Lunch was held in a lovely veranda kind of area near the royal apartments. I left Cayla and Sandor behind to fend for themselves, not that that was any kind of hardship when both of them had the standing to order anything they wanted from the kitchens.
Idly, I wondered if they'd eat lunch together, like they did breakfast that morning.
Huh. The two of them have always gotten along pretty well. I wonder if there's anything there. Or if there could be anything there.
That'd be a decent sort of deal after I'm married to Sansa. My right hand and my left hand getting married. Sandor is a noble but sort of despises nobility, so that's probably not much of an obstacle.
Hmm.
"Nephew! I haven't seen you in a week," Jamie greeted, meeting me as I was escorted in by one of the servants.
I know that, as a modern sort of man who knows that nobility is bullshit and that I'm not actually any better than the servants except through luck, I'm supposed to be friendly to servants and take interest in their lives, at least to the point of knowing their names and such. But I can't even keep track of all the nobles I'm supposed to, and servants come and go pretty often.
"Hey, Uncle Jamie. You look… good." What I started to say was 'kinda peaked', but I find it easiest to deal with uncomfortable things by ignoring them. We didn't hug, but we did grab each other's arms.
Jamie wasn't quite dressed in court finery, like I was, instead wearing the same type of clothes he usually wore. They were clean, and fairly fine, since his duties as one of the White Cloaks means he's usually at least somewhat formal, but he hadn't put effort into dressing up, either. Of course, he can get away with that. Cersei likes to dress up and positively pouts if I don't join her. Jamie is better at denying her.
"You look like something just pissed you off. Did a gear pop off your latest creation?" he snarked, turning with me as we went to the table.
"I- Oh. No, just an uncomfortable thought. A complex puzzle with a simple solution that for some reason I don't like."
He glanced at me. "People?"
"People." I turned and looked around. "So where's Mother? And Celly?"
He shrugged. "Myrcella is with her tutor and a couple of other girls. Cersei was still getting dressed, last I saw her."
I'm sure she was. No one actually says anything about it but I still find it mystifying that half of King's Landing doesn't know he's fucking her. They are not subtle, especially with comments like that.
Of course, they both know I know, so maybe they're more circumspect with outsiders. I don't know.
I looked around. The table was set with a decorative centerpiece of bright red coral, mother of pearl shells, and a riot of flowers that bloom around sand dunes and beaches. Flickers of colored light spun slowly through the room, reflected from and through a small windmill with a rainbow of stained glass blades set up on the edge of the veranda. Above us a large ceiling fan with ornately carved blades also spun slowly, powered by a larger, more functional windmill I'd set up out of sight above us. That same windmill also ran a tiny pump that kept water flowing through a miniature waterfall and river over to the side. The river had a clear glass wall on our side, letting us see the flickers of small colorful fish going through it. Tiny bonsai trees and to scale golden lions and bronze deer decorated the 'land' around the river. Basically, I'd copied the kind of fountain you see at bigger Asian restaurants sometimes.
The marble floor was polished smooth and lustrous, the stonework of the veranda railing was masterful, and even the chairs were made of a rich, dark wood carved with ornate designs and family crests. Flowered vines crawled up trellises and along the edge of the roof, while planters and pots with even more flowers lurked in corners and against the columns holding up the roof.
This was Cersei's favorite place to host. Everything, from the flowers to the stained glass windmill, was a power play. Wealth, power, taste. I had contributed to it, naturally, but that didn't make the decision to have lunch here any less of a ploy. Instead of intimidating me, it was a welcome.
'Look what we can do together, as family.'
Yup. Just family. The son, the mother, and the stepfather-uncle. Family looks after family, gotta keep it in the family.
I sneer, but the truth is I'm actually pretty invested in these people. Jamie is pretty sharp with his tongue, but actually pretty fun to be around. Cersei is, at this point, my mother. Not my Momma, but definitely my mother. She's always been the one to react with pride and delight whenever I present her with some new accomplishment or thing. She always uses her influence to help me make deals or go around obstacles. Frankly, other than being a huge bitch to everyone who isn't family, she's actually a pretty good mother. I hate to admit it, but I love her.
