!! I invoke the mercy of the Lady of Barrowton!!!" The word 'Merciful' was not enough to describe that scene. Meryn crawled, crawling like a worm at the feet of the Lady of Barrowton, invoking every synonym of the word 'mercy'.
A faint lick of shifty fart came from a chilled and motionless Ser Boros at her side and a more acrid and pungent whit of urine from Ser Meryn.
"Oh, come on. Rise, Ser Meryn... Your sincere apologies have been accepted. The Blood Price will not be claimed. You have my forgiveness and my word as Noblewoman of the North." Lady Barbrey glanced at one of her shield-women, who promptly welcomed the silent message and walked briskly down the dark corridor of the manor.
"Thank you, my lady! Thank you!" Sobbed Meryn as he crawled contritely back behind his regal shield.
"My queen..." The Lioness' hair stood up at the call of the Witch's icy voice. But Cersei faced the enemy head-on like a true Queen of the Jungle!
"Yes, Lady Barbrey?" demanded the Lioness straight, proud, and ready to pull out jaws and claws in the next fight.
The Northern Whore might have pulled out tricks formed by some barbaric rule forgotten by the Gods, but such intimidating ploys could not scratch Lion's hide!
"If it is Your Grace's will to avail itself of two prouder and ... mmm ... 'tenacious' knights during the Royal Family's stay in the Barrowlands, then surely Barrow Hall will not deny such a request. Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch will benefit from our hospitality."
"It is your grace's will. Thank you, my lady." The Queen replied politely, roaring inwardly, 'Victory!'
********
End Part I
-----------------------------------
Chapter 129: Bronze, Fire and Ice IPOV: The Legitimate Queen Barrow Hall. About half an hour after a small player retired with his tail between his legs... The first formal greetings and bows were performed appropriately enough. Robert noisily embraced Lord Jorah Mormont, who futilely tried to maintain a semblance of composure. The King dragged one of the alleged Heroes of the Siege of Pyke into the hallway of the Hall, almost disregarding receiving permission from the Lady of Barrowton first... Perhaps the harassment of that swine of a husband of hers could benefit her from time to time... "Come on, Lord Jorah! Come have a cup of wine with me! It is your King's order! Ahahah!!" the man seemed reluctant for a moment, but after casting a little mortified glance at his bride and receiving a look of assent, he did as the King requested. Ser Barristan and Ser Mandon followed in the King's ranting wake, bringing a slight bow to the Widow of Barrowton. Ser Boros and Ser Meryn remained to guard the Queen. Jaime and Ser Preston were still in the carriage, intent on defending the wet nurse who looked after Myrcella and Joffrey... Joffrey was too young to drink mead, and Myrcella was still an infant to be fed with mother's milk. The ancient laws of Northern hospitality would have been passed down indirectly to the princes when the womb or seed that gave birth to them was protected. Cersei would not allow her children to set a single foot inside Barrow Hall until she, and not Robert, benefited from bread, salt and Mead... There were two Kingsguards left in the Hall, The Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and an old Northern harlot who changed husbands as if they were dirty linen... A whore-owner of a dirty brothel called Barrowton, whom she would soon sell out to her future husband, losing the last bit of power she had left. According to Varys, many individuals in Westeros and Essos were beginning to attach another moniker to her; after the last one as an old maid widow, they had given her... 'The Frosty Spice Queen.' Cersei should have cut the tongue out of every dirty unpunished wild sheep in the North who had dared to bleat the word 'Queen' except to refer to the continent's only true Lioness. Updated from novelbin.com'You are an old sheep dealing salt in a grave, my dear. And I the Lioness of King's Landing.' Thought the woman that was four years younger than the latter. Cersei's prejudiced animosity toward Lady Barbrey Ryswell-Dustin-And-Soon-Mormont was not so much because of that moniker-even old Granny Tyrell was still referred to as 'The Queen of Thorns'-but so much because of the display of pageantry and influence the Whore of the North had over all of Westeros! Not even at her royal wedding was there such an attendance! Outside the walls were hundreds of banners and pavilions, endless pageantry and merriment... Cersei had to bring any possible threat to her rule into line for the sake of her children... So she would roar and show the sheep of the North who was the True Ruler Here. But first, she would have let