True Colours

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and no money as been made out of this.

Chapter 8

The Queen peered over the body, a finger tracing patterns on the linen sheet a pale servant had placed above the dead woman. Cersei pitied the poor creature, who at the first oppurtunity scuried away.

She tightned the blanket now in her arms. Varys was sitting down, a glass of water in his trembling hand, still shaken from the events. She was the one who ordered a guard to call for her father. The other Lords had entered the room, trailling behind him, curious and thirsty to please the old lion.

"If the people find out about this they'll turn on us. We can't allow that to happen." said Lord Tyrel, hands behind his back. Only the Small Council had been allowed to see the remains.

"The people know who protects them. With some generosity..." Petyr leaned against the table, his hands almost touching the remains.

"And what good protection they have... In the safest place of Kings Landing, surrounded by the strongest Lords, women appear mysteriously dead." said Tyrion, speaking more for his goblet than the room.

"We'll give her a funeral. It should be enough." said Lord Tywin.

"Weddings and funerals... The Capital is more fun than expected. Dorne is so boring compared to all this fun."

"Prince Oberyn, you should consider being more careful. If there's a murder out there no one is safe." said Tyrion in a whine as the Dornish man took his wine

"You'd know a lot about it. Thankfully, the dornish have always known how to keep their distance."

"The dornish could very well be behind this! I will not have my familly endangered because of some savages." said Lord Tyrel.

"It's a dangerous thing to accuse without proof."

"You weren't at dinner. And everyone knows snakes attack from behind." Lord Tyrel's face became redder and redder.

"Neither was I. Why not accuse me instead? Or my sister. She disappeared around the same time as Oberyn."

"And the lion comes in rescue of the snake." The Martell smiled.

"Enough." Tywin Lannister came to stand at his daughter's side. "Provided distraction people will forget this. A servant shouldn't cause any uproar unless you decide to bring it up to spite each other. I advise you all to rest and I will inform the King."

One after the other the Lords left the room. They would now join their families, each with a different version of the occurred. Both Cersei and Tyrion stood behind. Tyrion out of free will, Cersei because Tywin was gripping her.

"Well, this was a lovely night but has much as I enjoy your company, the Master of Coin must attend to his duties."

"Sit down." Tywin pulled Cersei away from the table and half threw half pushed her into a chair. She sat up straighter, ignoring her brother's whistle. "I want to know exacly where you were tonight."

"You wouldn't want to know all the sordid details of your son's noturns ecounters, now would you father dear?" Tyrion poured more wine in his goblet, for sure to compensate the one Oberyn had stolen.

"You take things too lightly. This is not one of your games nor is it about you. With the two of you absent from dinner the Tyrels have the excuse they need to turn on us."

"On the crown, you mean, Lord Hand of the King."

"We are the crown." said Tywin, the only reply Tyrion got. "If you want to stay in Kingslanding you need to know how to behave."

"The three of us know very well Jaime was the well behaved. What a shame we only have his twin."

"I will not have any of you drag the name of our House with some childish plan!" Lord Tywin's voice got louder as impatience sipped through his glare. "Everything has a price."

"Even the protection of our familly." The Queen's voice wasn't above an anguished whisper. "If you must know I was asking Oberyn about Myrcela."

"In front of everyone. Mace might be an idiot but Olenna is not. Do you know what to do when you don't know the enemies' move?" Both 'children' stood quiet. "You atack first. You make sure you decide the outcome, never them. You don't offer a choice." Placing a hand on the dead body, he continued. "This corpse is a bait. It's waiting for us to bite. Your disappearances might be what it needs to pull. So, where were you Tyrion?"

"I was in my room. Too much wine and being newly wed is not easy."

"I was told your room was empty since yesterday night."

"You're informations seem wrong, father. Maybe you shouldn't put so much trust in them. Everyone has their own game to play. Sansa went to bed early last night."

"Sansa did not spend the night in your room nor did you. You need to impregnate that Stark with Lannisters before a fortnight and instead she escapes from your chambers, unnoticed."

The whole conversation was turning Cersei's insides. Last night Sansa had visited her briefly, yet her absence was noticed. She did spend the night in her room. There were spies, but they weren't good. Whoever her father was getting information from was either new to the job or not on his side.