And the incest? Who gives a shit? I don't, at any rate. It's bad genetically speaking and it's definitely a sign of some major dysfunction, but other than the consequences of being caught I don't really see where it's a problem at this point. They're consenting adults. Now, the consequences of being caught are pretty goddamn bad, and stupid to risk, but that's out of my hands. I don't mind her cheating on Robert at all, especially given how he fucks anything that moves. I do my best not to judge.
Then Cersei struts in like she's some sort of queen.
Well.
You know.
And man, does she look good in that brilliant red silk cheongsam. For a moment, both Jamie and I just watch her walk towards us. If you like arrogance and power in your beautiful women, Cersei is pretty much top tier. Like, give her a wand and some black robes, boom, classic Sorceress. A business suit and she's a CEO. A hand axe and some fur lined leather, barbarian queen. Her features are slightly severe but well formed, and there's no shy tittering or girlish coquettishness. Cersei is a woman.
She's also my mother, so I recovered first and nudged Jamie, then strode forward and gave her a hug. I've never considered myself particularly affectionate, but apparently I'm pretty touchy feely by local standards. Cersei hugs me back, because that's what we do.
"If you wanted to see me, you didn't have to go through a big production. You could have just said so," I chided her gently, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, then letting her go.
"It's fun on occasion. We have all this, so why not use it?" she replied with a smile.
I've only seen four people in the world get a real smile from her, and I'm one of them.
I escorted her the last few feet to the table and pulled her chair out for her, allowing her to seat herself primly. Jamie sat to her right and I to her left.
A watching servant took that as the signal to begin, and three servants immediately came out with our first course.
Three large, clear glass goblets with a reddish mush in the bottom and three large fried prawns hanging from the rim.
What.
"What's this?" I asked, indicating the dish. I know what it looked like. I hadn't introduced it.
"Fried prawn tails with a tomato-lemon salsa," one of the servants replied, a guy. "The chef has not named it yet, I hope it meets with your approval."
"It's good," Cersei assured me, daintily dipping one of the prawns in the sauce. Because of course they'd let her try it first, you don't surprise Cersei if you know what's good for you. She's kinda controlling.
Huh. The chef has invented the shrimp cocktail. Convergent evolution is an amazing thing. I mean, I absolutely detest cocktail sauce, but this wasn't exactly the same. Surely it was better.
I obediently lifted one of the prawn by the tail and dipped it in the salsa before taking a bite.
Immediately, my mouth started burning. Not with spice, oh no, though there were hints of dornish peppers in it. No, the problem is, everyone else here has an unhealthy obsession with vinegar. And I hate vinegar. And this 'tomato lemon salsa' had to be at least 50% brown vinegar by volume.
My eyes watered just a little, and I had to overcome some gag reflex, but I still swallowed. Jamie and Cersei showed every evidence of actually enjoying the horrific fake salsa, 'falsa'. I simply ate the fried prawns and avoided the stuff.
We made small talk. Not inconsequential, exactly. I reported the fire, that Tyrion is doing well, Lord Ashford's nascent silk empire, and my new unflattering nickname. Jamie caught me up with the doings of some of the knights, and we discussed training. Cersei told me a few new things about fashion, a more detailed report on what Tommen and Kevan Lannister were up to in Summerhall, and how well Myrcella was doing in her various studies. We spent the most time discussing Myrcella's standing among the various noble daughters that were her playmates. As a princess, her standing was the highest, but there's more to being the leader of any given group than just social standing. Myrcella didn't just have friends, she had lessons.
Then came the next course, and the next, and the next. Buttered bread piled high with tiny shrimp, creamy seafood soup, crab pie, and literal piles of thick, delicious crab legs. I love crab. No, I mean, I LOVE crab. I make sure people know I love crab, and know that they can bribe me to do things by giving me crab. This encourages people to give me crab.
