After her furious tirade, Cersei finally took a deep breath to force herself to calm down.
Then she looked up at Jaime, her voice turning cold again.
"So you really don't think it's odd? Jon Arryn dies, and Robert immediately brings his bastard to his side—and you think it's just because he's short one man?"
"Or do you actually believe he's simply trying to make up for some lost fatherly affection?"
Cersei suddenly let out a sharp, mirthless laugh, like she'd just told herself a dark joke.
"Don't be an idiot, Jaime."
"What the hell do you think he's up to?!"
She snapped, full of frustration, jabbing her finger into Jaime's chest. Another cold laugh followed, and the vicious glint in her eyes grew even more frigid.
"Don't think I don't know. That damned Robert—he's had this kind of idea before!" Cersei spat, gritting her teeth.
As she laid out her analysis, Jaime found himself at a loss for words. His brow furrowed slightly.
Kal Stone's appearance really was a little suspicious.
After all, the moment he arrived in King's Landing, he had gone straight to Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King.
And just like that, under Jon Arryn's protection, he had secured a place for himself in the city—despite being a complete outsider.
Yet beyond that, he'd done absolutely nothing. He hadn't even met Robert—not once. Instead, he had quietly focused on building up his own business.
It was as if everything beyond that had nothing to do with him.
As long as there was no work to be done, he seemed to prefer lingering in the brothels and pleasure houses, indulging in fleeting joys.
Jaime thought about it and didn't find anything particularly strange.
After all, once he realized that Cersei had started paying unusual attention to Kal, he had quietly sounded out some things in private conversations with his brother Tyrion.
Their shared tastes and eventual friendship hadn't exactly been a secret to anyone—
Let alone to Jaime.
And according to Tyrion, Kal Stone truly had no idea who his father was.
In fact, Tyrion had said that Kal didn't care at all about his past—didn't care about his birth or that damned bastard status.
Which meant that, from the very beginning, he hadn't the slightest interest in knowing who his bastard father even was.
"This guy once said: 'If you rely on the mountains, they'll collapse. If you rely on people, that's even more ridiculous.'"
"'In this world, the only person truly worth relying on is yourself—because only you will never betray you.'"
At that thought, Jaime recalled Tyrion mentioning this very sentiment during one of their talks. Apparently, that was how Kal Stone viewed his own bastard origins.
Jaime was certain—Kal didn't act like a boy.
He carried a maturity all his own. And he understood the rules by which this world turned, as well as his own place within it, with clear eyes.
So after reflecting briefly on Cersei's accusations and suspicions, Jaime shook his head.
"He hasn't done anything wrong. We can't kill an innocent boy just because of his identity—or out of jealousy."
"Listen to me, Cersei—he knows nothing. He poses no threat to you or to Joffrey."
"And even if he did know—what difference would it make?"
"The future of the Iron Throne lies in the blood of House Lannister and House Baratheon. Everything else is an illusion."
Jaime Lannister still didn't agree with Cersei's view, even though she had complained to him about this more than once.
This time, though, she was being especially extreme.
And it was precisely because of that that Jaime didn't want her getting involved in this mess.
After all, Robert hadn't actually torn through the paper-thin veil of propriety, nor had he brought his bastard into his own home.
And perhaps—just perhaps—Robert really only wanted to make up for something with his child, without any ulterior motive.
Jaime even thought this whole thing might just be one of Robert's impulsive whims. Given a single night, he'd probably forget all the promises he made the night before—just like all the women he used to claim he loved.
As a member of the Kingsguard, Jaime had seen such things from Robert more times than he could count. After all, it was often Jaime himself who had to pull gold dragons out of his own pocket to cover the king's spending.
Jaime knew full well that Robert was no kind or merciful man. Yes, he indulged in pleasures, but as a noble—and as the man on the Iron Throne—he knew exactly what he was supposed to do.
And his love for Joffrey and the others wasn't fake, either!
But all Jaime's words were met with nothing more than a cold snort from Cersei.
"Hmph... You make it all sound so righteous and noble!" Cersei sneered, the chill on her beautiful face growing ever more cutting. "But perhaps you've forgotten something. Shall I remind you?—Kingslayer?!"
Having been rejected by Jaime yet again, Cersei showed no softness, and in the end, she spat out that infamous name—one soaked in contempt and disdain for Jaime Lannister.
"I didn't mean it like that, Cersei. It's just that you—" Jaime instinctively tried to explain himself in the face of her mockery.