Which got it down to one thing: the many new faces. There was no way to keep count of all the new people arriving everyday in Kingslanding. No way of knowing their intentions. Anyone could claim it was for the King's wedding and they couldn't be sure. They could be farmers or prostitutes or soldiers. From Stannis, Tyrels or Little Finger.

It's easy to play when it's only old friends. You know each other, you know the drill, you know you won't die because who would play if you were gone? But when people become replaceable and there is just so much to offer, why shouldn't they try someone new? Why keep their boring old game, with the same pieces making the same moves? It's a matter of eating without being eaten.

It was late when Cersei found the warmth and silence of her chambers. The blue sheets Sansa had been so surprised to find were changed for thicker, darker green ones. The fire placed illuminated the shadows on the walls as little shiny dots here and there proved not all peasants to be assleep. They would wake in the morning, ready to work. Or not, but they didn't have a choice. That is the life of those who aren't lucky enough to be born between the skies.

Somewhere, some man would be laying next to his wife, tracing callous fingers down her spine as her chest moved with each breath. They are in love. Maybe they have children, or some pet.

The Queen's lower lip trembled. How many fathers were considering to sell their daughters? How many young girls would wake up to find they now belonged to a stranger? How many would be left empty, shallow with a feeling on nothingness and a desire to sleep just so they didn't have to be awake like she had?

Cersei sat on her window, the blanket still around her shoulders. In silence, she sipped her tea. Leafs bristled, shaking the trees, the only sign she hadn't lost her hearing, so deafening was the silence.

One day Sansa would have to know.

The days when she could sleep through the morning became rare and so it was with much gratefulness that the Queens eyes fluttered open to find the sun still down. If you wake up early enough you can enjoy the peace and quiet of your own company.

She hadn't moved since she'd fallen asleep, the other side of the bed marble cold. There was something odd about not having little touches. The smelled of washed hair, delicate hands resting on her. Sansa nuzzling against the crook of her neck, still asleep, oblivious to the world around.

Cersei huffed and turned to the side, cuddling a pillow.

She decided to take breakfast in her room so to not destroy her morning mood. The nights free of nightmares always led to days tormented by family. This time, it was her uncle.

Kevan Lannister was always the lapdog of Tywin, never taking much liking to his niece. Their relationship hadn't improved with the 'Lancel Accident'. (Between us, he deserved it.)

"Good morning, uncle. I would welcome you into my chambers but it seems you already took it upon yourself to make yourself confortable." She said, staring at the burnt bacon. Who doesn't like some coal? Pushing the plate asside, she focused on her toast.

"I heard you were the one who found the corpse of the dead girl." stated Kevan, taking the chair in front of her.

"Old age is getting the best of you. You must've heard it wrong, since Varys was already there when I arrived."

"Your jokes will bring you problems one day."

"Don't they say laugh is the best cure?" Cersei put some jam on the bread. "What do you want?"

"Your father doesn't trust you. Nor do I. You've never had problems getting people of your way, even when you were a child. Your father," he stole one piece of bacon, holding it up to eye level, "doesn't believe you are behind the murder. I do."

"Not surprising."

"He doesn't think you could do it. And it's true, you couldn't. No matter how much you wished it wasn't this way, you're nothing like Tywin. You're hot headed and all your agressivness comes from that. To plan a deliberate attack? You could do it. But you would never finish the strike. What Iwant to know is who did it?"

"At my command?" Cersei quirked an eyebrow. "You'll figure it out in time. And if it turns out I had nothing to do with it, I'm certain you'll be ready to apologise."

He left. There was no point in coming in the first place. Formalities, you see. Just stating what his position was, trying to show he was more than a puppet.

Bronn was waiting outside, much like the rest of the days. What would Robert say if he say how his precious army had Mercenaries turned into Sirs? Doesn't matter, Robert was dead and Bronn was a Sir of no land.

He followed her around. Free time is a thing Margeary would forget as she became Queen, but there were still days when Cersei found she had time to spare. Sansa was on the picnic with the majority of the Court Ladies. It wouldn't hurt to see who had been left behind.

Her heart leaped as she entered the Queen's Sallon. No man was allowed inside without her permission. Grand windows with red curtains snug the walls, stripes of orange falling on the cabinets and bookshelves. Through the years she'd filled those sheves with her favourites for the use of any women, noble or not. Long were the nights she'd stayed awake teaching some youngling the tricks of the letters. A piano rested on one side covered in dust and ash. On the other side, chairs and table and baskets of fabric and a fire place and carpets and blankets and anything her dreams could've asked for when she was a kid.