Cersei knows I love crab. Now, she dotes on me enough that not every crab dinner is accompanied by a request, but it's more than average.
So it wasn't a surprise when we reached the final course, our drinks refilled, food set out, and the servants sent away to give us privacy. Candied fruits and whipped cream for Cersei, and the aforementioned piles of crab legs for Jamie and I. Sweet flaky crab meat is all the dessert I need. Of course, this is also the point my inner glutton comes out, and I will eat crab until I enter a food coma. So that means this is serious discussion time, punctuated by cracking exoskeleton.
"So, my son. I have some important news for you."
"Bad news?" I asked, pausing in the middle of breaking a leg off. Because it's never good news.
"Well, it's good news, it's just… complicated." She looked a little discomfited.
I gestured with the now dismembered leg. "Okay. What's happening?"
"I'm pregnant."
I stabbed myself with a claw, drawing a spot of blood. "Fuck!" I hissed, wiping at the spot with a napkin.
"Or I believe I am. I've missed a monthly, and there has been plenty of chances," she said, glancing at Jamie, who held her hand.
"When was the last time Robert approached you?" I asked, my concern instant.
She winced. "There is the complication. It's been more than a year. Closer to two. So I need your help."
So, there are things a son never wants to know about his mother. But there's things you need to know as a medical professional. Now, I'm not a medical professional, but I try. And when I was younger, and Robert was still fucking Cersei on the regular, it was pretty clear she hated it and it hurt. So I worked on solutions. Glycerol based personal lubricant, to help with her complete lack of arousal and Robert's battering ram approach. White petroleum jelly to help with chafes and scrapes. Salicylic acid concentrate for the occasional wart. Cranberry juice for UTIs. A complete moratorium on weird ass maester prescribed douches. Chastising Robert. Distracting him with whores or hunting.
Basically, I did what I could, short of murdering Robert, to keep Cersei safe and healthy and comfortable.
So there's a certain amount of trust, here. Part of that trust is not asking her if the kid is Jamie's in front of Jamie. I don't know if he knows she cheats on him with other men. I am going to have to ask, because it could be really important. The issue of parentage with her is actually one I've already looked into.
Back in my earlier days of learning medicine with the maesters, I introduced blood transfusions. Now, as most people know, you have to have compatible blood before you can donate to someone. So you have to know people's type. Typing blood without a kit is slower and you usually need to use a magnifier, but it's doable. Typing blood without any known starting values just means you can mix up 'A' and 'B'. AB and O are pretty obvious, as is Rh factor.
And, if you know blood type of parents and child, you can sometimes determine if a child is by a different father. You can't prove a positive, but you can sometimes prove a negative. And also, I had suspicions of why I was born so sickly, and Robert and Cersei never produced another child together.
So I ran typing. As an arbitrary choice between A or B, I am A+. Robert is A+. Cersei is O-. Jamie is O-. Myrcella is O-. Tommen, my youngest brother, who had been born with dark hair in this world?
Fucking B-.
What the fuck, Cersei.
Everyone gets two genes for blood type and two for Rh factor, one from the mother and one from the father on each. Both 'O' and 'negative' are recessive traits. The only way to be either is if both parents have those traits, though someone could be an A or B and have a hidden O or negative or both gene. Myrcella actually could be Robert's daughter, because Robert could be A+/O-, and passed on that O- to Myrcella. Like I said, you can only sometimes prove a negative. I am A+, which I probably got from Robert. There is no way, at least by the genetics I know, for either an A+ or a O- father to sire a B- child.
And, there's a fairly high chance, especially with Rh+ children being born to a Rh- mother, compounded with a lower possibility of non O children born to an O mother, of the mother's body producing antigens that cross the placenta and attack the blood antibodies of the child. Given the primitive state of neonatal care in this world, Robert and Cersei were highly unlikely to produce many children. At least half their children would be Rh+, and that's if Robert did have a hidden O-. If he didn't, they'd be lucky to have any. Without modern care, the infant will often die either before or just after birth.