the Crone's guard down with 'due etiquette talk'... ***** About five minutes later... "A beautiful city, Lady Barbrey. Your people are so alive, full of joy and festivity... Truly a pleasant welcome." Pricked Cersei in the first place. "You honour me and my city, Your Majesty. I am not worthy of such a compliment." So replied the Whore, performing what savages ten thousand years ago would perhaps once have called a 'bow. "Of course, I must admit my slight disappointment at not having enjoyed your presence at the gates of the City, as any good loyal servant of the Kingdom would customarily show to the King, Queen and Royal family..." The first natural lash was thrown. "Ah... My Queen, I... I did not think that this might have given offence to the 'King' " 'You have given offence to me!!!' roared the Queen inwardly but still maintaining the same smiling expression. "My groom and I felt this was the correct way to welcome, Your Majesties. I had asked Maester Ellyn to dust off all the historical records of Barrowton, and he had assured me that all previous Kings and Queens, who had honoured the House of Dustin with a visit in the past, had been welcomed to the town in the same way. A folk parade at the gates and a formal welcome at Barrow Hall... King Aegon I, Jaehaerys I, Queen Alysanne, and Daeron II seemed to appreciate the ceremony. Before the Dustin name perished, I wished to give lustre to the name of the descendants of the First Tomb Kings by honouring tradition. Have I committed an unfortunate lapse in judgment, your majesty?" The old sheep dared to roar back, and for a moment, the Lioness did not know how to retort to the provocation--but only for a moment. "No... not at all. It was an honour for the royal family to uphold the tradition of the ancient and 'dying' House of Dustin by lending lustre to its name for one last time, my Lady... So sad the fate of these noble and ancient lineages. First House Tarbeck, then-House Rayne, House Targaryen, and now Dustin... I will pray to the Seven that the new and promising House of Mormont may ever prosper for the next thousand years here in the Barrowlands." Cersei. "Too kind, Your Grace. Although here in the North, the deities we worship are slightly older and different from the Seven, I would certainly never refuse a blessing from the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." It sounded more like an insult than a compliment, but more importantly, the old hen did not seem to react in the slightest to her implied threat "Come to think of it, there is one point that has left me puzzled and somewhat displeased at the entrance of the remarkable Barrowton..." However, Cersei kept her tone and expression cordial. "Really, Your Grace?... My duty and honour would be to help her majesty clear up any displeasure. Please..." Bleated the sheep stuffed with wool. "Well, Ser... According to the laws still in force of King Jaehaeris I, threatening a poor Lady under her desco, without a charge of High Treason and without a man in defence of her honour, is an offence punishable by death even for a 'Brave' Royal Guard ready to harm an unarmed woman..." Ser Meryn was paralyzed on the spot, looking around. His 'fearless' confrere Ser Boros seemed to show more discernment than the latter by remaining as still as a man of pairs. Cersei, for a moment, did not understand what Barbrey meant by 'without a man to defend her honour.' But then she understood... as absurd as it was, those twelve monstrosities of muscle, leather and steel that surrounded them were all women!!! Armed women instead of Men! The Law was her favour! And if Cersei remembered correctly, there was another barbaric custom of the First Men here in the North that gave her support...but it just didn't come to mind at the time. What was certain was that she, Ser Boros, nor even Ser Meryn had yet enjoyed the bread, salt, and mead of Barrow Hall. In the eyes of the laws of gods and men, none of them still benefited from the protection of guests. To unleash steel against a nobleman under his table, without a firmly valid reason, was an act that could have started a war! The Widow of Barrowton stepped forward with a disturbing smile on her face. "You have broken what we descendants of the First Men call the 'Law of Blood and Iron,' Ser Meryn. It is customary here in the ancient traditional Barrowlands that the transgressor of that Law pays the 'Price of Blood' with eyes, nose, teeth and tongue, which will be removed with Bronze, Fire and Ice... And that in pursuit, after you have returned to the state with which the womb nourished you, you be buried alive, and well bound, together with earth, water, and Weirdwood Tree seeds; so that the Old Gods may welcome you back into the womb of the world by feeding on your sins and giving light to a new life more deserving to avail of the fruits of the earth. Fear not, Ser, of water to quench your thirst, there will be no shortage, and the white roots will dig into your skin, killing you before hunger or ... 