Lolys read a book laying on the couch, for sure to stop the back pain which usually accompanied pregnancy. When she laid eyes upon her Grace the Queen Regent, there was a moment of distress in which she tried to push herself up and out of her resting position to greet her.

Cersei placed her hands on her shoulders, pushing the girl back down.

"Your Grace, I..." there was a nervous stutter to her voice, reminiscent of the once loud naive kid she used to be.

"Rest, child." The woman went to retrieve a box from the cabinet. "How are you?"

"I... I don't know what you mean..."

"How do you feel? Do you have pain, morning sickness? When I was pregnant one of the worst things was the heat. Everything was just too hot and I was always sweating."

"I'm fine, your Grace. I have a new maid who's been helping me."

"Does she know what she's doing?"

"I believe so."

"Only those who've been pregnant know what it feels like. I trust your mother has been attentive to you."

"Yes, very much. She's starting to tire of my antics though. But it's normal, I've been so silly." the young child rubbed her arms, adverting her eyes from the Queen's. There were dark circles under them, the brilliant wight a now dying red from crying.

"In Lannisport we have the tradition of fishing. It's not like here, where people barely know how to tie a not. Do you know which fishes we catch the most?"

"No."

"The young ones. They see food floating around and go for it, clueless to how they'll be pulled out of water and chopped, and by the end of the day already gracing some lucky fisherman's table. You catch the fish by the mouth, never by the tail." Cersei caressed brown thick hair. "Cry what you have to cry and fear what you need to fear. In the end, you are a Lady from a rich house who's living among Royalties. You can see what other's can only dream of." There was a small pause. "Have you had nightmares?"

"Yes. Meister Pycelle gives my maid Poppy Milk."

"I usually stay awake late. If you ever feel like having some company, ask for me. And I'll be sure to give you a key to this Saloon."

"Your Grace, I could never take that! This is part of the private quarters of the Queen, I can't-"

"And the purpose of a Queen is to protect the Ladies in times of war. Men aren't the only ones who fight battles. And they aren't the only ones who win. Do you know what's the best part of being woman?"

"You can have children."

"That too." Cersei chuckled. "No one sees us unless we want to."

The moon turned once more before they heard of Rob Stark's movement. Or lack of them. Things on the Riverlands were exceptionally quiet, as they were in the the men fucking in the brothels and the ocasional confront between snakes, lions and flowers, the time couldn't be better for a wedding.

Joffrey had chosen a simple fabric for his chest piece. Tommen went crazy with all the different things arriving. New plants and animals never seen and people from places so far away. He drank every word from every story he could catch, spending most of his time in the kitchen or the stable, around servants.

Margeary spent her time with either Joffrey, Loras, Sansa or Olenna. The old fart put so many impediments in the wedding Cersei feared it would have to be postponed. It was the dress that wasn't too tight and the necklace that hadn't jewels enough and the decorations with the wrong flowers and the chairs that were uncomfortable and the cheese. Oh, the fucking cheese. How much cheese did she need?

It was all left for Cersei to solve. Robbin showed up every day, bringing news and whatever the merchant brought in their boats. Joffrey sneaked out to hang with him and they'd leave for a few hours.

And there hadn't been any more dead people. At least not more than usual. During trainings some idiot was always bound to get harmed.

It was hilarious. Watching from the windows, Martells dragged Tyrels for a fight, while Lannisters bragged of being the strongest. There was more talk than fighting, Oberyn waving his fingers in her direction on occasion.

It was on an afternoon like this it hapenned. This one time the Queen had decided to stop in her way to the Hand's chambers and watch. The Prince was fast with his spear, taking down two to three men at a time. Loras rested against a pole, caressing his sword. God, she could feel the sexual tension.

"His very good with his sword." Ellaria had sneaked behind her, black curls tickling her cheek. Tanned hands came to rest on her hip. "He's quite proud of it too. He could give you a private show."

The Queen turned around. The bastard woman was taller than her, forcing her to look up.

"And what could you give me?"

"Me?" Ellaria leaned closer, their noses touching. "I just want to see how Cersei Lannister looks after having her holes filled by dornish meat."