Incidentally, Sandor is AB-. I don't think he's Tommen's father, but who the fuck knows?
Blond hair versus black hair is a non-issue. I've got black hair, Tommen has black hair. Even if another blond kid pops out, that's not exactly the kind of thing to make people suspicious. Even if Jon Arryn or Stannis get a wild hair about 'The seed is stronk! The seed lifts! The seed never skips leg day!' I can destroy that argument no problem.
Especially since I very quietly seeded a false report of a Baratheon-Lannister marriage resulting in a blonde girl from some minor house members in a couple of old history books kept in both the Lannister and Baratheon personal libraries. And I did it six years ago, so the entry has had time to age and look especially authentic.
Unfortunately, any pseudoscience 'no, it's your kid, really!' trickery at least relies on the precept of the two of them having sex. And I've managed to get Robert to leave her alone. So gonna have to solve that part of the problem.
But first, we need to know if she's actually pregnant. If she's just randomly late, or skipping a month, or some sort of really early onset menopause, or hormone problem, whatever, I need to know that as well.
Cersei and Jamie held each other's hands as they sat there, letting me work through my thoughts.
Ugh. This crab has turned to ash in my mouth. This was a significantly bigger request than what I was expecting.
"So," I began. "First thing, we need to see if you're actually pregnant. I'm going to need barley seeds, wheat seeds, and some frogs."
They nodded seriously, if uncomprehendingly.
"And if you are pregnant, it's still pretty early. One solution would be if you just go ahead and fuck Robert. Another possibility is that we get him blackout drunk, and then make it look like he fucked you."
I paused, and ate some more crab in contemplation. I'll eat crab ash, I don't care.
"Because," I added after I swallowed, "I'm assuming you don't want to just drink moon tea and be done with it."
Moon tea was brewed from a plant that, oddly enough, produced compounds similar enough to human hormones to trigger menstruation. Taken once a month in a proper dose, it would trigger menstruation on schedule and prevent any eggs from implanting. Taken early in a pregnancy at a stronger dose, and it'd work as an abortifactant, triggering the same shedding of the uterine lining and detaching the embryo and placenta. Take too strong of a dose or too late in the pregnancy, or both, and you had the same problem as Jon Arryn's wife Lysa. Ruined fertility and horrible cramps and spotting the rest of your life. The Greeks and Romans used to have a plant, silphium, said to have functioned similarly, but it went extinct, probably from overharvesting.
Cersei shook her head. "No, I want to keep the baby. It's family."
Jamie squeezed her hand.
I suddenly had a massive wave of deja vu, as I was reminded of trips to a fertility doctor with my late wife in my first life. Only here I'm the doctor, and the patients are my mom and her brother-lover. This may actually be the most surreal experience I've ever had, topping my initial realization I was in Westeros by about an order of magnitude. If I suddenly taste key lime pie I'll at least know I'm having a stroke.
"And we'll protect it like family. I'll see about getting the seeds and frogs for tomorrow. I think getting Robert blackout drunk is the best solution. He can wake up in your bed, covered in gunk, you can wear long sleeves and walk funny for a while, I'll yell at the old man. We'll make sure he knows he was rough. He should feel guilty about it enough not to question it overmuch when you become pregnant. We'll say the baby came early if you give birth on time. There might be some subterfuge we can do there."
Cersei nodded, then reached over and grabbed my slimy, crab juice covered hand and squeezed it, hard. She didn't say anything. I could read her emotions in her eyes.
Yeah. This was a problem. A solvable problem. Worst comes to worst, Robert won't see the birth.
Huh. I probably shouldn't tell Cayla that my mother came to me with a problem most easily solved by poisoning Robert.