'madness' consumes you." Even Cersei's stomach turned at the thought of such an atrocity. In Casterly Rock, such an act would be punished by locking the criminal up in the most cramped of cells in the rock for an entire season, but, in her heart, Cersei was undecided as to which option to choose... "Of course, Ser you would be entitled to a fair trial should the Queen wish to defend you by testifying on your behalf. Is it your wish to deny the crime, my Queen?" The trembling hot-headed fool turned his gaze toward her with frightened, pleading eyes. If the man could have spoken, he would surely have cried out, "Help me, my Queen! I am your faithful servant!!! I did it for you!!! I only wanted to defend your honour!!!" This Law Cersei knew well instead. It was the work of that dastardly Jaehaerys I, Daeron II, or III for as long as she could remember. A Kingsguard cannot avail himself of due process if there was no member of the royal family or the Lord Commander of the White Swords as his guarantor advocate. Cersei had memorized all the quibbles of the stupid rules of the Kingsguard when her twin brother Jaime joined it. Rules were designed primarily to make the best use of her swords in times of need and to better conceal their forbidden tryst... But Cersei was no idiot... Who knows what Ser Boros might have said or not said if his Lord Commander or Robert himself had put him under the knife. It was her words and Ser Meryn's, against that of thirteen and a half witnesses and thousands of noble ears and genuinely willing to lick the Wealthy Salt Whore's ass to hear them! "I'm sorry, Ser Meryn, but your unforgivable act was perpetrated right in front of me... As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the witness of the New and Old Gods, and Mother Protector of all her subjects, I cannot intercede on your behalf... 'Fairness' and 'Justice' are, and always will be, two of the supporting pillars of the Crown." It was an explicit death sentence unless a divine thunderbolt had struck Robert and gifted him with the prescience to instantly seal a Royal counter-edict. Yes... Ser Meryn was definitely screwed, and his look of despair testified that he was aware of it too. "But there is still time to offer an apology, Ser-the Iron has been unsheathed, but the Blood has not been shed. So you would still have a chance to escape the 'Price of Blood' and have your life saved. So choose wisely, Knight." The Widow's icy, calm tone gave the Lioness of Casterly Rock goosebumps. "Ser Meryn!!! Apologize immediately to Lady Barbrey Dustin! And admit your guilt!!!" So roared the Lioness in an attempt to stem the damage. "I invoke the forgiveness of my lady!!! Mercy, my lady! Mercy! I admit my faults! I humbly beg your pardon! I am your humble and penitent servant!!! I invoke the mercy of the Lady of Barrowton!!!" The word 'Merciful' was not enough to describe that scene. Meryn crawled, crawling like a worm at the feet of the Lady of Barrowton, invoking every synonym of the word 'mercy'. A faint lick of shifty fart came from a chilled and motionless Ser Boros at her side and a more acrid and pungent whit of urine from Ser Meryn. "Oh, come on. Rise, Ser Meryn... Your sincere apologies have been accepted. The Blood Price will not be claimed. You have my forgiveness and my word as Noblewoman of the North." Lady Barbrey glanced at one of her shield-women, who promptly welcomed the silent message and walked briskly down the dark corridor of the manor. "Thank you, my lady! Thank you!" Sobbed Meryn as he crawled contritely back behind his regal shield. "My queen..." The Lioness' hair stood up at the call of the Witch's icy voice. But Cersei faced the enemy head-on like a true Queen of the Jungle! "Yes, Lady Barbrey?" demanded the Lioness straight, proud, and ready to pull out jaws and claws in the next fight. The Northern Whore might have pulled out tricks formed by some barbaric rule forgotten by the Gods, but such intimidating ploys could not scratch Lion's hide! "If it is Your Grace's will to avail itself of two prouder and ... mmm ... 'tenacious' knights during the Royal Family's stay in the Barrowlands, then surely Barrow Hall will not deny such a request. Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch will benefit from our hospitality." "It is your grace's will. Thank you, my lady." The Queen replied politely, roaring inwardly, 'Victory!' ******** End Part I -----------------------------------