"You're not the first to have fantasies. Won't be the last. And maybe... Maybe I wouldn't mind bending for the royalty of the desert once or twice." Pale hands travelled from shoulders to neck. "If only you two knew how to be quiet."

She tightened her grip. Licking her teeth, she saw Ellaria's stubborness prevail. Was the woman thinking she had some suffocation kink? It wouldn't pay off.

Have you ever felt the need to do something. Tightening your hands around a frail neck, so thin and weak and there. So easy. Her hands there, strong and so close. Carrying the body away, caring for the show. People finding it, pretending to be shocked, sustaining your breath and fainting, everyone worried about you. Poor you. Can't even see blood.

The Queen let go.

"You're something else." The dornish woman said, hands still on Cersei's hips.

"I'm better."

She left for the tower of the Hand while Oberyn and Loras fought. There was something she needed to check.

The chambers were cold. Never had she set foot inside, not when it was Jon's room, not when it was Tyrion's and much less during Aerys reign. She didn't need to be accuse of fornication and turned into a prostitute by the Mad King.

The large bed stood against one wall, the other decorated with the usual tapecaries. She placed the box on the secretaire. There were quills and books and papers and to the left, all stacked and ready to read, letters. It was the Hand's job to go through everything which entered the Red Keep in order to protect the King. Tywin took the opportunity to pick on everyone business.

"What do you want, Cersei?" Her father was opening the letters sent for her son.

"Have you found anything on the servant's case?"

"That subject is buried."
"Just like her."

"I don't have time for your little jokes."

"Uncle Kevan thinks I did it."

"I'm aware."

"What do you think?"

"That this subject is buried."

"There's a murderer out there and we're not going to do anything?"
"I've already told you it's a bait."
"So we're just going to wait until someone else kiks it?"
"No one else will die because if the murderer is smart he'll see it didn't work."
"So you don't think it was me."

"You know I don't."

"I was never a suspect, was I?"

"Would you like to have been? No, you weren't. I could expect such a plan from Little Finger or Margeary, but you could never."

Cersei stood quiet, digesting the information. Margeary could do it but not her?

"I'm worried, father. With so many Tyrels and Dornishes in town it's a matter of time before a fight erupts."

"We knew the risks we were taking when we reached for both sides."

"You reached. You and Tyrion. I had no say in this matter."

"And why should you?"

"Those are my children." She gripped the sides of her chair in order to calm down. Tywin had yet to give her his full attention. "If something was to happen Myrcela will be the one paying."

"The dornishes-"

"Have their own brains. You can never know of what goes through all of their hands. She's so young."

"Oberyn promesses to not hurt her."

"That doesn't mean shit! Look at me!" She snatched the letters from him. He raised his eyes, glare in place. "You killed children. Without touching them. You had families wiped out with a bare move of your hand. What proof do I have he won't do the same? How do I know he won't send her to the sea? Or his children? What if he sells her?"

"Leave."

"No."

They stared in silence. Cersei through gritted teeth, him with his hands resting together, waiting for her.

"I want protection."

"You'll always have it as long as you repay it."

"One day you'll be old. There'll come a time when you won't be able to walk without a cane or wipe your ass by yourself. I know you don't like the gods but you better pray for Jaime to help, because the moment I see you falling, I'll make sure to place my hands on your shoulders and push you."

"You're being unreasonable."

Cersei didn't stay for the lesson. If there was something Tywin was willing to do he'd do it.

The gardens were full and she wasn't up to deal with anyone. Someone called for her from behind, but Sansa was tried to avoid the hours of more sun so it couldn't be here.

She slammed the door close and kicked the servants out. She walked from one side to the other, breathing shallow. Eyes burning, she grabbed a vase and through it against the wall, shattering it. Then a plate and the wine and book after book and when she run out of book she threw the chairs.

Her arms ached from the consistent movement. But her insides boiled. The pieces of fabric brought to be shown to Margeary were ripped to shreds.

She screamed until her throat was sore and rubbed her face. Then fell to the floor.

It hurt. It hurt so badly.

Arms enveloped her, hands covering her eyes. Her head was pulled in a tender embrace. The sobs became louder and muffled in porcelain skin as the Queen gasped for air. Hands grasping at satin, wanting to feel closer, protected.