But Cersei cut him off again.
"Jaime, we both know exactly what's going on, so don't feed me words filthier than the rags whores use to wipe their cunts."
"Because all that does is disgust me."
This time, Cersei truly was angry. Her face showed no expression, but her voice had turned cold.
Had she not worked so hard to stop it before, that damn bastard might really have been living under her nose by now, bold and shameless.
So now, every time she saw Kal Stone, the urge to remove that threat surged within her.
Before, Jon Arryn had given him shelter, and she'd failed to act. But now Jon Arryn was dead.
And now that Robert had actually brought his bastard along on this journey himself—how could she not feel deeply unsettled?
She didn't even want to see a single strand of this Kal Stone's hair appear before her eyes.
And it was precisely because of that that her desire to kill this damned bastard only burned stronger.
That's why, on the very first day of departure, she could no longer hold back.
That's also why she hadn't even bothered to eat before dragging Jaime here to conspire in secret.
She had to eliminate this cursed threat—otherwise, she'd never be able to sleep in peace.
Especially now, as the group steadily drew closer to the North.
So when Jaime refused to listen to her—when he wouldn't even take her side—Cersei couldn't help but lash out with a torrent of curses.
And hearing Cersei's words grow so vicious, Jaime Lannister could only press his fingers against his brow in helpless frustration.
Cersei had complained to him about this more than once. Once, she'd even gone so far as to have a huge argument with Robert Baratheon.
And Robert's response to her unreasonable tantrum?
A crisp, resounding slap.
Jaime had been standing just outside the door when it happened. After that, Cersei hadn't attended a single social event for a whole week.
So Jaime knew—her hatred for Kal Stone hadn't sprouted just yesterday.
From the very first day Kal Stone arrived in King's Landing—when she learned that Robert's bastard, born of some random fling while being fostered in the Vale, had shown up in the capital—
—that man had become a thorn in her eye, a dagger in her flesh.
Of course Jaime had understood Cersei's sneers just now, and the veiled words that came with them.
After all, no one knew better than he did the true origin of Robert and Cersei's three children...
But bound by his inner sense of honor—and for other reasons too—Jaime truly didn't want to be the executioner here. And even more so, he didn't want to deepen the rift between Cersei and Robert over something like this.
Not to mention—he was a knight.
Yet just as Jaime stood there, brow pinched in pained hesitation, Cersei caught the expression on his face—and the corner of her lips curved ever so slightly.
She sighed softly, then leaned in toward him again of her own accord.
Her hand reached out to gently caress the face of her twin brother—her lover—and her voice no longer carried the same harshness as before.
"Once, Joffrey was just curious. He wanted to see the kittens inside a mother cat's belly—so he took a dagger and slit it open."
"And what did Robert do? He knocked out two of his baby teeth!"
"And after that... he actually wanted to bring that damn bastard Kal Stone into the court!"
At this point, Cersei paused.
Then she reached out her other hand, cupping Jaime Lannister's face with both palms, guiding his eyes to meet hers.
Two pairs of emerald-green eyes locked together, and Cersei's voice grew even softer.
"Jaime, Joffrey is our child—and the Iron Throne can only belong to him."
"But now that bastard Robert is starting to suspect the Lannisters. Because of Jon Arryn's death, he no longer trusts Father, and even less so me. He's stopped trusting anyone named Lannister—or even anyone with golden hair!"
"And now he's traveling all the way to that godsdamned frozen wasteland where your twin stones could freeze solid—just to see that equally cursed Stark…"
Though Cersei Lannister tried to keep her voice low, aiming for something gentle, it only grew colder with every word.
And when she finished, she stopped again—saying just enough.
She stared at the man who looked so much like her—her lover—and her breathing grew heavier.
Then she closed her eyes and leaned in toward Jaime's face, seeking those familiar, soft lips as her breath quickened, whispering softly: "That's why we must do what has to be done."
"Tell me, Jaime—you won't let something like this happen, will you?"
As her voice faded, the last gleam of light at the edge of the sky sank behind the mountains.
In the darkness, Jaime kept his eyes open, staring at Cersei's demand with hesitation and inner conflict stirring within.
But then, as a nimble tongue slipped into his mouth—teasing and guiding with practiced ease—the Kingslayer responded in kind, lost in the rhythm of those heavy, lustful breaths.
Bright moonlight spilled across the Kingsroad, and somewhere nearby in the woods, a few startled birds took flight, their sharp cries ringing out into the night.
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