Margaery Tyrell looked on with a mixture of disgust and wonder. She stood in attendance at the King's Court, the late morning sun shining through the stained glass window of the Seven Pointed Star that sat behind the Iron Throne. She wore an eloquent dress that was the work of a well renowned seamstress from her home of Highgarden It had cost more than what an average village produces in a summer, but one can't look a pauper if they wanted to play the Game of Thrones. Margaery's eyes were transfixed at the woman that was once both the wife and mother of kings.
A poet had once called Cersei Lannister the most gorgeous woman in all of Westeros, but he might have recanted that statement if he saw her now. She was still a beautiful woman, but now she sat lazily sprawled across a cushioned bench at the right hand of the throne, looking nearly ten stone heavier than she had but a scant half - year ago. She tore handful after handful off the roasted carcass of a man sized boar before shoving the flesh in her mouth and swallowing, barely chewing. The lower half of the beast was missing, churning away in the Queen-Reagent's protruding gut very audibly, even from some thirty feet away. She stopped only to gulp down cups of wine or to belch loud enough to cause the court to fall silent. She wore a grease stained red silk blanket as a form of makeshift dress, her once radiant golden hair messy and unwashed. With piercing green eyes, she looked lethargically to the man who stood before the Iron Throne.
He had the demeanor of a peasant about him, about fifty years of age with receding black hair. He looked weathered from a arduous life of labor, but the only look in his eyes was sorrow. He prostrated himself before he began to speak.
"Your grace, I am but a poor farmer from the town of Brightmeade, up in the Riverlands. When Tully called for soldiers, all the boys left, and soon after The Mountain That Rides fell on our village with fire and sword. Most managed to escape his fury, but he burnt our wheat fields, stole our silver, and slaughtered our animals. We took refuge in Riverrun, but when word got around that your brother, Ser Jamie, was coming to lay siege, a bunch of the soldiers threw us out the gate so we wouldn't take up food. Ser Jamie was merciful enough to allow us to return to our homes, but all that was there was ash. I walked all the way here to ask your highness, if there is anything, anything at all that the crown can do for these poor souls before we starve to death come winter?"
Cersei turned her eyes away from the man and back to her meal. "I'm afraid the whole of the realm bleeds from the Stark's insurrection." She tore off the right half of the boar's ribcage, breaking off a rib at a time and sucking the meat off it in a fraction of a second before tossing the bone aside and grabbing another. "The crown has little to offer, so I'm afraid I must *Urppppp* deny your request." she continued, wet pieces of meat flying from her mouth while she belched.
"But, but Your Grace," he started, shock in his face, "The crown's larders are clearly full! That boar could feed my entire village, and you can afford to choke it down by yourself? Please, I beg of you, we need that food!" the farmer exclaimed, rising to his feet.
Cersei slurped the last rib into her stomach and tore off the other half, continuing to devour it. "First, you slander the late Ser Gregor's name by declaring him a brigand, and than you think to council me on how the crown's resources should be used? Perhaps I can help the people of Brightmeade." She added, the last rib sliding into her. "For crimes of slander of a noble, and defiance of royal precedent, I hereby sentence you to death on behalf of King Tommen Baratheon, the first of His name." Cersei belched loudly before turning her gaze back to the boar she was so desperate to fit inside of her.
"Your grace!" Margaery spouted autonomously as two Gold Cloaks seized the pleading man and began dragging him from the court, "This man has done no crimes! It would be unlawful to incarcerate him!"
The queen reagent tore off the front right leg of the boar and began devouring it. "Ah, always a good little queen of the people, aren't you Margaery? Very well then, I won't give him to the dungeons. Gold Cloaks *Braaaaaph* execute this man." As one Gold Cloak drew his sword, she tore off the front of the boar's leg and swallowed it. As the other forced the man onto his knees and held him still, Cersei did the same to the back of the leg. As the first Gold Cloak brought his blade down into the old man's neck, the queen reagent belched loudly and tore off the other leg.
Margaery's shocked eyes fluttered between the decapitated corpse and the queen, who tore of the flesh of the boar's leg. Cersei had finally done it, she lost her edge, there was no way the common man would forget that the queen ordered the death of an impoverished serf while she ate half her body weight in meat. As more Gold Cloaks ran out to remove the corpse, Cersei finished the leg, and quickly devoured the meat on the beast's shoulders before tearing the flesh off the animal's face and tossing the bare skull to the side. She than reached for a flagon of wine, gulping it down with haste before belching for nearly twelve straight seconds.
"That is all the crown will hear today, as what remains of yesterday's feast is currently assaulting my royal personage." Cersei said, grasping to the area of her belly beneath the massive orb that was once the body of a boar. "Handmaidens, if you would escort me, I have need of the privy." Her handmaidens came, and with great effort, hoisted her to her feet and away from the courtroom. Servants hastily ran to where the queen regent was sat, cleaning up the bones, which Margaery noticed were picked nearly clean. It took two men to hoist the bucket of bones out of the courtroom before the throng cleared out.
Margaery, livid over what she had witnessed, stormed off to her room, servants in tow.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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