We finished up lunch with few spoken words, and nothing of consequence. A bell summoned the servants to clean up, and Jamie and Cersei left. I waddled back to my rooms, meeting Cayla there.
"What did you do, roll in the crab?" she asked, exasperated, picking at the front of my-
-oh fuck I forgot-
-hilariously expensive silk jacket. That I had completely forgotten about in the wake of those fateful words, 'I'm pregnant.'
When in doubt, attack.
"In order to truly appreciate crab, you have to understand the crab. Taste the crab. Smell the crab. Love the crab. Be the crab," I said loftily.
"Well, you're also wearing the crab," she fussed. "I don't think those stains will ever come out." She plucked a bit of shell off, then licked a finger and rubbed it on a spot. "And that's a really nice coat. What a shame. A six hundred gold coat sacrificed to crabs." She helped me shuck it off.
"Pft, every coat should love to be so honored," I said, spinning with her as she helped me get undressed. "It's not like I need this jacket. It's not a necessity," I argued.
"And what will you do when your mother wears that dress again?"
"Black silk. Or wool. You know, if we're doing crab again, maybe I'll just go naked. I don't need clothes. I got all I need right here in my bare hands," I said, playfully grabbing at her face with my still grungy hands. A napkin only goes so far, I was going to have to do some serious scrubbing.
"Bear hands is right," she snarked, batting furiously at my hands and ducking to the side. "And you're hairy enough you're never really naked. I think you'd have fit better if you were born into the Mormonts. You're much more bear than stag in your behavior."
"Ugh. The Mormonts." An idea was tickling the back of my head. "If I'd have been a Mormont, I'd definitely have put a stop to the whole slaving thing. Jorah should have married a woman who didn't want so much more than he had."
"He had little you didn't give to him," Cayla reminded me, moving behind me to help me remove my shirt.
"Yeah, but you don't need all that. All you need is the-
Bear necessities! With 'em a bear can rest at ease! The simple bear necessities of life!"
Cayla stared at me as I burst into song. Really bad, really off key song. Music is not one of my talents. In fact, other than remembering some of my favorite lyrics, you could almost call me anti-musical.
She stared as I continued singing, even working a little bare bear boogie into it as my pants slid down my legs.
"The~ beaaar necessities! Your asses are my recipies! The simple bear necessities of death!"
I can't dance either.
"Are you drunk?" she asked incredulously.
Shit. "Maybe a little?" I admitted sheepishly, calming down. I don't even remember drinking during lunch. But I had wine and I had a nasty surprise and it's entirely possible I put back a few glasses. Or more than a few. I wasn't drunk drunk. But I might be tipsy.
"Just wash the crab off your bear hands," she ordered, pushing me towards a basin and some soap.
"Take me down to the bearadise city where the girls are bears and they bare bear titties!" I sang again as I washed up. "Hey, these are pretty good. We should use them in the Mormont play."
"As you say, my Prince."
Heh, she says that when she's tired of my shit.
"Oh yeah, I need some wheat seeds, barley seeds, and a dozen or so frogs and toads," I added as an afterthought, wiping myself down with a towel.
"…Okay?" she replied. "What project do you have in mind now?"
"I'm gonna make Cersei pee on them," I said proudly. I can still remember my first childhood, reading Robert Heinlein books, and seeing multiple references to 'the mouse test' in reference to pregnancy. Being the curious sort, I looked it up. And you know, it turns out it works even better and faster with frogs or toads! The seeds was from a thing I read about ancient Egyptians. Not as reliable, supposedly, but try everything!
"As you say, my Prince."
"You know," I mused, spinning around, now clean, and seizing Cayla by the shoulders, "I really think everything is going to work out for the best."
She started to reply, then stopped, then smiled warmly. "As you say, my Prince."
Cayla left. I laid down and took a siesta. There's nothing quite like a crab induced food coma nap for making the world seem brighter.
…
…
…
I was woken up from my nap by shrill screaming and roars of human rage coming from Cersei's rooms next door.
AN: Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