"Come to bed, my love."

She was pulled up and guided under the covers. In darkness all was left was the empty desire to an end and the heaving chest she rested against, protective arms and words of comfort.

At some point the hands disappeared, the Queen coiling around her own self.

"Cersei?"

"Ye- yes?"

"Do you want something?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine." Sansa cupped Cersei's face and the reaction was instinctive. She leaned onto the touch, never daring to want more. "Tell me, love, tell me what you want."

There was a pause, the fear stitched on the Queen's face who, like a child, feared to be left.

"Please... Please I... It's fine, you don't have to..."

"I want to. My lioness, my Queen, my love, I want to love you. Ask it, please."

"You'll be mad. And angry and won't want to... to... it's fine."

"Do you... do you want me to keep touching you?"

"I... please don't stop..." it wasn't above a whisper, fearing to abuse the love so selflessly given. "Please. Please. I'll be good but don't leave me."

"I'm right here."
"I'm not. Tell me what you need, my lioness."

"I want..." a sob interrupted Cersei and she hugged herself tighter. "Please, touch me."

"Hold me? Just my hand? I'm won't move. Or touch you anywhere. Please..."

Sansa scooted closer, hugging Cersei. The Queen closed her eyes, mouth open and resting against her, as if trying to not overstep. With each touch the smile grew wider and the eyes wetter.

It was now, in her senses she refused to sleep. To enjoy the touch of another person. Who knew when it would happen again.

"Cersei, sleep."

"But I want to enjoy... And... And when I wake up you won't be touching me anymore and now you are and..."
"Look at me. Look at me, my love." Sansa cupped her cheek, locking eyes with Cersei, who snuggled against her hand, thirsty for any love

"I really like when you call me that... I really do. It makes me so happy..."

"I'm glad you it does. But you're tired, you need to sleep. And I promess I'll love you any time you ask me for it..."

"For real?"

"For real real."
"Thank you..."

It wasn't long before Cersei fell asleep, surrending to exhaustion. Sansa was left to pounder the events.

The next morning arrived with the Queen scooting closer to Sansa.

"Cersei?"

"Hi..." came the answer from under the covers, making the red haired chuckle.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes..."

Sansa took the tray from the side-table and placed it at the end of the bed. She'd woken up earlier and asked the servants to clean the broken glass and put everything back in order before Cersei woke. When they asked if she wanted breakfast brought to them, Sansa figured it would take sometime until the other felt well enough for social interaction.

"Don't you want to see what we have?"

"It's too bright."

"I'm sorry silly, but I can't turn of the sun." She grabbed some fruit, feeding the Queen who still hadn't open her eyes. "How does it taste?"
"Sauer. Isn't there any sugar?"

"Only if you do the bare minimum to wake."

With much effort and drama, the eldest put the pillow against the back of the bed and laid on her lover's.

"Want pancakes?"

"It's fine, you can eat them."

"I'm not eating all of them!"

"What if I eat a lot of them and then you want more and there aren't?"

"Which part of you being rich is escaping you? If we run out of pancakes we'll ask for more."

"But I can't just eat your food!"

"The food is not mine."

"So... you don't mind if I eat just one?"

"Eat all you want!" And with that, she shoved some bacon inside Cersei's mouth. "I'm worried about you."

"Did I say something yesterday? I don't remember quite well what hapenned but if I said something I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I-"

"You don't remember?"

"Not after talking to my father. I was pretty angry..."

"But you don't remember arriving to your room? Or me?"

"Should I?"

"I don't think forgetting things is ever a good sign, but you're probably just tired. Maybe it'll come back when you feel rested."

"Yes, on that: do you have any clue why I feel so tired? My arms feel heavy and my eyes prickle..."

"I have my suspicions. By the way," Sansa grabbed some paper from the nightstand, showing it to her, "you received some mail."

"I never get mail..."

"Now you do."

With curiosity, the Queen opened the letter, breaking the seel. At her side Sansa leaned closer. She unfolded the paper. The top read:

Dear mother,

To be continued...

A.N.: Hey guys! Could you please give me some feedback about how emotional you felt? What did you feel? Was it a good description of emotions or was it boring?

On another note, DOES ANYONE WANT TO BE MY BETA READER PLEASE AND THANK YOU?

Adeus.